Miss Bridget's Girls

by Robin Bond

  “There seems to be evidence that in addition to the pain caused by the cane, there was some extra stimulation,” Miss Bridget said. “An indication that perhaps your response was complex, multi-faceted.”

  Miss Bridget slid her finger back in again. With it she began to spread a little of the slipperiness onto Giselle’s clit. It was an electric shock, the first touch, but Giselle sighed as the finger continued to touch her there. More of her juice was spread, and the finger began to manipulate Giselle’s clit in a more systematic fashion. Giselle gasped, then she grunted, and after a while she groaned and, despite Miss Bridget’s stipulation to remain still her knees began to tremble and her cunt quivered and then her whole body shook.

  Miss Bridget withdrew her finger and wiped it casually on Giselle’s bottom. “Good,” she said. “I think you’ll make the grade, my dear. In a week or so, after Miss Flora has tested your abilities further, you will be ready for your first client. Now pull up your knickers. Come and see me at this time tomorrow.”

  The following afternoon Giselle knocked on Miss Bridget’s door, wondering what was in store. This time she was wearing a tight black skirt, very short, with a white blouse that did not entirely disguise her black bra. Her legs were bare; it was a warm day. But instead of the American habit of sneakers or sandals, she wore some kitten heels. Her hair was back in a ponytail.

  “This is our little French girl,” Miss Bridget said to Miss Flora. “She shows promise as a pain slut, and as you know there is always a demand for such girls.”

  “Indeed there is,” Flora answered. “I’ve had another request for a booking from Mrs McQueen. You know where her tastes lie.”

  Bridget smiled. Mrs McQueen had quite a reputation for using girls severely.

  “Take off your clothes,” ordered Flora.

  Giselle quickly took off her skirt and blouse, then removed her bra and matching black knickers and stood facing Bridget and Flora. Both of them looked her up and down, noting the neat little breasts, the flat tummy, the graceful legs. Miss Flora made a gesture for her to turn around. She gave a low whistle when she saw Giselle’s bottom, with six livid red stripes across it, turning already to purple bruises.

  “You marked her well,” Miss Flora said to Miss Bridget.

  “Start as you mean to go on,” said Miss Bridget and smiled. “I think you should build on my efforts, don’t you think?”

  “Sit down,” said Miss Flora to Giselle. She sat down on a wooden chair.

  “Arms behind your back,” said Miss Flora. She went to the cupboard in the corner where Miss Bridget kept a few of her things and selected a flogger. It was made of deerskin; not the most fearsome weapon in the armoury, but in the right hands capable of causing a sharp sting to unprotected parts of the anatomy. Miss Flora measured the distance and brought the flogger full across Giselle’s little tits. She yelled out and put her hands up.

  “Take your hands down,” said Miss Flora sternly.

  Slowly Giselle lowered her hands. Miss Flora hit her again, in the identical spot. Giselle cried out again. Perhaps a harder blow or a heavy instrument would have done more damage, but her nipples were stinging like crazy. Miss Flora hit her again, then again. In all Giselle counted a dozen strokes, though it might have been more; it was hard to concentrate. At last Miss Flora lowered the flogger.

  “Promising,” said Miss Bridget, who had been watching with interest. “Now try her sweet little cunt.”

  Giselle didn’t like the sound of that. Her nipples were tender and smarting, but that would be as nothing if Miss Flora hit her between her legs.

  “Get down on your hand and knees,” Miss Flora ordered.

  Gingerly, Giselle did as she was told.

  “Legs apart,” ordered Miss Flora.

  Giselle opened them a couple of inches.

  “Wider,” Miss Flora snapped. “Don’t annoy me or it will be worse for you.”

  She stood over Giselle, facing towards the girl’s feet. “Head to the floor, back arched, bottom presented,” Miss Flora said.

  Nervously Giselle took up the position. Miss Flora raised the flogger and brought it down right between Giselle’s legs, landing full on her cunt. Giselle wailed. It wasn’t so much the pain, though it did hurt. It was the idea of it, being assaulted in her most intimate place, her most tender spot. Instinctively she had closed her legs.

  “If those legs don’t stay open,” said Miss Flora, “I’ll have to tie them, and that will annoy me, and then it will be very bad for you. It won’t be just a flogger, it will be a heavy strap, and if I still can’t get obedience it will be the cane. It’s your choice.”

  Giselle could scarcely imagine the pain of being caned on her cunt. She forced herself to keep her legs apart as Miss Flora flogged her cunt, methodically, accurately, the flogger coming down on the lips, first one side then the other, and then a stroke right in the middle, which sometimes caught her clit, making the pain shoot from bad to unbearable.

  Just when she thought she could not, really could not stay in position for another stroke, Miss Bridget said that would be enough. “Get to your feet and come round here,” she said.

  Uncertainly, Giselle staggered to her feet and stood in front of Miss Bridget, who put a hand between Giselle’s legs. She stroked her cunt for a while, which was soothing. Giselle’s cunt was shaved clean, but above, on the pubic mound, the hair was merely trimmed into a close-cropped tringle. Miss Bridget ran her fingers through it. “This must come off,” she said. “All our girls are smooth down there.”

  “Yes, Miss Bridget,” Giselle said obediently.

  Miss Bridget continued to touch her. Giselle opened her legs a little wider, hoping to encourage Miss Bridget to begin doing what she had done yesterday. Miss Bridget slid a finger into Giselle’s cunt. She moved it around a little, but disappointingly she did not touch Giselle’s clit. Instead she took her finger out and held it up to Miss Flora.

  “You see?” she said.

  Miss Flora examined the finger, glistening with Giselle’s juices.

  “Despite the wailing and wriggling, she likes it,” said Miss Bridget. “It excites her; and I suspect as with all these submissive little sluts, that the greater the pain the more they like it. Perhaps not at the time, but afterwards.”

  She got to her feet and took hold of Giselle’s nipples, still sore from the flogging. Gripping them hard, she raised Giselle up onto tiptoe. “I can see you are going to be much in demand, my dear,” Miss Bridget said. “Shall you like that? Shall you like to serve stern and strict women, who will enjoy marking your body, hearing your cries, watching you squirm?”

  “Yes, Miss Bridget,” Giselle said through clenched teeth. Miss Bridget dug her nails into Giselle’s nipples. The pain was like red-hot needles.

  “Good,” said Miss Bridget, letting go. “I think we have just the client for you. As soon as the marks on your pretty little ass have faded, we shall send you to her.”

  “Has she been taught how to give pleasure?” Miss Flora said.

  Miss Bridget laughed. “I am sure you are dying to give her a lesson,” she said.

  Miss Flora caught hold of Giselle by the hair and roughly forced her onto her knees again. She lifted her skirt and pressed Giselle’s face into her groin. “Get to work,” she said.

  Giselle knew well enough how to service a girl with her mouth. She pulled Miss Flora’s knickers down, noticing in passing that they were of black silk. She approved of the way Miss Flora and Miss Bridget dressed, with some style and formality, not looking as did most of the girls as if they had just come from the gym. She was surprised to see that between her legs Miss Flora was unshaven; instead, there was a curly thicket of blonde hair. Giselle sucked on the lips of Miss Flora’s pussy, taking them into her mouth, rolling them around. Then slowly she slid her tongue between the lips and found Miss Flora’s clit. Gingerly she sucked it, then, hearing Miss Flora sigh, she sucked harder. After a while she began to lick the clit, running her tongue over it, feeli
ng it swell. She sucked it some more, harder. Miss Flora gasped and held Giselle’s head tight against her, as if afraid the tongue might cease its work. Giselle worked harder. As she sucked and licked she ran her hands over Miss Flora, smoothing her belly, squeezing her ass, even venturing a finger between the cheeks, trailing it across the tight little asshole. If she was allowed to do this again, she might venture to push a finger inside it, even lick it, but she thought that would be presumptuous on a first occasion.

  Suddenly Miss Flora moaned and her hips began to shudder. Giselle kept at it, holding Miss Flora tight, keeping up the licking and sucking, ensuring Miss Flora got every last spasm of pleasure from her orgasm. At last she took her mouth away.

  “Good girl,” said Miss Flora, stroking her hair. “You show promise.”

  Giselle was told that her first appointment would be in a week’s time, providing that her bruises had healed. Giselle bought some new underwear, a pretty bra and knickers, in red satin. She wondered if the effect might be too much, but she wanted to make a good impression and look smart. There was also a suspender belt. With this she wore sheer black stockings, and on top a little black dress, short but not so much as to show her stocking tops. She was going for sophistication, not a tarty look.

  Mrs McQueen opened the door and looked her up and down. “You’ll do,” she said. She took Giselle into her drawing room. “My husband has been given the night off,” she said. “I have the freedom to indulge myself.”

  Giselle wondered if the husband had the same right. But it was no business of hers.

  “What did they tell you about me?” Mrs McQueen asked, handing Giselle a glass of red wine. Giselle would rather have had white, but this was better than nothing, and a decent vintage too, as she knew when she inhaled the bouquet.

  Giselle didn’t want to offend her client; Miss Flora had told her, shortly before she set off for the appointment, that Mrs McQueen could be brutal, so to watch out. It made Giselle nervous, but it was too late to back out.

  “They told me you could be strict. Very strict,” Giselle said.

  Mrs McQueen laughed. “I’m sure they said more than that about me. I’d guess they said I was a vindictive bitch, a cruel vicious woman who took no prisoners.”

  This was a close approximation to what Miss Flora had indeed said. But Giselle made no reply.

  “Well,” said Mrs McQueen, “you’ll be able to see for yourself, won’t you?”

  They sat for a moment, sipping their wine. Then Mrs McQueen said, “Let’s have a look at you.”

  Giselle got to her feet and began to undress. When she was naked Mrs McQueen pulled her close and began to touch her, putting her hands between her legs, pulling on her nipples, twisting her hair, pushing a finger up into her ass. Giselle wasn’t used to this sort of treatment. It made her feel like a girl in a slave market, or even a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop.

  “It’s a pretty little cunt,” said Mrs McQueen, fondling Giselle between her legs, squeezing the lips of her cunt, prising them apart, pushing fingers inside. “Have you ever had it whipped, my dear?”

  Giselle tried to pull away, but Mrs McQueen kept a firm grip on her cunt, squeezing it tightly in her hand. “No, Mrs McQueen,” said Giselle, already a little frightened. She didn’t want to mention what Flora had done to her, in case Mrs McQueen thought she was a hardened case and could therefore be subjected to the strictest treatment.

  “If you hire out as a pain slut, I think you must expect it,” Mrs McQueen replied. “In fact, that’s probably the least you can expect. Have you ever had your ass dilated?”

  Giselle wasn’t sure what that would amount to, or why anyone would do it. “No, Mrs McQueen,” she said again.

  “This is your first assignment, I believe,” said Mrs McQueen. “You’re going to experience quite a few things you haven’t had before. But if you are going to make a success of it, you must learn to endure them, and even get to like them.”

  Giselle wasn’t at all sure at this moment that she wanted to make a success of it. On the other hand, she had come to enjoy being a member of the Circle. It meant she had an instant group of friends, important for a shy girl in a foreign country. She had already come to respect and admire both Miss Flora and Miss Bridget. She would hate to let them down. And Miss Flora was undeniably attractive; already Giselle had fantasised about being taken into Miss Flora’s bed.

  “I will do my best, Mrs McQueen,” Giselle said, trying to show a bravery she did not feel.

  “If you’re very very good, perhaps you’ll get something nice at the end,” said Mrs McQueen. “Do you know how to pleasure a pussy like mine?”

  Giselle assumed that all pussies, or cunts, were the same, weren’t they? If you did certain things, they made certain responses. That was what she had done with Miss Flora, who seemed happy enough with the result. “I hope so, Mrs McQueen,” she said.

  “Should you like to see my pussy, my dear?” Mrs McQueen said.

  “Yes, please,” Giselle replied, with what she hoped sounded like enthusiasm.

  “Let’s go upstairs to the bedroom,” said Mrs McQueen. “Then we can do things properly.”

  Two hours later , having put her clothes back on, Giselle walked unsteadily down the staircase after having suffered, if not the worst that Mrs McQueen was capable of, then the worst she, Giselle, had ever known. Her bottom, so pristine when she had arrived, was now crossed with a tangle of angry red stripes, rapidly turning to purple. There were other marks too, which a knowledgeable observer would have guessed were made by a leather strap of some kind, as well as a wooden paddle. Giselle’s nipples were extremely sore; she had put a hand to them and found she could hardly bear to touch. Her cunt felt ravaged, bruised and raw, while her anus had been stretched to an extreme which she would not have believed capable.

  As she got to the bottom of the stairs, the front door opened and a man entered, evidently Mr McQueen.

  “Just finished, darling. Quite a delicious little slut, as you see.”

  “Did you give her a hard time?” Mr McQueen asked, looking Giselle up and down.

  “Don’t I always?” Mrs McQueen answered with a smile.

  “Do let me have a look,” Mr McQueen said. “You know how I love to see the little whores when you have finished with them.”

  Mrs McQueen turned Giselle round and raised her skirt up to her waist, then pulled her knickers down. “You can look but no touching,” Mrs McQueen said.

  Giselle didn’t like being looked at by men, especially not in such undignified circumstances. Her delicate features turned pink.

  “An excellent afternoon’s work, my dear,” said Mr McQueen. “Have you left yourself anything to spare?”

  Evidently Mrs McQueen knew exactly what to reply. “We’ll have a drink and then we’ll go upstairs and you can fuck me until I can’t walk,” she said.

  She opened the door for Giselle. “Thank you, my dear,” she said. “I think I’ll book you again, once the effects have worn off. There are still a few things I’d like to try.”

  “Just as long as you don’t let your husband watch,” Giselle thought. “That would be pleasing, Mrs McQueen,” Giselle said and walked slowly down the steps.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  There was a knock at Miss Bridget’s door. “Come in,” she called. Miss Flora entered.

  “I’ve got the pictures,” she said. “I thought I’d bring them round personally. We can connect my phone to your computer and see them blown up.”

  Miss Bridget plugged in Flora’s phone. The two women sat side by side staring at the screen. “I must warn you, there is a surprise,” said Flora. “I hope when you have seen it that you approve of my idea, that it made for an excellent set of pictures, just the evidence we need.”

  “What do you mean?” Miss Bridget asked suspiciously.

  “Please, just wait and see.” Flora began to show the pictures. After a few there was a sudden gasp from Miss Bridget. “What on earth is that?”
she said. She could see that the cock which Dr Lowman had in his mouth was a real one, certainly not a dildo strap-on. “Who is that man?” she demanded.

  Flora stopped the picture-sequence. “I should explain,” she said. “It’s a friend of mine. Someone I thought would show up the perverted nature of Dr Lowman’s desires.”

  “Continue the pictures,” Miss Bridget ordered.

  Flora went through several more pictures. They showed Dr Lowman fucking Suki in the ass, being fucked by him in turn, as well as several pictures that included Fray Ledermann and Flora herself.

  “I notice Dr Lowman doesn’t get his hands on you,” Miss Bridget said acidly.

  Flora blushed a little. “He tried, but even in the cause of the Circle, I couldn’t quite manage to allow that. But I think you’ll agree there’s more than enough there to hang like a Damocles sword over Lowman’s head as a guarantee of him leaving us alone.”

  “I have to admit you have done well, and I agree there’s more than enough to convict him in the eyes of the governing board. But now,” Miss Bridget said, turning to fix Flora with a fierce look, “who is the man in the pictures? Some little sissy slut, I can see. But who, and how do you come to know him?”

  Flora had had several days to work out how she would answer these questions. She knew there was little point in trying to deceive Miss Bridget. She would get to the bottom of it one way or another. She always did.

  “His name is Suki,” she said hesitantly. “Or at least that is what I call him. He’s a close friend, and yes, before you ask, I have sex with him. The sex I have is very much in the manner of the sex I have with girls. He does not fuck me with his own cock, only with strap-ons and other devices, which I have him use on both my pussy and my ass. But mostly it’s me fucking him, pushing a big dildo into his tight little ass, making him squirm and squeal, just like a girl. I keep him under tight discipline and beat him frequently. It’s rare that his bottom is free of marks.”