Susan dangled, swaying, as Habren wrenched the sobbing Edwige by her long blond tresses, and placed her, face upwards, on the floor beneath Susan’s juicing cunt, so that the swaddled girl’s come dripped into Edwige’s mouth. Habren roped a third fastening around Susan’s bound feet, knotting them to the cord stretched between Edwige’s nipple and quim clamps, and gradually lifting that cord up, quivering like a violin string.
‘Oh…Oh…Oh…’ Edwige sobbed, as her nipples and gash flaps were wrenched upwards.
She lay, helpless to make the slightest movement without pulling her flaps of flesh tighter, just as any twitch of Susan’s feet would jar Edwige’s nipple and gash bonds. Habren clapped her hands and Aggar handed her a cane, four feet in length and half an inch thick. Habren stood well back from Susan’s bound body and lifted her cane above her head.
Vip!
She sliced down, in a slanting motion that laid a crisp pink weal on Susan’s upper bare buttocks.
‘Ahh!’ the bound and hung girl squealed, jerking in the rope swaddle.
Her scream was echoed by Edwige, her belly string twanged taut by Susan’s shudder, and her nipples and cunt flaps wrenched.
‘Oh! God! It hurts so…!’
Vip!
‘Ah! No!’
Vip!
‘Mm! Oh, please, Mistress…Oh!’
Both girls screamed, sobbing, until Aggar silenced Susan. Lifting himself by the pulley that held her, he thrust his cock to her lips. The glans, slimed from Edwige’s arse, nuzzled Susan’s teeth.
‘No…’ she moaned.
As her lips parted, Aggar thrust: his shaft penetrated her mouth to the base of his helmet, forcing her mouth wide. Susan gurgled, sobbing, as her lips pressed on the black cock-meat.
‘Mmm…mmm…’ she wailed, shaking her head.
Aggar’s buttocks twitched, and his cock plunged to the back of her throat.
Vip!
Habren’s cane lashed Susan’s naked arse.
‘Ah…! MMM!’ the girl squealed, choking on the huge black cock that vigorously throat-fucked her, and sucking in time with Aggar’s thrusts.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
At each stroke to her bare, Susan jerked up, pulling at the belly-cord tethering Edwige’s cunt and nipple flaps.
‘Ohh…!’
‘AHH!’
Both girls screamed together as their bound bodies shuddered. When Susan had taken fifteen strokes to the buttocks, Habren padded around her and began to cane the tip of her erect clitoris.
Vip!
‘Ahh!’
At the first cunt-slice, Susan pissed herself, the powerful jet of golden fluid hissing over Edwige’s jerking bare body and drenching her. Habren stood directly under Aggar’s pumping arse; as she continued to cane Susan’s cunt, getting her strokes right inside the come-gushing pink slit, she began to lick Aggar’s balls. Joss stared in dismay, as his wife took the black man’s ball-sac fully into her mouth, while continuing to cane Susan’s red wet gash. Susan twirled, spraying her come over the piss-soaked Edwige, who jerked and screamed as each convulsion of Susan’s body pulled her binding cord. Susan’s screams rose to a shrill, staccato whimper, and suddenly her belly heaved, as she squealed in orgasm. Habren pressed her lips on Aggar’s balls, and he withdrew his cock from Susan’s mouth, leaving her lips flapping and her tongue probing the air. Carrying Aggar on her shoulders, with his cock at her nape and feet probing her breasts, Habren snapped the clamps from Edwige’s nipples and cunt.
‘Susan has taken enough for the moment,’ she said. ‘You may free the slut, Edwige.’
She bent, allowing Aggar to dismount, and turned to her husband, while grasping the black man’s slimy stiff tool and playing with his balls between finger and thumb.
‘Now it’s your turn, you worm,’ she spat. ‘Get out of your chair and bare up below.’
‘What…?’
Habren laughed and prodded his erection with her cane.
‘Everything off beneath your waist,’ she rapped. ‘Then, bend over for your caning. We’d better cane that disgusting erection away.’
Joss Gaunt touched his toes, his arse bare for his wife’s cane, and his head hanging, with his face beetroot red. She unlocked the buckles of his rubber cock-restraint and his huge stiff shaft leapt up.
‘Face sideways!’ she commanded.
Joss did so, and gasped.
Habren’s cane hovered, a foot above his bare arse. His wife stood bent at an angle, with thighs parted. She reached one hand behind her and spread her bum-cheeks. Aggar’s erect penis brushed her anal pucker, then slid inside the shaft, to a depth of an inch. Habren squirmed, pulling her fesses further apart; the black man thrust, grunting, as his cock penetrated her anus right to his balls.
‘No…!’ wailed her husband.
Vip!
‘Ah!’ he squealed, as a livid pink welt coloured his croup.
‘Mm! Yes!’ Habren groaned, her body quivering, as Aggar’s hips smacked her naked buttocks, and his cock rammed her bumhole. ‘Yes…!’
Vip! Vip! Vip!
‘Ah! God! That’s too hard!’ cried her husband as Habren’s cane wealed his buttocks.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
‘Ah! Darling…Ahh!’
‘Watch, you filthy little pig!’ Habren hissed. ‘Watch me buggered!’
Vip!
‘Oh! I can’t stand it…’ he sobbed.
Her husband’s arse clenched and squirmed, as each cut of her cane sliced the quivering bare buttocks, but his cock still stood, massively erect.
‘Watch, I command you! Look at Aggar’s big black tool pig-sticking your wife’s arse! Buggering your own wife’s hole, while she…’
Vip Vip! Vip!
‘AHH!’
‘…thrashes you!’
Habren’s bare, dangling titties quivered like melons at each ram of the cock in her anus. Her buttocks clenched, gripping the black tool as it slid out of her squirming hole, right to the glans tip, before spearing her again. Each new penetration drew a grunt from the bugger’s victim.
‘God, yes, that’s good!’ Habren gasped. ‘Fuck my hole, Aggar! Make me wriggle! Poke me! Give me every drop of spunk! I want Joss to see a real man’s spunk bubbling from my bumhole!’
Vip! Vip! Vip!
Her husband took his beating, choking back his sobs and whimpering, but with his eyes glued to the flow of come from his wife’s cunt lips, and the slamming of the tool between her naked fesses.
‘I wish you could have been there, when I took a whole Foreign Legion platoon, during our honeymoon in Corsica,’ she said. ‘Buggered and cunt-fucked and sucking cock, for three and a half hours…’
Joss wailed.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
‘And you thought it was all acting…’ Habren hissed. ‘I’ve had a thousand cocks in my arse, never mind my cunt.’
‘You punish yourself…too hard…’ Joss gasped.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
Whop!
‘Ahh…!’
Susan’s voice shrilled above Joss’s wails. Edwige had managed to uncoil the rope from Susan’s torso, so that the girl hung, still helpless, but with her legs still sheathed in rope. Edwige wound the discarded rope into a flail of five thongs and delivered a strong whop, that covered the whole expanse of Susan’s flaming red bum.
‘Edwige! Why…’ Susan squealed, her whipped buttocks clenching under the rope’s lash.
Whop! Whop!
‘That’s for hurting my quim and titties, you bitch!’ Edwige cried.
She whipped Susan alternately on naked buttocks and breasts, with the teat-flesh soon a mass of purple bruises from the five thongs, covering the whole breast and targeting the nipples.
Whop! Whop! Whop!
‘Oh…don’t…’
‘Piss on me, you slut?’ cried Edwige.
Whop! Whop! Whop!
‘Edwige…no…I’m sorry!’
‘Is that what you learned in jail, you fucking jailbird?’
&nb
sp; Susan’s body spun, unravelling the rope from her legs.
Whop! Whop! Whop!
‘Ah! You wouldn’t last ten minutes at Wrigley Scrubs, you fucking slag! Ah…! Stop! Oh, please stop…’
Edwige flogged the girl’s bare bum and torso until Susan’s skin was a mass of mottled bruises and puffy ridged welts, her titties like bright red canteloupes. The last strand of rope slithered from her shuddering feet. At once, she jack-knifed her legs and got Edwige’s neck in a scissor lock, forcing her whipper to the floor. Edwige gasped for air.
Vip! Vip! Vip!
‘Oh!’ Joss gasped, his bare flogged arse a quivering patchwork of welts. ‘How many more…?’
‘I shan’t stop caning you until Aggar spunks in me,’ panted his wife, ‘and he shan’t spunk until I tell him to.’
Susan’s thighs rippled as she dragged Edwige’s head up towards the dripping jungle of her crotch hair. When Edwige’s tongue was level with her slit, Susan whispered, ‘Now, eat me, slut.’
Edwige’s tongue darted forwards and penetrated Susan’s gaping wet cunt, while her nose pressed the stiff clitty. Susan gasped.
‘That’s better…that’s one of the things a girl learns at the Scrubs…’
Habren looked over her shoulder, laughing as Susan moaned, her cunt basin jerking at the blond girl’s expert cunt-licks. Edwige had her jaw clamped around Susan’s whole pubis, and chewed rhythmically, up and down, with her tongue flicking the erect nubbin, then poking into the gushing slit and the anus bud. Edwige’s face shone as Susan’s cunt slimed it with her come. Aggar grunted, buggering his mistress faster; Habren began to cane her husband’s buttocks with forehand and backhand strokes, two or three to a second, her torso swaying. Her teats bounced as the black man shafted her bumhole.
‘Oh, God, enough!’ Joss wailed.
‘Wrigley Scrubs? Tell me,’ purred Habren.
‘It’s a whipping prison,’ gasped Susan. ‘You opt for a light sentence, but get hard caning and whipping. The screws are all girls, some of them former slags, and they are the toughest…Oh! Yes! Don’t stop!’
Edwige chewed the erect nubbin, while masturbating her own clitty. Susan’s come flowed between Edwige’s bare breasts, over her heaving belly, and into her bush, where it joined Edwige’s sweat and the piss Susan had showered, until the commingled fluid dripped copiously from the lush tendrils of Edwige’s own cunt jungle.
‘They are always showing the scrubs on TV, as a model privatised prison,’ Susan gasped, ‘but it’s fucking bullshit. They show the sanitised version, not the real Scrubs, with the whips and the screams and licking the toilets clean, and girls caned on their bare bums till they beg for mercy…Ahh!’
Susan’s belly sucked in as her come splattered Edwige’s mouth in her fierce squeals of orgasm. Aggar, buggering Habren, grunted, and Habren’s bum tightened on his cock, trapping it at the root of her anus as he spermed inside her. Spunk bubbled from the tightly clamped anal pucker and dribbled on her inner thighs. She dropped her cane, flicking her clitoris hard, until she gasped in her own climax.
As Habren’s belly heaved, Edwige wanked herself off, joining Susan in her cries of pleasure. Habren touched the peehole of her husband’s erect cock. She slid her fingernail into his peehole and clawed. His caned arse still trembling, Joss yelped and a jet of spunk spurted from his cock over his wife’s hand. Habren ordered Aggar to release Susan and take the cane, while the two girls crouched to lick up the come, pee and spunk bedewing the floor. Whimpering, the two nude girls obeyed, their bare bums high and clefts wide open for Aggar’s cane as they licked the floor clean of fluid, swallowing on command of his canestrokes.
‘A whipping prison. Well, well,’ Habren said, as she fastened the restrainer over her husband’s cock, ‘and privatised?’ That means it’s for sale…’
‘Shall I speak to our acquisitions director, darling?’ said Joss. ‘Ouch!’
‘Yes, do.’
5
The Full Bare
‘You’re the nearest person I have to a friend, Tamsin,’ Angarad murmured.
‘Wow! Thanks a million,’ said Tamsin Pollecutt, blowing the steam from her cappucino.
Outside, snowflakes drifted on Richmond Green.
‘No! I didn’t mean…I mean, you’re my best friend, really,’ Angarad stammered, blushing.
‘We English aren’t good at expressing our feelings, are we?’ said Tamsin. ‘Verbally, at any rate…’
She tossed her raven mane, which made her heavy, jutting breasts swell in her clinging green cashmere sweater.
Angarad sipped her own coffee, stared out at the trees, the snow-shrouded grass, and shivered.
‘I sense some revelation,’ said Tamsin. ‘Do tell…’
She crossed her sheer-stockinged legs with deliberate slowness, revealing a sliver of thigh and garter strap that drew glances in the tiny tea shop. Tamsin smiled.
‘Oh, it’s nothing, really,’ said Angarad.
‘That means it’s everything. Let’s take the fidgeting for granted, Angie, and get to the beans, spillage of.’
‘It’s a bit…embarrassing, I suppose.’
When Angarad had completed her account of the events three days before, Tamsin stared at her friend with a smile playing on her lips and the tip of her tongue flickering.
‘And how do you feel now?’ she said. ‘I mean, about this new assignment with Roz Cardus.’
‘Oh, that? It’s going very well, actually. Roz and I seem to get along. We’ve some fabulous new lingerie designs, awfully kinky, actually. I blame her…’
‘Don’t,’ said Tamsin, putting her hand on Angarad’s.
‘Rockingham’s have promoted me to fashion buyer for their London shops, and I’ve every intention of pushing their envelope in direction outrageous! So, let’s network. And after what you’ve told me about Darren…’
‘Tammy, I feel worse about that than ever. I mean, confessing has helped, I suppose…’
‘You’d never been bummed before?’
‘No!’
‘Spanked?’
‘You know I was a Ditton girl.’
‘Of course. Same regime as at Sunbury Reginae, where they favoured the Scots tawse, as if I could ever forget. Skirt up, knickers down, a dozen whops on the bare…’
Tamsin licked her teeth.
‘I hated it!’ Angarad cried. ‘Spanked, I mean, on my bare bum, by Will, then that unspeakable thing with Darren…I haven’t stopped thinking about — you know. It makes me feel awful, as if I’m a really bad person.’
‘Buggery, unspeakable? Yet, you have spoken.’
‘Oh, don’t! You can’t imagine how it hurts, and how shameful it is…’
‘Actually, I don’t have to,’ said Tamsin, with an impish grin, stroking Angarad’s wrist. ‘Why haven’t you stopped thinking about it? Because it hurt and shamed you? Or because you’d already thought about it before…?’
‘I told you, I haven’t been spanked since I left school!’ Angarad cried. ‘Ouch! You’re hurting!’
Tamsin’s fingernails had tightened on Angarad’s wrist, pinching the skin to white. She relaxed her grip, slowly.
‘I didn’t mean just the spanking,’ she said. ‘Does your arse still smart? Your bumhole still hurt?’
‘Sort of,’ replied Angarad cautiously.
‘What kind of sort of?’ Tamsin demanded. ‘You mean, it feels nice?’
Angarad blushed.
‘I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all!’ she blurted.
‘Oh, yes, you should. I’m your best friend, remember? Angie, have you ever been to Morocco?’
‘No,’ Angarad replied.
‘Visit the English churchyard in Tangier, right in the middle of the souk,’ she said. ‘You’ll find the grave of Captain George Pollecutt, an ancestor of mine, from Yorkshire, and a noted, umm, polygamist, with two of his wives being identical twins. Colourful lad, so colourful, in fact, that he isn’t actually buried in his own grave. For twenty-two year
s, Tangier was part of the British Empire, as the dowry of King Charles II’s Portuguese bride. Off Cadiz, Captain Pollecutt captured a Spanish ship, full of Peruvian silver, and landed in Tangier, to avoid a Spanish revenge party. He presented the galleon and treasure to the King, of course — apart from half the silver, which he had hidden along the Atlantic coast of Africa. His men got paid off, while he was given a sinecure, as adjutant to the governor of Tangier.’
Tamsin paused to sip her coffee and shift in her seat, not bothering to smooth her skirt, ridden up to show her stocking-tops.
‘Captain George didn’t have much to do, except indulge in four of his passions,’ she said. ‘One of them was exploring; the other was gold. He spent months away from Tangier, exploring the south, to try and find a safe overland route to the hinterland of the Gold Coast, to avoid buccaneers like himself. The Berbers considered silver and salt as more valuable than gold; equipped with those, he would venture far into the Sahara, amongst the Berbers. I should mention that part of his treasure was a brace of identical girl twins, natives of Hispaniola, which the Spanish were intending to present at court. Captain George preferred to keep them as slaves, in a desert hideaway far from his wife, Molly, who was no better than she should have been. Their beauty intrigued him, neither Spanish, African, nor Asiatic, but with long skulls, straight noses and high cheekbones, as well as figures…well, the sort of thing men like — you, for instance. They were docile and “fond of the arts of love”. He found that they resembled the Berbers, when the Berbers knew him well enough to bare their faces, and sell him their unmarried daughters as slaves. As he ventured further and further south, he set up a chain of forts as supply stations, garrisoned by his obedient wives, or slave women. He was convinced that his Hispaniolan twins were the same stock as the Berbers, and long ago formed a seafaring nation, bridging the Atlantic, in the days when the Sahara was not a desert. That is by the by — there was another reason Captain George got on so well with the Berbers. He called his victualling stations whipping forts. The Berbers liked to watch an Englishman administering expert chastisement to naked slaves and eventually brought their own miscreant womenfolk to him, for whipping, beneath their own dignity to give.’
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