Caged!

by Yolanda Celbridge

  Balling her fists in a gesture of rage, Truud spilled a flagon of wine over Habren’s silk pantaloons.

  ‘Oh! I’m sorry!’ she cried.

  ‘It’s no problem at all,’ said Habren, smiling at Jan.

  ‘On the contrary,’ he said, ‘it is just this thoughtless petulance that so often spoils things!’

  ‘What about your male arrogance?’ responded Truud. ‘I said sorry and Habren said she wasn’t upset!’

  ‘No, Truud,’ Habren replied. ‘I said it was no problem. Those were my favourite pantaloons, worn specially for you and now ruined. The question is, Jan, how should your twin make amends, so that we can be friends again?’

  Jan watched Habren strip off her pantaloons, down to the pubic string that was her only adornment and scarcely hid her luxuriant cunt-bush. She cast the soaked garment in Truud’s lap.

  ‘I know exactly how,’ Jan said. ‘First, Truud should be made to wear your soaked pantaloons, for shame.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then, I shall spank her bottom.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’ Truud cried.

  ‘Please put on the wet pants,’ said Habren.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Obey!’ said Jan. ‘You are a Vandal woman!’

  Truud glanced from Habren to Jan, then to Joss, and at the impassive Aggar. Her lip trembled.

  ‘I’ve never been spanked before,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I do deserve it. My loss of self-control was unacceptable…’

  She rose, turned her back on the others and slid down her khaki shorts, beneath which she had no knickers. The golden melons of her croup gleamed in the candlelight, their tan unbroken by strapmarks. She stepped into the wet pantaloons and pulled them up tight, so that the stained red fabric clung to her vulval folds, arse-cleft and fesses.

  ‘My chamber is at your disposal, if you’d prefer Jan spanked you in private,’ Habren said.

  Truud glanced from one face to the other, at the crotches of the three males, all astir. She licked her teeth and rubbed her wet buttocks, pulling the pantaloons as tight as she could, with her finger lodged in her crack. Slowly, she unfastened the buttons of her shirt, opening it to her midriff and, finally, letting it slide to the floor, to bare her golden breasts, topped with dark red nipples already stiff.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘I’d like you all to watch.’

  Truud bent over, supporting herself on tiptoes and fingertips, with her legs apart, her bottom thrust high and her firm, massive teats hanging like golden marrows below her ribs; she rolled the wet pantaloons to her ankles, leaving the bare melons of her bum taut and trembling in the firelight, with droplets of wine dribbling into her jungle of blond pubic curls.

  ‘To avoid further mess,’ she said, ‘it is better I should be spanked on my bare arse.’

  Jan took position behind his twin’s bare bum and raised his arm.

  ‘I have never spanked her before,’ he said.

  ‘Have you spanked any girl before?’ said Habren.

  ‘I…yes, I have.’

  ‘Jan!’ cried Truud, though without shifting from her submissive posture.

  ‘Then you know about relaxing the buttocks with a warming-up, the building of pain until the subject crosses her threshold, after which a beating may continue indefinitely…’

  Smack!

  ‘Oh!’

  Truud’s fesses trembled at Jan’s first spank.

  ‘Be quiet!’ hissed Jan.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  ‘Ohh…! It hurts!’

  The golden bum-flans began to clench and quiver.

  Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

  ‘Ahhh…!’

  Truud’s naked arse jerked as each spank bruised her smooth flesh, leaving spanker’s red marks on her bumskin. Her long legs shuddered and her arms trembled; at each spank, her titties wobbled violently. Jan frowned, his eyes fixed on his twin’s bare bum; his cock bulged proud. He continued the spanking to a hundred slaps, Truud’s wails growing more subdued, until his blows drew only a grunt from her. The posture had steadied, the legs and arms holding firm, although the fesses clenched tight before and after each flurry of four or five spanks. Jan dripped with sweat, his penis now rock-hard under his garment.

  ‘Perhaps you would like to make yourself more comfortable, Jan,’ said Habren.

  Jan looked round, seeing her eyes on his erect cock, and her fingers slipping in and out of her loinstring as she rubbed herself between the thighs. Unsmiling, he shed his shirt and unzipped his shorts, letting them fall, to reveal his stiff cock. Truud looked round and whimpered, as Habren handed Jan a short, whippy cane. The girl’s bottom was a smooth blossom of scarlet, dappled by the imprints of her spanker’s fingertips. Habren raised her tabard over her breasts and stroked her own stiff nipples, kneading the plums between finger and thumb; her cunt-bush gleamed with come seeping from her wanked pouch.

  ‘You said nothing about caning!’ blurted Truud, bitterly.

  ‘I suppose you caned those…those sluts!’

  Habren’s hand clamped the girl’s cunt, rubbing her hard on the swollen gash flaps, and emerged dripping with Truud’s own come.

  ‘You are sopping! If spanking turns you on, then think what a caning must do,’ Habren said. ‘Twenty-one brisk stingers should teach her pleasure…Joss! Keep your hands behind your back, you whelp!’

  ‘No…!’ Truud moaned, but braced herself, thighs and bum taut, at the whistle of the cane.

  Vip!

  ‘Oh!’

  Vip!

  ‘Ah!’

  Vip! Vip! Vip!

  ‘Ahh…Mm!’

  Her bare buttocks squirmed as the cane laid fine pink stripes on the golden skin, and her legs trembled like reeds.

  Vip! Vip! Vip!

  ‘Oh…oh…ach, nee…’

  Eyes tight shut, Truud’s head jerked from side to side, her teeth alternately gritting in a wall of white, or slackening to let her tongue loll from her lips, slimed with drool, as her cunt oozed come over her inner thighs. The force of the strokes banged her quivering titties together like bells of flesh, her nipples too stiff to avoid jarring.

  Jan slackened the pace of his caning, taking careful aim and placing his strokes so as to cover the whole bottom. The legs quivered at each cut of the rod; Truud’s ankles pushed the elastic of the wine-dark pantaloons to bursting. Her face was crimson, her eyes flodded with tears, yet, between canestrokes, there was a plopping sound as come dripped from her writhing cunt on to the puddled gusset of Habren’s harem pants.

  Still masturbating, Habren knelt and, with a swift, birdlike swoop of her head, took the glans of Jan’s erect cock between her lips. She sucked his glans while he dealt three more strokes to the crimson bare of his sister, then, at the next, plunged her head to engorge his cock, right to his balls. Habren wanked herself vigorously, come streaming from her tangled pube-hairs as she sucked the Vandal’s cock. Her husband watched, his own cock throbbing against his silk robe. Jan dealt the twenty-first stroke and flung aside the cane, using both hands to press Habren’s blond tresses to his loins. She shook her head, opened her mouth and withdrew.

  ‘I’ve better use for you,’ she panted, licking drool from her chin, ‘and for your twin sister. She is more than your sister, though — isn’t she?’

  She accompanied her question with a nip to the skin of his ball-sac, beneath his orbs, after which her palm cupped his balls entire.

  ‘Ah! I admit it,’ he gasped. ‘We share and pleasure each other…but my sister’s cunt is virgin!’

  Habren snapped her fingers and Joss stepped forward.

  ‘Husband,’ she snapped, ‘do the bitch in her bumhole.’

  Still holding Jan’s cock, she pushed Truud’s body prone on to the stone floor, where the girl wriggled in a pool of her own come, her legs still locked by the waistband of the silk pantaloons. Habren prised apart her wealed, crimson buttocks and stuck her index in the girl’s anus. Truud screamed. Aggar moved from the room and the fa
int whir of a film camera started as Joss doffed his robe and stood erect before Truud’s squirming buttocks.

  ‘Please, no…’ groaned Jan, as Habren rolled his balls in her palm like dice.

  Joss dropped on top of Truud and his swollen helmet poked her anus pucker. He thrust three or four times before penetrating her a few inches. Sweat poured from his muscular body as he thrust at the arse-shaft, until Truud moaned, her body sagged, and Joss cried in triumph as his cock sank into her anal elastic, right to his balls. His arse began to pump vigorously as he buggered the girl.

  ‘Nnngh! Urrgh!’

  Truud moaned, drooling and slapping her chin against the flagstones. Yet her buttocks parted and began to thrust in time with her buggery, as the fesses squeezed suck Joss’s cock, holding it at the root of her anus; her sobs grew to squeals of pleasure.

  ‘Yes…yes…fuck me harder…ahh…!’

  Come gushed from her cunt, squelching and slapping the floor. Jan grimaced and sighed, his cock rigid.

  ‘The first time you’ve seen her fucked by another man?’

  ‘Yes…oh, damn you!’

  Habren, smiling, squeezed Jan’s balls. Joss grunted as he spurted his spunk into Truud’s bumhole.

  ‘Ach…Jazeker! Ja…!’

  Her belly clapped the floor as she writhed in her own orgasm. Habren drew Joss from the girl’s writhing bum and herself squatted over it. Tickling Jan’s balls and flicking his peehole with a thumbnail, she pissed heavily, splattering the girl’s raw cane weals with golden fluid, then ordered Joss to kneel and lick her cunt clean. As her husband’s lips and tongue slobbered in her swollen pouch, Habren flopped Truud on to her back and ripped the pantaloons from her. She delivered the last of her pee directly into the garment’s gusset, stained with wine and slimed with her come. Aggar approached and knelt by his mistress, buckling a strap-on dildo around her waist. Habren released Jan’s balls and forced Truud’s come-soaked thighs apart, squatting over her, ready to fuck. The tip of her pink, knobbled dildo touched Truud’s clitoris and the girl shuddered, moaning. Drool flecked her lips.

  ‘No…please…enough…!’

  Habren ordered Jan to bugger her own arse from the rear, while she fucked his twin’s virgin cunt with the strap-on. She bound the piss-soaked pantaloons tightly around Truud’s trembling titties, so that the breast-flesh was pinioned and swelled, puffy and wrinkled, from its bonds. Truud squealed and was silenced as Habren stuffed the dripping gusset of the pantaloons into her mouth, gagging her. Truud’s eyes were wide as Habren parted her bum-cheeks and Jan mounted her. Habren’s dildo pierced Truud’s wet cunt, just before her own anus yielded to Jan’s cock-thrusts and she groaned ‘Yes…!’ as his tool pounded her arse-root.

  Habren fucked the squirming, sobbing Truud with her dildo, its gnarled extrusions catching her swollen clitty at each stroke, in the same rhythm that Jan buggered her, their strokes becoming faster. Truud gasped, crushed under the weight of two bodies and, if she closed her eyes, Habren slapped her.

  ‘Look at the brute!’ she hissed. ‘Your twin, your lover…bum-fucking another woman! See, he loves it! Jan, fuck me harder! Bugger me deep…!’

  Habren’s buttocks clutched the penis that impaled her, her fesses clenched and wriggling fiercely, as if to suck in his ball-sac. Her husband knelt before her, erect again, and presented his cock to her lips. Habren snarled that Joss had earned a flogging, not a spurt.

  ‘Bring me a real man,’ she hissed, ‘and watch us — hands behind your back, worm.’

  Her husband summoned Aggar and watched as the black man’s cock plunged to the back of his wife’s throat; buggered, fucking the squealing girl and her mouth impaled on the giant black cock, Habren sucked Aggar, until creamy spunk burst from her lips. Jan cried out as his own spunk flooded Habren’s anus and frothed at her pucker; Truud sobbed, pissing copiously, as the dildo rammed her cunt, tickling her clit to orgasm.

  Gasping, they rose. Habren picked up the cane and threw it between Truud’s legs. She pulled the gag from her mouth and untied her bound breasts, which sprang back to fullness, their golden skin turned white in bondage.

  ‘You may cane my worm of a husband,’ she said. ‘A good fifteen on the bare, while he licks your piss from my floor.’

  Truud shivered and said shyly, ‘I’d rather lick up my own mess, if you don’t mind, even if it’s my bare that takes the cane. I cannot hurt anyone.’

  ‘Do it, then, Truud…as you intended.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘The road map was in your purse and in your handwriting?’

  ‘Why, yes, but —’

  ‘You have the route sketched in turquoise ink and the places you’ve stopped marked in black. Yet the turquoise route doesn’t go to the Gold Coast. It stops here. The halt wasn’t to fix your vehicle, it was to fix you. My film sets are no secret. You knew you would find Vandals…’

  Truud smiled as she began to lick the floor clean of her pee and come. She wiggled her bare arse and slapped her buttocks with wide, appealing eyes.

  ‘I wanted to surprise Jan,’ she said. ‘He is addicted to your films and the practices in them. If he can cane sluts’ — Jan growled — ‘it’s only fair he should serve me…’

  Vip!

  ‘Ahh!’

  Jan lashed his twin sister’s bare bum.

  ‘My arse has waited so long,’ panted Truud, as her buttocks clenched for caning, the square of pink brocade, a fluttering pennant, in her anus.

  10

  Snout Run

  Angarad’s cell door slid open and Isobel Coker entered, closing the door quickly behind her. Angarad, sitting on her bunk, wearing only her plain white cotton nightie, cringed a moment, then gave a guarded smile and sprang to attention. Her stinker’s uniform bra and string knickers lay, folded neatly, on her grey blanket.

  ‘It’s only me,’ Isobel said. ‘Smoke? I’ve half a rollie left.’

  She lit up and the two girls sucked hungrily on the scragend of tobacco.

  ‘I thought strokes always had full pouches,’ said Angarad.

  ‘We strokes are more like slags than you imagine,’ Isobel replied. ‘Most of us are former slags.’

  ‘I know, mum. But not you.’

  ‘Would you be afraid if another warden visited you?’

  ‘It’s not my place to say, mum,’ said Angarad, averting her gaze.

  ‘But some of them like to make a surprise inspection after lights out? And whop you, bare bum?’

  ‘I’m only a stinker, mum,’ Angarad sighed, ‘with a pink sticker for pervert. A warden may do as she pleases.’

  ‘I suppose I’m something of a stinker, myself,’ Isobel said, ‘as a newcomer. You are a pervert, aren’t you?’

  ‘Mum, in a week here,’ Angarad replied, ‘I’ve given up trying to persuade people otherwise. I’ve given up trying to persuade myself! I’m a pervert. The system says so. If I’m whopped, it’s because I deserve it.’

  ‘But do you like whopping? Remember, you came here with a well-striped arse.’

  ‘Not my choice, mum.’

  ‘You haven’t answered my question. Raise your nightie, stinker, and show me your bum!’

  At once, Angarad obeyed, taking the hem of her nightie between her teeth and bending over her bunk, her arms and thighs stretched wide, with her hands clutching the ends of the bunk, as though to take a beating. Isobel ran her fingers down fresh dark welts on Angarad’s bare arse.

  ‘Who did that?’ she whispered.

  ‘Perhaps Miss Brand, mum. She roped and flogged me last night with her belt, fifty lashes. Or, perhaps Miss Maclaren. She gave me an enema yesterday and caned me fifteen, while my arse filled. I’ve taken a dozen from Miss Garce and Miss Forge and Miss Oates and…well, from almost all the strokes. They all seem to have their own…preferences, with a new stinker’s bum — with my bum! — as a testing ground. Miss Oates likes her cane, Miss Brand ropes my wrists and ankles like a pony, Miss Garce makes me swallow my own panties as
a gag while she canes my bare! I’ve never been flogged in public, so my book is clean! I watched Ghislaine Bassin take two dozen, with the rubber ten-thong whip, on her back from Miss Tite, then two dozen with the cane on the bare bum from Miss Brand, and we had to eat while we watched. It was horrible! Afterwards, Ghislaine showed us her bruises, as though she was proud of them and…and wanked off as we touched her. Ghislaine said she’d been sentenced to the labyrinth, twice…but she wouldn’t tell, even when two Saracens slippered her bare bum with a gym shoe — and I held her down! She made me! The bitch!’

  Angarad’s breasts and buttocks quivered as her spine shook. She grimaced, sobbing.

  ‘Ghislaine is my trusty, as gym mistress,’ said Isobel.

  ‘But she seems to court trouble, almost on purpose. She takes an owner’s delight in the punishment apparatus you stinkers must polish with your quim-bushes every day. Has Miss Tite taken an interest in you?’

  ‘Miss Tite caned me two dozen on bare, mum, as I’m sure you know,’ said Angarad bitterly. ‘She caught Ghislaine and me wanking off, as Ghislaine was showing me her scars. Ghislaine got another two dozen with the cane, on top of her public thrashing. This prison is not…what I was led to expect, mum.’

  ‘Did Miss Tite do anything else?’

  Angarad was silent; Isobel slapped her bare left fesse, hard, and Angarad winced, briefly closing her eyes.

  ‘Did she tool your bumhole with a strap-on?’

  ‘I’d prefer not to say, mum.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes. I could cane you for insolence, bare as you stand,’ said Isobel.

  ‘Yes, mum.’

  ‘Would you enjoy it, Angarad? The same as you enjoyed Miss Tite’s bumming?’

  Angarad paused. Isobel took her warden’s cane from her belt, raised it over Angarad’s quivering bare arse-flans and struck them.

  Vip!

  The cane left a faint pink weal, overlaying her darker, older bruises. Angarad shivered and gasped.

  ‘Would you enjoy it, Angarad?’

  Angarad stretched her legs and curled a foot around the legs of her bunk, so that her buttocks were fully parted, showing the arse-cleft, the cunt and the thick pubic bush dangling shiny and moist beneath the gash flaps. Her eyes were fixed ahead on the wall and she swallowed.