Captives of Cheyner Close

by Adriana Arden

  Tom couldn’t let her get away with that. He reached for his holly cane, which had never been far from hand in recent days even in the shower, and swished it across her lean stomach. She yelped and twisted away as far as her upstretched arms, which were cuffed to a large hook set high up the shower cubical, allowed. He caught her by the chin and turned her head back round to face him once more.

  ‘I don’t expect you to pretend to like this, but you will speak when you’re spoken to and you will do it properly. Those are the rules, remember?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Sian said contritely. ‘I’m sorry, Master.’

  ‘That’s better. I may be new to handling slavegirls but I’m learning fast. And one thing I expect is a proper show of subservience.’

  Sian hung her head humbly. ‘Yes, Master.’

  Tom lifted her chin up again. ‘That’s the idea, but you can look me in the eye. You’ve got a nice face when you let yourself smile.’ He looked her slim wet body up and down and grinned. ‘A nice everything, in fact …’

  This was the fourth naked and handcuffed girl he’d been in the shower with since Saturday. Even in his adolescent dreams he’d never imagined anything like this. He was pale and not in great shape, while she was tanned and supple, no doubt courtesy of an expensive health club. But for tonight she belonged to him. The shower water ran off the end of his joyfully tumescent penis.

  He began playing with Sian’s soapy body. Her little rounded breasts were wonderfully firm, tipped with hard nipples. Sian rested her head back against the tiles and bit her lip, but she kept her eyes on him as he had instructed.

  ‘I had Hazel last night, and she was great fun to play with,’ Tom said chattily. ‘But so far you’ve been behaving like your friend Cassie. I had her on Saturday and she was a streak of misery, far worse than Tara, at least until I encouraged her to brighten up. Do you want to be bright or miserable?’

  She licked her lips. ‘I’ll try to be bright, Master.’

  ‘That’s better. Of course we both know you’d rather not be here at all, but since you are you might as well make the best of it, even if it’s only out of pure selfishness. As I said, Cassie took a lot of persuading to cheer up. If you’re sensible you’ll save yourself some unnecessary pain and at least act responsively …’

  By now his hands had travelled down the curve of her stomach and slipped between her slender thighs into the still-soapy tangle of her pubic bush.

  Sian gulped and spread her legs wider. ‘I’ll be sensible, Master.’ She forced a smile. ‘Will you – will you wash my pussy, please?’

  Tom was glad to see that rather haughty and superior expression finally wiped from her face. She might learn in time. But whether she did or not, he’d have his fun with her. That was the bargain.

  He worked her pubic hair into a lather, feeling her body trembling as he rubbed his fingers though her slit, then rinsed the soap away. He probed her labia again to test they were clean and found a slipperiness there that had nothing to do with soap. His cock was straining now, which Sian could see quite clearly. There was a wonderful inevitability about what came next.

  Sian forced another smile, then, either wanting to get it over with or trying to further stimulate her own passion, she craned her neck upwards and kissed him. He stooped and so that his cockhead could connect with her lovemouth. Her tight cleft parted about his shaft as he slid into her. Tom straightened his legs so that Sian’s back slid up the slippery tiles and her feet lifted from the floor.

  Her slim legs scrabbled about for a moment, then reluctantly crooked about his waist, her ankles crossed in the small of his back, easing some of the strain on her wrists. He thrust into her again and again, driving the breath from her slim frame. He sensed her loosing her inhibitions as nature took over. The embrace of her legs tightened about him and she kissed him again with something approaching genuine passion. The analytical part of Tom’s mind that never shut down was surprised. Sian had come only a couple of hours ago, unless she faked her orgasm on the pillory pole. Maybe a real cock turned her on more intensely; maybe there was a sensuous being under that slightly frosty exterior. Whatever the reason, she wanted to come now.

  But he could not wait for her to catch up. Besides, his pleasure came first.

  His sperm pumped into her hot tight depths, making her ride him with more desperate vigour. But after a moment to recover he firmly disentangled her legs from about his waist and pulled out of her sticky clinging maw. She was left swaying from her wrist cuffs, thrusting out her hips to him, the engorged pink lips of her cleft pouting from the nest of her pubic bush.

  ‘No – finish me off!’ she demanded angrily, her eyes filled with unfulfilled need. Then she added meekly: ‘Please, Master.’

  A week ago she would not have given him the time of day, now she needed him. That felt so good. ‘Do you want me back inside you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes!’ she sobbed.

  ‘Beg.’

  ‘I beg you, Master – please bring me off!’

  Tom grinned. ‘Well, you’ll just have to hold that thought. But I promise you’ll get plenty of opportunity later. You see, Jim Curry’s not the only inventor round here, and I’ve got a little device I want to try out on you.’ He reached for a towel. ‘But first, let’s get you dry …’

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later Sian was lying on her back on a sturdy square of blockboard resting on a table in Tom’s study workroom.

  Her upper arms were spread clear of her body, exposing the soft hollows of her armpits. Her elbows were bent at right angles so that her wrists were fastened to the board with buckled straps bolted close to the one that encircled her neck. Another strap crossed tightly over her waist. Her legs were pulled up and splayed wide, with straps holding down her thighs almost flat. Her knees were both bent and turned outward, so that the ankle straps holding them in place caused the sides of her feet to press against the board. This posture forced upon her slim body starkly displayed her mound of Venus, capped by its dark pubic forest. The acute spreading of her thighs caused its central valley to gape invitingly.

  The open vulnerability of her groin was emphasised by a small electric motor connected to a crank wheel which was bolted to the board just below the cleft of her buttocks, with its reciprocating shaft pointing right at her vagina.

  Sian’s eyes had passed anxiously over the jumble of computers and electronic apparatus that packed the desks and shelves as he had strapped her down, and then fixed with growing alarm on the black box with its dials and switches and trailing cables which Tom was arranging beside her.

  ‘I tried this out on Hazel last night,’ he explained, uncoiling several coloured wires with crocodile clips on their ends. ‘It’ll be interesting to see how you make out.’ He saw the expression on her face and added wryly: ‘You know I’m good with electronics. It’s quite safe. A lot of voltage but low current. It doesn’t mean it won’t be painful, of course, but you were expecting that anyway, right?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Sian said, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s a way you can make it more pleasant for yourself. But I’ve got to open you up first …’

  He had two pairs of sprung plastic clips tied to lengths of elastic cord. Pinching her thick outer labia between his fingers he snapped the clips about them, ignoring Sian’s little whimpers, then pulled the cords tight and tied them round her thighs. The tension pulled the elastic fleshlips wide so her vulva seemed almost to blossom; exposing the crinkled crescents of her more delicate inner lips, the hood of clitoris, the tiny mouth of her urethra and below it the dark pit of her vagina. Tom paused for a moment to admire the result, deciding that the oft-made comparison between female genitalia and orchids was quite valid. Here before him was just such a pubic orchid, blooming in a bed of black moss.

  He held up one of the crocodile clips for her to see. It had a double wire trailing from it. ‘Each of these forms a complete circuit,’ he explained.
‘The halves of the jaw are insulated from each other so that the current flows directly between them. It’ll probably feel like having a needle stuck through your skin, only there won’t be any mark afterwards.’

  Sian bit her lip, but said nothing.

  Tom began fastening the metal crocodile clips to Sian’s body: one each on the natural terminals of her nipples and two on each petal of her inner labia. Sian whimpered anew as the fine metal teeth bit into her tender flesh. He slid an electrode rod, with a rubber ring about its base to stop it being expelled, up her anus.

  He then picked up a dildo-sized cylinder of blue foam rubber, with a single copper wire coiled in a spiral round its shaft and a separate bundle of insulated wires trailing from its base.

  ‘This coil is the other half of the circuit terminating in the electrode up your rear,’ he explained. ‘When they’re both in place the current will flow between them. But this also has a sensor inside linked to another circuit that will reduce the size of the shocks you get the wetter it becomes.’ He grinned. ‘And you know how to make it wetter, don’t you?’

  Sian nodded.

  Tom mounted the dildo onto the shaft of the motor and slid its tip into the open mouth of her vagina.

  ‘Hazel had a little accident when I used this on her last night,’ he explained, putting a plastic sheet down on the floor. ‘It might just be her nature, or it may be a side effect of the machine. Better safe than sorry …’

  Tom took up position by the control box and grinned at Sian. ‘As an incentive I’m setting the timing of the shocks, their strength and the speed of the motor to get steadily stronger and faster. The sooner you come and the wetter you get the less it’ll hurt, you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Sian said, pale-faced.

  Tom pressed a button. The motor whirred, sending the dildo slowly into Sian. She gave a sharp gasp and her hips jerked as far as her straps allowed as a jolt of electricity passed through her labia. As the dildo plugged her completely its coil came alive, the current flowing though the narrow membrane separating her front and rear passages, making a circuit with the probe in her anus. Tom saw her bottom sphincter tighten about the metal rod skewered within her. As the dildo pulled out again her back arched and her small breasts heaved and jiggled as her nipples were shocked. Then the cycle started again, but a little faster.

  ‘Talk to me,’ Tom said, ‘tell me what it feels like.’

  Sian moaned and licked her lips, trying to talk even though her whole body was tensing in time with the shocks. ‘Pins stabbing right through – ah! – my nipples, Master – aww! – stabbing my pubes – uhhh! – that was right inside … I never – aghh! – oh, God … please, Master … I’m trying – ahhah! – to come!’

  He could see her vagina squeezing the wire-coiled dildo as it pumped into her. Already it was glistening with her slick secretion.

  ‘You can do it,’ he encouraged her.

  ‘Aww! They’re getting hotter … uhh! … I’m trying, I’m trying –’

  Her peeled-back and twitching pubes were shiny with her exudations. A dark stain was growing on the board beneath them.

  ‘Your juices should be reaching the sensor now,’ he said. ‘The shocks will feel less intense, more pleasure than pain. You’re doing very well. I’ll turn it off when you come.’

  ‘Yes, Master,’ Sian gasped. ‘It’s – aw! – better now …’

  Her neat body was trembling with her exertions, sweat beading in the valley between her breasts. Her breathing was getting faster, the straining of her limbs more forceful as though she was driving herself forward to finish a race.

  Suddenly she gave a loud yell, half of triumph, half of surprise. The dildo emerged streaming with her come while a fitful jet of pee spurted from her cleft onto the plastic sheet, pulsing in time with the shocks still galvanising her inner muscles.

  Gasping from the force of her orgasm even as she blushed with shame at her display, Sian lay still, panting heavily.

  Tom turned the machine off, wondering if it would have the same result on the next girl. Would she also believe the shocks were getting less intense the wetter she got, when in fact they did no such thing?

  ‘What did you think of my little invention?’ he asked. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  Sian struggled to speak coherently. ‘It – it frightened me, Master. It was alive inside me. Being controlled … like a puppet.’

  ‘But you did come. You must have enjoyed it a bit.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it … but please don’t use it on me again, Master. I’ll try to please you in any other way. I’ll do anything you want.’

  Tom savoured her desperate expression. ‘Hmm. Is your bum as tight as your cunt?’

  Almost eagerly, Sian replied: ‘Oh yes, Master. You’ll like using my bumhole. I’ve always been called a – a –’

  ‘Tight-arsed little bitch?’ Tom suggested.

  A new blush was darkening Sian’s cheeks. ‘Yes, Master,’ she said miserably.

  ‘Then I’ll try to loosen you up.’

  Sian spent the rest of the night tied face down on Tom’s bed, while he happily rode her hot tight rear to three more orgasms. When he released her the next morning she could hardly walk. Nevertheless she thanked him when he helped her along to the shower.

  Could his machine generate better manners as well as orgasms?

  Eight

  THERE WAS SOMETHING subtly different about Sian that morning, Tara thought. Her normally self-possessed and brittle expression had softened into something more introspective. Tara wondered if it was due to her night in Tom Fanning’s charge or the unresolved matter of Simon Pye. It had been playing on Tara’s mind as well, though for the moment she was trying to keep her worries at bay. That was a problem to be faced after they had served their time in the Close.

  But as usual there was no opportunity to hear from Sian or any of the others about their experiences the previous night. After breakfast they were put through their regular hour of exercises by Warwick in the back garden. Tara happily lost herself in the vigorous activity, working out the kinks in her muscles and shaking off the aches, if not the soreness, left over from her demanding session with the Jessops. With the dew still lingering on the grass, it was almost enjoyable.

  At the end of the session, breathing heavily and cheeks flushed, they were formed up into line so that their wrists could be cuffed behind them once again. Warwick then tied metal rings to the backs of their collars, with enough slack so they dangled free against their skin.

  What were they planning now? Tara wondered.

  Warwick ordered them into the ‘Present’ position. As they bent over with their legs spread and heads level with their knees, Narinda came out of the house with what looked like a bunch of toffee apples in her hand. She made her way along their line, forcing the bulbous ends of the toffee apples up their rears. They were in fact thick lengths of dowel with holes bored through up their shafts, and capped with rubber balls.

  The balls had been vaselined, but even so Tara gasped as her anal ring was forced to expand to let it in. Once it was in place Narinda tugged at the shaft protruding from Tara’s anus to check it was secure. Tara knew there was no way she could expel it on her own. But what were they for?

  They were marched back inside the house, where Jim Curry, Louisa Jessop and Raj Khan were waiting beside a strange collection of items that had been assembled in their room. As she took it in Tara realised they were going to be on the receiving end of another display of the residents’ perverse ingenuity.

  Six plain wooden chairs, with their feet nailed to sheets of hardboard, had been arranged in a circle. In the centreline of each seat, and about a third the way in from the backrest, a hole had been drilled through the solid wood. Screwed vertically to the back of each chair was another length of the same thick wooden rod they had up their rears.

  At the centre of the circle of chairs was a tyreless bicycle wheel, its axle perpendicular, suspended at about head heigh
t from a ceiling hook which had previously supported some heavy light fitting. Below the wheel, resting on a low stool, was a red plastic bucket to which six short lengths of black plastic guttering had been fastened with small brass hinges. The lip of each overhung the bucket rim and they radiating symmetrically outward like the spokes of a wheel.

  The outer ends of each length of gutter had been trimmed so that they tapered into flat plastic tongues. Sleeves of yellow foam pipe lagging had been slipped over these protrusions and taped in place. The ends of these rested one each on the seats of the chairs.

  Lengths of cord were draped over the rim of the bicycle wheel and fastened to a large coil spring, the bottom of which was hooked to the bucket handle. The free ends of these cords were tied to crocodile clips. A second set of cords had been fastened to the bottom of the bucket, and these were tied to wooden pegs.

  Stepping over the gutters, the girls were carefully positioned before they sat down. The dowels sticking out from between their buttocks were guided through the holes in the chairs, while their new neck rings were slipped over the upright rods rising from the chair backs. The cords attached to the bottom of the bucket were drawn out, threaded through rings screwed to the underside of their chair seats, and slotted into the holes in their projecting anal rods.

  Their legs were spread, their feet pulled round to the outside of the front legs of the chairs and tied in place. They sat very straight-backed. Their collar rings did not permit them to bend forward and they could not rise to disengage the rings from the upright rods they were hooked over because of the pegs under their chairs holding their anal rods in place.

  The residents then produced six two-litre plastic bottles of mineral water, which had each been bound round with slings of wire extending into two wing-like noses. These they looped about the roots of the girls’ breasts and drew tight. To prevent the nooses slipping off they clipped clothespegs to the bulging flesh just below the wires. Sian’s small globes got three on each, Tara and Gail six.