by William Avon
“Yes, Sam! All the way. Ream her out. I want to feel you inside her.”
Mr Whitlow reached round Melanie, clasped his wife’s breasts and thrust again, ramming into Melanie so hard it felt like he was trying to push right through her into his wife’s hungry cunt.
The threesome surged to and fro ecstatically. Building up a rhythm, sweat-sheened where their bodies rubbed and pressed together. Melanie added her own efforts to those of Mr Whitlow: thrust hips forward to impale his wife, push hips back to impale herself.
When the tension within her could no longer be denied, a gut-wrenching, mind-searing orgasm of slavish intensity burst within Melanie. Just as befitted the plaything of two loving hedonists.
Sally gets an Offer
The brisk ringing of a bicycle bell caused Constable Bailey to open the gates of the police station punishment yard.
“Oh, hallo, Sister,” he said, as his visitor drew up.
“I hoped I might catch you, Mr Bailey,” said Miss Newcombe. “You’re usually here for the end of the morning pillory session.”
“Yes, I’d just closed up. What can I do for you?”
“There were a couple of things - if you can spare me a few minutes?”
“Always glad to chat with you, Sister - if you don’t mind me getting on with my work while we talk. You’d better come in. Bring your bike.”
Miss Newcombe wheeled her bike into the yard and Bailey closed the gates behind her.
The walled yard was where the residents of Shaftwell contributed to the process of public shaming and torment that the law decreed appropriate for young women who broke its edicts. By the gate was a box of pillory shot - balls of coloured mud wrapped in greaseproof paper - while in the middle of the yard a girl was strapped to a target board.
The board was tilted backwards at 45 degrees and the girl was fastened to it in a spread-eagled position so that her feet hung clear of the ground. She was naked but, like the board on which she was mounted, covered in muddy multi-coloured splashes and trickles from dozens of pillory shots. From the burst patterns several looked as though they had struck her very hard. Something also extended from between her spread legs to add to her misery.
Miss Newcombe regarded the unfortunate girl with interest. “Ah, Sally Potts. She was one of the things I wanted to talk about. But first, I was wondering if you’d had any luck tracing the Jones girl? It seems so extraordinary her disappearing like that.”
Bailey’s large face darkened. “It is that, Sister. I’ve made enquiries and searched as far as I can, but nobody’s seen hide nor hair of her. And there’s no reports from other districts.”
“Could it have been those men I glimpsed in the woods when she first appeared, the ones she said originally waylaid her?”
“Maybe, Sister. I wouldn’t admit it to everybody, but it’s got me baffled. A gang bold enough to break a girl out of jail. You hardly ever hear of such a thing, certainly not round these parts. Won’t look good on my record, that’s for sure. I never lost a prisoner before.”
“I’m sure your superiors will understand,” Miss Newcombe said sympathetically. “You had her properly secured as far as the means at your disposal allowed. Nobody can blame you.”
Bailey brightened slightly. “Well, that’s kind of you to say so, Sister. Now, what did you want with Sally Potts?”
“I believe I mentioned, when you had the Jones girl in custody, that I was considering investing in a bondservant. I had thought then about bidding for Jones herself, but now she’s gone, perhaps Potts will do.”
“But she won’t be going to auction, Sister. She’s never done anything serious enough to warrant it. Leastwise, we’ve never caught her.”
“I thought I might convince her to enter my service voluntarily. I don’t think she’s a bad girl at heart. I believe she has possibilities... if she has the proper guidance.”
Bailey chuckled. “I think you’ll have your work cut out for you there, Sister. A very independently minded little minx, she is. But, if you want to make the offer, I’ve no objection.” He made his way over to a garden hose coiled against the wall.
“I’d better wash her down first,” he said, turning on the tap and picking up the end of the hose. “Mind you don’t get splashed.”
Miss Newcombe watched as Bailey hosed the mud from Sally, revealing a pink body and blonde hair beneath. When he was finished he said: “Let me know when you’re done,” and went back inside the police station.
Miss Newcombe walked up to the bedraggled girl and looked her over.
Sally was a petite girl of nineteen or twenty, with sharp defiant eyes and pouting, impudent lips. Her hips were slim and her breasts, full for her size, were soft and loose. The object protruding from the reddened lips between her legs was a round flap of rubber, a little like a paddle blade, attached to a spring handle. Around the neck of the paddle was a ring of metal spikes. Any pillory shot striking the blade would set it bouncing freely. From the number of scratches on her thighs it appeared that several had.
“Do you know who I am?” Miss Newcombe asked.
“I’ve seen you about,” said Sally. “You’re the nurse at that boy’s school. So what?”
“I thought you might need my help.”
“I ain’t sick.”
“But you still need help.”
“I don’t need nobody’s help.”
“Really?” Miss Newcombe pointedly looked Sally’s helpless body up and down once again, then reached out and wagged the end of the punishment paddle to and fro, making Sally jerk in alarm. “It doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.”
“I’m getting out of here today,” Sally said. “Then I’ll be on my way...”
“To where?” Miss Newcombe interjected. “You have no home, no proper friends. You’re a vagabond, a petty thief and a casual prostitute, living by your wits and luck. You don’t dare stay anywhere more than a few days for fear of arrest.”
“But I’m free!” Sally said defiantly.
“But for how long? What happens when you get arrested for something more serious - as you will inevitably and you know it. You’ll get six months or a year of public servitude, perhaps more. You won’t be free then.”
“I’ll manage!” Sally blustered, but she sounded less sure of herself. There was powerful conviction behind Miss Newcombe’s words.
“Perhaps; until the next time. At the moment the police tolerate you as a minor nuisance, and you make a pretty target in the pillory to fill an empty yard. But once you’ve had a spell of servitude they won’t be so forgiving. You’ll just be a little lonely, good for nothing tramp.”
Sally tugged futilely at her bonds, discovering that words could hurt more than pillory shot. “It won’t be like that!”
“Well, if you’re so certain, then I can do nothing for you,” said Miss Newcombe with a resigned sigh. “As you say, you’ll be released at midday. Of course, I’m sure that Constable Bailey will be wanting to give you something to remember him by before you go - as I’m sure all the policemen who’ve ever arrested you have done. Do you really want that to be the pattern of the rest of your life? A jail slut to be had chained up against the bars when the local constable’s bored - oh yes, I know what they do to you in the cells. You might ask yourself: is that all I want to achieve? Well, goodbye...”
Miss Newcombe turned to leave.
“Wait!” Sally said quickly. Miss Newcombe turned back to her. “What’s this ‘help’ you wanted to give me?”
“I was going to suggest you become my bondslave.”
Sally gave a derisive laugh. “How would that help me? Bondslaves are nothing. At least I can hold my head up.”
“Sally, most people think you’re nothing already, and they don’t care if you hold your head up or not. Face the facts. I have a certain
position in this community. As my bondservant you would benefit from that by association. It would mean you could walk down the street without people looking out for their washing lines or cakes cooling on windowsills.”
“But I’d be a slave no better than what you said I’d end up as anyway. I’d still have to please you like any master.”
Miss Newcombe stroked her fingers lightly across Sally’s soft stomach, then up to her right breast, which she began to knead gently.
“Of course you’ll have to serve me, but it will be nothing you haven’t done before and less than Bailey’s put you through here. I don’t pretend I’m making this offer out of pure altruism. I’d enjoy owning a pretty girl like you - and you could be very pretty with the right grooming. Yes, I’ll be strict, but I’ll also teach you manners, improve your education and perhaps give you some genuine self respect.”
Under her gentle manipulations, Sally’s nipple was rising, the areola spreading and darkening. Miss Newcombe smiled at the display.
“You don’t seem to find my touch unpleasant,” she said. “Think how much easier it will be this way. It will be a private arrangement you’ll have entered into voluntarily, say for six months at first. If you don’t like it, or if I find you unsatisfactory, then you won’t be any worse off than you would have been.”
Sally was frowning deeply as her eyes searched Miss Newcombe’s face. She said slowly: “If you want me that bad what will you pay for me? Maybe I’ll sell myself as a bondslave - the law says people can. Then I’d have something put by at the end of it.”
Miss Newcombe laughed. “You’re a mercenary little creature. If I had to pay I’d expect a dedicated slave. Would you be worth it?”
Her hand left Sally’s breast and slid down her body to the damp tangle of blonde hair between her legs. A finger slipped between soft pubic lips parted by the shaft of the punishment paddle and began to tease the hood of Sally’s clitoris. Sally gave a tiny helpless moan and her eyelids flickered closed. She forced the words out: “You’d be taking a chance - just like you want me to with you!”
Miss Newcombe laughed and bent over and kissed Sally lightly on the mouth. She withdrew her finger from Sally’s cleft and sniffed the glistening deposit left upon it thoughtfully.
“Maybe you are worth paying for. Shall we allow ourselves a little more time to think it over?”
“All right,” Sally agreed cautiously. “But I ain’t promising nothing.”
“Fair enough. I’ll tell Bailey not to move you on for a few days. I live in School House Cottage. I have some errands to run now, but I’ll be back there later this afternoon. We can talk further then. Now I’d better let Bailey see to you. I should think he’s getting impatient to give you your leaving present.”
Just after midday, Sally, still smarting both inside and out from Bailey’s farewell, emerged from the Police Station door. She was clothed, for the first time in weeks, in her shapeless old coat and long patched skirt. In her hand was a carpetbag that contained all her worldly possessions. Bailey saw her on her way with a wry grin.
“So you’ll be turning over a new leaf, will you Sally Potts?” he said. “Going into bond under Miss Newcombe?”
“Maybe I will and maybe I won’t,” Sally replied haughtily. “One thing’s for sure - you ain’t going to have me again!”
“I’ll keep a cell warm just in case,” Bailey said with a chuckle to her retreating back.
Sally stomped her way through Shaftwell, ignoring the looks of the people she passed instead of staring them out or pulling faces as was her normal response.
As she walked she realised that her clothes itched and smelled, and not just with the stuffiness of storage. At least she’d been kept clean in jail, with all that hosing down. Skin was easy to manage with a bit of soap and water. Pity she couldn’t live in skin all year round. It was nice to smell good. She found herself wondering if she could talk herself into being given a hot bath at Miss Newcombe’s. Probably, if she sounded pathetic enough.
She cheered herself with thought that she’d have some money soon. She was making for the rendezvous agreed with the Cranborough House boys, where they would pay her ten shillings for not giving them away to Bailey the night they broke Amber out of jail. With that she could... well, she’d think of something.
Walking with a little more spring in her step, she continued on out of Shaftwell along the road leading towards Cranborough House. She’d only gone a little way when she realised she was being followed.
Jemima the Detective
Jemima looked up and down the empty road in dismay. Where could Sally Potts have gone? Sally had rounded a bend and Jemima had run to keep up, but when she got there Sally had vanished. How could she go back to Arabella and admit that she couldn’t do a simple thing such as following a vagrant like Sally?
When Arabella had set them to finding Amber the previous day, the other girls had been given serious tasks like questioning the station porter or delivery drivers, or making a map of old barns and disused buildings in the area. Jemima, however, had been instructed to follow Sally when she was released in case she knew more than she had told about Amber’s disappearance, or even went looking for Amber herself. But Arabella had already interrogated Sally herself, quite cruelly, and had decided she knew nothing useful. Secretly, Jemima suspected she’d been given a pointless job as a punishment for not being strict enough with Sue.
Now it looked as though she was going to fail even in this.
“What you doing following me about, then?” a voice demanded right behind her.
Jemima jumped and spun around. Sally was standing there with her fists resting aggressively on her hips. Sally hadn’t seemed frightening when Jemima seen her naked and chained in the pillory. Now, though she was no bigger than Jemima, she suddenly looked threatening and capable of anything.
“I... I wasn’t following you,” Jemima stammered.
“Don’t piss me about. I saw you jumping behind trees every time you thought I was going to turn round. What are you up to?”
“I... I was worried about you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“When Arabella did those things to your... your...” she nodded desperately at Sally’s breasts swaying freely behind her frayed lace-up shirt.
“You mean when she nearly tore my tits off with her chain and clips?”
“Yes. I thought you might have been hurt. I was just following you to say I was sorry and see if you were all right.”
A mischievous smile flashed across Sally’s face and her manner underwent a sudden change. “Were you really worried about me?” she asked gently.
“Oh yes. Arabella was so nasty. I didn’t want to be there, but Arabella insisted. She’s like that.”
“Well now you can see she what she did. Come on.”
Sally led the way off the road into the trees where she had left her bag.
“I beg your pardon?” Jemima said, following uncertainly after her.
Under the shelter of the trees Sally turned round to face Jemima and pulled open the neck of her shirt. Her breasts squeezed through and bobbed free.
“There, see what she did to me?”
Jemima blushed at the sudden exposure. “I can’t tell...”
“Come closer. You can’t see from over there.”
With embarrassed, hesitant steps Jemima walked up to Sally, who lifted her malleable breasts with her palms so that the nipples pointed skyward. “Do you see the bruises on my nips?”
As Jemima bent forward to look closer Sally grabbed her shoulders, spun her round and pushed. Jemima went sprawling backwards onto a grassy bank with Sally falling on top of her. Pinning Jemima’s arms to her sides with her knees, Sally grasped Jemima’s hair to hold her head steady and wriggled about until her bare left breast was flattened against Jemima’s horrified fac
e.
“Now, you’re going to kiss ‘em better!” Sally rasped.
Jemima’s eyes saucered. “No, please!” She struggled, but Sally was stronger than she was and kept her pinioned, enjoying the futile squirming of the girl’s body under her own.
“Do it!” Sally commanded.
Jemima’s struggles ceased and Sally sensed her surrender. Her face woebegone, Jemima gently kissed the warm globe of flesh.
Sally shifted her position so that her right breast dangled over Jemima’s face. “Now this one!”
Again Jemima obeyed. Her lips were very soft.
Emboldened by Jemima’s compliance, Sally said. “Now suck my nips until they’re hard!”
A momentary flicker of alarm crossed Jemima’s face. Her body tensed against Sally’s, then relaxed again. She opened her mouth and accepted the nipple Sally thrust into it. Her lips closed about it. Sally felt the curious flicker of Jemima’s tongue as it explored the contours of the unfamiliar form. Jemima drew on the teat hesitantly.
“Go on, harder than that!” Sally said.
Jemima’s eyes closed and her lips and tongue began working busily, cheeks hollowing as she sucked as she had been instructed. Sally’s nipple swelled as blood coursed into it.
“That’s better,” Sally said.
Jemima’s face had relaxed. She looked almost blissful as she sucked away.
She was enjoying it! And so, Sally had to admit to herself, was she. It wasn’t quite what she’d planned.
With an effort she raised her shoulders, pulling her breast free from the warm moist haven of Jemima’s mouth and leaving Jemima blinking in confusion. Then awareness returned and Jemima turned her head aside in shame. Sally clasped her chin and twisted it back to face her.
“Just what are you?” Sally demanded. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off what Arabella was doing to me and now you nearly come giving me a tit-sucking!”