Slaves to the Girlspell

by William Avon

  That statement captured their attention. Before they could recover from the surprise, Sally continued with the air of one letting them into the secrets of her social diary. “I may be wanting to stay around here for a few days. This place of yours doesn’t look too bad. O’ course I wouldn’t stay without payin’ rent. That wouldn’t be proper. So all you got to do is say how you want to be paid.”

  The implication of her words slowly sank in. For the first time the boys looked at Sally as something more than a nuisance. She smiled back knowingly.

  “We can’t do it with her,” Gosset said.

  “Why not?” Parsons said, looking Sally up and down with growing interest.

  “You know what they say... her sort are always a bit dirty.”

  Sally glared at Gosset indignantly. “I ain’t dirty - Bailey gave me a hosing down just this morning. So my clothes may whiff a bit - but clothes can be taken off easy enough if you want...”

  Sally stood before them expectantly as the suggestion, with all its exciting implications, hung in the air. The boys licked their lips and exchanged anxious glances.

  Looking on as a fascinated bystander, Amber realised how uncertain they were about taking the next step with Sally, despite her virtually offering herself to them on a plate. None of them was willing to make the first move. For all their recent practise with her and what they were learning from the handbook, this was all new to them. Apparently boys could live in a slave owning society and still be nervous and ignorant when it came to dealing with the opposite sex.

  Sally made an impatient face. “Course if you ain’t up to it, I’ll just have to try elsewhere. But you’ll be missing one of my specials if you do.”

  The boys looked lost, slightly awed by Sally’s brazen self-confidence. Jackson, clearly unsure of himself, glanced round at Amber as though silently begging for guidance.

  “I’m sure it’ll be good value,” Amber said. “Why not give her a try.”

  Reassured, Jackson turned back to Sally and took a deep breath. “Grab her,” he said quickly.

  Harris and Bickley obeyed, each catching hold of one of her arms and pulling it out and a little behind her, so that her body was thrust forward at Jackson. Sally gave an artful little gasp and her eyes widened, as though surprised by the boys’ strength and initiative.

  “We’ll show you whether we’re up to it or not,” Jackson said.

  He untied the lacing of Sally’s shirt and jerked the flaps apart. He reached inside, clasped her breasts and as he bent, kissed her in the forceful, open-mouthed manner Amber had taught them. For a moment genuine surprise flickered across Sally’s face, then she gave herself up to the intimate contact; responding hungrily with her own lips.

  Jackson broke the kiss looking flushed and excited. Amber knew why: Sally put a lot into a kiss.

  “What’s she like?” Parsons asked eagerly.

  “Find out for yourself!”

  They took turns kissing Sally fiercely, pinching and pawing while she struggled sufficiently in their grasp to ensure they kept a firm hold of her. Her face showed excitement and confusion, as though she was being overwhelmed by the intensity of the process she herself had initiated. As each boy had kissed her she had felt his growing erection pressing against her and knew there was no turning back now.

  When they were done Jackson took hold of Sally’s hair and pulled her head back so that she had to look up at him. Her eyes were fearful but defiant, her sulky pouting lips flushed and more provocative that ever. Who could resist dominating such a creature?

  “Strip her!” Jackson said.

  They tore her loose shirt off over her head and her breasts swung naked and free before them. The boys pressed against her and impatient hands reached out to maul and fondle her mammaries, testing their weight and pinching their rubbery nipples.

  Imprisoned by their bodies Sally struggled and pleaded, every word only exciting them further: “No, please, let me go... Ahh! that hurts. I can’t take all of you at once...”

  Her long wrap-around skirt with its fraying hem was untied and cast aside. Below it were several layers of old salvaged petticoats which they tugged down over her slim hips. She wore no pants and the boys cheered with delight as they exposed the gold of her pubic bush. Struggle as she might, Sally could not prevent curious hands and questing fingers sliding between her thighs and into her cleft from front and rear, testing the way for the forthcoming onslaught.

  Sally’s legs were parted and her feet were suddenly kicking in the air, still shod in her old-fashioned ankle boots, an incongruous contrast to her nakedness. Each taking an arm or leg, the boys lifted her off the ground and carried her over to Amber’s makeshift bed. Amber herself, tied to a post at the end of the wooden pen, twisted round to watch the spectacle being played out only feet from her.

  As they dropped Sally onto the blankets and wrenched her legs wide, Amber had a momentary glimpse of the gaping, thick-lipped slit between them, the penetration of which was the boys’ sole objective. Such a beautiful and vulnerable seeming orifice - and Amber knew, quite capable of swallowing all the boys could pump into it without undue exertion.

  Sally was giving them what they wanted. They were too inexperienced to appreciate the subtleties of lust yet, so she was letting them master her, control her, use her. It was a rape in all but actuality; a superb performance in all but name.

  Four of the boys were lying huddled round Sally, each pinning down one limb while running their free hands over her wriggling body. Jackson was standing, pulling down his trousers - first again, the prerogative of a leader. His erection sprang free and he almost fell onto Sally, lunging frantically, caught up in the frenzy of primitive lust.

  As his cock found its goal, Sally gave a choking gasp and arched her back, clearly stretched to the limit by his entry.

  “No...! You’re too big... it hurts... let me go!” Sally cried.

  But nothing could stop Jackson spending himself inside her now. His smooth strong buttocks rose and fell in rapid rhythm, making Sally’s slender frame jerk with each thrust. With a grunt he spent himself and Sally moaned as though acknowledging her defilement.

  Craning her neck and twisting about shamelessly, Amber glimpsed the glistening cock shaft reluctantly withdrawing from Sally’s interior leaving a gaping fleshy tunnel behind it. Before it had a chance to close, Harris had taken Jackson’s place.

  Amber watched with complete fascination, jerking at her bonds, desperately wanting to join in. At the back of her mind was the frightening realization that at that very moment she wouldn’t have felt any less excited if it had been a real rape with the knowledge that it would be her turn next. Was she becoming a true slave to sex?

  As each boy mounted Sally her struggles diminished, as though she was being subdued by each demonstration of their strength and power, becoming a submissive receptacle for their passions. As she weakened, the thrill of conquest and dominance grew within them. The close air in the loft filled with the scent of hot semen, the spicy tang of Sally’s lubrication and the acridity of lusty sweat.

  Finally Gosset, the last of the five to take his turn with Sally, spent himself and slowly rolled off her. He left Sally lolling splay-legged and limp in their hands, eyes closed, breathing heavily. The flesh of her cunt mouth was red and swollen, her bush matted and smeared with glistening trails, while semen oozed from her cleft. The boys sprawled about her, grinning at her and each other in satisfaction.

  “Please, somebody fuck me!” Amber wailed at them in an agony of frustration.

  But for the moment even the boys’ youthful lust was satiated, and they only looked at her pleading face in amusement. Then Jackson suddenly grinned afresh. He climbed to his feet, stepped over to Amber and undid the rope binding her to the post. Catching her under her bound arms, the spreader bar holding her ankles apart making it imposs
ible for her to walk, he hauled her into a kneeling position and dropped her face downwards between Sally’s legs.

  “Use your tongue. Lick her clean,” he ordered.

  And Amber obeyed, burying her face in the hot slippery gash of flesh before her, not caring that she was cleaning up the boys’ leavings. Second-hand passion was better than nothing. She could taste a cocktail of their sperm mingling with Sally’s juices and lapped it up with such eagerness that Sally gave a gasp and shiver that Amber felt certain was genuine. Her tongue probed the fleshy tunnel the boys had so recently made use of and Sally arched her back and bent her knees a little to open herself wider.

  Amber could feel the boys’ eyes riveted on her, and she realised she was exposed before them in a different way than before. It was as though she was on a stage performing before an audience, and it felt desperately exciting. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw the boys’ hands busily working the life back into their cocks. Seized by the urge to do the thing properly, she lifted her sticky shiny face from Sally’s crotch and gasped: “If you really want to see something... turn me round so Sally can lick me as well.”

  Willing hands grasped her, lifted and turned her about. Her gaping, hungry cunt descended over Sally’s face to be met with a welcome kiss. Amber felt Sally’s experienced tongue slide into her and ascended to seventh heaven.

  As though from a distance, she heard the boys commenting in awed and slightly strained tones about the spectacle before them. Aroused afresh but unwilling to interfere with their coupling, they were kneeling round them masturbating furiously as they talked.

  “Look... what she’s doing now!”

  “The other one likes it... see her face.”

  “There was a chapter in the book... about the things you can get two girls to do to each other...”

  “But how long... will this one stay?”

  Amber felt the first hot jet of sperm splash across her back and redoubled her efforts. The two girls came noisily to the accompaniment of splatters of applause in praise of their performance. Then the twice-drained boys slumped across them, the weight of their bodies pressing them even more tightly together, and for a time there was no sound in the loft except for ragged breathing.

  Finally voices penetrated the blissful haze fogging Amber’s mind.

  “That was... great!” Gosset panted.

  “See, there wasn’t any harm in letting her come here,” Jackson said, sounding vindicated.

  “We’ve got to keep her,” Parsons said firmly.

  Speaking from between Amber’s thighs, Sally said: “You’ve changed your tune. Want me to stay now, do you?”

  “Yes... please,” Parsons replied almost humbly.

  The huddle of bodies broke up, the boys recovering their trousers while Amber was sat back against the plank wall. Sally used a rag soaked with water from Amber’s washing bucket to clean both of them up. The boys watched benevolently.

  Recognizing they were in a malleable mood, Amber took the opportunity to say: “You see what fun you can have with two girls. Think how much more you could do with three. Now, what about going after the outsider that Arabella’s secretly holding?”

  “What’s this about Arabella?” Sally asked as she wiped semen from Amber’s hair.

  “Remember when she questioned me while were in the police yard pillories? She asked if there might be a fourth outsider girl around somewhere. But there’s only two of us here as far as we know - myself and the black girl Major Havercotte-Gore’s got - so it looks like Arabella’s holding one secretly. I suggested to the boys that they might like to pinch her from Arabella as a way of getting their own back for all the grief she’s given them. They’d get another slave and Arabella couldn’t complain about it to anyone, which we reckon would seriously annoy her.”

  “Count me in,” Sally said. “I’d love to see somebody wipe the smirk off that mean bitch’s face.” She glanced at the boys. “Got any ideas how you’re going to do it?”

  The boys looked doubtful. “Well,” Jackson said. “We’d have to find out where she’s keeping this other girl first.”

  “She must be hidden somewhere on the Hall estate,” Parsons said thoughtfully.

  “We guessed that, you dope!” Gosset said scathingly. “But there’s woods and fields and dozens of outbuildings and barns and such. Even if we could get in after dark, it could take days, weeks even, to search it all.”

  “We can’t afford to wait that long,” Amber said impatiently. “You might get caught, or Arabella might get rid of the girl before you found her. When we make the snatch we must know exactly where we’re going. What we need is some inside information.” Her brow furrowed. “Who knows Arabella well enough to spy on her?”

  The boys looked at each other and shrugged. “She’s got a lot of county-set friends,” Harris said. “But I don’t see how we could find out anything from them.”

  “What about people locally?” Amber asked.

  “There’s only really the Snooties,” Jackson said.

  “The only one I met was called Belinda,” Amber said. “And she seemed a hard little piece and pretty loyal to Arabella. I don’t see that we could find out much from her. Are they all like that?”

  “Pretty much - except for Jemima Moncrief, of course,” Gosset said. “She’s pretty soft really. I think she got close to them because she thought it was safer than being outside where they might pick on her.”

  “There’s always one like that in any gang,” Amber said. “Now, how can we find this Jemima?”

  “Oh, I can get you Jemima whenever you want,” Sally said lightly.

  They all turned to stare at her. “Do you know her?” Amber asked.

  “‘Course I do. She was with Arabella when she came to ask me about you escaping. She’s soft all right. Didn’t like what Arabella did to try to make me talk.”

  “Did she hurt you?” Amber asked in dismay. “Sally, I’m so sorry.”

  Sally shrugged. “I’ve had worse. Anyway, now Arabella’s told Jemima to follow me about in case I lead her to you. But I caught her at it and, er, we talked a bit. She seemed pretty sorry for herself. I gave her a story to tell Arabella that would make her look good and she agreed. I think she’s frightened of Arabella.”

  The boys were nodding in sympathetic understanding.

  “And you think she’ll keep tailing you?” Amber asked.

  “It keeps Arabella happy and she knows I don’t care. If I hang around the school gates she should turn up soon enough.”

  “Do you think she’d tell on Arabella?” Jackson asked eagerly.

  Sally frowned thoughtfully then nodded. “Yeah, if she’s handled properly.”

  Amber looked at the boys. “Well, do you want to try it?”

  They nodded. “That’s what we were trying to do when we first caught you in the woods,” Jackson said.

  “Right. Down with Arabella and the Snooties!” Harris said excitedly.

  Amber laughed. “If we’re going up against her whole gang we should have a name too. Something that says what we’re about.”

  “Form Six against Arabella,” Bickley suggested.

  “We’re not in Form Six, but we want our share of any revenge too,” Amber reminded him.

  “That’s right,” said Sally. “I want to see her get a taste of her own medicine.”

  “What about: ‘The Party for Revenge on Arabella’,” Parsons offered.

  “We’re more a secret society than a party,” Amber said. “There should be an acronym in it somewhere. The Society Against Arabella Westlake... no. What about: Society for Coordinated Revenge on Arabella Westlake. SCRAW for short. That has a sort of tough ring to it.”

  The boys nodded in approval. Jackson rapped the wooden floor. “I call the first meeting of SCRAW to order,” he annou
nced. “First item on the agenda: Jemima Moncrief.”

  “I think I know how we can get her on our side,” said Sally,

  “but she’s got to be handled just right...”

  The Conversion of Jemima

  “You look like a sorry piece of work.”

  The unexpected words startled Jemima out of her despondent reverie. Jerking her head up she saw Sally regarding her with a not unkind smile.

  Jemima scrambled up from the bank on which she’d been sitting. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

  “You wouldn’t have heard a circus marching past.” Sally noted the red rims around Jemima’s eyes and the slight puffiness of her cheeks. “Arabella been giving you a hard time?”

  “No... I mean... yes.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “I... can’t. She’s just been... firm with me.”

  Sally shook her head. “Beats me why you put up with her.”

  Jemima bit her lip. “I sometimes wonder myself.”

  Sally looked about her thoughtfully. A horse and cart clopped along the lane and passed them by, the driver giving the two girls barely a glance. “Are you still supposed to be following me?”

  “Yes, though I don’t think Arabella really expects me to find anything useful. But it keeps me out of her way.”

  “You never know,” Sally said. “Let’s go this way.”

  They started off along the lane. After a minute Sally asked: “So how did you get mixed up with Arabella’s lot?”

  Jemima sighed. “I never meant to. They’re not really my sort. But Arabella likes having girls round her she can show off to, the way she can’t with her older friends. I think she sometimes likes making fools of us, but she’s so forceful it’s impossible ever to say no to her. And she’s from such a good family, my parents think it’s wonderful that we’re friends. If only they knew what she can be like...”

  “Scares you, does she?”