by William Avon
“But some of the time she tells the boys what to do,” Jemima volunteered.
“And get punished if I say too much,” Amber pointed out. “But you’re right, I’m not a total submissive - though I’ve found out it can be fun for a while as a sort of game. But I’m not planning to make a career out of it.”
“I think,” Sue said slowly, “that there’s comfort in surrender to somebody with a stronger will, just accepting what happens. You don’t have to work to please your master; you leave all the complicated decisions to them and simply obey. It’s a way of being important to somebody without threatening their position. As long as you find the right person.”
“That’s the danger, isn’t it?” Amber said.
“Perhaps the danger’s part of it. Maybe that’s what I’m looking for.”
Amber nodded. “Sounds like you’ve given it all some thought.”
Sue smiled ruefully. “I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. Arabella didn’t make it easy to sleep at night.”
“So I saw,” Amber said grimly. “I don’t know how you stood it.”
“Oh, some of the time I was in ecstasy. I think the pain was giving me a high. I loved the feeling of being treated like dirt, being so absolutely degraded. But I found there has to be a point to suffering. You must know that your pain is being balanced by somebody else’s pleasure, or else it’s just meaningless. Then it really hurts.” A hunted look came into her eyes. “If she’d just said... she loved me...”
Sue looked close to tears again. Jemima hugged her tighter and Amber embraced them both.
“Well the nights are usually more comfortable here,” Amber assured Sue cheerfully. “Forget about Arabella, it’s the boys you must think about serving now, and they’ll want you fresh in the morning. Look forward to plenty of sex, bondage and light torture. After the sample they’ve already had you’ll go down a bomb, I promise you. No problem about being appreciated there.”
Sue smiled. “That sounds... wonderful.”
“Let’s get some sleep then. I hope you don’t both mind sharing. There aren’t the blankets to make up more than one bed.”
“It’ll be warmer,” Jemima said quickly, her face shining at the thought of sleeping beside Sue.
“Yes, it will, won’t it,” said Amber.
They arranged the bedding, then Amber stretched to turn off the light switch, which her ankle chain just allowed her to reach, then burrowed back underneath the covers by touch. Sue lay in between Jemima and herself. Amber slid an arm across Sue as casually as she could manage and rested her head very nearly on her shoulder. Sue made no protest. They formed a huddle of warm female flesh, the scents of their bodies mingling. Amber felt content. Nobody should sleep alone. She shifted her arm slightly so that it rested against Sue’s breasts.
“I know this is stupid... but I can’t sleep like this,” Sue said suddenly.
Amber sighed, pulling away. “I’m sorry...” she began.
“I don’t think I can take this much freedom anymore,” Sue continued in a small voice. “I’d like to feel under control... restrained. Please?”
Amber got up and switched on the light again. She looked down at Sue’s anxious face. Jemima was frowning at her uncertainly. Yes, Amber thought, Arabella really had broken Sue in completely.
“Of course,” Amber said gently. “Fortunately you’ve come to the right place.”
Using spare rope she bound Sue’s arms to her sides, crossing ropes over her chest and stomach so she could feel their constraint, and making figure-of-eight loops to fasten her wrists to the tops of her thighs. Then she spread Sue’s legs and tied her ankles with lines running out from the sides of the pen, taking care not to abrade her skin any further, then put enough tension on the ropes to hold Sue in place without being painfully stretched.
And there Sue was, little more than two hours after being rescued, back in bondage. She looked helpless, very beautiful and quite content. Amber felt an ache in her loins and a hot slickness between her love lips, reminding her that it had been several hours since she’d had sex. And there Sue was...
She realised that Jemima was looking at Sue with much the same expression as her own. The younger girl definitely had the hots for Sue, though in this world they’d probably still call it a ‘crush’ or ‘pash’. It would be cruel to cut her out.
On the other hand they were both self-confessed natural slaves...
Amber picked up another length of rope. “Come here, Jemima. Turn round... that’s it.”
Jemima offered no resistance as Amber tied her hands behind her back.
“Now get on top of Sue and have sex with her,” Amber told her. “I know you want to.”
Her face radiating daring and delight, Jemima obeyed, kneeling and slipping between Sue’s parted legs and wriggling up her body. Her small conical breasts squashed against Sue’s soft full mammaries. Face to face they kissed. Instinctively Jemima began to work her hips up and down, rubbing her cleft into Sue’s. Their pubic hair whispered as their bushes intertwined.
“That’s it, harder...” Amber took a firm hold of Jemima’s smooth buttocks and helped her grind more forcefully against her lover. The girls began to make tiny throaty noises of delight. Amber slid a hand between their thighs and into the pulsating, squirming fleshy tunnels of their kissing lovemouths and felt the hard nubs of their clitorises in perfect contact. She reluctantly withdrew her hand from this delightful haven and found it wet with their passion. Both girls had such full deep clefts despite their difference in build. Was it a sign of their intense sexual natures?
“All change!” Amber said suddenly.
With a heave she half lifted Jemima off Sue and turned her about. Before Jemima could protest, Amber had her kneeling astride Sue with her head pushed down between Sue’s thighs. Immediately Jemima nuzzled her face into the hot cleft and continued eagerly with her tongue the work she had started.
“Can you still taste the boys’ come in there?” Amber asked as she straddled Sue so that she faced Jemima’s upturned bottom. “You’d better get used to that.”
Amber squatted down and ground her already dripping peach into Sue’s face, settling herself into place so that Sue’s tongue could find her clitoris. Jemima’s mound, blossoming from between the taut smooth columns of her thighs, bobbed before her; its swollen sticky lips pouting from their hairy nest. Amber clasped Jemima’s hips, bent forward and buried her face in its scented depths.
As she kissed and sucked and lapped, Amber revelled in the feel of the two bodies she had arranged for her pleasure. It gave her such a delicious sense of power.
She lifted her head for a moment to draw breath. “Now you’re both the slaves of a slave,” she murmured.
Three girls locked in a perfect loving triangle of flesh. What would the morning bring them?
A Little Sport
It was before nine the next morning when George Platt, cap clasped respectfully in his hand, entered Major Havercotte-Gore’s study.
“You wished to see me, Major?”
“Take a look at this, Platt,” the Major said, sliding a paper across the desk to his head keeper.
It was a notification of a public bondslave auction. Prominently displayed was a photograph of two identical naked blonde girls standing in chains. Under the picture was a list of their particulars. Platt studied these for a minute, then perused the picture more closely with a critical eye.
“We don’t see many twins put up for sale, do we, sir?” he observed. “They certainly look pretty enough. Fine for show and bedding no doubt, but they seem a might slim for the hunt. I don’t reckon they’d have the stamina.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” the Major agreed. “But it says they’re proven runners. If they were up to it they’d make splendid additions to the pack and bring it up to full stren
gth.”
“Well, I’d like to see them for myself first, sir.” He looked at the paper again. “Specially with that high a reserve price.”
“That’s the trouble, Platt. Look at the date of the sale - today at three o’clock in Exeter. This confounded notice has been lost in the post for a week!”
“Doesn’t give much time to check them over, even if you can get there before the start, sir.”
“Which is why I want you to come with me. If we leave within the hour we can just make the connection to the West Coast Express. Have the trap made ready for the station and tell Alison she’ll be in charge of the kennels for the day.”
“Right you are, sir.”
“Now; where’s Arabella? She’ll have to see to our guests. Bad show to leave your house while you’ve got people staying, and with the Ball tomorrow!”
“I’m sure they’ll understand, sir,” Platt said. “Most of them being keen hunters themselves, they know you can’t pass up the chance of adding fresh blood to a pack.”
The first suspicion Arabella had that something was wrong was as she put the key into the front door of the playhouse. The door was shut but not locked. Surely she had locked it behind her when she had left last night. She was scrupulous about security where slaves were concerned.
She stepped into the house, automatically looking about her. Sue’s bike was no longer resting against the wall of the sitting room. A sudden dread filled her and she raced up the narrow stairs three at a time and burst into the bedroom where she had left Sue. The shackles hung loose, the padlocks were open and the bed was cold and bare.
Arabella tore through the tiny house, searching for Sue in every cupboard and corner, but in her heart she already knew the truth. The playhouse was empty. Her slave was gone.
“Pity you have to dash off like this just now, sir,” said Thomas to the Major.
“Though we quite understand how it is,” Gerard added quickly. “Can’t miss the opportunity to acquire prime girlflesh.”
“I hope you find something as rare as that brown vixen of yours,” said Thomas. “Shame we missed her run in the hunt. Hope we’ll see something of her this time.”
Thomas and Gerard’s steamer taxi had just deposited them at the front door of the Hall, where they had met the Major on his way out.
“I’m grateful for your understanding, gentlemen,” the Major replied. “I should be back before dinner. Until then Arabella will look after you... if she condescends to put in an appearance. Ah, there she is at last... Arabella! Come here, please!”
Arabella had appeared, walking with heavy steps along the drive, swishing her riding crop angrily at the gravel. She barely acknowledged her uncle’s call, but turned listlessly towards him.
“Arabella,” the Major said as she slouched up to them, “I’ve been trying to find you for almost an hour...” He caught sight of her face. “What is the matter with you, child?”
“You look as though you’ve found sixpence and lost half a crown,” Gerard said.
Arabella’s lips pinched as though she was controlling herself only with a tremendous effort and her eyes shied away from theirs. “It’s... nothing,” she said, aiming another cut of her crop at the innocent gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, do try to look a little more cheerful,” the Major begged. “Remember we have got guests in the house. Now I’ll be away for most of the day. I’ve made my excuses but please see that everybody is properly entertained.”
“Yes, uncle,” she mumbled, still scowling.
At that moment the trap, with Platt already inside, rattled across the gravel and drew up before them. The Major climbed aboard, gave a quick wave and they were off again along the drive.
Thomas and Gerard watched until it was out of sight, then turned to Arabella.
“Well, how have things been, Old Thing?” Gerard asked her. “Have to say you don’t look much brighter than when we left.”
“Yes, how did the hunt go?” Thomas said.
Arabella’s face darkened further. “Don’t talk to me about the hunt!” she snapped.
Thomas and Gerard, old acquaintances of Arabella, knew her moods well enough not to pry further.
“As you like,” Gerard said easily. “Only we were saying to you uncle that we hoped to see more of the new brown girl - Melanie, isn’t it? - while we were here. Did she run as well as you hoped?”
Arabella’s riding crop slashed the gravel again, then paused as a gleam came into her eyes. “Is Platt going with my Uncle as well?” she asked lightly.
“Why yes,” said Thomas. “He wants him along for his opinion. Sound thinking. Got a good eye for sporting flesh has Platt.”
“And they’ll be away most of the day?”
“That’s right - just as your Uncle said.”
A broad smile appeared on Arabella’s face. “So, you’d like to see how well Melanie can run, would you?”
Alison Chalmers looked critically about the keeper’s office to check everything was in its place. It was the first time she had been left in charge of the kennels for so long, and she wanted to show she was up to the job.
At the moment the girls were all out working so there was little to do. But later there would be the lunches to oversee and the work reports to make out, and there always had to be somebody on call in case one of the girls had an accident. They were valuable property and Alison took her responsibility towards their care very seriously.
She walked though the connecting door to the Examination and Sick Room. All was as it should be. The barred cell at the end of the room which enclosed a pair of iron-frame beds had fortunately seen little use for months.
She passed through into the Harness Room, redolent as always with its heavy smell of leather and polish - and paused as a memory surfaced.
In here only a few days before she had secretly watched Platt giving Gillian special training. Gillian had been in trouble for refusing a guest the use of her rear passage. Platt had given her a proper thrashing as a punishment, of course, but later he had bound her over a trestle in the Harness room away from the other girls and had taught her how to open her bottom hole to penetration. First he had used an anal plug, then his finger... and finally his penis.
It was the first time Alison had seen a mature male member standing erect, and she’d felt embarrassed and guilty... but also fascinated. She had continued to watch as Platt had given Gillian a lesson in sodomy, tactfully encouraging her to perform to order. Alison wondered if she would ever be that skilled at handling pack girls, and wished she could learn Platt’s special blend of firmness combined with a deep understanding of the bondslave mind.
Her reverie was interrupted by somebody calling her name.
Alison went out into the yard and found Arabella, clad in riding dress, slapping her riding crop impatiently into her gloved palm.
“There you are, Chalmers. Bring Melanie here at once.”
“Melanie’s working in the gardens, Miss Arabella.”
“Then send somebody for her or fetch her here yourself!”
Alison hesitated. She knew well enough Arabella’s reputation for occasionally mistreating the girls. If it had been up to her, Alison would not have let her near any of them in her current mood, far less a prize specimen such as Melanie. But Alison had been given no specific instructions to refuse such a request, and with both the Major and Platt away, Arabella was mistress of the Hall and so entitled to use the girls as she wished.
“I’ll fetch her myself, Miss,” Alison said, and hurried off.
When Alison returned ten minutes later with Melanie on a leash and her hands bound behind her back, Arabella was holding a bundle of items she had evidently taken from the Harness Room. Arabella’s eyes gleamed as Melanie appeared, and Alison felt a slight tug on the leash as the slave girl in
stinctively held back. But Alison handed over the loop end of the leash nevertheless and watched as Arabella led Melanie out through the yard gates.
As they disappeared, Alison felt a sudden shiver. She hoped she had done nothing wrong.
Melanie’s stomach was churning at the thought of being in Arabella’s power as she was led through the passage to the stable court. From their very first meeting it had been obvious Arabella had designs on her, and after hearing stories of her behaviour from the other pack girls, she had no desire to find out what they were. Fortunately the Major had kept Melanie for his own use, and of course Arabella had failed to win her in the hunt.
But what now?
Thomas and Gerard were waiting in the courtyard already mounted on their horses. Even though they were both carrying long handled paddles like those she had seen in the hunt, the sight of them was reassuring. She knew they were both gentlemen and sportsmen. Surely they wouldn’t allow Arabella to treat her too badly.
Arabella’s own mount had one of the wheeled frames that were used to transport exhausted packgirls back from the hunt hitched to the back of its saddle. Why did she need that, Melanie wondered?
“There’s our pretty brown vixen all ready for a bit of sport,” Gerard said, running his eyes appreciatively over Melanie’s naked body.
“She’s even better than I remember,” Thomas agreed. “You’ve been training her hard, Arabella.”
“We train all our girls hard,” Arabella said, slinging the bag of equipment she had taken from the harness room onto the frame and then mounting her own animal. Trailing Melanie behind them on her leash, Arabella and her companions rode out of the courtyard and across the gravel drive.
Beyond the garden gate they set out across the fields at a gentle trot. Melanie had to run briskly to keep up, and with her hands tied behind her this accentuated the bounce of her breasts and the roll of her hips. Arabella watched her intently. If Arabella just wants to show me off to Thomas and Gerard that’s fine, Melanie thought.