by William Avon
One by one the boys made the round of the two women; exiting Melanie’s hot sticky cunt, only to plunge into Amber’s warm, wet mouth...
The boys rested, briefly satiated, but there was to be no rest for the girls. Fired by their lust the boys’ ingenuity was working overtime. Melanie was released from the bed, only to be positioned standing between Amber’s splayed and doubled legs and have her hands bound behind her back. The boys had found a length of very old thick red rubber garden hose and cut off a length about fifteen inches long. Covering it in petroleum jelly, they thrust one end up Melanie’s already sperm-rimmed and well-used vaginal passage and the other into Amber’s gaping hole. A shove on Melanie’s bottom pushed the two girls together so that their pubic bushes mingled.
“Now you keep pushing it into her,” Melanie was told. A rubber paddle blade smacked her rear. “When she comes, we stop hitting you.”
Melanie’s broad hips jerked as her buttocks tightened, pushing the hose into Amber’s soft interior. The boys watched in delight as their two slaves were forced to copulate for their amusement.
As the frequency of the smacks on her behind increased, Melanie was driven lower over Amber’s rigidly bound body, thrusting faster and deeper. Melanie’s full breasts in heaving fluid motion brushed across Amber’s own fleshy cones. Taut rubbery nipples touched, folded over and sprang stiffly erect once more. Their eyes met, mutely acknowledging their shared helplessness and sense of degradation, yet knowing themselves unable to suppress that part of their natures which was untouched by shame or propriety, but which turned crude stimulation into pleasure.
They climaxed together with desperate cries of relief, and Melanie collapsed over Amber, their sweaty bodies coming to rest in perfect union. The boys cheered their unwilling performance, then began thinking up a new torment that would play pink flesh against brown...
Bound face to face, breasts flattened against breasts, hands tied to the smalls of their backs, Melanie and Amber hung by their ankles from a beam, twisting slowly this way then that as the boys lambasted their defenceless buttocks. Tight coils of rope encircled their bodies, allowing them only the freedom to squirm and wriggle against each other. Their sexes were still joined by the versatile hosepipe, bent now into a sharp ‘V’. Each flinch of hips away from a stinging slap drove the hose into the other girl. Two slippery wet muscular tunnels squeezed with growing need on the rubber intruder.
“Kiss!” the boys commanded them again, and they obeyed; breath hot, tongues flicking, lips sucking; helpless in the grip of the passion that had been so forcefully roused within them. Their pubic deltas merged into one sticky tangled matt.
When they had been driven to a second orgasm they were left hanging where they were as the boys retired a little way to discus what they would do when the other girls returned. Eventually Amber recovered her breath enough to whisper brokenly in Melanie’s ear:
“Sorry... about all this. The boys... usually better behaved. Tonight they’re... full of themselves. We’ve just got to put up with it.”
Melanie huskily panted back: “You really didn’t plan this?”
“No way!”
“I suppose they’re not as bad as Arabella,” Melanie said. “At least you feel they’re enjoying themselves... Oh God! I feel good that my rapists enjoyed having me. What a thing to say.”
“We can’t help it even though we hate it.” The heat and intimate scent of Melanie’s body was overwhelming. Amber looked into her eyes as they hung nose to nose. “Not you, I mean. You’re fantastic, by the way.”
Melanie gulped. “You too...”
They kissed passionately and ground their hips together. After a few seconds they pulled apart with an effort, blushing with embarrassment, heads pounding with blood from their inverted position.
“God, that was good!” Amber said. “Which is why we have to get away before we lose it completely. We’ve got three phalluses here now. Between the two of us we should be able to get our hands on them.”
“That’s why you wanted to get me here.”
“One reason. The phalluses must be able to get us back.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, but have you any better ideas? If it works, you can have my stash in the woods if you forget you caught me.”
“You can’t buy me off like that.”
“What? You wouldn’t turn me in, lover?”
“I’m not your lover...” She groaned. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”
“So, if you do get back, what are you going to tell your superiors? You’ll need my help to put together a story they’ll believe.”
“What story?”
“I don’t know, yet. Depends on how long we stay here. But I do know that if you try to tell the truth, the men in white coats will be coming for you. Think about it.”
They heard excited voices coming up the loft stairs. The other girls had returned and were apparently telling the boys what they had seen of Arabella’s humiliation in the Ballroom.
“...then everybody shouted at once,” Jemima was saying. “Somebody tried to put the cover back over her at the same time as somebody else tried to untie her, so he got hit on the head and the cover fell on the floor. A few people were trying not to laugh. The Major was shouting for quiet and for the footmen to carry Arabella out again. All the time she did look so uncomfortable... Oh!” The girls had reached the loft and Jemima had seen Melanie and Amber. “What have you done with them?”
“They needed reminding who are the masters around here,” Jackson said. “Now we’re going to do the same to you.”
Sue and Jemima looked surprised but did not resist as they were stripped and bound. Sally struggled and cursed, so that it took three of the boys to remove her clothes. Then she appeared to shrug and submitted to the inevitable.
They took Amber and Melanie down and lined up all the girls so that they knelt on the floor in a row, hands tied behind them, rope leashes round their necks, knees spread wide to display their treasures to their masters. Their mouths were stopped with rope gags, not for fear of the noise they might make, but to add to their subjugation. The boys looked down in triumph at their five captives, seeing the fear and uncertainty in their eye, excited by their renewed sense of power over such pretty creatures.
“What do we do now?” Bickley wondered.
“Whatever we want,” said Jackson. “We don’t have to use them here. We can take them into the house. We can have them in our beds... Tonight we can do anything we like!”
The girls trembled at his words.
With a boy leading each girl, hurrying her along with smacks from his paddle stick, the slaves were taken out of the loft.
For some minutes they ran the girls round in circles like ponies on the lawn in front of the front entrance of the school, illuminated by the porch light which cast long shadows over the dew-wet grass. The girls were set trotting and prancing at the ends of their tethers, lifting their knees high on command. Breasts trembled and bounced prettily. The girls were run until they were panting and glistening with sweat, with saliva dribbling about their gags. Then they were led into the school.
The boys savoured the strange delight of dragging their slaves through the empty halls and classrooms, seeing their naked bodies posed in such studious surroundings. The idea of leaving some secret sign to commemorate their presence came to them. They made the rounds of the classrooms. Blackboard pegs were inserted in the girls’ bottoms and then carefully replaced. Rulers and pointers from the teachers’ desks were rubbed vigorously in the girl’s slots and left with a film of female lubrication to dry on them. They laughed at the thought of what their teachers would say if they ever knew how they had so outrageously defiled academic sanctity, or what they would be handling next term.
They held an egg and spoon race in the kitchen, with the girls on the
ir hands and knees and the handles of dessertspoons thrust up their bottom holes. The eggs wobbled precariously as they shuffled desperately along in laps round the big kitchen tables. Several eggs were broken and the offending girls were forced to sit in the mess and grind their pouting crotches into it before they cleaned it up.
It followed that they next took the girls along to the showers. The line of toilet cubicles suggested that they could watch the girls relieve themselves and note any differences between them. The girls were tied in position on the toilet seats with their ankles pulled back behind the toilet bowls so they were splayed wide open. With the boys crowding the cubicles and shining torches up into their clefts so that no detail should be missed, each girl was ordered to pee in turn. By pulling back their labia and pinning them wide with clothes pegs, they were at last able to see the hidden orifice from which it issued, and listen to the distinctive hiss it made leaving each girl’s body.
It was while they were still conveniently placed that the boys decided they should all be cleaned out in case their bottoms were required for use later. Water was heated in the kitchen while water bottles and more hose was obtained. Methodically the hoses were inserted into the girls’ rears, causing pretty expressions of distress to pass over their faces, and they were flushed out.
The idea of a peeing contest came up. Jugs of water were fetched and the girls were forced to drink until they were full and desperate to relieve themselves again. A line was marked on the tiled floor and old newspapers were laid down opposite it. The boys chose girls and laid them on their backs just behind the line, with their wrists tied to their ankles so they held themselves open, their gaping clefts facing the targets. The boys straddled them so they looked through the ‘V’s of their open legs, and at the signal pressed down on the girls’ stomachs. Five streams of pee arched gracefully out over the tiles and splattered onto the newspapers. Sue won with an effort that reached over six feet.
Soiled and sweaty, the girls were put under the showers, their wrists tied above their heads to the pipework. By playing alternately hot and cold water over them, the boys found they could cause a lot of futile twisting and jerking about, accompanied by choked squeals and gasps of surprise. Eventually they relented and soaped down their slaves, working the lather into every fold and cleft, lifting every breast, until the showers gleamed with pliant glistening limbs. They found an amusing amount of lather could be created by working soap bars vigorously into the girls’ split peaches. The resulting mass of foamy bubbles could be sculpted as required, so that soon each girl appeared to have a pelt of shining white pubic hair.
When the girls were finally rinsed and dried, they were dragged off to the boys’ dormitory.
It was at this point that the boys recalled Jemima’s virginity, which they had so far delighted in saving. They decided they would play a round robin of Scissors-Paper-Rock to decide who had her first, before they started on the rest of the girls. Parsons won, but found just as he was about to breach Jemima, tied conveniently over the end of his bed, that the tight little mouth of her passage had recently been breached.
The story of how she had lost her maidenhead to the Major was extracted from Jemima by smacks and slaps and repeated nipple pinching. The boys decided that though it had been done in a good cause, she had selfishly denied them their right to take her first. She was made to kiss each boy’s feet and beg to be punished for her thoughtlessness. Her bottom was quite rosy by the time they had finished, and her eyes glistened with tears of pain and delight.
Finally the boys were ready for the main event. But how could they celebrate their triumph in suitable style?
After some debate and the preparations of a few more special restraints, five chairs were placed in a line down the middle of the room. A girl was bent over the back of each with her hands tied behind her, so that her head and shoulders hung over the seat and her rear was thrust out in counterbalance. Her ankles and knees were tied to the outside of the back chair legs, so that her legs were slightly splayed, and a rope went over the small of her back to hold her in place. Clothes pegs were clipped to the nipples of their dangling breasts to ensure the girls stayed alert. More jaw-spreading gags of rope and old washers were forced between their teeth, so that their mouths were held invitingly open. The pot of petroleum jelly they had used on Amber was produced and the boys dipped their fingers into it. Generous dollops were smeared around the crinkled puckers of their anuses and into the hot, elastic passages beyond; thereby ensuring ease of entry when the time came. As a final touch the girls were blindfolded so they could not tell what would be done to them next, nor who was using them.
The boys stepped back to admire their creation. It was a living work of art; a display of fifteen orifices waiting to be sampled at will. It was enough to make their mouths water.
The boys stripped off their own clothes, free to be totally naked with their captives for the first time. Their erections bobbed stiffly, plumb-tips already glistening with anticipation.
Each boy picked up a paddle-stick and flicked it sharply over a pair of smooth buttocks until each girl was jerking and twisting in her bonds.
“Now listen,” Jackson said. “We’re going to have you all together now. If any of you doesn’t please us, you all get punished, do you understand?”
The row of blindfolded heads nodded desperately.
The grinning boys stepped up to their chosen girls and thrust, entering a mouth, a vagina or bottom hole as they pleased; grasping hips or hair or swaying breasts to steady themselves. After a few quick lunges they withdrew and moved round to the next girl and a new opening to be probed. And as they moved around the boys could pinch or fondle any available piece of breast or bottom flesh that happened to be free. One moment a girl would be serving cocks at both ends, the next she would be empty, but an unseen hand would be sliding stiff fingers into her slippery crotch or a leather paddle would smack down on some part of her exposed body.
Now the girls knew they had truly been put in their place; reduced to mere playthings to be used at their masters’ pleasure, never knowing who was next or what orifice might be filled, nor whether this would be the moment that the boy spent inside her. The heavy scent of sex filled the air. Gradually the girls began to taste their sister slaves on every cock that was pushed into their mouths, as secretions from each of their orifices mingled.
Inevitably their own arousal grew, but they were being used too quickly to sustain the sensation. Frustration added to their torture, making them suck on every cock that penetrated them by whatever entrance in the hope that they would climax before it was snatched away from them.
Finally their desperate efforts brought forth reward. One by one, unable to hold back any longer, the boys discharged into whatever sheath of flesh they happened to be occupying at that moment, then sank over the helpless body under them in the afterglow of blissful release.
For what remained of that night the boys slept soundly indeed. Each bed in the dormitory had been supplement by the warm, scented, living mattress of a gagged and spread-eagled slave girl bound to its four corners.
Shortly before seven o’clock the next morning, when Jackson had prudently set his alarm to waken them, the dormitory curtains were drawn back allowing the fresh light of dawn to flood into the room. The boys stirred on their fleshy cushioned beds, blinking against the sudden illumination, looking about in annoyance to see which of their number had denied them their last few minutes of blissful rest.
“Well now! What have we here?” said Miss Newcombe.
The Morning After
Major Havercotte-Gore sat, tired and morose, in his study. He had had no sleep and the bright clear light of dawn had yet to lift his spirits, still numbed by the events of the previous night. It had been a bitter double blow, under which both his family pride and his property had suffered.
And yet, as he turned the incredible happenings
over in his mind, it struck him that the strangest thing was how vague Arabella had been about it all. Surely it was not simple shame and embarrassment at her treatment that made her so uncertain how many intruders there had been (perhaps three or four, she could not say for sure), nor could it explain why she was so evasive about seeing anything of them taking Melanie away. For that matter, she would not explain what she had been doing out of the house against his express orders. It was as though she was hiding something from them. But she had been quite forthright in her assertion that, despite everything she had suffered, she had not actually been raped by the intruders. So what could have been worse than the humiliation they all knew she had been put through?
Perhaps, when the investigation team from the County Police Headquarters arrived in a few hours’ time, they could make something of it. Bailey, called up from the village by telephone, had taken initial statements from all concerned and had made a cursory examination of the scene, but the Major knew a crime of this scope was beyond his powers. It looked like the work of the same gang who had removed Amber Jones from the police station. Had they some special interest in outsider girls? In any case they were getting bolder. But why had they stooped to such an elaborate personal attack on Arabella?
A maid brought in his morning tea and toast, and under its soothing influence he began to see one small positive aspect to the affair.
Arabella’s public humiliation had at least won her some measure of sympathy to counteract the widespread distaste the news of her maltreatment of Melanie had generated. And with Melanie missing, no charges against her would be laid.
Spasms of remorse cut through him as he thought of Melanie. If truth be told, he would rather she was pressing charges against Arabella than have her taken from him like this. Surely her kidnappers would treat her well, knowing she was valuable? He might even expect a ransom note for her in a few days. Of course he could never submit to any such demand... or could he? He recalled Melanie’s silky strong body surging under him on the riding machine, and a frisson of delight coursed through him. Well, that hurdle would have to be crossed in due course. Meanwhile, he would do everything he could to ensure her safe return.