The Girlflesh Castle

by Adriana Arden

  Miss Mayken led Vanessa down the corridor and through a door into a comfortable office. Through its shaded window was a view out across well-tended lawns and flowerbeds, backed by a screen of tall trees. Still holding Vanessa’s leash Miss Mayken sat down in an easy chair to one side of the desk and pointed to a small round mat on the floor. Vanessa knelt on it facing her, resting back on her heels, parting her knees and letting her skirt ride up her thighs.

  Examining Vanessa with interest Miss Mayken said: ‘So, you’re the Girlflesh News’s famous new slave reporter.’

  Vanessa blushed once again. ‘I’m not sure about the “famous”, Mistress, but I am a company slave and I do write for GN … and Datumline, of course, when they want articles for public distribution.’

  ‘How versatile of you. And you’re a white-collar girl. We don’t see one of the Director’s favourites very often.’

  ‘We go where the Director sends us, Mistress,’ Vanessa said simply. ‘For the moment she wants me to continue working on GN just like any other reporter. Zara Fulton, my Mistress Editor, thought an insider’s view of the clinic’s work would interest our core readership, especially those chains who haven’t served here before.’

  ‘And I suppose you want to do interviews and take photographs and that sort of thing.’

  ‘And to serve as a clinic girl for a few days, if that’s no trouble, Mistress.’

  ‘Like any other chain girl?’

  ‘Of course, Mistress. I expect no favours because of the colour of my collar. My Mistress Editor would be furious if she thought you’d been soft on me. Also it would be like lying to my readers if I hadn’t experienced what I wrote about first-hand.’

  ‘Naturally I’d like our work at the clinic to be appreciated, but you understand the need for total discretion, especially where it comes to pictures?’

  ‘I’ve reported from private house parties where they’d hired Shiller girls to entertain, Mistress. I’m most careful to use no material that could identify an individual client. Mistress Zara double-checks and she’d tan my backside raw if I was stupid enough to let anything like that through.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. But in any case I’d rather our clients did not see anyone wandering around with a camera. We offer them official photo or video records of their stay by prior arrangement, but insist they do not bring in their own cameras for the peace of mind of their fellow guests. Aside from the fear of blackmail, should a single image of one of our clients in a compromising position become public, even by chance, then it could be a disaster. So I would prefer you limited photography to times and places when clients are absent. Of course we can always pose some of the girls for you to show the facilities and equipment in use.’

  ‘I understand, Mistress. And what about the staff? It’s their story as well.’

  ‘I’ll sound them out about it.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress. And of course you’ll see the article and any images before they’re published. It’s the Shiller company magazine, Mistress, not some muckraking tabloid. The Director wants to celebrate quality and honest service in everything bearing the Shiller brand name – girls included. That’s more important to her than anything.’

  Miss Mayken’s manner seemed to soften. She leaned forward and asked hesitantly: ‘I read your articles on the initiation and graduating ceremonies for Cherry Chain. I’ve never been to one of those affairs. Were the Director’s speeches really as, well … as heartfelt as you make them sound?’

  ‘Even more so, Mistress,’ Vanessa said sincerely, feeling a lump rise in her throat even as she spoke. ‘The ceremonies were like nothing I’d ever seen before. You had to be there. You can’t really understand what it means to be a Shiller chain girl otherwise. I’m sure, if you make a request to the Director, you’d be invited to the next one.’

  Miss Mayken nodded slowly and said with a smile: ‘I think I will.’

  Vanessa felt the mood lighten. She held up her recorder. ‘May I start by interviewing you, Mistress? It won’t take long. Just some general background material.’

  Sitting back in her chair, Miss Mayken said: ‘Go on then.’

  Vanessa set the recorder going. ‘Interview for GN with Gillian Mayken, Manager of Alves Clinic … First, Mistress, can you tell me what sort of service you offer here?’

  Miss Mayken smiled. ‘I suppose you’d call it “Doctors and Nurses” for adults. We provide a realistic medical setting for certain select clients to indulge their fantasies through role-playing with grown women. There’s a general ward, private suites, waiting and examination rooms and an operating theatre in which clients can practise a variety of simple medical procedures. Usually the clients take on the roles of doctors with staffs of chain girl “nurses” to assist them where necessary. The nurses are allowed a little more freedom than the patients, as they may have to play dominant as well as submissive roles.’

  ‘What sort of medical procedures, Mistress?’

  ‘It varies with the client. It might be mock anaesthesia, internal examinations and irrigation, insertions of various devices, minor injections or the use of vacuum and electrical stimulation. We employ a genuine medical consultant to ensure it’s all suitably painful but safe.’

  ‘Do the clients usually have an idea of what fantasy they want to play out from the start, Mistress?’

  ‘About half do, I’d say. We usually manage to accommodate their wishes. To inspire the rest we have a brochure of suggestive scenarios. They’re especially useful for shy or first-time clients.’

  ‘Do you have many of those, Mistress?’

  ‘Quite a few, actually. You don’t think all masters start out sure enough of themselves to properly dominate a submissive first time, do you?’

  The idea surprised Vanessa. ‘I suppose not, Mistress. I’d never thought about it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have met any in Shiller’s employment, but they do exist. And they sometimes need a little encouragement in the same way natural submissives need to be trained to become proper chain girls. They know what they want to do but they need to be introduced gradually so they can refine their technique and build up their confidence. So we provide easy scenarios for them as practice which don’t require too much interaction, such as …’ She paused and raised a questioning eyebrow. ‘I wonder … you did say you wanted to be treated just like the other girls. Hands-on experience. I mean the clients’ hands on you, of course.’

  Vanessa felt a shiver even as her lower stomach began to knot in delicious anticipation. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Well, we’ve a new client arriving shortly. I was going to suggest he starts with our deserted surgery scenario. An empty waiting room opens onto an examination room. Our client can peep in. He sees a single occupant: a gagged and naked woman strapped down and arranged for a gynaecological procedure. Hanging by the door is a surgical mask, cap and gown to put on as a disguise. The mask gives him confidence. Now he can do anything he wants to her and she’ll never know who was responsible. He enters the room. There’s a surgical tray beside her with some implements in it he can use on her if he likes … Pull up your skirt and show me your pussy!’

  The last words were snapped out in commanding tones. Automatically Vanessa obeyed. Miss Mayken looked closely at Vanessa’s bared pubic delta with its damp curls and chuckled.

  ‘You’re wet.’

  ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Did that little fantasy excite you?’

  Vanessa felt her cheeks warming. ‘Yes, Mistress.’

  ‘Would you like to help bring it to life?’

  ‘Yes please, Mistress.’

  ‘You’re a slutty masochist, aren’t you?’

  Vanessa lowered her head while smiling in shameful delight.

  ‘I am, Mistress.’

  ‘I think you’ll fit in here very well …’

  Vanessa tugged against the broad rubber straps that bound her to the padded vinyl of an examination couch, but of course they did not yield.

&n
bsp; Her nipples were hard cones of pulsing flesh while a familiar churning filled her stomach, a counterpoint to the burning tingle deep within her loins that was a combination of fear and sexual need. It was a sensation she had become used to over the past few months, when she had gone from denial and resistance to unashamed craving. Had she become an addict to submission and degradation or, after twenty-two years of life, had she simply found her normal state of being? Did it matter any more?

  She was in a replica of a medical examination room with equipment cabinets arrayed around the walls and illuminated by a single long high strip window of frosted glass. She was naked, except for her collar and a broad strip of adhesive strapping that covered her mouth. Her arms were pulled up above her head and held against the top of the couch by rubber cuffs. Another strap was pulled tight across her stomach. The hinged stirrup arms of gleaming steel mounted on the bottom of the couch were folded outwards so as to form virtually a straight line. Rubber cuffs about her knees and ankles bound her to them, forcing her legs to spread wide in a position of the most extreme exposure and blatant invitation. The prominent mound of her vulva hung over the foot of the couch. Under its cap of dark curls its pink mouth gaped wetly.

  A sheet of paper couch roll had thoughtfully been placed under her bottom. A dark stain was growing on it where the discharge from her vagina had trickled down through her buttock cleft. She was perfectly open and helpless, trembling with anticipation, marvelling at how she had come to be here but not wanting it any other way.

  She heard movement in the outer room. The door opened a crack and she glimpsed a long narrow slice of a shadowy figure. She was being spied upon. A fresh thrill coursed through her as she squirmed in her bonds, shaking her head and making mewing sounds behind her tape gag that might have been pleading or indignant. After a moment the door was pulled to again.

  There came faint rustles and foot shufflings and her heart thudded. After a minute the door opened all the way and a man stepped into the room.

  He was tall and thin, swathed in a green hospital gown, mask and cap. The gap between cap and mask was filled by thick-rimmed glasses, through which dark eyes blinked in owlish wonder.

  Vanessa squirmed appealingly, locking onto his gaze and widening her eyes in a show of despair or need – which were fast becoming the same thing for her. Please, please, she tried to say through her gag. If he could distinguish the words under the muffled squeaks that emerged on the other side he could interpret them in any way he chose.

  The man circled her almost warily, taking in her naked form. Slowly he reached out and stroked her palpitating stomach. Vanessa stilled at his touch, lying motionless except for a shiver of anticipation, gazing up into his eyes with mute appeal. I’m surrendering myself to you, she thought. You can do what you want with me. I’m begging you to be gentle but don’t expect you will be.

  His hands moved up to her breasts, cupping and squeezing the hot pliant mounds. His fingers closed about her straining nipples, testing their hardness, rolling them between thumb and forefinger. Vanessa groaned. His fingers tightened, pinching and twisting her hard teats. Vanessa gave a whimper of pain, her eyes misting with tears. Was that a smile she saw behind his mask?

  With growing confidence he thrust a hand down between her widespread thighs and dug his fingers into her cleft, stirring and stretching her sexmouth. Vanessa shuddered and rolled her eyes as he rubbed against her erect clitoris. He took his hand away and examined the sticky wet smear she had deposited upon it. He had her shamelessly aroused, her vulva engorged and vulva gaping wide, begging to be filled.

  He moved round until he was standing between her spread legs and then knelt down so his eyes were level with her groin. Carefully he prised apart her labia, examining their complex folds, looking down into the hot dark tunnel of her vagina. Could he smell her need? It was filling the room by now. He dipped a curious finger into the tight pucker of her anus and she squeezed tight about his digit. Was this his first penetration of a bound slave girl? She had greased her anus as she did every morning so it had slid in easily. Would he use her that way? She hoped he liked the feel of her.

  The man rose once more and began examining the contents of the instrument tray set out beside her couch. Vanessa twisted her head round, straining to see what he was looking at. Was he going to do this properly? No girl displayed like she was could expect to escape without being punished. It was what she was here for. It would make what followed so much better. What a pain slut she’d become.

  He’d picked up a length of translucent yellow rubber tubing and was clumsily wrapping one end about his hand. Oh yes, that would make a good whip …

  Taking up position in front of her once more he drew back his arm. Vanessa screwed up her eyes in joyful anticipation. Nothing happened. She opened them again. He was standing there blinking uncertainly. No! She gurgled and whined, straining at her straps and trying to lift her hips in frantic enticement. But he only lowered his whip arm. He was losing his nerve. He really was a beginner at this game. But he couldn’t leave her in agony like this. He needed a push to deliver the first blow … but what?

  So in desperation she peed on him.

  It was a fine strong jet, fountaining out cleanly from between her parted labia and splattering across the front of his gown. For a moment he was too stunned to react, staggering back slightly while gaping at the steaming stain. Then he looked at her and spoke the only words she ever heard him utter: ‘You dirty bitch …!’

  And he swung the rubber tube hard.

  It hissed through the air and cut across her soft inner thighs and the mound of her sex.

  Yes! Vanessa cried triumphantly in her head as the blow seared through her.

  For the first time he heard the sweet sound of a lash on female flesh, saw a girl convulse under his hand, heard her gag-muffled yelp of pain. There would be no stopping him now.

  There wasn’t.

  He lashed her unmercifully, laying the tube across her from every angle, even cutting straight up and down so it parted her pubic hair, spread her pussy lips and dug into her furrow, curling up into her bum cleft or across her stomach. And she sobbed and screamed and writhed until she was teetering on the verge of such an orgasm as only a masochistic submissive could know.

  Then he dropped the tubing, tore open his sodden gown, ripped his flies wide to free his straining erection and rammed it into her.

  When Vanessa opened her eyes again the man was gone. Her inner thighs simmered and stung and her vagina ached as though it had been host to a road drill. Cold sweat was drying on her and the couch roll under her bottom was sodden with urine, her juices and his sperm, but she felt wonderful. Miss Mayken was standing by the side of the couch, smiling down at her.

  ‘That was very well done, Vanessa,’ she said, idly tracing the contours of her right nipple, which automatically began to swell at her touch. ‘Peeing on him at the crucial moment was inspired. I suspect watersports will play a key role in his fantasies from now on. You may have shaped his future as a dominant. You’re really quite special …’

  Miss Mayken lowered the head end of the couch, laying Vanessa flat. Then she pulled the plaster off Vanessa’s mouth with a sharp jerk that left her lips stinging. Undoing her long skirt Miss Mayken laid it across a chair and then tied the trailing ends of her top about her waist. She wore no underwear and the shaven mound of her vulva stood out prominently. Climbing onto the couch she straddled Vanessa’s chest, her buttocks brushing the tips of her nipples, and then shuffled forward and spread her knees until she could press her sex into Vanessa’s face.

  Without needing to be told Vanessa began to lap at her soft-scented cleft.

  Miss Mayken smiled down at her and stroked her hair.

  ‘I can see now why you’re a white-collar girl. I envy the Director owning you. But you mustn’t waste your time on interviews while you’re with us. You’ll get your story serving the clients with the other girls. I think I’ll put you on the general ward fi
rst …’

  For a couple of minutes the ‘doctor’ lay slumped between Vanessa’s up-stretched legs recovering his breath, while ‘nurse’ Julie stood patiently by the bedside. Then he levered himself off Vanessa, pulling out of the clinging clutches of her vagina, and clambered off the bed. His shiny softening cock was dangling from his flies, his face was red and sweat-stained and his spectacles were awry, but he looked immensely pleased with himself.

  Vanessa, knowing that she had given satisfaction, lay still enjoying her reward of post-orgasmic bliss. It troubled her not at all that she was being used as a sex-toy and plaything there to be humiliated and abused, because that was her natural place in this ultimate game of doctors and nurses. Just a few months ago she would have dismissed such a response as perverse madness, but a lot had happened since then …

  Julie 5, her uniform front still hanging open exposing her breasts, played her part by asking breathily: ‘Is she cured, doctor?’

  ‘What? Oh … yes, completely.’

  ‘Oh, you’re wonderful, Doctor,’ she said adoringly. ‘May I clean you up?’

  He nodded. She went down on her knees before him, took his limp cock into her mouth and began to lick all traces of his sperm and Vanessa’s juices from his shaft. The doctor sighed and sat back against the side of the bed.

  As Julie dutifully sucked and licked, Vanessa saw his shaft begin to stiffen once more. After a minute he grasped a handful of hair at the back of Julie’s head and pulled her closer to him. Her cheeks bulged as his revitalised cock filled her mouth and a blush spread over her face but she kept on slurping and sucking. Suddenly his hips jerked and he rammed hard, making Julie’s throat bulge as his cock slid down her gullet. Julie choked, gasping for breath and gulping rapidly, still sucking for all she was worth. Then he sagged, limp and utterly spent. Julie licked him clean once more and slowly he pulled out of her mouth, trailing strings of sperm and saliva from her lips.

  Breathing raggedly he stuffed his now shrivelled penis back into his trousers, straightened his coat and said vaguely: ‘Right … Nurse … Ah, I think that will be all for now … Tidy up here …’