‘Mr Kendal has not been strictly truthful with us. He said he worked in the city. In fact he lost his job with Kingston Reed a few months ago and has since then been looking for fresh employment while offering his services as a financial advisor, so far with limited success.’
‘Any link with Rochester, Director?’ Vanessa asked.
‘Rochester was a client of Kingston Reed, but then so were many others. Kendal was in a very junior position and would have had little opportunity for direct contact with him. We’re still running checks.’
‘In other words we have slight grounds for suspicion against both of them but no proof,’ said the Laird. ‘If we found one or both of them were working for Rochester then we can simply toss them back to him empty-handed, since it’s incriminating photographs he wants to use as a lever. If this pair are innocent and genuinely concerned about the welfare of our girls then we have to let them go eventually. And then, even without hard evidence, they might induce the authorities, or even worse the press, to investigate the Glen. We have friends in high places but there are limits to their influence.’
‘Couldn’t you close everything down until the danger was past, Laird?’
‘We have a plan for that. In an emergency, inside an hour we can conceal everything connected with our girlflesh business and turn the Glen into the model of an innocent private resort. But it would be the end of our guests’ trust in us.’
Vanessa took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do my best to see that doesn’t happen.’
Vanessa decided Mike and Jennifer’s inspection tour should start in their dungeon dormitory. It would give her a chance to introduce them to Cherry Chain while inspecting the facilities so they could see the girls were well cared for.
Mike attempted not to stare openly at the display of bare flesh around him but failed dismally, while Jennifer averted her eyes in disgust and largely succeeded.
Vanessa had hoped their night in a luxury apartment with excellent food might have mellowed her, but if it had she gave no outward sign.
With Slavemaster MacDonald looking on with barely concealed indignation at the intrusion and Cherry Chain kneeling patiently on the mats, Vanessa showed the couple round. She kept her press hat on, hoping the juxtaposition between it and her naked body would serve as a continual reminder that things were different here …
‘There are twelve girls to what we call a “chain”, who train, work and live together,’ Vanessa explained. ‘They’re called Cherry Chain. I thought you might like to talk to them later. You can pick another chain if you want but they’re available right now. These are the cages they live in …’
Apart from Cherry Chain most of the chains were out in the castle and grounds so the cages were almost all empty, except for a couple with heavy curtains drawn round them. ‘They were up late serving guests,’ Vanessa explained in a whisper.
‘You mean being forced to have sex with them,’ Jennifer said distastefully.
‘If that’s what they wanted,’ Vanessa admitted. ‘We’re here to give pleasure.’
‘Why are these cages so low and the doors so small?’ Jennifer asked.
‘It makes us stay on our hands and knees,’ Vanessa said.
‘Forcing you to act more like animals?’
‘It makes us look up at our masters. That feels right for a slave girl.’
‘Or a collared animal,’ Jennifer persisted.
‘If you like.’
She showed them the recreation space, showers and toilets. All were immaculately clean, but Jennifer still looked displeased.
‘Don’t the women have any privacy?’ she asked.
‘Almost none,’ Vanessa admitted cheerfully. ‘We don’t expect any.’
‘So you’re caged like animals and also have to pee and shit like animals!’
‘Captive animals have no choice about their captivity, we do,’ Vanessa countered.
‘That’s what I’m here to decide!’ Jennifer retorted.
Hell, she’s taking this seriously, Vanessa thought.
‘What are those?’ Mike asked, examining the douche guns hanging by the toilet pans.
Vanessa explained their purpose as part of their daily routine. Mike looked surprised while Jennifer grimaced. ‘These things are specially made for cleaning and greasing women for anal sex?’
‘That’s right,’ Vanessa said. ‘They’re hygienic, effective and quick to use.’
‘Just so a man can shove his cock up your behind more easily,’ Jennifer said with contempt.
‘Well, would you rather we did it dry and dirty?’ Vanessa replied.
Mike said slowly: ‘So right now all of you have … er … grease up your …’
‘We’re prepared for intercourse through every orifice at all times,’ Vanessa said helpfully.
They moved on to the racks of restraints and punishment devices. She took them so much for granted by now that it was only as she saw Jennifer’s expression harden still further that Vanessa realised what a shock such objects might seem to the uninitiated.
‘How can you live next to such things?’ Jennifer asked, gingerly picking up a spanking paddle.
‘They’re just part of everyday life for us, like your computer or paints and paintbrushes. The things we need to enjoy being ourselves.’
Jennifer smacked the paddle experimentally into her palm and winced. ‘But they’re designed to hurt you!’
‘Yes, pain is part of our life.’
‘But if you have to get a fix of pain can’t you do it to yourselves privately?’
‘It’s not the same,’ Vanessa said. She sought for the right words. ‘We don’t just like pain, or else we’d spend all our time sticking pins under our fingernails … and that would be stupid and it would simply hurt. It’s pain with sex, exposure and stimulation. It’s restraint, helplessness and anticipation. It’s the thrill of surrendering to another person’s will. It’s … it’s being a slave!’
Jennifer simply shook her head. What a chasm we’ve got to bridge, Vanessa thought hopelessly.
They returned to where the Cherry girls were still patiently waiting. They were kneeling in a line with hands cuffed behind their backs, thighs splayed and mouths filled with cherry-red ball-gags. They were individually leashed so they could be separated but the leash handles had been clipped to the collar of the next girl in line to form a coffle. They were spotlessly clean, brushed and combed and their eyes sparkled with anticipation. Vanessa thought they looked adorable. How could anybody not see they were happy exactly as they were and aching to please?
‘Why are they gagged?’ Jennifer asked suspiciously.
‘That’s how girls are normally presented ready for being taken about the estate,’ Vanessa explained
‘Part of what you call being a slave, I suppose?’ she said with contempt.
‘Exactly. It all helps focus the mind on serving our masters … and mistresses.’
‘Can’t you take their gags out?’ Jennifer asked.
‘If that would please you,’ Vanessa said.
‘Not for me, for them.’
‘Well, why not ask them if that’s what they want?’
Hesitantly Jennifer stepped forward in front of the girls. ‘Do you want to be ungagged?’ she asked, speaking slowly and clearly.
The girls shook their heads.
Jennifer glowed at the watching MacDonald and the lash hanging from his belt. ‘I don’t suppose they had any choice.’
‘They had a choice in becoming slaves,’ Vanessa said. ‘That’s the only one that mattered.’
‘They look happy enough to me,’ Mike ventured.
‘Mike, can’t you see they’ve been maltreated?’ Jennifer snapped. ‘Look at the marks on them!’
A few of the girls bore some light strap marks on their behinds. Vanessa had hardly noticed them. Was her backside still red? She hadn’t checked.
‘Well, even so, you’ve got to admit they look healthy and well fed,’ Mike said.
�
�So, they keep their animals healthy,’ Jennifer said scornfully. ‘That way they can earn more money for their masters. It doesn’t mean it’s right!’
Mike’s attempts at being reasonable were welcome but at the moment they weren’t helping. Vanessa cut in: ‘Look, you can talk to the girls down here, but it’s a lovely day so I thought we could take them out into the grounds. Then you can choose any of them you like and talk in private where you can be sure you won’t be overheard and they’ll have no reason not to tell you the truth. We could even have a picnic lunch sent out. How about it?’
They gathered in the shade of a big cedar tree that rose from the rolling lawns to one side of the main drive. At their backs was the green curtain of the woods while before them were the dark waters of the loch, across which a galley was cutting a shimmering wake, and then the purple and tan swell of the far hillside. The lawns and gardens about them were dotted with guests and their slaves at play. To Vanessa it seemed a perfect idyll, but glancing at Jennifer’s face she could tell the feeling was not mutual.
Vanessa hoped none of the other guests would intrude on their little group. Fortunately it was not considered good manners in the Glen to impose oneself on others unless there was a clear invitation.
Separating the girls’ leashes Vanessa handed Amber’s to Jennifer. ‘There, this is Amber One Cherry. You can take her away and ask her what you like. You can work your way through them in order if you like.’
Jennifer wrinkled her lip as she saw Amber’s collar. ‘You all have numbers.’
‘We all have numbers in real life,’ Vanessa countered. ‘Just because we wear them on our collars it doesn’t mean we’re not people.’
Looking uncomfortable and self-conscious, Jennifer led Amber away. Vanessa turned to Mike.
‘Do you want to question any of them?’
Mike grinned sheepishly. ‘I think she’ll do a good enough job for both of us.’ He glanced about cautiously to ensure Jennifer was well out of earshot and lowered his voice. ‘Look, don’t tell her but it’s bloody obvious to me you lot want to be here, once I thought about it. It would only need one of you to slip her leash, or whatever, and get away and tell the police and that would be it. And I could tell the fences were designed for keeping people out, not in. So if you’re happy and your guests are happy, that’s fine by me. Live and let live, right? But Jen has these principles. I mean I admire her for them, but sometimes … well, they can be hard to live with.’
That gave Vanessa an opening. ‘Talking of principles, we’ve been doing a bit of checking up and it turns out you haven’t been entirely honest with us. You don’t work in the city any more, do you?’
Mike looked pained. ‘Ah … you found out. Look, don’t tell Jen about this either. It’s embarrassing. She still thinks I work for Kingston Reed.’
‘Why don’t you?’
In answer Mike pulled his inhaler from his top pocket and held it up for her to see. ‘Because of this. I thought only kids or old people got asthma. Then I had a few attacks and that got me frightened. I’d been the proverbial rising star, earning good money, working hard and playing harder and suddenly this came along and made me feel … well, mortal, I guess. I got cautious and you can’t be too cautious in my job … my old job, I mean. You have to take risks and I didn’t want to any more. Suddenly I wasn’t performing like I had been and hating it. So I got out. Tried to get other work but my heart wasn’t in it. I got tired of London, and that’s something I never believed I’d ever do. That’s why, when I got together with Jen again, I suggested coming up here.’
‘You had a break in your relationship?’
‘I first met her a few years ago. There was a physical thing between us, but emotionally … maybe it was my fault. I was probably being a bit of a dick! Anyway it cooled. But I caught up with her again a couple of months ago and things were better. Being a Green she went for this holiday. I like the fresh air but I’m not very good at the countryside bit. Fucked up the map reading and the weather forecast, which is why we ended up here.’ He looked Vanessa up and down with an approving grin. ‘Not that I’m complaining …’ his eyes suddenly shied away ‘… uhh, sorry.’
‘That’s all right,’ Vanessa assured him. ‘Look at me all you like. I’m here to be enjoyed.’
Mike laughed. ‘If anybody had told me a week ago I’d be having a conversation with a naked girl in a collar in a place like this I’d have said … well you can guess.’ He paused and frowned. ‘Actually, about that. I don’t know what the usual procedure is, but do you think there’s any chance of me getting a job here? I’d do anything. For Christ’s sake don’t tell Jen I asked, but seriously … is there?’
Vanessa was surprised at the request. ‘That’s not up to me. You’d have to ask the Laird, I suppose. I wouldn’t think the money would be what you were used to.’
‘It’s not something I ever thought I’d be saying either, but the money really doesn’t matter. The air’s clean and the scenery …’ he looked around at the Cherry girls and grinned happily ‘… is perfect!’
By lunchtime Jennifer had interviewed all the girls, each one taking less time, Vanessa noticed. Vanessa knew what the girls would have told her because not so long ago she had asked the same sceptical questions. Every one would have said with absolute honesty that she was a happy, consensual, well cared-for slave. But this did not seem to have satisfied Jennifer. To be fair, Vanessa conceded, it hadn’t satisfied her either.
‘They all say they enjoy being slaves and have not been coerced,’ Jennifer announced.
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Vanessa said. ‘You’ve found out they’re not being held against their will.’
‘Assuming for a moment that it was true and not a result of indoctrination and that all the other women here believed the same, that doesn’t mean I’m satisfied,’ she said.
‘It sounds pretty good to me,’ Mike said.
‘People are making money out of these women’s unusual … desires, obsessions, whatever you call them. Probably a lot of money. Is that right, legally or morally?’ Jennifer looked deeply troubled.
Vanessa sent Amber and Charlotte off to the kitchens and they returned carrying a large picnic basket between them. The Cherry girls laid out the cloth, plates and cutlery and served the food. While Vanessa, Mike and Jennifer ate they knelt close by and Vanessa threw them titbits. Mike copied her only to stop when Jennifer glared at him.
‘They’re not animals!’
Desperately Vanessa tried to get some positive reaction out of Jennifer.
‘Look at us here,’ she said lightly, sitting back in the grass. ‘Manet would have approved. A modern Déjeuner sur l’herbe.’
The allusion was to the famously controversial Impressionist panting mingling nude women and clothed men in a wood, but Jennifer merely said: ‘As far as I know none of his subjects were slaves.’
‘I hear you’re an artist,’ Vanessa persisted. ‘Wouldn’t you like to draw any of the girls? You can’t pretend they’re not pretty enough.’
For a moment she saw a flicker of interest in Jennifer’s eyes, then it was replaced by suspicion. ‘Are you trying to trick me into something?’
Vanessa barely controlled her annoyance. The woman was bristling with distrust. Why had she taken this task so much to heart? Was there no way of getting through to her?
‘No, I was just suggesting you might take advantage of being in a figure-painter’s paradise, that’s all. I was then going to add, humorously, that you’d have no problem with your model getting fidgety, since you could always tie her down so she couldn’t move, but I suppose you’d think that was some sort of double-meaning trap as well! You know what, the girls and I could do with some fun. Let’s find out if there’s a court free. They’ve got a version of tennis here that you’ve got to see …’
Quadruples slave-girl tennis would probably never feature at Wimbledon, Vanessa conceded, though the viewing figures would have gone through the roof if it di
d.
It was a show game for a chain of girls to play, eight on the court and four serving as ball girls. Just watching them crouched down by the net with their bottoms up ready to retrieve a ball and the bounce of their breasts when they darted forward was a delight in itself, but that was nothing compared to the antics of the players.
They had their arms cuffed behind them. Two of the girls on each side had an oversized wire-cored foam rubber racquet with a curved handle plugged into their vaginas and two had them plugged into their rectums. Elastic cords from their collars held the racquets at an angle of about forty-five degrees. The ball, a lightweight inflatable beachball, was thrown in from the sidelines to the team whose serve it was and they tried to swat it over the net for the other team to try to return.
Cherry Chain threw themselves heart and soul into the game. Frantic shouts went up of: ‘Mine!’ or ‘Leave it!’ or ‘No, mine!’ and it was a joy to watch the girls dashing off after the lazily bouncing ball, their bound arms accentuating the swing of their hips and their absurd racquets wagging in front or behind them. When they did get into striking distance and braced themselves the frantic hula-swing of their hips as they batted it back sent their breasts gyrating and buttocks shivering.
Sweat soon beaded their bodies. The stimulation caused by the intimately clenched racquets also meant that the rubber-sheathed racquet handles soon became wet and the insides of the girls’ thighs shiny with exudation. This did not help either their technique or racquet control, and the bizarre devices were soon flapping about even more wildly than before as the game became a cheerful shambles. There were many collisions and tumbles, but nobody on or off the court seemed to care. The watching guests cheered and applauded every frantic dash, swing and bouncing breast.
Everyone was enjoying the show … except Jennifer.
‘Come on, Jen, you can see they’re having fun,’ Mike protested.
‘They’re being degraded and humiliated!’ Jennifer said simply and turned and walked away.
Hell, this is all going wrong, Vanessa thought as she followed her. Jennifer seemed to be retreating into a shell. It was mid-afternoon and she felt she had made no progress with her. Mike looked like he was going to be no trouble, especially if the Laird offered him a job, but Vanessa could hardly take credit for that. And it would count for nothing if Jennifer blew the whistle.
The Girlflesh Castle Page 17