She stayed quiet for the rest of the evening. Though she was not invited to join the conversation, she was very often the subject of it. There were comments made about her hair, her very blue eyes and her very well-made body. To her acute embarrassment, both Nadine and Sir Reggie gave an account of the sex scenes she had been the subject of since arriving at Beaumont Place. But it was strange how her embarrassment disappeared as their words continued. There was a glowing admiration laced like toffee in their words. They spoke of using her, doing this to her, doing that; and yet, adoration and fascination danced on their tongues.
Disbelieving the compliance of someone who appeared to have a strong character, Dominic asked Nadine to prove it. Smiling, she turned her face to Penny who was looking down now at her cutlery.
‘Open your legs, my pretty pussy,’ said Nadine once the waiters were out of earshot. Those at the table listened. Penny did as ordered, aware that the hem of her very short dress was riding up over her thighs so her sex was completely exposed. Nadine’s hand tugged it a little higher. Her nails scraped Penny’s thigh.
‘Lift your bottom,’ Nadine ordered.
Again, Penny complied. The dress went higher, covering her bottom, but exposing her cheeks and pussy to the coldness of the chair covering. There were sighs of satisfaction from those around the table. Napkins dabbed at the residue of wine that clung to smiling lips. In confirmation, Dominic came round to get a light from Nadine for his cigar. Inconspicuously, he moved the tablecloth and looked down into Penny’s lap. Penny felt her face redden even more as he sucked in his breath. Briefly her eyes surveyed the restaurant beyond her own little party. No one looked their way. They looked ordinary, even conservative. Once he had looked his fill, Dominic ran his hand down her back and, without anyone seeing, lifted her skirt. He groaned very low and very appreciatively before he let her hem fall and went back to his seat.
‘Beautiful,’ murmured Dominic. ‘And compliant.’
Am I really compliant? Penny asked herself. But she knew she was. She revelled in what was happening to her. In this tight circle, she was the centre of attention. She was exposed and she was theirs for the asking. When had this happened? she again asked herself. When had she become willing to bend to the will of others, and how could such a thing endow her with a greater sense of security than she had ever known?
‘She still needs breaking in,’ said Nadine amid a whirl of blue smoke and in a low voice that made the others smile with glee.
‘Good!’ exclaimed Dominic, as a waiter refilled his glass. ‘Glad to hear it!’
Even Gregory, whose eyes had avoided her for most of the evening, appeared unduly excited and more involved with the others at the table than with her.
For the briefest moment her eyes caught those of the wine waiter. He was staring at her cleavage. She felt Nadine’s hand run up her thigh and her fingers tangle in her pubic hair. She turned to look at Nadine. Though the order was unspoken, Penny knew instinctively what was required of her. She hugged herself as though she was cold. As she did so, her breasts kissed each other and bulged upwards. Her nipples peeked over the top of her dress.
The wine bottle shook in the young waiter’s hand. He managed to finish pouring but, once he was gone, those around the table clapped and told Nadine, rather than her, what a success the action had been.
They left the warmth, dim lights and excellent service behind. Outside the night was touched with silver by the light of a glassy moon in a cloudless sky. The breeze was warm, still loyal to summer although autumn was just a month away.
Gregory had the job of driving. Alistair sat in the passenger seat beside him, Penny squeezed between Reggie and Nadine at the back, and the headlights of Dominic’s hired Range Rover shone into the back window.
Street lights and buildings were soon left behind as they entered the countryside, dark blankets pierced only with the odd island of farmhouse or cottage light.
Nadine kissed her ear. Rich breath assaulted her nostrils at the same time as the long fingers circled over her bare knee and crept upwards beneath the short red dress. ‘Open your legs wider, pussy-cat,’ she ordered, pulling Penny’s knee towards her.
Mellowed to resignation by the heady mix of old wine and soft caresses, she did as ordered. Her right knee was pulled open by Nadine’s hand, her left by Reggie’s. Now there was no table to hide under.
Their hands pushed under her dress, folding it upwards so the sweet drift of her musky scent escaped to the night. Nadine’s hand on the right and Reggie’s on the left began to caress the soft skin of her inner thighs. The car stopped suddenly, but the caresses did not. Gregory got out of the car. Through the wind-screen, she could see him unlocking a high wrought-iron gate. Stark letters on a dark sign shouted PRIVATE. Trespassers will be prosecuted, if not shot. They drove through. Gregory got out again and locked the gate behind them. The car began to bounce along a roughly gravelled path. At times the moon’s light was intercepted by black battalions of fir and pine which stood like silent sentinels at the side of the road.
Each hand climbed higher up the soft skin of her inner thighs, which were now wide open. Hot lips mouthed at her neck and breathed moist breath against her ears. Her own arms spread along the back of the seat, and she viewed via the mirror the spark of excitement in the eyes of Alistair Beaumont. Her own eyes narrowed as whispers of blissful rapture issued freely from her lips.
As their prying fingers explored her, their free hands pulled down the bodice of her strapless dress until her breasts popped forward, exposed to the night and to their sucking mouths.
Unable to control her own delighted reactions, she moaned as the two hands prodded at her flooding pussy. Nadine’s four fingers held one furry lip open, Reggie’s four fingers the other. Two thumbs – one long and tipped with black nail varnish, the other, thicker and cleanly blunt – were positioned either side of her straining pink button, both squeezing towards the other.
Muffling her cries into her shoulder, she threw her head back and closed her eyes. Sir Reggie and Nadine took as much delight in watching her reactions as they did in assaulting her.
‘You are so wet,’ cooed Nadine close to her ear before dropping once again to suckle her hardening nipples. Her lips sucked at it, her teeth held it, pulled it hard and long to the point where Penny wanted to scream. But she didn’t scream. She bit her lip, held her voice and let whatever was happening to her happen without protest.
Alistair, too, was watching, and even from here she could hear the quickness of his breathing; she could almost taste just how much he wanted her.
Through half-closed eyes, she saw him turn in his seat. She felt the intensity of his gaze on her face before his eyes dropped to the two heads sucking at her breasts, which then dropped again. He gasped, almost in agony, as he stared at her pink nether-lips that were held so open, her sex so exposed.
Penny felt no shame in him looking at her open sex, the glistening and reddening of her clitoris as the thumbs of Nadine and Reggie squeezed it to full prominence and coaxed it out of the protection of its folded hood. She wanted him to look, wanted to please him, arouse him. How could he not be aroused when she was being so exposed, so used?
Just when she thought the sucking mouths and probing thumbs would bring her to climax, the car stopped and the action ceased.
She started to pull her bodice back up over her breasts. Alistair’s trembling voice stopped her.
‘No. Leave your breasts exposed. It’s a warm night.’
‘A very warm night,’ added Nadine before nibbling one last time at one of Penny’s already red and stretched nipples. ‘One moment,’ she ordered suddenly.
From the seat beside her, Nadine brought out a collar. Even in the dimness of the car, Penny could see it was made of leather, but covered with velvet and set with what looked like diamonds, but were more likely rhinestones.
‘For you, pretty pussy,’ said Nadine as she kissed Penny’s cheeks and fastened the collar around her neck w
ith a strong buckle. ‘And this,’ she said, ‘is for me.’
A chain was fastened to the collar and attached to the thick leather bracelet that Nadine was wearing.
As usual Nadine’s outfit was black, but strangely unprepossessing for her. Suddenly she took it off. Beneath it was something more to her style, similar to the sort of thing Roman gladiators or charioteers had worn, except that, over the metal breastplate, Nadine’s nipples protruded, rouged bright red and very prominent.
‘Follow me,’ she said to Penny, whose dress was still wound down to her waist, its hem high and showing her rounded bottom and naked sex. It was nothing much more than a red band around her middle that just happened to match the high boots she wore.
The heels of her red suede boots sank into the soft ground but, once Nadine guided her to the path, her step was sure, though somewhat artificial; a bit like a ballerina going on points for the first time.
Chain tugging at her collar, her breasts, bottom and sex exposed, Penny followed Nadine, but raised her hands to cover her breasts as Dominic’s car drew in behind them.
‘Uncover yourself, girl,’ barked Alistair. ‘Nadine!’ he added, turning on his sister as though she had been careless. Sudden panic registered on Nadine’s face before her usual self-control returned.
‘Hands on hips, my little filly!’ Nadine exclaimed, and Penny wondered just for a moment why she was suddenly a ‘filly’ instead of the usual ‘pretty pussy’. In confirmation, she felt the sting of a light riding whip across her bottom and was vaguely aware that Nadine had been wearing it at her waist. She yelped with surprise though the heat of the stroke was taken by the night breeze. But she obeyed and rested her hands on her hips. Now, what with her careful steps and her hands on her hips, she knew she was swaggering provocatively, her bottom swaying and her breasts pointing steadfastly forward, nipples raised deliciously by the night air. The night, she told herself, belonged to her no matter what might happen. And what a beautiful night it was. Crisp scents of pine, wild flowers and earthy fern acted as a natural aphrodisiac to her inborn sensuality. Silver moonlight gave sharp outlines to the nodding pines and to the figures and objects around her. It added grandeur to what was plain; magnificence to what was ordinary.
‘Take your dress off,’ ordered Alistair.
She hesitated, her hands hovering over her breasts and her eyes flitting between the handsome, steadfastly staring Dominic and the powerful presence of Alistair.
‘Off, pretty pussy.’ Nadine’s hands on one side, Reggie’s on the other and her dress was around her ankles, her skin translucent in the moonlight. She leant her bottom against a tree as they pulled the dress off over her feet; the roughness of the trunk scratched her soft cheeks.
Her hands hung by her sides, her fingers folding into her palms. Not wishing to ascertain her fate in their eyes, she stared down at the length of her long red boots.
She thought of Nadine not being pleased about Clarissa and Auberon; about Gregory and her. What was it she had said? You have to be broken, like a colt or a filly. Earlier, back there when they had got out of the car, she had called her a filly.
A pleasant thought came to her head and filled her with excitement. Tonight could be it. Tonight she might very well have Alistair. It had to be. If it wasn’t tonight, then the time was not far off. Triumph was in sight.
‘Let’s walk.’ Again, Alistair had taken control. Tonight, he was like a Roman emperor in charge of the games. Nadine, if her attitude and attire were anything to go by, was the ringmaster, the intermediary between those who entertained and him who was to be entertained.
The path through the trees was firm at first, then softer as high trees hid the moonlight. The ground gave slightly under her heels, and wisps of long grass tickled her thighs.
Under cover of darkness, unseen hands caressed her body as she walked. Even without the hands, the experience of walking naked except for a pair of high leather boots through a woodland in the night air caused havoc to her senses. Half with the sensation of fresh air over her skin, and half with the experience of walking naked among others still clothed, Penny’s nipples thrust forward expectantly, and that familiar sweet ache arose between her legs. Whatever they might expect of her, she expected much of herself. Soon, her arousal would be undeniable. Her flesh quivered, and honey dew seeped from her sex and spread like silver threads through the darkness of her pubic bush.
The trees at last gave way to a circular clearing where the moon bathed the grass with its crystal glow.
Penny, her breasts rising with her breath, made a strong effort to focus her eyes as Nadine tugged her forward. The impression that she was entering an arena was very strong, and stronger when she espied what looked like fences around its perimeter. None of the fences were more than three feet high, low enough for a pony or even a human. And that, she realised, was what they were for. Not an equine jumper, but a human one.
‘Very nice spot you’ve got here, Alistair old buddy,’ she heard Dominic say. ‘Nice fences. Cute little filly.’
‘Here we go, my pretty pussy,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Here’s your big chance.’ The words were hushed.
The men had formed a half-circle in front of her, whilst Nadine placed something over Penny’s head. She started, realising it was a bridle that had been fashioned for a human head. In case of protest – of which she gave no sign – Dominic’s strong hands grabbed Penny’s and held them behind her as Nadine strapped the bridle over her head and pushed the metal bit between her teeth. The bridle had blinkers attached to it. She could only look straight ahead.
Dominic kissed her ear. ‘Steady girl. You’ll be all the better for this. All the better.’
She calmed, remembering that the sort of words he was using were not dissimilar to those she used on her own horses when she had broken them in to the showjumping ring. Anyway, just the closeness of Dominic was a kind of tranquilliser. He smelt good; the richness of cloth and his maleness combined to form a natural aphrodisiac.
Her hands were bound and fastened high behind her back, then clipped to the velvet-covered rhinestone collar which was still around her neck.
The coldness of the bit was hard upon her tongue. The blinkers had ties hanging from them in case they wished to blindfold her. These were left untied. Thankfully, she could still see most of what was going on, though she was incredibly constrained, restricted by a harness more usually used on horses.
More leather with a chain hanging down the front was fastened over her shoulders, fashioned like the outline of a normal bra but having no cups. Her breasts were pushed up and forward by its circling of leather. She gasped as it was tightened beneath her breasts so that they were held obscenely high. She gasped again as the shoulder-straps were adjusted so her breasts looked rounder and thrust out even more. She watched as Nadine’s supple fingers teased at her nipples, then pulled them out so they were obscenely dominant, darkly pink in the light of the moon. The chain which hung from each shoulder was left dangling. Then Nadine brought it up before Penny’s eyes.
‘See?’ she said with delight, her usual cheroot stuck in the corner of her mouth. ‘Nipple clamps.’
Penny saw. They appeared to be made of brass, like the chain. Nadine opened and closed the clamps in her fingers. They were reminiscent of bulldog clips used to grip paper together. She winced as they gripped her nipples, her cry of anguish lost in the coldness of the bit that lay so heavy on her tongue.
Something else was clipped on to the collar that encircled her neck. She couldn’t see what. His eyes shining almost with reverence, she saw Gregory hand Dominic the lunging whip and knew immediately what was expected of her. In Dominic’s other hand, he held the end of the lead rein that had been clipped to her collar. She would be urged to circle him, persuaded with the aid of the lunging whip. Her stomach tightened against itself and shivers of apprehension sent goose bumps over her skin.
‘Walk on.’ The voice was Dominic’s. He stood about twelve feet away from h
er in the middle of the ring, a usual distance when lunging a green horse in a practice ring over jumps. The lunge whip easily reached, thick at the end where it was held in the hand and tapering to extreme thinness at the other. Its thin end tapped gently against her buttocks. It stung, and she held her breath. She walked where he directed, about ten feet in front of the first obstacle. There was no way of knowing where everyone else was, the blinkers shielded her side-view and prevented her seeing them. She could only look straight ahead and fasten her eyes upon the job in hand; the jump that came up to meet her. Now she knew how her horses felt.
‘Trot.’ The fine thread of the whip end laced enticingly over her behind and a cry of surprise caught in her throat. Her breasts jiggled, held tight as they were in their casing of leather.
She sprang over the first obstacle on command, the tail end of the whip assisting her concentration as it spread again over her buttocks. She stumbled a little on landing, but righted herself, glad that the boots she was wearing had such a good grip.
‘Higher this time,’ cried Dominic. The sting of the whip was more intense. She’d received a reprimand, and although a fine film of sweat broke out over her skin, her flesh tingled in welcome. Strangely enough, she had a pride in what she was doing, what she had achieved. She, too, could jump with or without the whip, though the whip did add a certain piquancy to the achievement.
Another fence was cleared, a higher one. This time, she made no mistake, but knew it would not matter. She tensed the cheeks of her behind waiting for the inevitable, welcoming the warmth and the admiration of her compatriots with each succeeding sting on her flesh. This time, the whip stung more, but her cry was lost in the rush of air, her tongue trapped beneath the bit. Three more jumps were all cleared, yet all were accompanied by the stinging of the whip.
How red her bottom must be by now. It was warm. That, at least, she could feel. Would its pinkness be easily seen in the whiteness of moonlight? Probably it would. That was really, she decided, what they were applauding, what they were admiring. Not her skill on jumping the fences, but the increasing response of her creamy flesh to the stinging rebuke of the lunging whip. She was rising to the whip as though she were throwing it off and tossing its torture aside. Applause greeted her clearing of the last jump. Hands patted her red rump, as much to feel its heat as for congratulation.
The Stallion Page 22