by Sean O'Kane
From her I learned the nature of her particular slavery up to that point. The master had perceived how much she worshipped him and had played on that ruthlessly. He had held her at arm’s length, allowing her only to reach him through the medium of his slaves. She could only taste and feel his spend at second hand, as it oozed out of our bodies, (I was the fourth slave to have passed through this house, I learned). And she was held perfectly between hating us, through envy, and loving us as the only point of contact she had with him; consequently she made an ideal punisher, wielding the whip with real venom and extracting all the pleasure she could from it. However neither of us could work out why the master had suddenly chosen to change her role so dramatically.
One damp and overcast day about two and a half weeks after my interrogation, Julia came to me with an order to dress and present myself in the main hall. It was the first time I had been dressed in all that time and went nervously and uncomfortably down to the hall. The master was waiting for me outside in the Range Rover and we drove in silence for a long time, heading south and east as far as I could tell.
“May I speak, master?” Eventually I had to know if my suspicions were correct.
Permission was granted and I asked whether we were going to Ben’s house. We were and I relapsed into a tense silence.
It was raining when we reached the house, which had obviously been a family seat for generations, and it was just what I had expected, standing at the back of immaculate lawns and surrounded by horse paddocks.
My master stopped the car some distance down the drive and turned to me.
“Out you get, Emma. Walk down the side of the house and out to the stables. I’ll be back in an hour or so when he’s finished with you,” he said. And then added in reply to my nervous swallow. “Go on. You know you’ve got to pay before you can move on.”
I stepped out into the rain and watched the car turn and leave me. Then, feeling very small and alone I walked on. The rain was quite heavy by then and I quickened my step, skirting the porticoed front door and walking on a path which ran alongside the house, through an ornamental garden, through a walled rose garden and which finally brought me to the stable yard. It was obviously a working yard and was muddy and cobbled. Puddles were everywhere, in amongst bits of straw and the traces of horses. I picked my way across the morass, smelling the rich animal scent and trying to avoid the puddles and the droppings.
“Get a move on!” a voice called.
I looked up and saw Janet standing in the doorway of a stable. I smiled in instant recognition but received no encouragement; she just stood with hands on hips, dressed in sensible pullover and jeans and waited for me. I went as fast as I could and found myself in the deeply straw littered stable itself.
“You bloody fool, Emma,” was all the greeting I got. “Get your kit off and get these restraints on.”
I was pretty crushed by her hostility, but then she belonged to Ben’s wife so the slur I had cast on Ben was obviously keenly felt even by her. I sighed and did as I was told, until I had the familiar feel of leather at ankles and wrists again, and was shivering slightly, my hair in rats tails from the rain.
“He won’t be bothered with punishing you himself,” a female voice boomed out. I turned to see Clair glowering at me from the door. “Says he wasted enough time on you. So I’m in charge, you slimy bitch - and by God you’re going to know all about it!”
I stuttered out something about being sorry, but I might as well not have bothered. Janet grabbed my hands and clipped my wrists together behind my back. As bravely as I could I straightened my back and faced my final punishment.
“We’ll start with a little walk, I think. The whip will bite better for her being cold and wet,” Clair announced.
Janet pushed me towards the door to the yard but I hung back as I had discarded even my shoes, and the ooze outside did not appeal one bit. But Janet reached over to one wall and took down a crop which she swung hard at my backside, and yelping at the sudden sting I stumbled out naked into the rain and the muck. The mud squelched coldly between my toes and the rain immediately began to run in rivulets down my face and chest.
Clair was dressed for riding and as soon as I was outside I saw she had a horse already saddled up. My mouth went dry with fear as I saw a chain hanging from its saddle. But before I could do anything, Janet’s strong hands grabbed my elbows and pushed me towards it. Clair mounted and stared down at me as I squinted up into the rain.
“Hitch her up Janet, and I’ll take her for a spin before we get down to the real thing,” she said with an evil grin.
Janet freed my wrists, brought them round in front and clipped them to the end of the chain. I stared at her in wide-eyed fright as she did so.
“You’ll like this. I sometimes get taken for a spin before a beating, it makes it hurt like hell!” Then for the first time she smiled, but it wasn’t friendly at all.
Clair put her heels to the horse and it set off. I tried to make some plea or other for mercy but the chain was paying out and I could see I had no choice but to follow it. And at first it was bearable, the horse walked slowly and I was able to hop and slither behind it, avoiding some of the worst of the slime, but very soon we were in an orchard and then it started. Without even glancing back, Clair set her heels to the horse again and it broke into a trot. With a wail of despair I tried to break into a run to keep up. But running with your hands in front of you is not easy. Clair guided the horse in a wide circuit which took us round the perimeter of the orchard, my feet were getting frozen from the wet grass even by the time we had made just one circuit. By the end of the second, I was gasping for breath, soaked and chilled to the bone.
At last Clair deigned to turn and look at me.
“Please! Stop!” I begged between gasps, but she simply turned away and once again urged the horse on. It broke into a canter and I was wrenched off my feet as my shoulders felt as though they had been dislocated. Suddenly I found the grass rushing by just below my face, big bits of earth flung by the hooves flew past me, while my whole front was now being banged and jolted by any unevenness in the ground, sometimes these threw me onto my back and I spun helplessly as I was dragged along with no hope of getting my feet under me, almost winded by the buffeting. But the real point of the exercise only came when we turned at the first corner to follow the edge of the orchard. My own impetus sent me spinning wide of the horse as it turned and I was into the long grass at the bottom of the boundary hedge. I screamed and yelled as I was pulled through nettles and trailing briars before the chain yanked me back onto the relative safety of the shorter grass. But at the next corner the same thing happened, and again a further two times before the horse stopped and I lay in a bedraggled heap, sore and burning from nettle stings and scratches to every part of my body; breasts, stomach, thighs, bottom crease and even the inner thighs and sex as well. But before I could get my breath back there was another agonising tug on my shoulders as the horse walked on, and this time took me back into the yard. It went slowly so I didn’t get hurt by the cobbles, instead I just got a thorough dunking in every puddle and every pile of filth and mud until at last we stopped. All I could do was lie there wallowing in the dirt while I got my breath back, and as I was unclipped from the chain, ease my aching shoulders.
“Douse the filthy bitch down, then let’s get on with it. Ben’s got business later and he wants to see her once she’s finished with.”
I screamed again as a jet of icy water hit me, blasting off all the muck but hitting my skin like a shotgun blast of needles. I tried to roll away from it but Clair held my wrists and all I could do was twist and writhe until I was deemed clean enough to carry on receiving my punishment. I was dragged up by my hair and supported by both women as they half carried me into the stable again and blearily I saw what came next.
It was just as well they had weakened me so well. If I had seen th
at thing when I first arrived I would have run for it. At first glance it was just a wooden pony such as I had had to ride many times for my master’s pleasure in the past. But even that had always been a particularly lingering torment; even when the crossbar between my legs had been smooth. This one’s crossbar had been carved into serrated ridges like blunt saw teeth which ran along the top edge.
I whimpered and tried to pull away but had no chance against the two of them. They simply lifted me bodily and dumped me down hard, with one leg on either side of the bar. I shrieked immediately, the bar was narrow and immediately cut between my lips to dig at the inner flesh of my sex. Whoever had done the carving knew the female anatomy intimately. Even when my sex was in the valley between two ridges, the one in front pressed hard on the clitoris while the one behind was close against the anus. And apart from anything else I had been lacerated and stung even in those crevices and was shivering with cold.
Janet wrenched my arms up and fastened my wrists to a chain which hung from the rafters while Clair knelt and shackled my ankles to rings set in the lower beams which ran the length of the thing.
“Now then,” Clair began, picking up a whip and running its lashes through her fingers. “I expect Gerald has thrashed you, but like any man would, I expect he took charge of your torment.”
“Yes, mistress,” I murmured.
“Well, you’re in the hands of a woman today and I’m going to make you torture yourself. And right on that greedy cunt of yours so you’ll know that the worst of what you’re going to suffer is all because you just can’t get enough. Janet, you flog from the left and if I even think you’re holding back. I’ll flay your udders off, understand?”
“Yes, mistress.”
I was still too dazed to take in the full import of what had been said but it soon became clear. They flogged my back in turns, from left and right, the lashes overlapping in the centre and giving me a double dose of their deep stinging. The cold made it worse and the wet on my skin dampened and stiffened the lashes. I began writhing and crying out almost at once.
And then the second element came into play, as I wriggled and jerked under the heavy impacts I found I was grinding my clit harder and harder against the wood of the ridge in front of me. So despite my fear, my previous hurts and the whipping with wet lashes that I was now suffering I began the inevitable spiral upwards. Soon I was using the impacts on my back to try and hurl myself forwards onto the wood, but it wasn’t enough, I needed to get my weight fully onto the clit itself. I couldn’t use my feet so I grasped my chains and tried to haul myself up but of course the chains at my ankles pulled tight and hindered me. But as the whips smacked down relentlessly I hung and struggled, grinding myself and pulling up until at last, stretched as though on a rack, my whole weight teetered on the sharp summit of the ridge. The lashes came down even harder and I twisted and ground my poor nubbin on the point until starbursts exploded in my brain and I came and came again, and then slumped down into the next valley, jarring myself agonisingly as I thumped down onto the wood. They let me gather myself and started in again. This time yelling encouragements as I grimaced in pain and agonised pleasure, but grimly began to rub against the next ridge.
“Come on, you cunt! Get up there and grind that clit!”
“Come on Emma, you slut! Let me see you really hurt yourself this time!”
Once again I hauled at my wrists while the whips hissed and smacked, stretching myself and hungering for the climactic pain as I balanced my whole weight on my clitoris and crushed it against the crest of the wooden ridge. I made it and again exploded into orgasm before thumping down into the next valley. By now my whole vulva was one blaze of hot pain and as my wrists and ankles were fixed, by moving my pelvis two ridges along, my legs and arms were pulling back and my spine was arched.
The whips stopped for a second.
“Want to go for another, you slut?” Clair asked.
My head hung back between my shoulders and she pushed my hair forward to clear my back for more punishment.
“Yes, mistress,” I moaned, well aware that I was condemning my crotch to more abuse but helpless to deny myself the pleasure.
“You’re a greedy little painslut, aren’t you Emma?” she asked again.
“Yes, mistress.”
They drove me over another peak and I roared and shouted in hysteria as I bucked my pelvis on the summit once more, scarlet shards of agony mingling with the bright bursts of ecstasy as my stomach clenched, my cunt spasmed and I tortured myself into a merciful blackness. They left me for some time then, but came back and drove me over two more devastating ridges, until the pounding from my crotch was an all-consuming physical shout. But I was so far gone I didn’t care. I just wanted all I could take.
By then I was bent back like a bow, my pelvis thrust well ahead of the rest of me.
Janet gave me a drink of cold water and again I was allowed a rest; which was just as well because when they started again, they drove me back along the saw teeth.
This time they breast whipped me to make me draw back, and again I had to haul myself up to the point of almost dislocating my hips before I could mount the summit behind me and then make my raw clit and stinging vulva suffer some more as I bucked and howled under the whips. But from then on they hardly needed the whips. I was in some kind of trance; I just couldn’t wait to torture myself again and hauled up on my wrists as soon as I could find the strength; just the occasional lash across my nipples or a hard twist on them was enough to spur me on.
Dimly I realised that I shouldn’t be doing this to myself but still I couldn’t stop. It was as though every ounce of masochism in me had been suddenly liberated and was out of control. I think I might have babbled some pleas for mercy, but it was me who was my torturer now and my next words were probably ones encouraging myself to find the strength for another pull and another agonising grind on a ridge.
Eventually I just couldn’t go on and stayed slumped in a valley, though I was still making little thrusting movements with my pelvis. But I was lifted off and laid on the floor
Janet and Clair just left me sprawled there and stood over me for a minute or two before Clair dug the toe of her riding boot into my ribs and flipped me onto my back, still clutching my swollen and raw crotch.
“See?” she said. “With a slut like you, one only needs to give you the opportunity to torture yourself.”
I understood that perfectly well by then. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to walk for days, I hurt far more than I could ever remember having done before - and mostly it was all my own work.
“Haul her up, Ben’s waiting,” she added and they dragged my groaning carcass back out to the yard. There they let me fall into the muck and Janet pulled my arms down by my sides before cruelly kicking my thighs and ordering me to get my knees under me. I managed that and she clipped my wrist restraints to those at my ankles. This left me no option but to turn my face to the side as it was squashed down into the mud. She yanked on my matted hair and pulled me up a little.
“See where Ben is? Crawl to him!” she hissed.
I could see where he was alright. He was standing just inside the orchard - on the far side of the gateway where cars or tractors had churned the mud into deep, water-filled ruts, he carried an umbrella to keep the rain off him, I noticed.
Two things immediately became clear even to my pain-dulled mind. Ben might have humiliated me by not bothering to punish me himself, but he had saved the ultimate humiliation all for himself. The only way I could crawl was by shuffling one knee forward at a time, using my face as a kind of plough as I inched my way through the mire and muck. And to think that I had betrayed him because I wanted a harder master! This was exquisite submission and I began to shuffle my way out into the soiled straw, the puddles of water and the rest of the filthy mess. My cheek rubbed along the slick cobbles and pushed a brow
n and green bow-wave ahead of me. I pressed my lips tight together as I inched my way across the yard with Clair walking beside me. She whacked me hard across the buttocks if I dared stop for a rest or tried to raise my face to get a breath of clean air.
But when I finally reached the gateway I could go no further, they couldn’t seriously expect me to nose my way through the depths of water that now lay in front of me. I clearly remembered that I had sunk in well over my ankles when I had had to walk through it behind the horse. I would drown at the pace I was going; it just couldn’t be done.
I tried to protest but Clair raised the crop high and brought it scything down so hard that I saw a spray of moisture and mud fly up before I shut my eyes and screamed. Twice more she lashed me with all her strength and it was enough. I just couldn’t take any more pain and I longed to abase myself before Ben and finally finish what I had started.
Grimly I drew a series of deep breaths and pushed into the first rut, burying my face in the inches of freezing, scum-covered water and the ooze which lay beneath. I lost my hearing as the water closed over my left ear. Desperately I spread my knees as far apart as I could and pushed frantically. My nose was blocked and I was close to panic when at last I broke clear and lay gasping, spitting and choking on the small bank in the middle of the track. But of course the last bit was the worst, and I moaned as I twisted my head to look forward. The far part of the rut had broken down and the water had mixed with the small lake which surrounded a nearby horse trough. There was about four feet of water and thick, glutinous mud ahead of me. It may not sound much but from ground level and when you are going to have to plough through it face first…