Their nipple and labial rings became hammers in their flesh, sending a searing jolt of hard current through their bodies. They howled round their fake tongues as they convulsed and rolled up into balls of pain.
Then it was gone, leaving them trembling and shaking. Warning twitches sent them struggling tearfully back up onto all fours.
‘So will you be good? ’ Cleaver asked.
They nodded and wagged their tails pathetically.
He steered them out of the stables and then along a path that led around the side of the house through a gate and onto a terrace. Here a breakfast table was laid out under an awning. Seated at it were a smart fortyish couple and a girl of about Mel’s age with auburn hair who was dressed in riding boots and jodhpurs.
They were being waited on, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, by what Mel supposed you had to call a gynaton maid.
She wore a tiny frilly cap perched on the top of her head. Her mouth was occupied by a red ring gag that held her lips open in a perpetual mute“O” of surprise and readiness for oral penetration. She wore a French maid-style bib and tiny apron, except they were made of soft clear plastic that hid nothing of her naked body. Light silver chains linked her wrist cuffs to side rings set in the belt of her apron, which was padlocked in the small of her back. A short hobble chain joined her ankle cuffs, forcing her to take tiny steps on her high heels.
Cleaver brought Mel, Bolt and Cam up to the table and then had them sit up and beg.
‘The Gryndstone girls, sir,’ Cleaver reported.
The man and woman looked them over with reserved approval while the young girl exclaimed:‘They’re pretty! ’
‘They’ll do,’ the man conceded. He frowned down at them. ‘Now, we’re going to be out for much of the day and my father needs his amusement, otherwise he worries. You be good bitches for him, understand? ’
They nodded and panted and wagged their tails.
‘Oh, can’t I play with them? ’ the girl said petulantly.
‘They’re for Grandfather,’ the woman reminded her. ‘Anyway I thought you were going out riding with Tessa for the day? ’
‘She’s getting boring. Why can’t I play with them? Grandfather’s only going to fall asleep and he won’t remember afterwards anyway. ’
‘Don’t talk about him like that, dear,’ her mother chided gently.
‘Well it’s true! ’
‘Don’t talk back to your mother! ’ her father snapped.
There was something in his tone that made the girl drop her eyes and murmur meekly:‘Sorry, Father. ’
‘All right,’ the man said to Cleaver, ‘take them down to the summerhouse. ’
The summerhouse lay beyond the terrace wall and a little way down the low rise the house occupied. It was an airy structure with a veranda, a shingle roof and lapped wood walls looking out across the trees and gardens to a lake. Inside, facing the open double doors, a distinguished white-haired old man sat in a reclining chair with a blanket wrapped round his legs. On a large cushion beside him knelt a pretty blonde maid without a gag. She was holding a book from which she had been reading aloud. She was tethered by a long chain to the doorpost, beside which was also a slave drinking fountain and pee pan. More tethering rings and chains hung round the walls together with a small rack of lashes. By the chair was a table with a phone, a tray of ice soft drinks, fruit and sweet bowls, a pile of books and some medicine bottles. To one side was a large flatscreen television and sound system.
The maid, who had the part stamp: Cog 107, bowed her head to Cleaver.
The old man looked up vaguely and then his eyes fastened on Mel and the others. ‘Oh, I say, what pretty gyndogs. And they’re Gryndstone girls! I used to have a lot to do with the school you know. ’
‘Yes, Mr Fillister,’ said Cleaver. ‘Your son sent them down for you to try out. ’He handed him the control box.
‘Oh, that was good of him. Where is he? ’
‘He’ll be down to see you later, Mr Fillister. ’
The old man was stroking the control box. ‘I used to have lots of fun with these when they first came out. You can make them do tricks…’
He began playing with the joysticks. Mel, Cam and Bolt jerked into life and began shuffling round the room barking and wagging their tails. The old man chortled with delight. Cleaver nodded to Cog and quietly slipped away.
Grandfather Fillister played with them for most of the morning. He managed to steer them head to tail so they tongued each other out. Then he had them fetching sticks and balls thrown by Cog. When they brought them back and sat up in begging postures by his chair he happily stoked and patted them, toying with their breasts. Mel had to steel herself not to flinch at the touch of his wrinkled hands as he pawed her over, yet she also felt sorry for him and did not begrudge any pleasure she could give. She supposed his infatuation with gynatons was natural if he had grown up with them, as several generations in Shackleswell must have done. He was simply reliving happy memories.
With spanking paddle in hand Fillister managed to swipe it across their upturned bottoms as they presented them to him. Half the time he hit their tails, making them whip and slap violently from side to side while churning the spring clip ends inside their rectums. The blows that did land on their buttocks hardly hurt and raised only a light blush, but they yelped and wiggled in a show of pain that seemed to please him.
His greatest delight, however, was seeing them pee, for which they had to make many trips to drinking fountain. He had them cocking legs and peeing against the veranda post and nearby trees, and then lying on their backs on the grass with their legs spread peeing into the air so the streams crossed in glittering arcs.
‘Gyndog fountains,’ he said happily. ‘I once got a dozen of you in a row doing that. Amazing height you reached. Strong inner muscles, I suppose. Nearly squeezed the life out of my cock afterwards! ’
At lunchtime a slave housemaid brought a tray of food down to the summerhouse and Cog helped Grandfather Fillister eat it. Soon afterwards he was snoring.
‘He’ll sleep for a few hours now,’ Cog confided in a soft voice. ‘You can get some rest now’
She fed them some grapes and chocolates and then Mel, Cam and Bolt sprawled on the grass in the sun, grinning at each other round their fake tongues. It had been a weird day but this was not so bad, Mel thought. It was disconcerting to be used as pure playthings. She’d rather have some real work to do. That felt natural. Did she really mean that?
She must have dozed because she was jerked awake by sharp words.
‘Give me that! He’s asleep and he’ll never know and nor will my parents. ’
The daughter of the house was standing over Cog, pulling the remote control box from her hands. She now dressed in a long loose summer dress and white sandals.
‘Please, Mistress… Miss Samantha, they’re old Mr Fillister’s toys,’ Cog said.
‘How dare you speak to me like that! ’
Samantha Fillister wrenched Cog’s arms behind her and cuffed her wrists together. As Cog protested she took an apple from the fruit bowl and rammed it into her mouth, jamming it between her teeth. Then she shortened Cog’s leash chain, pulling her over to the doorpost.
‘Now you don’t make a sound until I come back,’ she warned her.
Using the control box Samantha steered Mel, Bolt and Cam away from the Summerhouse and down towards the lake. They had no choice but to shuffle along as fast as they could with their breasts swaying and jiggling. The twitches that drove their limbs were accompanied with brief stabs of the punishment setting that lanced through then nipples and pussies, making them yelp and stumble. Mel saw Bolt and Cam both looked fearful but there was nothing they could do.
There was a dense thicket of rhododendron bushes near the shore. Samantha drove them into this, pushin
g aside the low branches. At the heart of the thicket there was an open patch of ground floored by bare stamped earth. On it was spread an old rug. She’s been planning this, Mel thought.
Samantha grinned down at the girls in triumph. ‘You really are pretty gyndogs,’ she said. ‘You’re wasted on Grandfather. Are you going to be good? ’ Her finger hovered over the pain button. They nodded quickly. ‘Now let’s play my game…’
She rolled her dress up to her waist. She was naked underneath. Her buttocks were nicely rounded and a sparse triangle of russet curls capped her neatly cleft mound. She laid on her back on the rug, bent her knees and spread her legs, exposing her groin to them. She worked the control box until Bolt was straddled over her with her head above Samantha’s groin and her pubes over Samantha’s head. Mel knelt with her face pressed into Bolt’s pussy while at the end of the line Cam’s face was nuzzling into Mel’s pubes.
‘Now you will all use your tongues on the pussy you have in front of you. If I don’t think your trying hard enough you’ll get a shock. When I press move the one at the front goes round to the back and you all move up one space. I want to feel all your tongues in me again and again and watch you pleasuring each other until I come. Then I’ll think of a new game. Begin…’
Bolt dipped her head and thrust her extended tongue deep into Samantha’s sex, even as Mel felt Cam slide her tongue into her. As Mel twisted her head to lap at Bolt’s pussy she saw Samantha looking up in hungry fascination at the desperate cunnilingus taking just above her head.
So they shuffled around Samantha, alternately pleasuring her and themselves for her amusement. Quick stabs of electric pain that she inflicted on them with delighted laughter punished any slackness. Soon their nipples and labia were tingling, driving on their mounting arousal. They could not help this. By now it was quite instinctive. As the scent of flowing female juices filled the tiny glade one by one they came, dripping their discharge onto Samantha’s face which she wiped up and licked in wonder.
At last Samantha bucked her own hips, grinding her pussy into Cam’s face. Then she sank back, breathing heavily and rubbing her fingers through her wet slot.
‘Oh… that was nice! You do have good tongues on you. I wish you belonged to me. Think of the fun could have. Now, next you’re going to –’
‘Miss Samantha! ’ came Cleaver’s voice calling out the distance. ‘Listen to me wherever you are. I have to return those gyndogs to your Grandfather. They’re his toys, not yours. Your parents will be back soon and your father won’t be happy if he hears you took them. . . ’
Panic replaced dreamy delight on Samantha’s face. Hurriedly she pulled her dress back down and scrambled to her feet, peering anxiously through the foliage. They heard Cleaver calling out again, but his voice was fainter. Samantha flipped the joysticks on the control box, setting the girls’ legs shuffling into motion.
‘Back to the summerhouse, quickly! ’
She sent them plunging through the bushes careless of scratches. They burst out into the open facing the wrong direction. In a panic Samantha stabbed at the controls, but instead of steering them along the path she sent them shuffling wildly down the grassy bank towards the edge of the lake.
‘No, no stop! ’ she screeched.
But they could not stop. They were prisoners of reflex and the commands flowing through their dog suits. Over the bank they went and splashed into the green water. It was only shallow but they could not stand up and the weight of their cuffs and collars was pulling them under. The contacts in their costumes began to short out, making them jerk uncontrollably. Bubbles swirled past Mel’s head. She was drowning….
Then a strong hand caught her by the collar and hauled her out of the lake to flop coughing and spluttering on the bank beside Cam and Bolt’s dripping forms. She blinked the water from her eyes to see Cleaver wade back up onto the bank and stand glaring sternly at a trembling Samantha.
‘Your Father’s not going to like this, Miss. ’
It was an hour later back at the Summerhouse.
Mel, Bolt and Cam knelt to one side in a coffle, stripped of their now useless gyndog costumes. Samantha stood miserably before her father and mother. Upon their return Cleaver reported the incident and now Cog was explaining how Samantha had taken restrained her and taken the girls away. Fortunately she had managed to reach the table phone with her foot, chew through her apple gag and call Cleaver’s stable phone.
‘Is this true? ’ her father asked Samantha.
‘Yes, Father, but I only wanted to borrow them…’
‘Be quiet! I’ve heard enough. ’
Samantha bowed her head.
‘She broke them. ’ Old Mr Fillister protested once again. ‘They were my toys and she broke them. ’
‘Yes, Father,’ his son said gently, ‘and now she’s going to be punished. ’
Old Mr Fillister suddenly brightened. ‘Oh… rosy bum time, is it? ’
‘Yes, Father. ’
Samantha stifled a sob of fear.
‘She was only playing with them, George,’ her mother said. ‘It was naughty but perfectly natural. If Cleaver hadn’t panicked her no harm would have been done. ’
‘No, Mary,’ her husband said. ‘She disobeyed me and proved she was not fit to be in control of these girls. That’s harm enough. You’re always excusing her mistakes and because of that I’ve been too soft on her. Well, now she’s going to get the punishment she deserves… and I think you’ll share it with her. ’
Samantha gasped while Mary Fillister went pale. ‘No, George, you can’t… not right now… I mean…’ she stressed the next words:‘I’m still dressed for going out! ’
‘I know and it’s your own fault. This is my right and duty. Now lift your skirts and bend over the rail, both of you! ’
Miserably, mother and daughter turned and hitched up their skirts. Samantha’s bottom Mel had already seen. Her mother’s backside was of a similar build with slightly fleshier pale buttocks, but there was a thin metal strap running up from between her buttocks that joined a broader strap about her waist. A chastity belt?
They bent over the veranda balustrade, grasping the outside of the posts to brace themselves and presenting their bare bottoms to the rest of the company. George Fillister took out a key, inserted it in the slim lock in the small of his wife’s back that joined the straps and pulled the belt off.
‘Perhaps I should get one of these for Samantha to keep her under control as well,’ he mused. Samantha whimpered.
Now Mary Fillister’s pubic mound, covered in thicker ruddy curls than her daughter’s, also pouted unwilling out at them from between shivering thighs.
Mel felt embarrassment at witnessing this private family shame but she could not look away.
‘Mr Cleaver, please strap them down properly,’ George said.
Cleaver bound the women’s wrists to the posts and put more straps across their backs and about their ankles, pulling their legs apart.
From the rack George selected a lash and a spanking paddle, which he gave to Cleaver. ‘If you would attend to my daughter. I want to see her rear burn and turn scarlet and I want to hear her scream. ’
‘Yes, Mr Fillister,’ Cleaver said calmly, as though being asked to beat the naked bottom of his employer’s daughter was nothing out of the ordinary. But then this was Shackleswell, Mel reminded herself.
The men took up positions of either side of the bound women and began to beat them. The pair of soft pale bottoms, so similar in form, shivered and jumped under the lash of thong and paddle, with ripples running across their hips and thighs. Anuses clenched at each blow and then gaped pitifully. The sweet crack of rubber on flesh filed the air.
Their pouting vulvas did not escape the punishment. As the blows compressed their buttock flesh they snacked into their tender nethermouths, stinging those m
ost sensitive lips. In addition both George and Cleaver aimed a few strokes up into the women’s groins, giving them a taste of the full force of a blow.
Mary Fillister controlled herself better, snivelling and moaning and clenching her teeth but not saying a word. Samantha however sobbed, screamed and begged for forgiveness at the top of her voice, promising to be a perfect daughter from now on if her father would only spare her this humiliation. In her extremis and clenched up with pain she even farted shamefully in between her pleadings. He took no notice, letting her bottom turn from pink to the blazing scarlet he had specified while tanning his wife’s posterior to match.
Finally Samantha could control herself no longer. With a dreadful moan of the deepest shame a stream of pee burst from between her sore labia and hissed backwards hot and steaming, splashing across the wooden decking. As the dying drips of her impromptu fountain fell from her cleft she sagged across the balustrade in a dead faint.
Grandfather Fillister enthusiastically applauded her degrading display. ‘Hah! That’s the way we used to keep the girls in line in the old days! ’
Back at school that evening, Mel, Cam and Bolt related their brief glimpse in to the lives of the spoilt, rich and over privileged to their fascinated fellow pupils.
Mel sent a mail to Maddy. ‘Helped look after a rich old man today. He lives in a big house with fantastic grounds, including a lake. I even had time for a quick dip. He was nice but a bit dotty so I did my best to cheer him up. You could tell the family were in a bit of a mess and the daughter was a real handful. We’re not the only people with problems so there’s still hope. . . ’
Maddy replied: ‘Swims in lakes! I’ve been doing office cleaning which is so boring. It sounds like you’ve having more fun that I am…’
Was she having fun?
Later in bed the three of them talked it over.
Slaves of Irontown Page 18