by Ashley Hind
There was no escaping the blows, she looked in desperation towards her kneeling Mistress but there would be no mediation from her - she was far too busy taking Thomas noisily to the back of her throat, or pumping at his glistening shaft with a tightly closed fist whilst sucking his balls and all the time fingering his arse. April was laughing with glee at the dancing red bottom of her shrieking victim. Many of her blows landed squarely across the tuck of Leah’s buttocks and made contact with her swelling outer labia. This was exacerbated because Leah was completely spent and defeated and had collapsed her belly down onto the table so that, inexplicably, her bottom was as thrust out and open as it could be.
With each blow that landed her pussy walls clenched at the sausage and even threatened to expel it, but each new slap just seemed to send it back up inside her, and she had to endure this mini-fucking as the spanking continued unabated. She could feel the sticky dampness pouring down her thighs and for a second she thought it must be blood pouring from her burst bottom. Indeed she wished it was blood - anything to detract from the indignity of the truth; that it was without question her overflowing excitement.
Just as it all became too much, as she teetered on the edge of fainting away, something broke over her. It might have started in her head or in her buttocks, she was too far gone to tell, but it spread over her body in a shivering glow. It felt somehow thick and unctuous, as if warm treacle was being poured over her, although it was far more electric than that. The closest thing she had felt to it were the times when she had come home on a freezing day, cold to the very core, and plunged into a steaming hot bath and blissfully awoken every single nerve-ending in her body. But it was double that, treble that; it was almost beyond orgasm. Each strike now was nearly immaterial, barely perceptible contacts like little nibbles to further titillate her effervescent skin. She opened her bleary eyes to watch her husband, his head flung back and his eyes screwed shut as he was taken towards his own release by the Mistress.
Gwendolen gave a loud moan of delight as his come spattered her throat and tongue, and she continued to suck hungrily despite his efforts to pull away, the pleasure obviously becoming too great for him to bear. Only when he began to soften did she stop her frantic wanking and take him out of her mouth, licking her lips hungrily to make sure any stray drips of seed were consumed. Through her near-delirium, Leah watched him collapse head bowed against the timber beam and she realised that her own punishment had also finally abated.
Her final contractions had forced the sausage down her slippery passage and she knew it was lewdly poking out of her pussy. She tensed her muscles and pushed, heaving with the effort until finally she was able to expel the thick meat lozenge and hear it splat on the table below. She didn’t baulk at April’s mutterings of disgust. She was past caring now. She should be feeling utter horror at the humiliation and pain of her beating. She should have been shocked and hurt beyond measure at having to watch her husband getting his cock sucked and his spunk so greedily consumed, but she wasn’t. All she could feel was the sensation of basking in the afterglow of an orgasm stronger than any she could remember. She opened her eyes and looked for May, but the younger girl had already gone.
Gwendolen got off her knees and came over to admire Leah’s glowing backside with some satisfaction.
‘That is what you get when your husband fails to pay up. If he lets us down again I swear I will deliver more pain than you can possibly imagine.’
She glanced towards April, whose face was still a mask of delighted malice, her bottom lip shining wet as if she had been drooling.
‘Take her away,’ said the Mistress.
Six
It was to be another testing afternoon for Leah. She was dragged hobbling out of the kitchen on exhausted legs and had to scramble up the stairs on all fours. Locked in her bedroom she caught sight of her scarlet bottom in the wardrobe mirror and hastily climbed onto the bed and lay on her front, scared to look at the results of her chastisement. After a while she heard the deep rumblings of Huw’s voice emanating from below and shortly after the noise of a car starting out front and driving away. Her tears came at that moment, from her pain and her predicament, and from the knowledge that her husband had been taken away again.
As her glow receded she was left feeling only sore, and the skin on her bottom felt tight and thick, as if she had been sunburned. She desperately needed it treated with a soothing lotion but she knew there was none to hand. Ironically, her pussy could have supplied enough slick juice to cover her backside many times. It was still flowing and she could feel her little bud poking from its hood and touching the bed sheets, vying for attention.
She was determined not to masturbate, however mad her yearnings drove her. To give in now would be an inestimable humiliation. To thrust her fingers into the same dripping passage that had so recently been plugged by a cold sausage and was doubtless still tainted by pork fat would be a terrible ignominy. She couldn’t bear to picture April’s exalted expression and triumphant cries of derision at the knowledge that the spanking she administered had turned her victim into a vanquished wanking wretch, no matter how close it was to the truth.
Instead she tried to concentrate on her husband and his plight, how shocking the experience must have been to him and how terrible he would feel in knowing that he had caused her such visible pain. He was surely damned now. If their price was already too high for his means then his only option was to steal to try to prevent further harm from being inflicted. She tried to reach out with her thoughts, to transmit her solidarity in what must be a desperate time for him. However, all she could see when she closed her eyes was his expression of ecstasy, his panted grunts of pleasure as he erupted massively into Gwendolen’s willing mouth.
They came for her during the afternoon, condescendingly informing her it was time for “walkies”. Still in discomfort she was taken by the twins back down to the kitchen where Gwendolen made her put on the dog collar she had worn on the journey there. The same extending lead was attached, much to April’s squealing joy, and Leah was also told to don a pair of very high-heeled black court shoes. She was instructed to gather the hem of her T-shirt up and tie it into a knot at her waist, and her humiliation was complete as Gwendolen took hold of the now exposed knickers and tugged them down to mid-thigh. Then the door was opened and she was pushed out into the sunlight.
She tottered tentatively across the courtyard on her lead in front of the three females, with her sore and rosy bottom sticking out towards them. She was instructed to walk up past the near paddock to the top gate and then left into the track between fenced fields and a band of trees and hedgerow, all the while listening to April’s crude commentary about her wiggling arse and how it definitely deserved a really good fucking. Leah could not find a single crumb of comfort in her abjection. Even knowing that May would be getting a good view of her uncovered bought no succour. At once she was being treated like an animal, a burlesque stripper and a red-bummed spank slave, all for their amusement. The sun was hot on her bare pussy and she knew that the dammed-up juices inside had been building since her punishment had ceased, and would inevitably start to seep down her thighs. Her only hope was that they would see her condition and give her puss the fucking it so desperately required.
About a half-mile from the house she was encouraged, or rather told, to urinate into the hedgerow, like the bitch that she was. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed heavily but did their bidding, her bladder too full and her spirit too empty to complain. She crouched as they watched, and then let go her thick stream into the undergrowth. April was still doing her best impression of an escapee from the local institute for sexual lunatics, avidly recommending that Leah be forced to sit down into the nettles she was squatting over, and then looking flabbergasted when her request was denied. Later, as they passed a thicket of brambles, the unhinged twin asked if she could use some to whip their slave with, or at the very
least have her shoved arse-backwards into the thorns. She had looked quite put out when once more her suggestion was refused.
She had her fun at the next field, though. She found a thin, straight stick of some eighteen inches in length and informed Leah that it was time to play fetch. The stick was tossed some yards in front of her and she was told to get down on her knees and crawl to collect it, with her mouth of course.
‘If you do not,’ threatened April, ‘I shall put those high heels on, stand on you while you pull your bum apart, and beat you with that very stick, right along the crack of your arse.’
Leah could take no more pain that day. She crawled across to the stick and pushed her face into the soft mud that had been churned up by horses’ hooves, and clamped her teeth around it. Her mouth was stretched just as it had been with her ball gag, but this was even more degrading. She felt the saliva pool and drip from her mouth and the tears roll down her face once more as she took the stick back to her tormentor. At least this proved to be the end of her misery. Gwendolen stopped the game in its tracks and announced that it was time to go back. Leah was let off her lead, allowed to pull her knickers back up and walk home silently and barefoot alongside them. For ten glorious and comforting seconds, just as they neared the top gate again, May secretly took her hand and held it.
She was allowed to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen whilst Gwendolen did some baking. It was odd to watch her acting so mundanely. Was this possibly the same wife who had allowed her best friend’s daughters to watch while she fellated another woman’s husband with absolute impunity? Was the fat bum that Leah now so avidly followed around the room the same one that had been squashed mercilessly into her face and taken her to the brink of suffocation? She looked nothing now like a woman who could take a hostage and callously spank her fanny.
The dough gave it away. Leah sat entranced as the bread ingredients were mixed and pounded, stretched and flattened, then rolled back into a ball and slapped down against the granite worktop. The dough sat, slowly retracting, smooth and white, like one hemisphere of a little bottom. With a look of malicious determination Gwendolen would attack it with her hands, smacking the floury surface. She would squeeze and gouge the life from the swelling yeasts, and then plump it up and start all over again. Leah’s backside tensed with every fresh assault. She could feel the cruelty emanating as the woman did her best to destroy the ball in her hands, to crush it and disfigure it. And yet every time, the dough would slowly draw back and swell into its little mound, always ready for more.
The twins popped in and out throughout the afternoon while the Mistress prepared a progression of foodstuffs. Whenever May came in she would furtively look over and mouth words of comfort and Leah would give her a little smile in return, although in truth her spirits were still low and her bottom still sore to sit on. Five-thirty saw the return of the patriarch of the bizarre household. Huw gave his wife a quick kiss and berated the world in general as he washed his hands and watched his meal being prepared, steadfastly unmoved by the fact that the key to his future wealth (or maybe a long time spent at Her Majesty’s pleasure) was sitting at the kitchen table. Soon they all assembled and sat to eat their salad of thick-cut ham and soft boiled eggs, served with beautifully smelling fresh bread.
The girls mentioned nothing of their day and Leah was by-passed in their conversations as if she did not exist, although in truth she had little to offer on the subject of sheep and their tendency to get their heads wedged in iron gates. She was locked in her room after tea and spent the evening reading, with only one interruption at around eight, with April, apparently now subdued, bringing her some supper and a drink, and ensuring that she knew to have a shower before she went to sleep. As dusk was finally dowsed by darkness her third day of incarceration ended, but Thomas’s inability to pay the ransom brought with it the certainty that there would be several more days of hardship to come.
Leah was roused early the following day and given a breakfast of toast and tea, and told that she was to work with the twins that morning. Her backside had nearly recovered, except for some minor bruising, and she felt cheerier once she knew she would be able to occupy her mind for a while and not be confined to her room. Any activity that involved April was not necessarily to be welcomed but she looked fairly calm and indifferent at that moment and her eyes were not glazed with manic lust as they had been the previous day. May looked bright as a button and was dressed as ever in nicely tight-fitting clothes.
Leah was instructed to wear wellingtons as she would be working in the stable. She pulled them on and crossed with the girls from the house to the only other building that was now part of her little world. To her relief she was spared the ball and chain, perhaps to avoid hampering her work, but more likely because in wouldn’t have fitted around her boot. The far door where the twins were working remained fully open, whilst the others along the outer wall and nearer to her own station already had their top halves flung open to let the morning brightness stream in. This gave her a view across the courtyard to the near paddock, where swallows swooped and turned, flashing their white bellies as they tirelessly chased insects down.
She was allowed to sit on a chair and was given several pairs of muddy boots to clean. The tools provided for her task were a stout knife for digging between the treads of the sole, a bottle of spray-on protector, and a cloth. There was also a bucket to be filled with cold water via a hose attached to a tap in the tack room. She was told by April in no uncertain terms that if she wanted to wash the soles off with the hose then she had better do it outside, or she would undoubtedly end up making all the hay wet - a crime which would apparently cost her dear. She set about her chore in good spirits, surprised, after the way the elder twin had treated her since her stay had begun, that she was actually deemed fit to clean her boots at all.
The girls were grooming the only two ponies currently in the stable, taking one animal each. They quickly set into their usual routine, with April doing the bulk of the chatting. The talk was mainly on the serious business of riding, occasionally interspersed with speculation about the size of various local men’s pricks and what April thought they could do with them. May added only the odd sentence or word or exasperated sigh here and there. The younger girl was often on the end of a belittling remark, which she either ignored or countered by cursing at her sister, and Leah wondered if they were the only twins in existence that didn’t seem to get on. Every once in a while though, the conversation would dry up, or turn to whispers, and they would dissolve into fits of giggles at some witticism or understanding that seemed to be transferred telepathically.
The girls were occupying the furthest two stalls and May had her back to Leah, which disappointingly meant that she hardly got to see her. She tried to clean the boots blind, keeping her eyes off them and trained as much as possible towards the space into which May would occasionally pop, appearing above the partition with currycomb or brush in hand. Whenever Leah took a boot out to rinse, she made sure she took a good peak at May’s behind in her stretchy black leggings, even getting caught a couple of times as the girl turned to look at her. Leah would collect the hose and drag it outside and twist the nozzle that controlled the flow, which without fail would do nothing and then suddenly explode in a spraying jet that splashed cold against her bare legs and made her yelp. Each time May would giggle, and April would look out into the sunlit courtyard, shake her head disparagingly and insult her. Then Leah would return the hose, walk back to her chair, sneak a glance at May’s backside, and get caught in the act.
It took a good while to clean all the boots and she had just finished as the girls completed their grooming and led the horses over to the near paddock before returning with a wheelbarrow and tools for mucking out. Leah was allocated a garden fork and issued instructions. The twins were both armed with spades and they all set about the task of shovelling the old hay and waste out of the stalls. Perhaps as compensati
on for being so far away previously, May stayed close to Leah and often kept her back to her, so she could be watched as she bent over.
Despite the unsavoury nature of the task, Leah was enjoying it immensely. It took hard work but all the while Leah and May snatched glances at one other and smiles were swapped. Leah felt good. She felt properly happy and distracted from her plight. May was bending over for her in exaggerated fashion, or flicking clumps of trodden hay at her. One time, when April was not watching, she playful chucked a shovelful straight over her shoulder in Leah’s direction, forcing her to jump backwards. She responded by giving the girl a gentle stab in the arse with the fork the next time she bent over. Soon they were trying to stifle their giggles as their hay-fight continued, whilst April obliviously continued to put out the fresh layers.
Eventually their excitement became too much to contain and as another clash of spade and fork developed into a mock sword fight, they both burst out laughing. April turned on them, her face a mask of contempt as she cursed their childishness and shared amusement.
‘You dirty lezzers!’ she spat. ‘Get a room!’
It might have ended there. April had seemingly turned back to her work and there was no sign of what was to follow. But her unpredictable ire was apparently still bubbling up, ready to blow. Down went her spade and off she marched in a huff, returning with the hose dragging behind her, the snarl morphing into a gritted teeth sneer as a plan crystallised in her head.
‘I’ll cool you bitches off,’ she said.
Leah instinctively put her arms out but it was never going to be any kind of defence. All it did was help spatter the sudden incoming jet up towards her face. Her assailant opened the hose nozzle just a little, lessening the hit but spreading the impact zone. Leah shrieked as her shirt front was saturated, the cold from the tap enough to take her breath away despite the heat of the day. Trying to evade the stream only brought fresh cold shocks in new areas. She just had to stand and take it, hunching up as the evil twin came ever closer to improve her accuracy.