The Girlspell III

by William Avon

  ‘I’m afraid not. I keep expecting to receive a ransom demand but there’s been nothing. I’m worried that they won’t be treating her properly.’

  ‘Whoever’s got her must know she’s valuable, sir. They’d be fools not to look after her. And she’s a rare type. They can’t keep her hidden for long without somebody learning of it.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, George. I just hope you’re right...’

  The Major looked round at wrought iron fence that divided the training paddock from the grassy pound that served as the packgirl’s rest area. Extra stanchions had been added to the top of the fence to support an array of spiked wheels.

  ‘Are the nightwatchmen patrolling as we agreed?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but there’s been nothing to report.’

  ‘Probably all a waste of time; bolting the stable door and all that,’ the Major said heavily. ‘I can’t imagine that gang having the nerve to strike again, even if they are still in the area. But then I can’t risk losing another girl like Melanie...’

  Platt felt compelled to break the awkward silence that followed. ‘Will Miss Arabella be away long, sir?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Another month, perhaps. Recuperating with some acquaintances in Northumberland, she said in her last letter.’

  ‘I’m sure we all wish her well, sir,’ Platt said dutifully.

  The Major smiled grimly. ‘We both know what Arabella was capable of. The Hall’s a happier place without her. I’d cheerfully trade her a dozen times over for a perfect specimen like Melanie.’ He sighed. ‘But family is family. You can’t choose them like bondslaves and you certainly can’t train them to behave. A taste of the crop would have done Arabella no end of good when she was younger... but it’s too late now.’

  He watched the young woman urging the girls harnessed to the logs to greater efforts. The swish of her whip carried clearly to them.

  ‘Speaking of family,’ the Major continued, ‘I notice that young Alison has been looking a lot more confident with the pack recently.’

  Alison Chalmers’ family were distant and somewhat impoverished relations of the Major’s. He had only taken Alison on as a kennelmaid as a favour, but she had applied herself to the job with unexpected energy and good humour and had proved a real asset to the Hall staff.

  Platt brightened visibly at the mention of Alison’s name, although at the same time a slightly hesitant tone entered his voice.

  ‘Yes, she’s coming along a treat, sir. Really working hard. She… er, asked for some extra coaching about the best way to handle the girls. She knew she needed to be firmer with them to keep their respect. So I’ve, er, been giving her a few pointers.’

  ‘Well, it seems to be doing the job,’ the Major said approvingly. ‘Keep up the good work.’

  ‘I will, sir,’ Platt promised.

  Later that afternoon George Platt closed and locked the gates of the enclosed court that formed the packgirl yard. After the morning training session the girls were resting in the pound or their kennels. For the next hour or two all would be quiet.

  George felt his pulse begin to race in anticipation as he took out his keys and unlocked the small door set into one half of the double doors of the Equipment Room. This was where the larger items used to train the packgirls were stored. The illumination from a skylight showed racks, treadmills, punishment wheels, small carts, whipping posts and crosses mounted on mobile bases, heavy wooden yokes, and other devices specially designed for the restraint and confinement of the female form.

  In a clear space in the middle of the room rested a solid, roughly cubical wooden block the thickness of a tree-stump, dark-stained and polished by the bodies of many girls. Bound naked to this block was Alison Chalmers.

  George had secretly lusted after Alison for months and the irony and apparent hopelessness of his desire had not been lost on him. There he was with over twenty beautiful women more or less there for the taking, only for him to become entranced by his kennelmaid: a girl half his age and also a relation of his employer.

  Then, after the abduction of Melanie and the shaming of Arabella, Alison had come to George with a startling proposition. Her brief taste of captivity and bondage at the hands of the intruders had made her appreciate how bondslaves must feel. She admitted she had always hesitated to be too strict with the girls in her charge because she was afraid of injuring such beautiful and valuable creatures. But if George could treat her as he would a slave in training, she suggested, she could understand what they experienced for herself. Then she could learn to be firmer and more confident with them, and perhaps eventually become as capable a keeper as he was.

  It was a request entirely in keeping with her earnest, if slightly naive, nature, combined with a genuine admiration for his ability. Of course, George had agreed.

  He knew it was a result of her respect for him and not love, but it did allow him an intimacy he had never thought possible. He could do virtually what he liked with her, and Alison would even thank him for it afterwards. It might not be romance, but it was a delight beyond his wildest dreams.

  Now he paced round Alison’s sturdy, tautly bound body, examining her closely, his cock hardening as he did so. He’d secured her half an hour earlier and then intentionally left her to simmer in her bonds.

  Her eyes followed him mutely over her gag-strap as he circled her. Even though he knew she trusted him completely, he read the flicker of apprehension in their depths as she anticipated what was to come. But then a little fear was entirely natural and part of relationship between master and slave. It was an important lesson for Alison to learn.

  She was tied belly down over the block in a kneeling position, a heavy leather strap running across the small of her back, forcing her to clasp the baulk of wood between her widespread thighs. Her arms were tightly confined behind her back in a leather sheath, a chain from which ran up to the back of her neck where it was clipped to the strap of her gag. This had the effect of pulling her head up so that her face was visible, allowing her reactions to what was done to her to be easily observed.

  Scallops were cut into the top of the block for girls’ breasts to rest in, with straps on either side of the recesses. Alison’s were too small to strap down effectively, but nipple clamps attached to chains threaded through rings hammered into the block ensured they were stretched into tight pink cones. Long wooden pegs pushed into holes in the sides of the block pressed into the backs of her knees, keeping her legs bent. Ankle straps held them tight against the side of the block. These constraints had the effect of thrusting Alison’s hips out and back until the pale skin was taut across her buttocks. This opened the cleft between the fleshy hemispheres and caused the small dark hole hidden there to gape in a perfect circle.

  George licked his lips at the sight. He had already sampled the hot, tight delights of Alison’s back passage and would do so again. Her strained posture also displayed the plump, lightly-haired pouch of her sex, which overhung the lip of the block. Her inner lips, George noticed, were swollen and glistening, showing she was responding naturally to her situation.

  George had not yet plumbed what lay beyond those lips. Exploratory fingering during an earlier examination, which of a course a “new” bondslave had to undergo, had revealed that Alison was no virgin but neither was she much used, judging from the tightness of her sheath. George hesitated to breach this orifice. There was a certain degree of anonymity about anal intercourse for both parties. Vaginal intercourse, even with a girl restrained and blindfolded, was potentially more intimate, and he did not wish to spoil the understanding between them.

  After a few more “lessons” he would be surer of himself and she would be more relaxed, and then he would make use of her in every possible way. After all, a slave-girl’s cunt was open to anyone her owner cared to give her to. Alison would have to learn that if she wanted to trul
y understand the psychology of slavery.

  Meanwhile he savoured her bound form and all it had to offer. It was a position which allowed almost no degree of movement and concentrated the girl’s mind on her helplessness and exposure. It was also a useful posture for bringing about another reaction. On the floor beside the block was an empty beaker of water. George had ordered Alison to drink it down just before he had secured her. Now she would discover the reason.

  George took down a cat-o’-nine-tails he had hung on a hook earlier and shook the trailing thongs loose. The thongs were in fact of soft leather, quite broad and without knots. He did not wish to risk damaging Alison’s skin beyond putting a healthy blush on it. The device would produce the effect he wanted just as it was.

  He took up his position behind Alison and let the thongs trail across her out-thrust bottom. She gave a little shiver and her muscles tensed, straining instinctively against her bonds.

  He swung the cat in an upward curve. The thongs swished through the air and caught the underside of Alison’s bottom with a satisfactory smack. The thongs curled up into every crevice in Alison’s body, as if caressing the pout of her sex.

  Alison whimpered behind her gag and screwed up her eyes. George lashed her again. On the fifth stroke a stream of urine jetted in irregular spurts from between her sex lips, splashed against the side of the block, and began to form a puddle on the floor. The flow became more even and Alison sighed and relaxed in her bonds, surrendering to the relief, while George watched the intimate spectacle with deep satisfaction.

  Half an hour later, Alison came into George’s office. She was fully dressed once more and showed no outward sign of what she had just experienced, except perhaps for a slight stiffness in her walk. However her normally bright, cheerful face was pinched in thought.

  For George this was the hardest part of Alison’s special education. She wanted to discuss everything he had just done to her in detail, and seemed to be without shame or embarrassment. Apparently she really had no idea the effect her training sessions had on him. Perhaps she considered herself to be too plain in comparison with the packgirls to interest him personally, or else she strictly separated the practical from the personal in her mind and assumed he did the same. Either way, her dedication to her career was commendable but personally trying. George could discuss any intimacy with a slave girl, but he was less composed when the girl he had so recently dominated was standing before him dressed as a free woman and regarding him with frank, guileless eyes.

  He spoke first, trying to sound suitably brisk and matter-of-fact. ‘There now, Alison. I hope you learned something useful today. I didn’t give away what was going to happen, did I?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure what you intended, Mr Platt,’ she admitted. ‘You kept me waiting for so long.’

  ‘That was all part of the lesson.’

  Alison frowned. ‘You did... mean me to wet myself like that, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course. It’s another way of teaching a bondslave her place. She must learn that she has no control over her private functions. It makes her feel more helpless, more like an animal, which most owners like. She can’t afford to have any inhibitions about that sort of thing. So I made sure you were full, then applied a little stimulation to the right spot... it wasn’t too painful, was it?’

  ‘It stung a bit,’ Alison admitted. ‘I was trying to hold it in but it was no good. Once I let go, though, it felt, well, almost nice. It was exciting to do it like that, but naughty as well. I felt ashamed and pleased at the same time. It was very odd.’

  ‘Some girls can get… aroused if they need to pee badly,’ George said, keeping his voice very level. ‘It’s a question of anatomy, you see.’

  ‘I didn’t know. It just felt... funny.’

  ‘Well a little uncertainty is not a bad thing. Pain and pleasure mixed together. It’s part of maintaining control over a bondslave. Give the girl a full bladder then make her empty it. She’ll even feel grateful to you for making her relieve herself. You can make a girl do anything if you use enough force, but that’ll make for a dull slave. But if she’s involved and curious about what’ll happen to her next, she’ll be much more lively.’

  ‘I see. I’ll remember that. Thank you, Mr Platt.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure, Alison,’ George said with a grateful sigh.

  Chapter Four

  Enlightened Education

  ‘I wonder if you could spare me a moment of your time, Headmaster?’ Miss Newcombe said, looking round the door of his panel-lined study.

  She was a trim, thirty-ish woman in a dark blue nurse’s uniform. Her face was neat, strong and angular. Smoky blue eyes shone out from behind round, steel-rimmed spectacles.

  Mr Speers, a thin careworn man, glanced up from the pile of papers on his desk. ‘Well if it’s brief, Matron. Do take a seat. Oh, and thank you again for minding things while I was away. The boys were no trouble?’

  ‘They behaved exactly as I would have wished, Headmaster,’ Miss Newcombe said carefully. ‘It was all very quiet, though I understand there was some excitement up at the Hall involving Arabella Westlake.’

  ‘Oh yes, I heard something about that,’ Speers said, taking off his spectacles and polishing them thoughtfully. ‘A bit of an embarrassment, apparently. I suppose I should go up and offer my sympathies. It would give me an excuse to see the Major. I was considering asking him for, well, a loan for the school. I was trying to obtain some new funding while I was away but I didn’t have much luck. If the role keeps falling I’m not sure what we’re going to do.’

  ‘Actually that was what I wanted to talk to you about, Headmaster,’ Miss Newcombe said. ‘I think I know a way to attract new pupils.’

  Speers smiled wanly. ‘Well you know I’m always open to suggestions on that front, Matron.’

  ‘It was while I was looking after Jackson and his friends that it came to me. I’m sure that the trouble they got into last term over spying on that little girl gang of Arabella Westlake’s when they were doing their silly little nature dance in the woods, was only the result of their natural boyish curiosity.’

  ‘Quite possibly, but that did not excuse firing catapult shots at them and then stealing their clothes. That was quite intolerable.’

  ‘Of course, although the boys do still claim they were innocent in that matter. However, I’m sure you agree that proper education would have satisfied such urges, reducing the occurrence of such incidents.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Matron, I don’t follow you.’

  ‘I suggest that the school obtains some female bondslaves for the use of the senior boys. After all many Oxbridge colleges allow students to bring their bondslaves with them. I assume most Cranborough boys’ families already have bondslave servants and, later in life, they’ll undoubtedly buy their own, so why not start educating them now in their correct use and treatment? We could add a few extra lessons to the timetable covering the basic biology, handling and training of slave girls. Bondslaves could also do useful maintenance work around the school, saving additional money. Craft lessons might be arranged about making equipment and restraining devices for them. And I’m sure the granting or withholding of permission to use the girls would also be a useful disciplinary tool.’

  ‘Well, certainly that’s an interesting proposition,’ Speers admitted. ‘But I don’t see how the school could legally own bondslaves. It’s not in our charter. And what about the cost of buying them in the first place?’

  ‘I believe I can obtain some cheaply, pay the tax on them and be their official owner,’ Miss Newcombe said. ‘Then I could lease them to the school for a nominal fee as required. You could house them in the old stable block. My own servant Sally could be one of them. I would offer them for free this term so it wouldn’t cost you anything to try it as an experiment, and it would give you something unusual to put in your prospectus lett
ers. You will be sending them out soon, won’t you? You do want those younger sons to enrol for next year?’

  By now Mr Speers was looking more thoughtful. ‘I suppose it might work. It would be novel, wouldn’t it? One up on our rivals.’

  ‘And also forward looking,’ Miss Newcombe added. ‘A young gentleman should always know how to handle a bondslave properly. Cranborough would be offering a fully-rounded education.’

  ‘Yes, very true.’ Speers was smiling now. ‘Well, I’ll sound out a few of the parents and see what they think.’

  ‘Have I your permission to talk to some of the senior boys about the possibility, Headmaster? Jackson and his friends, for instance? I think their views would be representative of the rest of their year. They might provide useful insights into how the idea would be received and best organised. Of course I’ll be discreet and impress on them the need to keep the matter strictly confidential until you make an official announcement.’

  ‘Yes, I think that would be in order.’

  ‘Then I’ll see about obtaining some suitable girls,’ Miss Newcombe added. ‘I know just where to look…’

  Chapter Five

  Painful Preparations

  That afternoon Amber opened the front door of her cottage to see a woman in a summer dress and dark glasses carrying a small shoulder bag standing on the step. She frowned for a moment before she recognised her out of uniform.

  ‘Ah… I wondered when you’d be calling again. You’d better come in....’

  She ushered Miss Newcombe through to the lounge and offered her a seat, then called out: ‘It’s all right Sue. You can show yourself. It’s an old friend…’

  Sue, naked and chained, came through from the kitchen. Her face lit up as she saw Miss Newcombe. She dropped to her knees and crawled the rest of the way on all-fours. ‘Good afternoon, Miss,’ she said.