by William Avon
Nervous and blushing furiously, but fearful of disobeying her, the boys stripped to their skins. Their cocks hung shrivelled with embarrassment. Sally picked up the willow wands and gave one to each of them. Amber began to work her hips on the dildo again to distract her from what was to come.
‘Spread out,’ Miss Newcombe advised, and the boys shuffled about until they surrounded Amber. ‘We want her well marked all over. Anywhere but her face and neck. It’ll be kindest if it’s done as quickly as possible. You’ll have a minute. Don’t take any notice of her tears or any sounds she makes. You can comfort her later. For now just focus on lashing her pretty skin. Ready…go!’
The boys flicked their wands across Amber’s taut body, stinging her flanks, buttocks and belly. She flinched and gave a little whimper.
‘Harder than that!’ Miss Newcombe said. ‘She’s got to suffer!’
Amber saw Jackson grit his teeth and draw back his arm. Swish-crack! This time she shrieked about her gag as a searing band of pain blazed into being across her pubes where they bulged about the rod inside them, distending her springy sex lips. Her chains rattled as she bucked wildly but she could not escape. She pumped her hips with increasing vigour. Swish-crack! Bickley had lashed her stomach, making her pinch in her navel in spasmodic reflex, while Parsons laid his wand across her back. Crack! Harris swiped his wand square across her breasts, driving her hard nipples deep into their flesh pillows only to spring up again with rubbery persistence. Gosset laid a hard stripe across her bottom sending impact waves rippled through the firm hemispheres of her buttocks.
The boys looked at each other and the scarlet stripes they had just put on her flesh in wonder. They were the starkest most severe marks they had yet inflicted on any of the girls they had so far used and it felt good! Their cocks swelled and filled. They saw her wild red-rimmed eyes begging silently for them to stop. Of course they had to ignore them. Drawing back their arms they lashed her again and again, the sound of the crisp fleshy cracks echoing back from the cellar walls.
As Amber shrieked and sobbed and writhed her flesh burned. A lattice of scarlet and purple welts was being etched across her body while the skin about them was turning the colour of a sunset. Through tear-filled eyes she saw the boys were by now all painfully erect as they danced about her, lunging forward to lay another searing cut across her, while their teeth were bared and their eyes blazed with the light of helpless sadistic delight at the power they had to reduced her to a snivelling wreck and imprint their personal marks on her trembling form.
In desperation she rode the dildo rod, fighting pain with pleasure even as it scrambled her reason into perverse pathways. Deep within her an insidious voice stirred, begging that no part of her should be spared. It was her place to suffer. These boys, these men, were her masters and she was their slave. They had a right to do this and she must glory in her submission to them.
Hot urine sprayed raggedly from the sore lips of her throbbing, dildo-stuffed cunt and splattered across the floor as the pain and perverse orgasmic delight overwhelmed her bladder. The boys laughed at her shameful masochistic display. As the last fitful spurts trickled down her legs they stung and burned into her scoured thighs. Mingled with it were the juices of her dark arousal.
‘Enough!’ Miss Newcombe called suddenly.
The frantic convulsions of Amber’s body stilled until she hung in her chains: impaled, sweating, simmering and throbbing. The boys’ eyes were glazed, hardly able to believe what they had done. They lowered their willow canes although their pricks still stood out like flagpoles.
Sally gasped: ‘Oh… look at her!’
‘Just a few spots of blood where the wand stripes crossed,’ Miss Newcombe said briskly. ‘She’ll heal. More important, now she looks the part. Take her down and put her on the bed…’
They pulled out the dildo, unhooked the chains and spreader rod. Amber was too weak to stand so they half carried her over to the rough sacking bed where they laid her on her back.
‘Chain her wrists to the top corners of the frame but leave her legs free so you can have her front and rear,’ Miss Newcombe commanded the boys. ‘We want plenty of stains on those sacks for later. Look, she’s ready for you…’ She thrust stiff fingers into Amber’s gaping, red-rimmed sex mouth and brought them out shiny with her juices. ‘This is now her only relief from the pain. Don’t be gentle. Go in as hard and deep as you like.’
Through misty eyes Amber saw the boys standing over her, cocks straining to attention. The lust of absolute mastery and power was still upon them and demanded its natural reward. Yes, she wanted them inside her now! Feebly she nodded.
One by one they fell upon her, consummating their desperate need. They had symbolically conquered and crushed her, now they took their prize.
They wrenched Amber’s legs wide and Jackson mounted her and began plundering the delights of her pussy. When he was done Harris took his place, first pulling her legs back almost to her shoulders so he could ream out her rectum. One by one they stuffed her sore, abused body with their hard young cocks and filled it with their impatient sperm. And Amber came again and again until her senses left her…
The next thing Amber knew water was being splashed across her face and then forced down her throat. She gulped it down feebly. Her crusted, stinging, misty eyes would not focus. Every part of her smarted, burned or ached while her cruelly pummelled groin and stretched rectum pulsed and simmered with wildly spent lust. Oozing bodily fluids filled the crack of her buttocks and soaked into the coarse sacking of her crude bed. Her gag was replaced and the sacking hood was pulled over her head.
Seemingly from a long way off she heard Miss Newcombe speaking to the boys.
‘This will make her story easier to tell when the time comes. She’ll live as much of the lie as possible for real. We’ll keep her chained and hooded down here for the next few days. During that time she won’t be permitted to speak or open her mouth except to feed or suck you off. You have my permission to come here whenever you’re free but you will not uncover her eyes or speak to her. She’s not to be beaten again but you can use whatever orifice of hers you choose as vigorously as you want. In between that there’s another job I have for you to prepare the way for her official return. By the time she’s found she’ll be begging to be taken back to a nice comfortable police cell.’
Chapter Six
Belinda Becomes a Spy
The Pump Maid Inn at Lower Boxley had an elaborate and amusing living pub sign, which arrested Belinda Jenkins’ attention as she strode up to its main entrance the next morning.
A pretty blonde bondslave was chained within the open frame of the sign beneath the name board. She was positioned squatting over the end of the handle of a standpump, which was fitted with an upright phallus onto which she was impaled. There was enough slack in her chains to allow her to raise and lower her hips and so work the pump, which she did every minute or so. The water that gushed out of its spout fell into a bucket that was connected via a narrow pipe back to the reservoir from which she was drawing it. She was forced to keep pumping because a pair of slender spikes, no doubt connected to a float in the reservoir below her, slowly rose up out of the base of the device and pricked her bottom unless she kept it drained.
As Belinda gazed up at the girl’s red-flushed features, plump trembling breasts and distended sex, she was reminded of the time she and that small group of Arabella Westlake’s exclusive friends had spent playing with Sue Drake, who had been their own secret bond slave. Then there had been the exciting Thistle Ride she and Arabella had taken Melanie along for. Melanie had squealed so prettily. It had been such fun… until the Major had caught them. Arabella had been severely punished while Belinda had been banned from the Hall social circle.
The disagreeable memories caused a frown to crease Belinda’s otherwise smooth high forehead with its straight, well-space brows.
Her jawline was determined, her mouth was wide with a petulant tilt, and her chin and nose were both slightly uptilted. She had a slender figure, emphasised by her summer dress. Long brunette tresses tumbled from beneath her sunhat, contrasting with her dark eyes and pale clear skin.
For the past few weeks Belinda had been keeping away from the Hall and any association with Arabella. She had hardly spoken to the other members of the group, who were also sheltering from the aftermath of Arabella’s downfall. As for Arabella herself they understood she had gone away to recuperate with friends in the North. Then a letter had arrived yesterday directing Belinda to travel the four and a half miles from Shaftwell to Lower Boxley and the Pump Maid Inn, which was a small but well-respected country hotel.
Belinda entered and at the reception desk asked the way to a “Miss Smith” who was staying in Room Seven. She was directed to the first floor and knocked at the door of a small suite. The door was opened by a familiar figure.
‘Arabella!’ Belinda exclaimed. ‘It is you.’
‘Be quiet!’ Arabella said sharply, dragging Belinda into the room and shutting the door behind her. ‘I don’t want anybody here knowing my real name.’
Arabella looked the same as before: a cool, attractive, cream-complexioned blonde a few years older that Belinda herself. Perhaps there was a little extra shadowing under her eyes but they were still the same dark glacial blue, or possibly even a little sharper and more determined.
They sat at a small table by the window. Arabella rang down to room service and a tray of tea and cakes were sent up. As they sipped and ate Belinda asked tentatively: ‘How are you? I mean after… what happened.’
‘How do you think?’ Arabella retorted coldly. ‘My Uncle cropped me and locked me away in my room like a child just for putting a few scratches on his new favourite pack-girl. Then I was kidnapped by masked thugs and presented before three hundred guests on a platter instead of his brown bitch as the prize game bird, bound naked, stuffed with holly and with a dildo up my arse and drawing pins in my breasts!’
Belinda shrank back in her chair. ‘I… I’m sorry. That was stupid of me.’
Arabella appeared to make a supreme effort to control her temper and forced a thin smile. ‘No, I’m sorry, Bel. It was kind of you to ask. It’s just that I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Doing a lot of thinking, you understand?’
‘Of course,’ Belinda said sympathetically.
‘And now I know what I’m going to do.’
‘What’s that?’
Arabella smiled. ‘Why, take my revenge, of course. And I need your help. You’re the only one I can trust.’
Belinda did not like the dangerous glint in Arabella’s eye, but she said: ‘Well, of course… if I can.’
‘I’m sure that everything that happened on the night of the ball was too carefully planned for it to be chance. They, those thugs, whoever they were, had to have detailed inside information. Which means one of us was supplying it.’
‘Oh, no, Arabella, it can’t have been,’ Belinda protested.
‘Yes, and I know who it was. Think about it. Somebody who knew where to find Sue and steal her away from us. And who was going soft on Sue from early on? Who started behaving oddly when we were searching for Amber Jones? Who knew I had taken that phallus of hers and had it in my room? Whoever wrote the letter that lured me out of the Hall the night of the Ball knew that I could get hold of it.’
‘Oh. You mean Jemima? But she could never think up anything like that, far less carry it out. She’s so, well, meek and gentle.’
‘And somebody might have taken advantage of that to make her inform on us. Then they did the rest.’
‘But who?’
‘I’ve no idea. But Sue being stolen; the Jones girl breaking out of jail, what happened to me and Melanie going missing have to be connected. That’s why I want you to find out. She spied on us so now you spy on her.’
‘But I’ve hardly seen her around much. I think I heard she’d been having tea with Sister Newcombe a few times. That’s all I know’
‘Well get her to visit you instead. Become her best friend. You know how trusting she is. Play on that.’
‘Well… I suppose I can try,’ Belinda said doubtfully.
Arabella’s face darkened at her evident lack of enthusiasm. ‘Do you want things back the way they were or not?’ she demanded.
That was something Belinda had missed. Since the incident at the Hall and her known close ties with Arabella she sensed her social standing locally had fallen. ‘Yes of course I do,’ she admitted awkwardly.
‘Well this might put things right. My uncle wants Melanie back, the police want that Jones girl found and we want Sue. This gang of slave thieves is at the heart of it and everybody in Shaftwell is frightened of them striking again. If we can get to them through Jemima and find out who they are or even where they’re hiding the missing girls, we might be able to recover all three of them. Think how grateful everybody would be then. All that thistle ride nonsense would be forgotten.’
It made sense the way Arabella put it. And it wouldn’t be hard gaining Jemima’s confidence. She was quite an innocent at heart.
‘All right,’ Belinda said. ‘I’ll do it.’
Chapter Seven
Plans Are Put In Motion
Four days after their previous meeting Mr Speers called at Miss Newcombe’s cottage. He looked Sally over with approval as she deftly served them tea with a gentle clink of her slave chains.
‘Well, you seemed to have tamed this one,’ he observed. ‘I heard she was quite a vagabond.’
‘All it took was a firm hand,’ Miss Newcombe said. ‘It’s remarkable what you can achieve with a girl with the right kind of encouragement.’
Speers did not see the corner of Sally’s mouth twitch with a suppressed smile.
‘And if this bondslave educational project went ahead you would permit the boys to use her?’ he asked.
‘With proper supervision, of course.’
‘Of course. Well I’ve already had several replies from those parents I mooted the idea to. ‘
‘That was very prompt, Headmaster.’
Speers smiled with evident satisfaction. ‘The proposal seems to have struck a chord. Broadly speaking they are all in favour. They agree it’s a progressive idea and a very proper way to complete a young man’s education. In fact I’ve had unofficial word that the younger brothers of two of our current pupils, whose parents were thinking about sending them to Gradleigh, will be coming here instead. So I think we can go ahead with the trial this term and present it as a full part of the curriculum for next year. I’ll be talking to the other masters about incorporating elements of this new strand into their courses wherever possible, and of course we’ll have to adjust the timetable to allow for some bondslave lessons, as I suppose we’d better call them, if you’re still prepared to take them?’
‘I am, if you’re willing to let me.’
‘I think you are the best qualified member of staff. If you just can give me an outline of what you propose to teach the boys beforehand. The parents will want to be assured it’s all quite proper.’
‘I’ll start work on lesson plans right away, Headmaster. I hope the other masters will not object to giving up some of their teaching time for this new venture.’
‘I’m sure that once I explain the reception the proposal has already received they will understand its importance to the school and make the necessary sacrifice.’
‘And we can house the girls in the old stable block as I suggested?’
‘I think there will be no problem with that.’
‘I looked it over after I had Jackson and his friends clean it out and I’m sure it will serve very well. In fact, with your permission, I’ll talk to them this evening and we might look at it again and make some p
lans. I said how enthusiastic they were about the idea.’
‘You seem quite keen yourself, Matron,’ Speers observed.
‘That’s because I do so want Cranborough to flourish, Headmaster,’ Miss Newcombe said with feeling. ‘I expect great things from our pupils, but they must be fully rounded. Learning how to handle bondslaves will give them that extra degree of self-confidence. It’s the kind of thing that makes the difference between success and failure.’
Speers smiled. ‘I’m sure it will. As long as you can provide the bondslaves. Matron.’
‘Oh, I know where I can put my hands on some quite soon.’
When Speers had gone, Sally asked: ‘Is this the right time for Amber to come back, Mistress?’
‘I think it is. I’ll inform the boys when I see them later. They must be ready to slip out tonight as we agreed. ‘
‘I’m glad. I don’t like keeping Amber down there like that.’
‘It’s been necessary. You helped her create this myth of a gang of slave thieves. Now you’ve both got to live with the consequences.’
Amber had just spent what was probably the most wretched time of her life in the cellar of School Cottage. By comparison her spell in the local jail or as the boys’ prisoner had been bliss. How had she got herself into this situation?
She was lying naked, hooded, gagged and gloved on her coarse sacking bed. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed together and chained to the same side of the wooden frame so she lay on her side as if she was sleeping. Except that she had got very little sleep these past few days, though she did have some terrible dreams. Perhaps she was dreaming now?