by Ian Smith
Penelope had wandered over to the door whilst they had been talking and now inspected it. “We’re locked in,” she announced flatly.
Carrie shivered. “That might just be to protect us from any of the niggers with any ideas,” she suggested, although she sounded unconvinced.
“I wouldn’t use a racist term like that if I were you,” Penelope said.
“Why not? That’s what they are.”
Penelope didn’t want to get side-tracked. “Anyway, yes, I do think we’ve jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. Hopefully I’m wrong, but either way there’s nothing we can do about it right now. We’re both totally exhausted, so we’d better get some sleep.”
Chapter Three
After an uneasy night’s sleep despite their tiredness, they were woken next morning by the Negroes with some more food and some bowls of water for washing. They made the best of it and one of the workers also produced a battered comb for their hair. Carrie carefully combed out Penelope’s lovely brunette hair, which reached a couple of inches past her shoulders and down her back and then straightened out her own shoulder-length blonde hair. They had nothing to wear but the clothes in which they had jumped ship: Carrie’s stylish but skimpy white bikini and Penelope’s denim halter top and tight shorts. Fortunately, both outfits had thoroughly dried out since their desperate swim from the yacht.
It was their habit to inspect each other before facing the world and,despite their troubles they still looked pretty good. Carrie’s sensational figure looked as if it could have been poured into the bikini, her exciting breasts almost ready to burst free of the top. Penelope’s bosom was more concealed by her halter top, although still showing more than a hint of cleavage, but her lovely long legs seemed to flow out of the tight shorts which also moulded her curvaceous bottom.
Carrie was all too aware of the briefness of her bikini. She tugged at it, but there was simply no way to increase the tiny area of covering it provided. She exchanged glances with Penelope, who was equally aware of the tightness of her shorts.
“Do you really think these are the slavers, Pen?” Carrie asked.
Penelope shrugged. “We’ll soon find out,” she answered quietly. It was as good as saying yes.
“What do we do if they are?”
There was an insistent knocking on the door. Penelope was almost glad, in that she didn’t have to answer that last question. They opened the door to find one of the Negroes waiting for them. He led them to the man who they had spoken to the previous night, Norris. Penelope noted that two of the Negroes stood behind them as they were led into the man’s presence.
Almost immediately they learnt the answer to their question. At a nod from Norris, both girls felt themselves grabbed from behind. Penelope felt something cold and hard wrap about her left wrist, and heard a sharp click. She looked down to see a metal handcuff encasing her slim wrist, connected by a short chain to a similar one on Carrie’s right wrist beside her. For a few moments they were both too stunned and frightened to move and at the end of that spell Penelope looked down to see both of her finely shaped ankles now also encased in metal and a short chain running between her legs. Carrie had an identical thing attached to her. The chain did not prevent her walking, but running would now be extremely difficult. Clearly they would not be able to get away from these men as easily as they had the ones on the yacht.
“What is the meaning of this?” Despite this only being the confirmation of their suspicions, Carrie could not help the astonished indignant tone in her voice.
“You led us a merry chase,” Norris smoothly, ignoring her question. “Our friends on the boat searched northwards for you, knowing that we were coming from the south and would run into you if you came this way. Fortunately you were kind enough to stay on the road, otherwise we might have missed you. It’s also nice for us that we found you rather than they, since that will give us a bargaining advantage in determining their commission on you.”
“This is outrageous!” Carrie stormed. “I demand that you release us at once!”
Languidly, the man got to his feet and moved towards Carrie. She glared at him defiantly. Penny felt a lot less brave: her stomach was churning with fear. Norris spoke softly, silkily, to Carrie. “Your demanding days are over, my dear.” As he finished saying it, he transferred his attention to the Negro behind Carrie. “Get her over,” he ordered.
Rough hands pushed the two girls irresistibly forwards to a large tree-trunk, at least a yard in diameter, which had been sawn fairly evenly off to act as a table top. The one guard forced Carrie to bend over it whilst the other held Penelope helpless. Their strength was unbelievable and quite irresistible. Penny watched helplessly as Carrie was pulled over the trunk, the blonde’s flawless and well tanned bottom jutting out obscenely. The tiny swimsuit covered only a fraction of it. Penelope herself was then pulled around to the other side of the trunk. Her position forced one of Carrie’s arms forwards so that the blonde was stretched over the tree trunk. The Negro holding Penny then snapped a second cuff onto Penny’s right wrist, and put the other cuff of the pair onto Carrie’s left. The two teenagers were now bent over the stump, arms stretched out over the top of it. Another Negro produced a thick metal staple and placed it over the links of both cuffs; then, with a hammer he began to drive it into the wood until the chains were tightly locked in place. Penny and Carrie struggled fruitlessly to free themselves. Then Penny felt another cold metal band being placed around her ankle, slightly above the one already in place there. Their captors took the chain from that ankle around the base of the stump and locked the other end to Carrie’s leg. A similar chain from Carrie’s other leg was locked to Penny’s other leg.
Both girls were now helplessly chained bent over the stump. It had all taken only a few seconds.
“What the Hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go right now!”
Carrie’s tirade of demands dried up as she saw the horrified look in Penelope’s face. The brunette could see, behind Carrie, that Norris had produced a wicked looking riding crop from somewhere. Carrie couldn’t see it, but sensed that something important was happening behind her. Penelope could see it, but not believe it. Surely they could not be so barbaric as to ...
There was a horrible, brief sound of leather swishing through the air, followed by a sickening thwack as it made contact with Carrie’s only partially and thinly covered rear. With remarkable economy of movement but plenty of force, the man had scythed it into her. For a split second there was a look of total surprise on Carrie’s face, then her lovely mouth opened and a piercing scream emerged from between her soft lips. Penelope felt that scream go right through her, making her almost loose control of her bladder.
Swish! Thwack!
Barely had Carrie’s scream subsided into shocked silence before a second stroke landed. Her scream immediately started up again, a slightly higher pitch this time. Again she had barely time to get her vocal chords under a semblance of control before a third stroke bit. In each case the small triangular leather tip of the crop had missed her skimpy bikini and made direct contact with her lovely, exposed flesh.
Swish! Thwack!
Penelope felt her trembling legs to be on the point of collapse. Any clever thoughts of arguing, trying to negotiate with or threatening these men had vanished from her mind in those few terrible seconds. Number one priority now was not to anger or annoy them to avoid having that awful riding crop turned on her. Nothing else was significant compared to that.
The expected fourth stroke had not landed. Carrie managed to get her voice back under control. “P-please,” she managed to gasp.
“Yes?” came the silken voice from behind her. “Please what?”
Carrie ran her tongue over her now dry lips, searching for the right thing to say. “Please don’t hit me again.”
A sinister smile played around the corners of the m
an’s mouth. “A much better reaction,” he said suavely, then turned his gaze on Penelope. “Now, what about you?”
Penny felt herself go hot and cold. She had seen enough of Carrie’s very real screams of pain to know that she didn’t want that crop anywhere near her own shapely posterior. “You ... won’t get any problems from me,” she stuttered.
The smile widened slightly. “Very good,” he said, “but you can have a taste of it anyway, to show you who’s boss.” He began to move behind her.
“But I haven’t done anything ... yeeoowww!”
Penny felt the crop bite searingly into her rear. The stinging, red-hot pain brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat. The tip had landed dead centre on her cheek further away from him, whilst the rod had bitten the nearer globe. Her tightly stretched shorts did little to protect her from the blow. Never in her cosseted life had Penny felt anything like this. Oh God, it was awful!
Norris addressed Carrie once more. “Now, girl, do you have any further objections to your treatment?”
There was only one possible answer from the two shocked and stunned girls. “N-no ...”
The crop whiplashed into Carrie’s still upturned bum once more, bringing another squeal of torment. One of the Negroes held each girl down; between the man firmly holding her down and the chain connecting her wrist to Carrie’s, Penny still couldn’t move.
“No, sir,” Norris prompted Carrie.
“No, sir,” sobbed the beautiful blonde, although her eyes still blazed her hatred. He ignored that, and turned to Penny expectantly.
The brunette lowered her lovely eyes, which were full of tears. The single stroke she had received still throbbed abominably. “No, sir,” she said with as much quiet dignity as she could, which wasn’t much.
“Good. Now, you tried to run away from our friends on the boat. That has worked out to our advantage, but it was disobedience nevertheless.” His face came close to Penelope’s as she stood helplessly pinned and bent over the tree stump. “You must learn that such disobedience will not be tolerated.”
What on earth did he expect? Of course they had tried to escape and would again as soon as the chance came. Still, this was not the time to argue the point. “Y-yes, sir,” Penny sobbed, her bottom still on fire from that dreadful crop.
Norris’ eyes swivelled to Carrie, who gave a similar answer, although with rather more defiance. Norris ignored it. He stood up once more, and turned to the Negro who had wielded the crop. “Use the cane. Ten each. Start with the blonde.”
“Nooo! You can’t!” wailed Carrie.
“Please!” cried Penny.
“Gag them first,” Norris added.
The Negro produced an oily, filthy rag and waved it in front of Carrie’s face. “Open wide,” he leered. Carrie pressed her lips firmly together and shook her head vigorously. The Negro’s leer widened. There was a sudden movement of his arm, and the crop whiplashed into Carrie’s thigh. The blonde screamed in pain, shock and anger, but as she opened her mouth the rag was stuffed into it, stifling her protest. Grabbing her by the hair, he forced more and more of it between her full red lips, then wound a piece of cord tightly around her jaw, holding it in place. Corners of the rag spilled out of her mouth, but the bulk of it could not now be dislodged. He tied the cord off behind her neck, then turned to Penelope with another piece. “Now you.”
Penny wrestled on the horns of a terrible dilemma. Once she was gagged, she wouldn’t be able to plead and negotiate with them; and yet, if she resisted the gag, they would lash her as they had Carrie to make her open her mouth. “Please,” she prevaricated. The man’s only response was to raise the crop. “All right!” she agreed hastily, only just in time to stop him from hitting her. As he picked up the rag, she babbled quickly: “have mercy, please. I’m sorry I tried to run away, it won’t happen again. Please, I’ll do whatever you want!”
“Open.”
No choice, no choice at all. Licking dry lips, Penny opened her mouth wide. The foul thing was thrust inside. She tasted oil and sweat and God only knew what else, but did not resist as he secured the gag with cord. The rag was bulky and she had to open her jaw as wide as she could to take it all in. I am submitting, she found herself reflecting in horror, to a caning. I am about to be caned. Oh God! Surely there was some way out of this? But the chains held her tightly in place, her backside thrust hideously vulnerably out behind her. The Negro had picked up a wicked-looking rattan cane and was standing behind Carrie, who was struggling furiously but quite uselessly.
Thwack!
Penelope heard the awful sound of the wood burying itself into her friend’s almost naked posterior. Carrie’s blue eyes opened wide and she screamed in pain and anger. The gag muffled and distorted but did not silence the sound.
Thwack!
Barely had that first scream died down when the second stroke elicited another. Carrie thrashed about, but it was absolutely useless.
Thwack!
“Mmmgggummphhh!”
Carrie’s eyes bulged wide and her nostrils flared. Her own face only scant inches from that of her tortured friend, Penny could almost feel the breath coming out with Carrie’s screams, although most of it had to escape via her nose. Penny could smell the lingering remains of Carrie’s expensive perfume, mixed with the very real scent of fear and anguish.
Thwack!”
The muffled cries were changing in tone slightly: less shock, more rage.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Now the cries were changing again: less rage, more pain. Veins stood out on Carrie’s young neck; perspiration soaked her brow, dampening the ends of her blonde hair. Tears were flowing freely and there was a trickle of spittle coming from the corner of her mouth.
Thwack!
How many was that, Penny wondered? She had lost count amongst the horror of it all. Surely this could not go on much longer ...
Thwack!
Carrie’s cries were growing hoarse behind the gag now. The tears were flooding out.
Thwack!
Suddenly, somehow, Penny knew that made nine. Just one more: hang on, Carrie!
Thwack!
Suddenly it all went quiet, except for Carrie’s sobs behind her gag. Penny realised, with horror so intense that it made her want to be sick, that it was her turn now. Surely this could not happen: it was too barbaric, too awful ... why couldn’t she wake up from this nightmare, find herself back on the yacht, sunning herself without a care in the world? But reality stubbornly refused to go away. Her bottom already stung from the crop, and she had seen only too clearly what had just happened to Carrie. Penny began babbling for mercy, but her desperate attempts to make herself understood through the sodden gag filling her mouth were doomed to failure. Equally, her strongest efforts to free herself came to absolutely nothing.
Then she froze as she felt the thick fingers of the Negro at the waistband of her denim shorts. Only too understandably, his touch there filled her with dread. Then her fears were realised as the button was released and the shorts and with them her knickers, were dragged down over her hips until they were half way down her thighs. Colour rushed to her face as she felt the warm morning air on her now bare bottom. Only too conscious of the very personal display her supine position would afford from the rear, Penelope pushed her thighs firmly together. The chilling word “rape” flashed through her mind.
Thwack!
Burning fire exploded in her bare rear. Penny let out an agonised howl of pain and shock. She had thought the crop was unbeArable, but this was even worse!
Thwack!
The pain seemed to double. Penny struggled frantically in her bonds, but although her slim wrists were greasy with sweat, the handcuffs were far too tight to slip off.
Thwack!
Penelope howled again. Her bottom felt swol
len to twice its normal size. Her legs flailed about as she totally forgot the need to keep them close together to avoid giving an intimate display of herself.
Thwack!
She was still howling from the last stroke, and this latest one just increased the volume of her cries. She could not possibly take any more of this. It was inhuman.
Thwack!
Each stroke seemed to cut across the earlier ones, welts criss-crossing welts. Penny babbled incoherently for mercy behind her gag.
There was a pause.
The teenager sucked in breath in heaving sobs. The pain in her backside was atrocious, like nothing she had ever experienced in her sheltered life. Even if the thrashing was over, the pain would not go away for ages.
Norris leaned close to her. “That’s five so far, girl,” he said quietly.
Only five! Another five still to come! “No, please, I’ll do anything!” she tried to say. With her knickers around her knees, there was no ambiguity about what that might include, but it was irrelevant anyway: the filthy rag stuffed in her mouth distorted her words beyond any hope of being understood.
Thwack!
Penny keened afresh as new fire blazed. That was a lower one, just clipping the underhang of her globes before burying itself just above the tops of her legs. It might not have been over any previous welts, but her skin was naturally more tender there, so it was just as bad. She could not possibly take any more. It just could not happen.
Thwack!
She wailed again and thrashed uncontrollably. That one was even lower, across the tops of her thighs, an appalling place to be hit, although elsewhere on the target area her bottom was already unbelievably tender. Through tear-misted eyes, she saw Carrie’s face in front of her. A few minutes ago, she had watched Carrie’s thrashing; now the roles were reversed.
Thwack!
That was eight. That one was back on the centre of her bottom, right across earlier strokes. Two more to go! There was no longer any doubt in her mind: she had been promised ten, and she would get ten. It was as certain as night follows day. Penny took a deep, sob-wracked breath through the sodden rag and tried to compose herself.