by Henry Morgan
‘Absolutely,’ said David.
‘What, anything?’ enthused Leonard with a twinkle in his eye. Now that he’d sampled those forbidden delights he wasn’t adverse to experimenting some more. It was unlikely any of them would ever meet Emily again, so why not indulge in a little harmless fantasy, one he’d always held a secret penchant for but would not admit to his wife-to-be?
‘What would you like?’ asked David casually, although he had a good idea exactly what Leonard – and the others – would like to do to Emily.
‘Oh… I don’t know.’
He would have to make it easier for them; none seemed willing to air their secret desires to the others. ‘Well, I think you’d all agree she’s got a lovely arse. How about anal sex?’
‘Bloody hell,’ Roger leaned forward. ‘Would she do that?’
At that moment the door opened and Emily returned from freshening up in the ladies’ room.
‘Why don’t you ask her?’ said David.
John patted the sofa and handed her a drink as she sat between him and Leonard. Her beautiful body now smelled delicately of soap. None of the four ventured to speak.
‘Emily,’ David broke the awkward silence. ‘In a moment I want you to give Leonard a very special wedding present, and then I want you to show your appreciation to John, Paul, and Roger for their hospitality. I believe they each desire you in a certain way, and so you will fulfil those desires. You will pleasure them one at a time with your bottom.’
‘But—’
‘Shhh…’ he wagged his finger at her. ‘You’ve done very well so far tonight – don’t disgrace yourself now by forgetting your discipline.’
Emily lowered her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly.
‘Very good… Proceed.’
Emily took Leonard’s glass and handed it with her own to John, who in turn placed them on a side-table. She then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers. Leonard gawped, and as he lifted his hips a little she tugged them and his underpants down to his knees. He was already erect, and she blushed at his size. She looked questioningly at David, and he understood her uncertainty immediately. He rose and held the butter dish for her. ‘Here, use this – it’ll make it a little easier for you.’
Emily took a scoop in her palm and smoothed it up and down Leonard’s column and over the helmet. This time the onus was on her to seduce the men, instead of the other way round. When satisfied he was well lubricated, she stood with her back to him, straddled his legs, and lowered herself over his lap. She fumbled between her own legs, and guided the greased helmet to the entrance of her tight back passage. She could hear Leonard’s rasping breath over her shoulder. She looked at David, saw him nod, and then closed her eyes and sat down in one smooth movement.
Leonard gasped and his head slumped back against the sofa. ‘Bloody hell,’ he hissed.
Emily sought his hips, and then used them to methodically lever herself up and down.
Unable to resist, John held her bouncing breasts and tweaked her nipples and silver pins. His mouth latched onto them, and David thought it almost comical the way his head desperately rose and fell to keep the erect buds between his lips. Leonard cupped Emily’s buttocks and took over the task of rhythmically lifting and lowering them, allowing her to stroke John’s head and pull him hard onto her breasts.
‘Bugger this,’ mumbled Paul, and he joined the threesome, knelt between Emily’s legs, and leaned close to kiss her waiting sex. Her body was coated with a fine film of perspiration and her skin glowed from the dying embers.
David was extremely satisfied. Emily had performed beyond his expectations, and he had acquired four admiring friends. This evening could only do his reputation nothing but good. He glanced at Roger, who was sitting with eyes glued on Emily and cock in hand. David decided it was time to leave the men to their fun and go find his room; it was late and he was tired.
As he turned at the door Roger was kneeling on the arm of the sofa with his erection embedded in Emily’s mouth. The four men were devouring her like a pack of wolves. David smiled and quietly slipped from the room.
After a hearty breakfast David inquired of the bleary-eyed men if they would consent to vetting women on a regular basis. ‘It would be a good way for me to gauge the effectiveness of my methods, and would also provide confirmation of their absolute obedience,’ he told them. ‘Like an end of term exam.’
Despite their fatigue everyone eagerly agreed, and so was born the Clifftop Club, named after the hotel where the first historic meeting had taken place. In future, once a month, a student would be tested to the limits of compliance. There could be no failures, only retakes after severe revision.
18.
The next two years saw many women come and go. Names tripped fondly off David’s tongue. There was Rebecca, Abbie, Hannati and a host of others, each one clearly and dearly remembered. Some had been submissive from the moment his razor first skimmed their quim, but others – so stubborn and proud – had not been so easy to train. But no matter how defiant they were, each one left Camelot pierced, shaved, monogrammed and totally submissive – much to the pleasure of his client.
David’s pleasant reminiscing was interrupted by the chink of ice falling into another glass of Scotland’s finest tawny, the colour of which matched that of the morning horizon as the sun began it’s daily ascent. He realised for the first time just how long he had been talking. He accepted the glass, although his head throbbed a little, and swilled its contents around his mouth. After such a marathon storytelling it felt drier than a cracker in a wind tunnel.
‘Did you have to make any changes to the training programme?’ asked Justin, feeling it appropriate to speak now that David had stopped.
‘Not really. I did find it was a great help if I monogrammed them a little earlier. It makes some of the girls feel more secure. It’s symbolic I think – sort of like a wedding ring. It shows two-way commitment. And the stubborn ones, well they see it as breaking the final straw to their submission. They’re usually a lot easier to control after they’ve been marked.’
The sun had by now broken the line of the horizon. David returned his empty glass to the tray, rose from his chair, and yawned and stretched. It had been a long long night, and it was time to retire.
‘We can tidy up later,’ he said to Justin. ‘Mr Bedi will be here in a few hours. I think we’d better catch some sleep.’
‘Would you rather I left? You’d probably prefer your new client didn’t see me here.’
‘Not at all,’ smiled David. ‘It’ll be nice to have a bit of male company for a while. But no matter what you see or hear, you must not interrupt. Do you agree?’
‘I agree… whatever you say.’
The house was clean and tidy by the time Justin strolled downstairs. David was in the kitchen frying bacon and eggs and looking none the worse from lack of sleep.
‘There you go,’ he said, pushing a plate towards him. Justin sat near the ring secured to the wall; the one where Emily had apparently sat to eat her breakfast after her morning exercise. He toyed with the rashers before managing his first mouthful. Once that was safely negotiated his hunger returned with a vengeance, and the rest of the meal was scoffed in no time. It helped with his hangover, setting him up for what promised to be a long and interesting day.
‘What time is Mr Whatsisname expected to arrive… Mr Berry, isn’t it?’
‘Bedi. His name is Mr Bedi. He’s a Pakistani lawyer. He should be arriving fairly soon. It depends what the traffic’s like.’
‘Justin glanced at his watch and gulped down the last of his tea. ‘I’d better dive in the shower then before they turn up. Do you get many Pakistani wives?’
‘A few,’ said David as Justin headed for the stairs. ‘But this one isn’t his wife. It’s his daughter.’
About an hour later the large brass doorknocker announced the arri
val of David’s new trainee. It was a nervy time for all involved, and the atmosphere always took on a calm yet bristling stillness that one feels just before a thunderstorm. David led the pair inside and introduced the surprised Mr Bedi to Justin.
‘I thought you would be alone,’ said Mr Bedi.
Justin rose politely to shake his hand, allaying any fears of impropriety.
‘Don’t worry Mr Bedi, he’s my assistant,’ said David. He turned to the girl. ‘And you must be Sabrina.’ She was by far the youngest trainee ever brought to him. In her baggy jeans and sweatshirt she looked almost too young. She was though, incredibly beautiful; almost identical to Imran’s daughter, Calsoom. For a moment he pictured the naked Calsoom with that beautiful silver collar tight about her neck. How proud Imran had been when she was sold. David knew that when he had finished Sabrina’s training, Mr Bedi would be equally as proud.
‘Coffee?’ offered Justin.
Mr Bedi answered by smiling, then motioned for his daughter to sit at the table, where David brought across the necessary papers.
‘Will you be long, father?’ asked Sabrina. ‘I want to see Benazir. I want to tell her my news.’
‘What news is that?’ Justin asked.
‘I’ve got a place at Trinity,’ she said, with all the confidence of youth. ‘I start this autumn.’ She heard her father tutting, and with a touch of arrogance to her voice added. ‘My father thinks I should forget about my education and marry my cousin. He’s still living in the past, you’d never think he’s such an intelligent man.’ She took a biscuit from the tray and dunked it in her coffee. ‘What are those for?’ she asked, pointing at the metal rings attached to the wall.
Justin’s heart was thumping. She had no idea why she was here, he realised. She thinks she’s on her way to her relative or friends’ house.
‘They’re for chaining women to the hearth,’ smiled David. ‘It stops them from running around and making a nuisance of themselves.’
Sabrina laughed at the chauvinistic remark, incorrectly interpreting it as a joke, and incorrectly interpreting it as a snipe at her own father. She threw back her mane of jet black hair. ‘You ought to get some,’ she gibed at Mr Bedi. ‘Then you could always keep an eye on me.’
‘If you went to Rawalpindi and married Sunil I wouldn’t have to.’
She laughed. ‘Well I’m not. This is Britain, not Pakistan. You marry Sunil if you like him that much. I’m going to university to build a career for myself. I’ll have a husband when I’m ready, not when you are.’
Mr Bedi sighed. ‘Then you leave me no choice.’ He signed the paper and handed it back to David. ‘Sunil would have preferred a virgin, but you do what you have to.’
Sabrina’s signature was not required.
‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘What are you on about, “Sunil would have preferred a virgin”?’
Mr Bedi removed his glasses and cleaned them wearily. ‘If only you kept to the old traditions. All this talk of careers.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘All this talk of…’
His voice trailed away until Sabrina could no longer hear his words, although his mouth was still moving. Her head span and her temples thumped. Suddenly she slumped on the sofa, aware of hands unbuttoning her jeans and pulling her sweatshirt over her head. Her bra was removed, her trainers and socks, and then her panties. David was speaking now, but she still couldn’t catch any of it. She began to dissolve into the sofa, and then everything faded into blackness.
‘Will she be all right?’ asked Mr Bedi.
‘She’ll be just fine,’ David assured him. ‘It was only a strong sedative in her coffee. Try not to worry.’
‘It’s hard not to.’ He looked at his daughter asleep and naked on the sofa. How she had grown up. Her breasts were full, and the triangle of black hair hid the prominent lips of a sexual woman. ‘What happens now?’ he asked.
David produced another form and placed it on the table. ‘I need you to sign this please, Mr Bedi.’
‘What is it?’
‘A precaution on my part. It confirms that Sabrina is eighteen.’
Mr Bedi signed, and the forms were locked away.
David then fetched the collar and cuffs and began buckling them onto Sabrina. ‘You can stay for a while,’ he said. ‘But once she’s shaved you must leave as we agreed.’
Mr Bedi shook his head. ‘I’ll leave now I think.’
Justin showed him to the door and returned to find David fitting a spreader bar to her legs. ‘What’s that for?’ he asked.
‘Stops her kicking about,’ said David. ‘Do you fancy doing it?’
Sabrina was slowly returning to her senses, the mist gradually clearing from her mind. The drug maintained her state of relaxation, despite being stripped and bound in front of two virtual strangers. Even the appearance of Justin carrying a cutthroat razor provoked no real reaction.
‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you say.’
David knelt with soap and water and began to lather her, paying particular attention to the soft sexual lips. He massaged her until she was ready and then handed over to Justin, who was caught trying to adjust the discomfort in his trousers. Sabrina couldn’t see much, but felt the steel skating easily across her pubic mound.
‘Why are you doing this to me? Where’s my father? He won’t stand for you treating me like this, you know.’
‘Sabrina, your father and I have an agreement. You’re here for a month to be trained.’
‘Trained?’ She was dumbfounded and still a little groggy.
‘Yes, trained. When you leave here you will be a slave for your father and Sunil to be proud of.’
‘I don’t understand. This sort of thing doesn’t happen in this country. This must be some kind of joke—’
‘No joke,’ David silenced her. ‘I’m deadly serious about my profession.’
Justin rose from his haunches and informed David that he’d finished shaving her.
‘Good, looks like you’ve done a good job. Would you put her over the back of the sofa, please Justin.’
‘Aren’t we taking her down to the cellars?’
‘No. She’s had quite a shock already. Don’t want to overdo it.’
Justin had to agree.
Before Sabrina could say another word she found herself balanced over the leather furniture. Her hair draped over the seat, and her spread feet dangled inches above the plush carpet. ‘Please,’ her voice was muffled. ‘I’m not going to cause you any trouble. I’m not as naïve as my father would like to think. I’ll do whatever it is you want me to do.’
David ignored her rambling and took the sjambok from where he’d previously placed it behind the door. He lifted her chin and showed it to her. ‘Now my girl, do you know what this is?’ She shuddered, and he took that for a ‘yes’. He rubbed its tip into the cleft of her raised bottom. ‘This strip of rhinoceros skin will help you decide between university or Rawalpindi; a desk or a husband. If you choose school you will continue to receive visits from my stick until you change your mind. If you choose Sunil you will not feel its lick at all. The only requirement then will be for you to learn how to please your man – and that’s what I shall teach you. Nod if you agree to be my slave until such time that I give you up.’
Sabrina didn’t move.
‘So be it.’
David stepped back, adjusted his position in relation to the flawless target, and released the sjambok to do its work. Time and time again it bit into the flesh of the writhing female; biting, stinging, burning upon the reddening buttocks as they squirmed forlornly to escape its unmerciful torment.
Justin thought his friend was about to skin the hide from the new trainee, but David knew his business. She was a fit young lady, and more than capable of accepting this thrashing. Her natural cockiness alone would ensure she bounced back. D
avid anticipated quite a challenge with Sabrina.
‘Rub some cream into her bottom, please,’ he said to Justin. ‘The jar is over there.’
While David busied himself ensuring the piercing gun was sterile, Justin carried out the pleasant task of smoothing the cooling lotion into Sabrina’s buttocks. The balm would soothe away the sting and help prevent any long-term marking. She looked sore and Justin sympathised, taking great care not to press too hard. There was a definite heat radiating from her skin and the white cream was greedily absorbed on contact. At one moment he thought he detected a ripple of pleasure run through her – but he was surely mistaken.
‘Was that really necessary?’ he whispered to David as he replaced the jar of cream on the table. ‘It looked almost Draconian.’
David showed a little annoyance that a complete novice was questioning his proven methods. ‘Sabrina’s got a lot of spirit – don’t you worry about her.’ He loaded a pin into the gun, and then lifted her off the sofa and sat her on a chair by the table. He cupped one breast, flicked the nipple until it instinctively stiffened, and then fired the pin through it. Sabrina stiffened and yelped.
‘You didn’t anaesthetise her,’ protested Justin, concerned for the pain she must have felt. ‘At least use some local, like you told me you do.’
‘Please don’t interrupt, Justin. When I said you could stay I did ask that you didn’t interrupt.’ He fired the gun again, and Justin flinched almost as much as Sabrina did. ‘It may look cruel,’ he continued while caressing Sabrina’s smooth skin, ‘but she’ll soon learn to appreciate it.’
David was a little wary of Justin’s performance so far. He had clearly enjoyed the long narrative the night before, but now the reality didn’t seem to rest so well with his conscience. He’d have to keep a close eye on him. ‘Would you remove her restraints and take her up for a bath. I’m going to prepare dinner; we’ll eat soon, and then I think we could all benefit from an early night.’
Justin guided Sabrina up to the bathroom. She sat quietly while he ran the bath, and then he eased her into the hot, perfumed suds. He took the soap and began to massage life back into her fatigued limbs. He tried to detach himself from her alluring beauty, but his fingers were drawn time and again to her slippery breasts.