It goes against my better judgment to talk to her, much less have her in this house. The decision is not mine, however. This is the work of Maelstrom. And as long as he is writing the checks that make my life possible here at Singing Wind, who am I to argue?

It is a very good life.

She is, young, perhaps late twenties, early thirties, blonde with perfect legs; feet on one end and ass on the other. The fact that her ass can only be considered a 9 ½ is only because I have never seen a true 10. Meeting her at the door to my study, I offer my arm to escort her in, the perfect gentleman. I purposely situate her body out of my line of sight. I want only to concentrate on her face. It is not a beautiful face. No, not beautiful, Beautiful is too bland an adjective. She is interesting, intelligent, and smooth. These adjectives work. . She is magnificent, utterly magnificent. Perhaps you think I exaggerate, but this is not the case. I have made a life study of women and fancy myself a connoisseur of feminine flesh and character. To put it in the vernacular of my trade, this is a five million dollar cunt. And this was the strangest recruitment interview I have ever conducted.

“…and he told me I could count on you to fully acclimate me to the facility.” She told me in a flat tone, delivered with even a flatter look on her face. She was sizing me up and at the same time, trying to maintain her dignity. Dignity is a strange thing to women. This one views me as powerful and I am. But she also thinks I’m the lowest form of life on the planet. Be nice to the lowlife, the pervert. How genteel. I may be, too, all that and more. I trade in flesh. I am the first link in the White Slave chain store. Now I find myself interviewing a genuine, card carrying member of the fourth estate, the press, the New York Times. She is sitting across my from me, in my study, wearing a short skit and no panties hoping to entice me. To be honest, I had no idea whether to laugh or laugh uncontrollably.

“My facility,” I intoned just as flatly. “This entire facility, as you put it, is mine. Its conception, construction, and implementation are the produce of my thoughts, dreams and desires. It exists because one man dared to dream a dream and is willing to pay the price of seeing his ideas bear fruit. And yes, you can count on me to fully acclimate you to Singing Winds.” I let these words, the latter delivered with sarcastic mirth and trail off to the proverbial pregnant pause, as I’d heard my aunt say, if not a million times, then close. Her flat look was still plastered to her face but it didn’t go all the way to her eyes, though. Her eyes were flinty. I would not swear to it, but it seemed her breathing had hiccupped, just a small catch. She glanced at her notebook as if she needed to refresh her memory, and I think that is true, in so far as the thread of her memory is unraveling.

“Exactly, where am I?” She asked.

“You are in The House of Singing Wind.” I replied, hinting in my voice that this was an illogical question.

“I mean, exactly where is the House of Singing Wind? Generally speaking, I don’t want to know the GPS coordinates or anything, just where I am.” Her confidence was returning, though not to full force.

“Generally speaking, on Earth. Great pains have been taken to assure my privacy, my client’s privacy and the privacy of my novitiates. You are an investigative reporter. Investigate. The precautions we have taken with you are the same that any client, the hired help, or the newly chosen experience. Blindfold, hood and blacked out windows on my jet. No contact with the crew. Timing the flight won’t help, either. The flight lasts between nine and eleven and three quarter hours.

“Singing Winds has been in operation for fourteen years. I do the recruiting, the scheduling, the transportation, and have personally directed the curriculum.” Curriculum, what a concept! I think the word “program” would be a more likely term, so I correct my self. “I like to think of it as the program.” At this, I see her visibly swallow hard. Her confidence is waning.

“The program,” she repeated, “exactly what does that involve?” I cannot stop the small smile that is tugging at the corner of my mouth. She is trying to be the reporter, always analytical. I wondered how long that was going to last. Perhaps forever, perhaps not past tomorrow.

“It’s a training program, pure and simple.” At this, I stood and clasped my hands behind my back and knew I was about to lecture. And she was completely in my view again. “We train concubines, servants, slaves, fuck toys, whores, sluts, or whatever you want to call uncompensated human beings that are owned, controlled, used, abused and held in servitude. We train them to understand the importance of serving another, completely, in any manner prescribed by the client. What the client desires, we provide. The actual crux of the matter is that each novice is here of their own volition.” I chuckled, “An all volunteer force, if you will, striving to be the best they can. They have the desire to serve, to be of service and to be compliant. We foster that desire, we mold that desire, and we hone it to a fine edge. That is the Program. What is it you desire? You’ve got your full story now, you can write your article and enlighten the world about Singing Wind. You have seen all you will see and told all you will be told.” I turned and started toward the door.

“No, wait!” She implored to me. “I want to have the full picture I want to know what it’s like to be in the House of Singing Wind, the experience, talk to the others. I want my story to be fact based on my own experience not perceptions. I’ve flown here, to God knows where and you’re ready to send me off? Maelstrom promised me a story and I’m here to get it and I mean to get it.” There was fire in her eyes now and the small smile was again licking at the corners of my mouth. She was close to saying what she needed to say, but not quite there. “I want to see what the novices go through, I want that.”

“No!” I almost barked, “That is not going to happen. Maelstrom does not own this place and I’m not his servant. I’m under no obligation to show you anything. I’ve told you what you wanted to know about this place. Go back to New York and make up what you’d like about Singing Wind. It exists, you’ve seen it.”

In almost a girlish tone she said what I’d known she’d say, eventually, I was taken completely by surprise by how quickly and timidly it came.

“I want to be trained.”

And that was that and I knew an article would never be written.

I walk over and stand before her. I know what my eyes look like boring into her and I am looking quite through her. I can taste the fear stirring in her soul. I can feel the intensity building in the muscles of my face. I can smell her very well now, her perfume, her perspiration, her cunt. I can feel my voice box tighten, ready to take on the raspy quality that comes with “The Voice”. I watch as her hands tighten their grips on the arms of her chair, her knuckles going white. I stop 3 paces from her chair.

“Kneel.” My voice is deep, the word perfectly annunciated.

She does not move, so I repeat: “Kneel.” My voice is even, almost slow. It is not a whisper, it is very conversational with enough conviction to let her know I am in no mood for games. Still, she does not move. As slowly as I can, I close the distance between us and as my right foot comes to rest next to my left, my right hand flashes from my side, a flick, fast as a fighter’s jab, I slap her. The sound reverberates in the stillness of my office. I think to myself that I will never forget this look in her eye. She is stunned, but she does not become hysterical. This time when I say “Kneel.” in the same, even tone of the last two commands, she slides smoothly to the floor into a kneeling position.

“Pleasure me.” Same slow, quiet, melodious tone. Again, she looks at me with an uncomprehending look. “Suck me, blow me, slurp the schlong, smooch the root, give Mr. Johnson a kiss, eat me, do the deep throat, puff the penis, bob the knob, you give me long time sucky-sucky, give me head. Do what your told, when you’re told. Are there any questions?” I slap her smartly again. “No? Well, that’s just fine.”

And deftly, her hands go to my fly to release my cock from confinement, her lips part and she envelopes the shaft into her warm, moist mouth. Her eyes close and, I’m sure her motivation is to get this over as quickly as possible. I make suggestions as to speed, tongue usage, teeth positioning, and she quickly learns to gently and devotedly bring me to climax. Dutifully, she swallows every drop of cum I pump into her mouth.

My orgasm does not stop her ministrations until I gently pushed her mouth from me, the sensation is too intense to deal with for long. I could swear that I see disappointment furrow her brow as I pull my manhood from her lips. Then, she looks up at me. I say nothing for a long moment. “When you are done with something, put it away,” I say. And dutifully, she does. I walk back to my desk and discreetly push a small button. Almost immediately, the door opens and an Asian woman with a dour look on her face walks in. “This is Soledad. You will call her Mistress Sollie. She is going to play show and tell with you. Show you what you need to see and tell you what you need to know. Sollie, this bitches name is Slut. Take very good care of her or we just might need a session with the barbed wire flogger.” Oh, the look on Slut’s face upon hearing this reminded me of the credit card commercial. Priceless. As fast as cat, Sollie places an iron collar on Slut’s neck and slips a leash in place and leads her away. Slut, too shocked and stunned to protest, crawls away on her hands and knees like a dutiful puppy.

Chapter 2 – Li

The morning is hot and muggy and there is little doubt there will be rain in the jungle before noon. From the tree line, we watch as people from the surrounding villes began to congregate in a clearing, a cul-de-sac, one road both in and out. There is little to do but wait and see what is going on. The Laotian-Thailand border is notorious as a portal for arms and supplies from China via Laos, across Thailand into Cambodia and on into Vietnam. What is most curious about this gathering is the predominance of men and children, mostly young women. To my eye, I am certain these are families. Tran Ngo, the team’s translator, sidles up to me to apprise me of the situation, for my ears only.

“These farmers, very poor. Come to sell children. Not come to meet to meet Cong. No guns, no rice.”

I was stunned. “Why?” I asked.
”No money, no food. Girl childs no be married, no money, no buffalo to give to husband’s family, boys too young to work to rice paddies. Farmers has many children, many mouth to feed. If no can work, no can feed. Better sell than kill or starve.” He said this with a matter of fact dignity. This was the oriental way: He would make no judgments. His flat look told me that I was in no position to judge, either.

When his report is finished, Tran evaporates as silent as a ghost just as a mid fifties vintage Cadillac pulls into the clearing. My fist shoots up in a tight fist next to my ear. My index finger goes strait up, waggles back and forth once and then I make the peace sign. None of the men in the team need any explanation for the signal: Freeze, take cues from me, safeties on. Also, the men know exactly who is driving the Caddy. It is Dirty Mary, the mamasan of a bar by the same name in downtown Bangkok.

“Looks like Mamasan’s on a mission to buy some new hookers.” Miller says. “Fresh meat and I’m three months from mid tour R&R.” He said this almost disgustedly. Virgins go for a premium bar fine and are very sought after on their first night working the second floor at Dirty Mary’s..

I flash “on me” and say out loud, “The smoking lamp is lit.” I pull a Lucky from my pocket and made a big production of lighting it, not caring if the clicking noise of my Zippo carries into the clearing and I begin walking toward the gathering crowd. The sight of five men carrying weapons sends a ripple of tension through the group, but they quickly realize that we are not Thai Federal Police and they relax. Dirty Mary recognizes Miller right away. I suppose spending the paychecks saved for five months in a week at a whorehouse can really popularize a person and she breaks out into a ever widening grin.

“You number one, GI, Millersan!” she cries out. That just about did it for me. I had the urge to butt stroke her upside her toothless head. I hate the way the gooks are always slipping into Japanese sounding Pigeon English; always calling us “Number One”. I am pretty sure that number is signified by the middle finger, but I ignore her.

I motion for Tran to get his ass over to me and point to a farmer standing next to a young girl. “Ask him how old she is,” I order. Tran did and the farmer went into a diatribe that lasted a lot longer than just stating a number.

“‘He say, she fifteen and very strong. Can pick grass out of rice patty long time, pick rice too. She good cook and make many baby, all boy.” The look on my face upset the farmer and filled him with fear. This seems to be Dirty Mary’s cur to begin to examine the girl. It reminded me of grizzled old ranchers examining breed stock before an auction at stockyards back, back in the world in Oklahoma. She fells the girl’s breasts through her rough blouse and pulls back her woven hat to pick at her hair and part her lips to look at her teeth, teeth that were perfect in spite of never having been seen by a dentist in their lifetime. Then, she began to dicker with the farmer. I looked a Tran and he said “She say she give 500 baht.” Twenty-five American dollars.

“Tell him I give one thousand,” and so the price war began. Back and forth the bidding goes until the figure reaches ten thousand baht. Finally, Dirty Mary gives me a disgusted look and spits at my feet. “You no come to my bar, no more, Lieutenantsan!”

“Not a problem,” I said, and spit right back at her feet. I paid the farmer who without another look at his daughter, turns and walks away, towards the woods and Laos. Mary makes an awful sound in my direction and Tran starts to translate. I hold up my hand him. “I know what she said, Tran.”

I walk away, also back toward the woods, to the Landing Zone where we’ll be picked up. Tran just looks at me and then says “You boo koo dinky dau!” “Yep, Tran, one crazy motherfucker, I just spent ten thousand nickels, five hundred bucks on a human being!”

I awake with a start and come instantly alert as I always do when I have this dream. You can take the boy out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the boy. A soft hand caresses my cheek and I look into two limpid brown pools of light that are Li’s eyes. I think she knows what I am dreaming about but she never says a word, and snuggles closer to me, placing her tiny hand on my chest. I am awake and will be for the rest of the night. I patiently wait for her breathing return to a rhythmical steady beat before I leave the bed. I have a lot to think about, the least of which is how Li came to be in my life. The dream that was not always a dream sometimes disturbs me.

I leave my private wing of Singing Winds heading towards the staff cells; I want to talk to Sollie before I leave. Without knocking, I walk right in to her room. Even if there were a lock on her door, I knew it would be unlocked. I reach into my pocket for the Zippo that has been in my pocket for the last thirty years, minus the four months three years ago when it took a little vacation to Bradford, Pee Ay, back in the good ole’ You Ess of Ay for some of that good old lifetime warranty service. Made it the U.S. of A may not mean shit in Detroit, but Pennsylvania is a whole different ball game.

I could have turned on the lights, but when talking to Sollie, especially, I find candlelight soothing. I open the lid of the lighter slowly and quietly and light a taper on her bed table and this does not wake her. On the other side of her bed, leaning against the wall I make out a shape. Picking up the candle, I move to the other side of the bed and can’t help but smile. No wonder Sollie doesn’t wake up seems she was busy far into the night.

Leaning against the wall is a rough cross with a limp body tied to it. The eyes are closed and I can see the eyes rapidly moving in REM dream-sleep. Ahh, the dreams of Slut; these are dreams that could interest me. Softly I touch her lips and an involuntary shiver courses down her body but she does not wake. She is beautiful, her breasts are full and pendulous, with a light sheen of perspiration that glistens in the candlelight. I can see that she is wearing a chastity devise. I don’t need to guess that her cunt and ass are filled and well filled at that. The slickness on her thighs also says that I don’t have to guess that it might be KY jelly. I return to the far side of the bed, lean down and give Sollie’s cheeks several light taps. Her eyes pop open and move side to side rapidly, unfocused. Finally, her eyes settle on my face and she recognizes me. She quietly slips out of bed and onto her knees. I sit on her bed feeling the warmth of her body still in the sheets. She knee walks forward and settles between my thighs, Idly I begin to stroke her black hair as she looks into my eyes with a shy smile that lights her entire face.

“Rough night?” I ask. Her smile broadens and just as suddenly she is serious. “Are you sure this one should be here?” She asks softly, nodding toward Slut. “There’s a lot of spirit in her. I’m not sure if she’s taking training because she wants it or because it gets her what she wants.” I knew exactly what she meant. “Sollie,” I said, “Don’t question her motives, and just train her to the best of your, and her, abilities.” I think she wanted to talk more about this but she knew the discussion was over. It is now time to listen to me.

“I’m leaving this morning; I’m going to see Maelstrom about this one and run some other errands. Don’t try too hard to break this one. And be extremely careful, I don’t know yet if this is someone’s property. Not that I really care, but if she belongs to Malestrom then it’s going to cost him the same she would fetch at auction to training her. Just in case, leave something out because Maelstrom thinks he can finish a slave’s training regimen.” We smiled at each other at this. “If that’s the case, I think this one might be at Singing Wind for a very long time,” I added and Sollie nodds in agreement.

I crane my head back as if to look at the ceiling and begin to rotate my head, eyes closed, feeling the gravel in my neck and spine grate bone to bone as I try to relax. I feel Sollie’s hand go into the fly in my silk pajamas and slip inside. I looked down at her and lightly grab her wrist to stop her. “Li’s already taken care of that,” I said. Rolling over on my side, I stretch out on Sollie’s bed. I am awake and know I won’t fall back asleep, but I am exhausted, the way I always feel after the dream. Sollie crouches at the end of the bed and begins to massage my feet. I close my eyes and give into the sensation she is sending up my sciatic nerve that culminates in a tingling sensation just behind my right ear. I roll onto my back and I feel her take my toes between her warm, moist lips, sucking my toes, pulling them between her lips as if they were tiny cocks. She runs her tongue between my toes and then licks up their lengths. She takes all five on each foot into her mouth at once and runs her tongue around each one. She then began to lick the entire foot with deliberate, long, tongue strokes. I raise my head and look down at her, her features softened by the glow of the candle, her face serene in her devotion to the worship of my feet. I lay back, closed my eyes and completely lose myself in her ministrations. She works on, sensually and methodically, into the night.

I wake, again, to light streaming through the high window of Sollie’s cell. I am in her bed, covered up, feeling snuggly warm. Slut is not tied to the cross any longer and I am quite alone in Sollie’s room. I throw back the covers and get to my feet, stretching broadly. I feel totally refreshed and alert, not totally unlike the mornings I awoke in the jungle a million years ago: Totally ready for any contingency. Briskly, I leave the room and head back to my quarters. Have to get a move on. Today, I’m to be a traveling man.

Chapter 3 – Changelings

Gently, Sollie tucks her master into her bed as the graying sky of morning was brightening her cell enough to see with out a light. Slut, tied to her cross is still sleeping the sleep of the dead. Sollie can see a ropy line of spittle falling from the corner of Slut’s mouth dribbling onto her left breast and this makes her smile. Picking a pair of soiled panties from the hamper next to her dresser, she retrieves a roll of duct tape from the bottom drawer. Moving silently to the sleeping form tied to the cross, she tears off half a foot and sticks it to the lower edge of the cross piece. She reaches out and pinches Slut’s nostrils causing her mouth to open and stuffs the balled up the panties deeply into Slut’s mouth and quickly secures her mouth with the tape.

Slut’s eyes flash open almost immediately wondering why this Filipino bitch would not leave her alone. The gag in her mouth did not allow for any noise to escape her. Solly moved close to her ear and spoke softly,

“Look in my bed.”

Slut did as she was told surprised to see the man she had met only the day before, the one who had sent her into hell with this bitch from hell who has seemingly worked her over the entire night. Just as quickly, she realizes that Mistress Sollie has not been working on her all night; she has been asleep standing tied to the cross. Her eyes go back to Mistress Solly. What surprised most is that that is exactly how she is thinking about this Asian woman: Mistress Sollie.

“Make one sound that wakes him up and your whole day will be irreversibly fucked up in the first 30 seconds you are awake.”

Slut thinks to herself that the day is already pretty much fucked up waking up tied to a cross, with a pair of panties taped in your mouth, wearing a chastity belt with a dildo up your ass and cunt wearing only what must be really nice bruises on her ass and tits being ordered around by what her brother (who’d done a tour in the Marines) would call a LBRPFM’s, which is short for Little Brown Rice Powered Fucking Machines. No, she thinks, days do not come any more fucked than this. “Understand?” Solly barks softly.

Slut nodded dumbly.

Taking a leash from a hook on the wall, Solly clipps it deftly to the collar around Slut’s neck and unties first her ankles and then her wrists. As she is lowered to the floor her shoulder joints make a loud popping sound. They are numb and leaden. Sollie gives Slut a hard look. “You know what position you are to be in when you are on the leash,” she hissed.

Slut dropped to all fours and is promptly and unceremoniously led out of the cell and into the morning light. Sollie keeps her moving at a rapid pace and Slut finds she can not keep up and quickly adjusts by coming up off her knees and onto the balls of her feet moving in a crab like fashion. Awkward as this was, she finds that she can now keep up with her Mistress. Abruptly, Sollie stops. Intent on keeping her balance, Slut does not realize this until the leash became taut and spills her on her face.

“Pay attention!” Sollie snaps. She grabs Slut’s collar and jerks her to her knees. Roughly, she rips the duct tape that covering her mouth and Slut can not stifle a cry and involuntarily a hand goes to her mouth to rub her lips. Her breath is coming in ragged gulps as she tries to catch her breath and spit the panties from her mouth. Slut has been in constant torment since leaving the study yesterday and Mistress Sollie has given her little respite since coming into her charge. The sleep she’d had on the cross had been poor, at best and fatigue was now her constant companion.

“We are now going into breakfast. I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday, but don’t bolt your food. Eat what you are given and don’t you dare ask for more. As a matter of principle, don’t talk at all. That is unless being tutored in manner is what you want from me, then, well, just piss me off.” Sollie gives Slut a sardonic and wryly sadistic smile at this while looking down at the wretched form of Slut, kneeling in the sandy grass with puffy eyes and raw knees, generally looking pitiful.

Slut thinks she wants to do more than just piss Mistress Solly off. She wants to grab a handful of hair and jerk her to the ground and give her a taste of her own medicine, but something tells her this was not even a remotely good idea. These thoughts, against her will, telegraph to her face. Sollie smiles, reached out and twists her left nipple cruelly saying, “You better think again. That good idea you are thinking right now may not be such a good idea in reality.” And Slut blushes bright red and tears began to course down her face. How in the name of fuck can she know what she is thinking?

Sollie turns and with hard tug on the leash, Slut begins to follow at a slower pace. They enter a building through a large doorway and she is led to a low bench before a long table and is given the order to stand. To her amazement, as she looks around the room, she is surprised to find the room filled with at least ten long tables and each has at least a dozen women standing just as she is. On the table before each place is a bowl of what can be best described as mush. A small bell rings and the women, in mass, sit in their respective places. Sollie has to give a small jab into Slut’s back to get her to follow suit. When she sits, the dildo from chastity device in her ass is noticeably uncomfortable and she is shocked to realize that her bodily needs are becoming pressing: She has to pee very badly. She sees that all the women have lowered their faces into the bowls and are eating. Sollie grabbed a handful of Slut’s hair and shoves her face into the bowl and she began to lap at the contents so as not to drown. Sollie says in a low voice “I’ll see you tomorrow, behave.” And she is gone. Slut does not see Mistress Solly for the next eighteen hours.

* * *

Slut is amazed that the contents of the bowl tastes delicious and she begins to eat greedily. She raises her eyes enough to see the girl across from her looking at her, her face and nose sticky and covered with the creamy mush.

“It’s breadfruit,” the girl whispers. No sooner than this is said, a hand pushes the girl’s face back into the bowl roughly.

“You want to eat or you at high tea this morning? Shoot the shit on your own time!”

Looking up, Slut sees a very large woman standing behind the girl holding her face in the bowl and then grabs a handful of hair and lifts her face from it bringing her to an upright position. The girl, her face now covered completely with her breakfast, opens her soft brown eyes and smiles softly at Slut.

“Thank you mistress for correcting this wayward bitch,” she says in an even voice. The woman only grunts and gives the girl’s head a shove. The girl only smils again and resumed eating.

She points a riding crop at Slut and barks, “Get your face back in that bowl if you know what’s good for you,” and then walks on.

Trying to take in as much of the scene as possible, Slut does not finish her meal before the small bell rings and once again, in unison, the women all rise. She can only look back at her unfinished meal and frown. The women deftly step back over the benches and reached their hands out to either side to clasp the hands of the women to either side. Slut did like wise. The women on her side of the table executed a left face, while those opposite performed a right face maneuver and the women file out two abreast for where Slut knows not.

* * *

Waking up in Sollie’s bed, I leisurely stretch out before leaving her cell and walk toward the beach rather than my quarters. Once on the beach, I contort my body with exercise to stretch out my leg and back muscles before I start out at an easy gait. Quickly tiring in the loose, dry sand, I ease down past the tide line on to the hard, wet packed sand and pick up the pace. I watch for my markers and in just over 13 minutes I punch out two and half miles thinking about nothing other than the blue in blue of the South China Sea off to my left. The hot, humid morning has me drenched in sweat and as I slow to a cooling walk, I can smell Sollie on me and that, perhaps, is also tinted with the smell of Slut.

Back at my quarters, I shower and change into a freshly pressed white Panama suit. Li has laid my clothes neatly out on the valet before the triple tailor’s mirrors and I can not help but admire the figure I cut. I am not a vain man, in the least, but I am amazed at how a tailored suit makes a man look. I think of Charles Laughton or Sidney Toler, the actor who played Charlie Chan and how good they always looked in a Panama suit, I never thought I would look so good. Knowing that Li has never seen a Charlie Chan movie or has any clue as to whom Charles Laughton might be, I am struck by her sense of style.

Just out the door my quarters, I found a jeep waiting on the cobblestone drive. In the driver’s seat is a young blonde woman and sitting in the rear seat is a dark, mysterious Hindu goddess. She is dressed in a cream silk blouse and dark A line skirt. The driver is naked save for a collar with a silver tag engraved ‘Cocksucker’. Not a word is spoken as I get into the front seat as the driver puts the jeep in gear and smoothly speeds out of the drive to the road leading toward the airfield. The trip takes less than 5 minutes even though the car never reaches a speed above 15 miles per hour. As the field comes into view, I can see the Gulfstream sitting on the tarmac as a lone figure completes a walk-around inspection as the tail strobe light flashes in the gathering sunlight of morning. I know instinctively that the inspector is Tommy Milkman, a bright, handsome lad, who you might mistake for preppy if it weren’t for his deep southern drawl, a true Son of Georgia. Tommy had learned to fly in the Air Force, flying lumbering cargo planes. He had longed to slip the surly bounds of Earth in the cockpit of an F-16, but had only qualified to fly the Military’s version of the Douglas DC-9, great training if your dream was to fly forever and ever for an airline, but that really sucked if you had the need for speed and Tommy had the need for speed very bad.

In the cockpit was J.D. McAlester. Mac had been my roommate at the Boat School, the Naval Academy, and captain of the crew team. He had been an Aerospace major, while I am a mere English major. He had dreamed of the sky since his childhood. From the time he was ten, every thought, every action was designed to get him into the cockpits of jets. And it had worked. F-4 Phantoms in Vietnam, almost becoming an ace and later he flew F-14A Tomcats. However, the Tomcat had bitten. In a training exercise, the immense weight of the aircraft over powered by a pair of Pratt and Whitney TF 30’s had managed to flat spin. By the time recovery of the aircraft had quit being an academic probability and had became a firm impossibility, the decision to eject had already been made by the Naval Flight Officer, a man who J.D. will only speak of by his call sign, Zippo. Coming out of the cockpit with the force and speed of a rocket strapped to their asses, the men were accelerated by ten gravities of thrust. Zippo’s body was never recovered while J.D.’s Martin-Baker ejection seat worked as advertised to float him into the Mediterranean Sea safely. He was cleared by the Board of Inquiry but, never the less, the injuries he suffered that day prevented him from ever sitting in the driver’s seat of a jet aircraft again, that is, until I bought him this Gulfstream, with a severe warning that eternity would be a nightmare of epic proportions if he killed me in the goddamn thing. Truth was, he was my best friend: If we died together, we’d toast the devil with his own scotch and spit in his eye.

Pulling along side the aircraft, Cocksucker brought the jeep to a smooth stop. I gave the driver’s left nipple a pinch and a tug and said with a smile, “Thank you, Cocksucker.”

“The pleasure is mine, Milord.” She says with a sweet smile, enjoying the manipulation of her nipple a little too much.

As the other passenger unloads my traveling case along with two suitcases of her own and lugs them toward the plane, I go strait over to Tommy waiting by the cargo hatch and exchange pleasantries as we wait for the girl to bring the luggage. Setting the three cases on the ground near the plane, she gracefully drops to her knees to bend forward to kiss Tommy’s shoes. I stifled a laugh as this is one of those things that is an embarrassment to Tommy and he can only look at me sheepishly.

“Get aboard,” I tell her and lightly touch her forehead as she rises to her feet.

“Where to Boss?” He is clearly relieved that the girl is leaving to board the aircraft.

“Hong Kong, Miss Singh has a date at an auction this evening at the Hilton and then we’re all going to get a massive steak and really drunk at Ned Kelly’s Last Stand on the Kowloon side. J.D.’s buying.”

“Does he know that?”

“Not yet,” I smiled, “you can break that part to him.”

And with that, I board the plane to take my seat.

Chapter 4 – An interlude between worlds

Tommy came through the cabin door after securing the fuselage compartments, folded the stairway and started to close the hatch behind him. Miss Singh came up behind him and lightly touched his arm. He turns and almost immediately the blush he had had outside on the tarmac was back. She can see it and his eyes, eyes that said he was a man unaccustomed to being in close proximity of such a beautiful woman, one that responds in a way that no woman in Tommy’s world ever responds. I watch as his Adams apple bobs in a very long swallow. She looks directly into his light blue eyes with her soft doe eyes.

“I will secure the door,” she says softly, so softly that in the distance between us, two seats, I can only make out the word door. Tommy slowly nods and turns and goes into the cockpit and gently closes the privacy curtain behind him. I imagine that he has sat down in the co-pilot’s chair rather quickly. Seeing him with a hard on would keep J.D. in stitches for months. Tommy does not care for the world on the other side of the island and I respect that. While he respects what it is I have built here and why I do it, it is something that he keeps a respectful distance from.

Miss Singh has been known for the last two years as Knob Bobber. Before that, she was known as Amahdee and twelve hours from now she will be known, as Linda, The Pretty One, for the rest of her life. She now stands at the door for a long time looking out taking in the scene and breathing in the warm, tropical air deeply. She makes no sound. The auxiliary power unit comes on line and the sound level rises noticeably and the cabin lights momentarily flicker. The unit begins to spool up as high pressure air makes it way to the compressor sections of the plane’s engines. At this, Miss Singh tugs on the tether to close the door and locks the handle in place. When she turns, she is crying. The sobs deep inside her chest are being restrained, but not very well. The tears, large and free flowing course down her cheeks streaking her makeup. Without looking at me, she takes her seat and buckles herself in. The jet turns at idle speed for about two minutes, taxies to the end of the runway, turns and accelerates in one fluid maneuver. Three minutes after engines start, we are in the air and “feet wet”, over the water. Miss Singh’s sobbing does not abate and her tears seem ceaseless.

I reached over and touch her arm. Her eyes meet mine. Her tears freshen.

“I cannot go, I am not ready,” she says.

“Yes,” I say simply. And with tears streaming unashamedly down her face, she laughs. A deep laugh, a normal, funny laugh, as if hearing a joke.

“Yes, I’m not ready or yes, I’m not?”

“Pick one,” I smile, “because what I think is of no import. It’s what you think that counts. Remember your first days here? Think about then, how badly you wanted this day to come.”

“First days? How about the better part of the first year! I wanted to be taught to be something other than me. How could I know that what I needed was to be taught to be treated like property? How would I know that I would love that? No, I don’t think I’m ready. I know I am not ready.” She said the last with conviction.

“You’re ready. Open the window shade and take a look.”

I touch the key to the intercom and bark “J.D., turn around. Give the island a flyby then do it again at 90 degrees.” I meant for it to sound like a request but it sounded more like an order.

He did just as I’d asked. We cruise the island about a mile off at just over a thousand feet up. I watch as Miss Singh cranes her neck to see the island come into view, watch it pass, and crane her neck again to see it pass behind us. After a long slow turn, the island comes into view again and she does the same again. Some time after it has passed from her view, forever, she closes the shade and turns to me. The tears are back and I soften.

“You can live your old life until we land.”

With that, she stands and slowly slides down the zipper of the skirt and lets it fall. She carefully unbuttons her blouse, removes it, and carefully folds her clothes so not to wrinkle them. She then unhooks her bra and slips from it and stands naked before me. She is not wearing any panties. From my jacket pocket, I take out a collar with a small silver tag that reads “Knob Bobber”. She kneels before me so that I can place it back on her neck and I am greeted with the sweetest smile I have ever seen.

* * *

Slut and the others silently leave the dining hall two abreast into the morning sunshine. The sound of an airplane draws her eyes skyward and she watches the small jet aircraft pass from left to right. She wanted to stop and watch it but when she slowed down the woman behind her ran into her and dropped her mentally back into reality. She knows it is the same plane that she had boarded in Honolulu, what, two, three days ago? She is dawdling and can tell the girl behind her is growing impatient with her as she is squeezing her hand sharply.

She fells like a schoolgirl again, walking in line with other girls, holding hands front to back, going to the lavatory in the library building at her elementary school, Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. As she looks as far up the line as she can, she sees that they all wear the same uniform. A lack of uniform actually, but uniform all the same. Each woman wears a polished black collar adorned with a silver tag and four inch black stiletto pumps. She is the only one different in the fact she is the only one wearing a chastity belt. This fact brings a new thought. Is this because she is new or is this because the belt signifies dunce?

She takes in her surroundings and is surprised at the campus like atmosphere. The courtyard is a quadrangle, surrounded by 6 buildings that she can see with an unknown number behind her and she dares not to turn to count buildings. Further, she cannot see anyone who appears to be in charge. They are crossing the quad two abreast, marching in step the only noise is the clicking of their heels reverberating off the surrounding buildings in unison. This made her remember Sister Rose, who, while strict, had made school somewhat fun. Sr. Rose had taught the girls to hum the theme song from the Adams’ Family Show” in their heads to help them stay in perfect step with a proud march. And just as suddenly she realized that tune was playing in her head and she was walking in perfect harmonious step with what she guessed to be fifty women.

The last two girls at the rear in each column suddenly dropped the hands of the girls in front and sprinted to the front of the formation to open and hold the doors of the building directly in front of them. The column of two marched directly into the building with out missing a beat, proud and strong. Just as the last of the women passed the portal, the door guards quickly closed the doors and the formation broke up in to a cacophony of sound as the formation dissolved and every one in the group relaxed.

Slut stands there in disbelief as the women begin to chat, sit on the floor and take off their stilettos and massage their feet and calves. The girl next to her, who is still wearing the breadfruit mush on her face, points at Slut’s chastity belt and says “Want some help getting that thing off?”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed.” She says dumbfounded.

The girl just smiles. “Yes, you are. It’s bath time and for the next six hours nobody will tell you what to do….” She trails off and reaches for the silver tag on Slut’s collar and reads the inscription. “…Slut,” she finishes. “This is our time and my name is Allpussy.” She sticks out her hand and with a growing smile shakes Slut’s hand.

She then spins Slut around and begins to work on the buckles of the chastity belt.

“So, you got orientation from Sollie? Oh, I know that because she has her initials

tooled into this thing. I hate this fucking thing.”

As the strap that runs between her legs falls forward, it relieves the pressure on the dildos that impale her. Allpussy reaches around from behind and plucks the dildo from her pussy and holds it up before her face. It is made from polished ebony wood and despite of the fact she has probably worn it for over eight hours, it glistens with moisture from her cunt. Allpussy leans close to her ear to speak to her in a low tone of voice.

“If one of these comes out of any of your holes in Mistress Sollie’s presence, you’d best take it in that pretty little mouth of yours and lick clean as Buddha’s cock. She loves to see them worshipped.” Allpussy then brushes the wooden cock across Slut’s lips. Slut gets the idea and opens her lips and takes the object into her mouth and begins to lovingly clean it. Before she could get fully into the act, Allpussy spins her around again and pulls her close so that they are cunt to cunt. The chastity belt drops to the floor, and reaches around and pulls the second dildo from Slut’s ass. Holding it next their faces, Slut turns to look at it. Allpussy says, “This one too!” Before Slut can do anything, Allpussy tosses the dildo from her ass over her shoulder and wraps her arms around Slut’s neck in an intimate embrace. “Give me a kiss,” she smiles, “I just saved you from a future ass whipping, though you might get one anyway for already knowing what to do. She’s pretty anal retentive that way.” With that, she pulls Slut into a deep, deep kiss.

Abruptly, Allpussy breaks the kiss and takes Sluts hand pull her into a short tiled hallway ending at a wall that seemingly goes nowhere. Just before the end, however, she sees two openings on each side that open into a larger cavernous room with whirlpool baths dotting the tiled deck and beyond those, an Olympic sized swimming pool. On the other side of the pool there are row upon row of massage tables, some already being used as slave girl works on slave girl while in the whirlpools, slave bathes slave. Two slave girls approach them each takes Slut and Allpussy in different directions. Slut reads the tag that tells her new companions name is Fuckface and she is leading her toward one of the baths. Gently, she assists her into the warm, bubbling water, places her head in the cushioned notch at the end and drapes her hair behind her.

Not a word is spoken as Fuckface picks up a brush and starts to brush out Slut’s hair, gently, lovingly. Slut raises her eyes and tilts her head to look at the girl, upside down. The face is serene, as if this girl were lost in a fantasy, perhaps brushing the hair of some long forgotten doll. Slut breaks the silence.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuckface,” the girl says touching her tag.

“No, I mean your real name.”

The girl lets out a small sigh and then the hint of a smile sneaks onto the corners of her lips. “Slut,” she says, “that is my real name. Whatever you called your self before, whatever I called myself before, well, those people don’t exist anymore. I mean, did you really like the person you were before? If that person is still in you and still has a name, I don’t want to know it. If you were happy before you got this name, then, why are you here?”

She wanted to say to get a story, but, she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t know what to say. Certainly, she was surprised. Malestrom had told her everyone here in training was here of their own free will. Hell, she’d had been forced to ask, no beg, for the privilege to entering this compound. However, compound didn’t sound right. After all, there were no fences, no guard towers and she hadn’t even seen a lock on a single door.

She needed to think on this, just like she would need to think about the similarities she was beginning to feel with her younger days at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows, remembering the nuns, the order, the discipline and the symmetry.

What surprised her most, however, was the peace of acceptance she was beginning to feel. At first, she had thought perhaps that too much was happening too quickly and then she thought that that wasn’t it, either. It was getting a story. Originally, she thought she could and she would endure anything for a story. And then the truth finally comes to her: The story is getting her. She looks back at Fuckface. “Thank you.” She says simply and closes her eyes. In Manhattan, a spa day of this magnitude would run close to a thousand bucks. She decides to just enjoy it and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

Two months before my next trip to my Wife’s  she calls. We update on all the little things that have happened and then she asks do you want a spanking when you get here?  My response was a definite always. How do you want it? I replied naked, bound and totally exposed. She laughed, nothing new there you always want it that way, I presume you want to be in the diaper position with your legs spread wide?  Of course, that’s my favorite.

My Wife then asks me if I have had any new fantasies?  I said yes. Well are you going to tell me, she asks? It isn’t much, only your Mother catching me in a compromising position. How compromising? Well I’m always naked at least from the waist down, sometimes changing clothes but a few times I’m tied up naked. Your Mother makes me explain why. I tell her I leave the door open when I’m changing clothes because I enjoy the thrill of getting caught. What about being tied up? I confess that I like being helpless.

Your Mother thinks a little and then asks what do you hope happens if you get caught and by whom? Who do I hope catches me my Wife but the risk of someone else catching is always present. What do I hope happens, first I hope my method of escape is removed and my bondage tightened. Then I hope to get spanked, pinched and played with. Finally I want to beg for my release, maybe even agree to some other activity. Sadly this is where my fantasy ends, I never find out if your Mother does anything or not.

My Wife then asks are you naked right now? I reply of course. Then She asks any spanking implements handy? The paddle and crop.  You need to spank your balls, use the paddle, knees spread and give your balls 20 swats hold the phone so I can hear them. I follow Her instructions and then listen to Her ask did you like that? I answered yes. She says do it again only harder. I do it hitting harder slowing as the pain is building. Starting to hurt She says, well good 10 more harder yet. I hesitate and She says make it 15 and I promise you’ll enjoy more than one spanking when you get here or stop now and you get none. I manage to do the spanking.

My Wife asks did you like that and are they sore? I reply yes to both. You need to go to bed now but you need to figure out how you can tie yourself up so I only have to secure your last hand or tighten a few things. By, I love you and the call ended.

I finished making some Velcro cuffs that along with a few ropes and the knee strap that pulls my knees to my chest and sides. I now had a simple way to secure myself that my Wife could easily secure me so I would be completely at Her mercy.

Two weeks have gone by and my Wife calls again. After the small talk She asks how I’ve done with the tasks She assigned. I explain what I have done and how they work. Then I ask how She wants me positioned and in what room. After a short discussion She says sideways with your head on your side of the bed and your bottom on mine. That way both your mouth and bottom are available for my pleasure. I then told my Wife that She would need to get some rope to finish off what I need to tie myself up, You could get some ratcheting tie-down straps because that would make it easier to spread my legs wider. My Wife asked how that would work? Right now I’m planning to use a rope to go from my left wrist and ankle to the head of the bed and another rope to go from my right wrist and ankle to the foot of the bed. If I were to replace these ropes with the tie-down straps I could engage the left one just a little to lock and keep it from getting longer and leave the right one free for You to tighten. Now if you pull the straps tight and the engage the ratchet, then as you ratchet my legs will spread wider making me even more helpless. She said she would think about that and She would get some spanking implements.

Now you need to be spanked. Let’s see, I think your favorite position is called for, the Diaper position. How long will it take you to get ready? I can get ready in about two minutes. Then do it She ordered.

It took about two and a half minutes, my Wife says you’re late, pick up the crop. Start on that anus and make it hard. Hold the phone so I can listen to the hits and check with Me every 10th swat. At the first break She says harder and then after 50 swats She says to stop. Now using the thin  paddle start on your balls the same way. This time She ordered me to hit harder 3 times and then to stop after 100 swats.

Now how does it feel, She asks? Are your balls hot?

I reply that they feel warm.

Only warm, OK they must be too loose. Take a shoe lace and tie your balls into a nice tight package. Are they sticking out? I reply yes.

Now spank those balls with the paddle, hard. Keep the phone at your ear, spank harder I want to here the swats while you listen to me. Harder, harder, that sounds better. Now 5 more and make them harder yet. Good job, are they sore? I reply yes. Then she says pick up the crop and give them ten hard enough for me to here them and count. She says not good enough, I only heard 5 of them try again but this time make it 20. I spanked as hard as I could but lost count due to the pain. I stopped when I was sure I gave my self at least 20. My Wife responded with I think you need practice counting, I heard 27 smacks. Are they tender now. I replied with yes very tender.

Since you need practice counting I want you to give yourself 5 swats a minute until I call back and tell you to stop. Keep count and you better not cheat, enjoy, and She hung up.

I kept spanking with the paddle and 37 minutes latter She called back. She asked how many? I replied 185. Ok 15 more, fast and hard. I did it and She laughed as I struggled to count them.

My Wife told me to relax and release my balls. I gasped as the increased circulation caused a new sensation. She then asked me if I enjoyed my spanking? I replied yes but it hurt more than I was used to. She laughed and asked do you need more spanking or less? I thought and answered more. More spankings, more often and steadily harder.

Ok I can work on that, now stay as you are as long as you can. I want you to build up your ability to remain in the diaper position for at least 12 hours. That would give Me enough time to give you that birthday spanking you dream about. Sleep well, good night and She hung up. I managed to remain in this position almost an hour until my legs started cramping, I untied myself and slept with my legs spread and uncovered.

My Wife called 6 days latter with a get in position. I managed to get in the diaper position in about 2 minutes, practice made me faster. She had me start spanking and had me keep it up until I asked for a break. She asked are you hurting too much already? I replied no, I need a bathroom break. She laughed, you need to pee? No, not really. Oh She said, you need to earn a break, riding crop, I want to here 200 swats on that anus of yours and then maybe I’ll let you take a break.

I spanked away and when I got to 200 She says now with the paddle 200 on each cheek, right then left. I was in real pain and mooning as I completed the spanking. She says take your break but get back in position and hold it as long as you can and give yourself 20 swats on each cheek, on your balls and anus every 15 minutes for as long as you can. You should be up to at least 3 hours by now. If you fall asleep just figure out how many swats you owe and give yourself all of them before you release yourself. Tell me how you did and how they feel, Goodnight.

I just made it to the stool in time and did it hurt. My ass was tender and sitting was difficult and then my anus I had trouble, I had to go but the pain was intense. Ten minutes latter I finally finished and knew I needed to get back in position now or it would get harder. I was struggling to get my second set of swats done  when I fell asleep. Exhaustion over ruled pain and four hours latter the cramps in my legs woke me up. It took an hour to get all the swats done and get released. I went to sleep with a smile in my mind that I made it 5 and a half hours but I was too tired to do anything but pass out.

I called my Wife the next night to report and admit that I enjoyed it. She then asked I’m going in the right direction and you want more? I answered, yes but I’m not sure if I can keep increasing at this pace. My Wife laughed, don’t worry, over the phone I can’t go past your limits. Just think, in four weeks we’ll be together. Now keep working on extending the length of time you can be tied up. I want you to be able to last the night in position. I know that is one of your favorite fantasies, and I do want to please you. Keep practicing and buy a new pair of panties for your travels and they better be sexy, night.

Over the next four weeks I managed to last eight hours in position which meant that I could make it through the night, but I would be hurting from the bondage. One can always last longer when release is not left up to you.

I purchased a bright red lace thong for my trip. It barely covered my bound balls, I always bind them for travel, not tight but just enough so they stick out, of course my cock was going to stick out one side or the other. I had to be careful that they don’t show being bright red, but that was the fun part.

The day, actually night since I take the red-eye so with transfers I arrive at 9 in the morning, of the trip arrives. An hour before my taxi I call my Wife. She likes to check on all the last minute items. I had everything packed and I had just dried off from my shower and enema, one must be clean when traveling. My pants, shirt, shoes, socks and red panties and shoe lace for my balls were ready to be put on, so I called my Wife.

After a quick discussion that all was packed, She told me to get in the diaper position. I wasn’t expecting this but complied. She laughed as She instructed me to bind my balls because She wanted them separated. Now put the tag on. This tag was a numbered plastic lock tag, while I could easily snap it off. It wouldn’t go back on so my balls were now bound until my Wife decided they should be undone. If I remove the tag without permission I wouldn’t get the pleasure I wanted for a long time.

Then She talked me through 30 minutes of spanking before I was released to get dressed. Ten minutes before the taxi She had me brush my teeth. What She had me do next almost made me question who I was talking to. My Wife told me to drop my pants and panties. Now apply toothpaste to the head of your cock and don’t forget the opening, fill it like plugging a nail hole in a wall. When your done with that put twice as much toothpaste as you use on your toothbrush on the tip of your finger and then work it into your anus. Pull your pants up, wash your hands and don’t keep the taxi waiting, bye.

Every toothpaste causes a different sensation. I was using a mint one and it was starting to burn. Trying to act normal when your ass and cock are burning is a challenge, thankfully the burn was gone before I went through the check point, the raging hard on was not.

The flight was uneventful and on time. But when I arrived I was surprised when my Mother-in-law met me at the airport. It seems my Wife had a dentist appointment. We got my bag and drove back to the house. My Wife and her Mother live together in a large enough house. We got to the house my Mother-in-law asked if I needed to get anything before she left, it seems she had a doctors appointment at 1PM but was going to do some shopping first. I carried my bag to the bedroom and found my Wife had the items I needed on the bed so I told my Mother-in-law I was good as I checked the fridge.

My Wife had left a note which I opened as I watched my Mother-in-law leave. Hope you’re up for a dare, the note started. By now Mom has left and you’re home alone here’s the dare. Tie yourself up on the bed as we discussed. Now if you leave the bedroom door half open I’ll give you a spanking when I get home. If you leave the door wide open I’ll spank you again after your nap. Now you know Mom and how she can change her mind, she could come home because she forgot something, but even with the door open she knows you’re sleeping so unless she walks in the bedroom she won’t see you. But if you open the large envelope next to my computer you’ll find 3 stacks of papers, they contain some of the stories you wrote or found on the internet, they also contain a list of instructions for Mom that you need to sign. Here’s the dare one stack is to be placed on the floor in the bedroom, it only tells her that you enjoy this activity and that she is welcome to check you out. The second you can place on her bedroom door, this one encourages her to spank you. The third goes on the table by the garage door and it tells her how to get you to agree to all sorts of things.

What do you get for these risks. She may or may not see the one on the floor but if I find it there you can look forward to a second day of spankings. You put the one on her door and not only will you get a second day but a third and forth. Remember she may not go to her bedroom while she knows your sleeping should she come home. Now if your daring enough to put the one on the table which she will almost positively see if she comes home, you will get to spent at least 5 hours completely exposed in the sun with all your favorite spanking targets being turned black and blue. Love Your Wife.

I went and got the stacks of papers and skimmed through them and though, then I signed them and put them in place. I had time to think while I got ready. When I had 30 minutes to go before my Wife’s early time I made up my mind, I was going for all of it. Twenty minutes later I was locked in place and there was no way out.

Time past slowly and I fell asleep. I awoke when I felt someone’s hand on my balls. It felt strange, I don’t think it’s my Wife. Then I felt a second person and fear set in. I felt my bondage tighten and I couldn’t believe how wide the two were spreading my legs. Then my balls were hit hard and I lost track of what was being spanked and with what but when my mind regained it’s control I was sore. My ass, anus, balls and even my cock felt like they were swelled up to twice their normal size. I could feel something attached to my nipples, clips of some sort and they hurt.

The gag was removed from my mouth and someone sat on it making me orally stimulate their pussy. When that one climaxed the other took her place. Once that one came a different and much dirtier pair of panties were shoved in my mouth as a gag. And then I was left alone. I was left there wondering what was next and who was there?

It was almost a month before she finally admitted to me that she wanted to be raped, not that it would really be rape, because it’s what she wanted, but more than anything she wanted to be treated like she was just an object, devoid of control, to be used completely for a man’s pleasure and nothing more than a rag doll to be fucked and abused.

Her name was Allison, but she went by Allie most of the time.  I thought it was a cute, and perfect, name for her.  She was attending community college nearby, looking to eventually be a nurse, or school teacher, though I wondered, if she was honest with herself, if her goal really wasn’t to find a Master, somebody to own and use her without mercy.

My heart started beating the instant I saw her step nervously through the door that first time, her nipples were rock hard as she crossed her arms over her chest unconsciously, trying to cover the obvious sign of arousal, or at least trepidation, she felt.

She was almost willowy in appearance, young, barely 19 now, she would be an absolutely gorgeous girl in her mid-twenties, in a different way, after she’d fully blossomed, but she was by no means unattractive, but she was still physically young, her body was angular, her elbows sharp, her legs long and lean, almost like those of a doe.  She was thin, very thin, the t-shirt she wore clung to her body and focused all the more attention on her breasts, which were quite large for her size.  She was perhaps 5’4”, maybe 5’5”, but I doubt she weighed much over 100 lbs.

She cast me a nervous glance and smiled quickly as she walked toward the booth in which I sat.  As she approached, she lowered her head and her cheeks went flush.  She had on a short skirt and large hoop earrings, slut earrings I liked to think.  Her long blonde hair was straight and framed her face perfectly, her skin was smooth as porcelain and I instantly wanted to touch her, to run my hand over her flesh.

“Hi, I’m Allie, I’m, it’s, it’s nice to meet you, finally.”  Her face went crimson with embarrassment, almost exasperation.

“I’m Peter, so nice to meet you too.”  I slipped out of the booth and took her hand, her fingers were long and her palm was moist with nerves.

“You’re much prettier in person than in your photos.”   Allie blushed with the compliment.

“Thanks.”  Allie could barely look me in the eyes as a bored, raspy-voiced, waitress came over and we ordered coffee, and a light dinner.

We sat talking for about an hour, I thought it best to meet and chat in person, to make sure she was ready.  I guess it was as much for me too, to know that I could trust her, and that I knew she knew what she was doing.  My dick was hard the whole time, it was painful, it almost felt like I was in high school again, the hormones running uncontrolled through my body, I don’t think I’d ever been as horny as I was at that point, because I knew from almost the instant she sat down she was the perfect girl.

“So, do you want to do this then?”  I could tell for the previous 20 minutes she wanted to bring it up, to make it finally happen, but I could also see the nerves, and, oh, that sadistic bastard in me wanted to make her suffer a little while longer.

I slid a small stack of papers across the table, her hands where shaking as she moved the documents in front of her and started to read.  We’d talked about the night for a long time, I knew she wanted to be used and abused, to be raped, but still, perhaps it’s the obsessive compulsive in me, that person that needs to control everything, but I wanted to make sure, I didn’t want anything to come back on me, I suppose that’s the lawyer in me too, but I’d laid out in explicit detail what we had agreed to, what she wanted.

“Is everything alright and in there?”  She slowly nodded her head and signed the papers, one copy for her, one for me.  Allie blurted out, like and excited child.

“God my pussy is on fire.”  Instantly she covered her face with her hands and whimpered in embarrassment, unable to believe what she’d just said.  I just smiled broadly, wanting desperately to stroke my cock, it was throbbing so hard I didn’t think I could take it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t believe I just said that.”  I loved the way her face was beet red.

“Let’s get going.”  I left some money on the table and led Allie out into the parking lot.  Her legs were unstable as I helped her in the car.  She didn’t say a word as we drove to the motel.  She let out a gasp of shock as I reached over and laid my hand on her thigh as we pulled to a stop.

“We’re here.”  I ran my hand over her naked thigh towards the confluence of her legs.  It was the only sexual act of the evening, thus far.

Her hands trembled as I helped her out of the passenger seat and pointed her toward our room.  I could see the way her chest rose and fell quickly as we moved through the shadows, her nipples were rock hard against her top.

I grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to a stop before we got to the motel door.

“You understand, the minute that door closes, I own you, I’m going to use you the way I want to, I’m going to rape you.”  I could hear the nervousness in her voice, but there was also something more, I knew it was lust, not that she would ever admit it.  For months she’d been telling me how she wouldn’t enjoy being abused at all during, even though I knew she masturbated at least once a day about the thought of being raped, even just play-raped.

“Yes.”

“Good.”  I put the key card in the lock and the door opened.  I’d made sure to get a room with no others adjoining.  I didn’t expect it to be silent, but I wanted to avoid too many prying ears.  We’d agreed on a motel, mostly because we both felt safer that way.

I could distinctly hear the breath whisping through her nose as we stepped over the threshold.  I think she was shocked by the suddenness of my movement.  The instant the door clapped shut I had hold of her long blonde hair and jerked her head back violently, my hand was over her mouth before she could even make a sound.

“Don’t make a fucking sound bitch!”  I barked in her ear and brought a knife to her throat.  I could see the fear in her eyes.

“Don’t make a sound cunt, do you understand me?”  I could see the surprise, the terror, in her eyes.  I knew she’d fantasized about being raped, probably thousands of times, but perhaps the reality of it was somewhat different than she expected.

“Do you understand me you stupid whore?”  She nodded her head quickly, desperately.

“Good, you know I’m going to rape that pussy of yours till you scream, don’t you cunt!”  Tears bubbled from her eyes as she frantically whimpered.

“Let’s get to business slut, I want my dick in your pussy, bad!  That’s all your good for anyway”  I pulled the knife from her throat and dropped it on the floor, I grabbed a wad of cloth from my pocket and stuffed the balled rag into her mouth, I could hear the air whine through her nostrils as she sucked in deep breaths.  I grabbed for a roll of duct tape and put a wide piece over her mouth.

“That’ll keep you quite for now cunt!”  I pulled her wrists roughly behind her back and wrapped the duct tape around her forearms, they were crossed in the small of her back, her hands almost to the opposite arm’s elbow.  I could hear her sobbing, I knew she was crying and I could see the tears streaking down her smooth, pretty cheeks.  Her makeup ran down her skin and only turned me on more.

I smacked her hard across the face.

“I know you want it slut, all cunts do!”  I moved her easily across the floor, she weighed almost nothing, and with the adrenaline, the lust, running through my veins, I slammed her hips into the edge of the couch and pusher her forward, bending her at the waist.

“Just a few more seconds bitch, then you’ll get to feel my cock in your dirty snatch!”  I grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it up her thigh’s, I brutally grabbed for her panties and tugged them down her legs till they were wrapped around her ankles.

“Spread those legs bitch!”  I kicked her feet wide.

The gag muffled her shriek as I slammed one finger in her quivering pussy and leaned down over her, pressing my chest against her back.  I grabbed her by the hair and twisted her head as I whispered in her ear and pumped one finger in and out of her convulsing vagina.

“How do you like that bitch?  I bet you can’t wait to feel my cock in that tight little snatch of yours.

The girl was sobbing uncontrollably as I pulled my finger from her pussy and pulled down my pants.  I loved hearing her blubber as I eased my slacks down my thighs.  My dick was so hard it hurt, I could feel the blood racing through my veins and I’d never felt so turned on before in my life.

My hands were shaking as I rolled a condom over my thick shaft.

“It’s time to make you a woman cunt!”  I grabbed for her hips and dug my fingers into her flesh.  I groaned loudly as I slammed my dick in her pussy, she was tight, so incredibly tight, I thought I might blow instantly I was so turned on.  My head was spinning I was so light-headed

“HOLY SHIT!!!”  I grabbed for her long hair and tugged brutally, pulling on her scalp like reins as I pounded my cock into her cunt as hard as I could.  I could feel her vaginal muscles clamping down on my cock involuntarily as I began rutting her.

“This is what you’re made for bitch!”  I arched her head back violently as my hips slammed against her ass, driving her thighs cruelly into the edge of the sofa.  I cruelly pulled on her scalp, making her shriek in pain as I tugged viciously on her hair as I pounded into her, bunny fucking her, taking her like an animal.  I could hear her cries as I kept ramming my cock in her pussy over and over again.  She was a rag-doll, a hole for my cock.

“I’m going to cum bitch!”  She squealed as I grabbed her hips and jerked her body back onto my cock.  I could feel my balls slapping against her pussy as I roared and thrust back my head.  My balls convulsed and I could feel my sperm shooting into her as my prick jerked and pulsed inside her tight slit.

“Holy crap!”  I slapped my hand down hard on her ass as her torso shuddered violently.

“Holy crap that was fucking incredible.”  My balls were still spasming, my whole body was tingling and I felt like I was going to pass out I was on such a high.  My hands were numb as I finally let go of her hips.

“Holy shit that was fucking incredible bitch.”  Allie was sobbing, her legs were shaking uncontrollably as she was bent over the edge of the couch with her breasts crushed against the cushions with me leaning over her.

“God that was incredible cunt!”  I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her off the edge of the sofa, I twisted her head violently so she was looking me in the face.  Tears were still streaming down her cheeks leaving dark streaks of make-up covering her skin.

“You’re just a dirty whore!”  I spit in her face and thick wads of saliva splattered on her forehead.

“I bet you loved that, didn’t you bitch, feeling my cock in your snatch!”  I heard her screech as I dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room and forced her to her knees.  My dick was still hard and bobbed in front of her face.  I gently worked the condom off my cock, making sure not to spill a drop of sperm.

“Don’t make a sound cunt!”  She yelped in pain as I smacked her across the face.  I tugged the tape off her mouth and pulled the rag from between her teeth.

“Here is a treat for you slut.”  I grabbed for her hair again and arched her head back.

“Open up!”  I held the bulging condom to her lips and started pouring the warm cum down her throat.  She was sobbing as the sperm hit her tongue and ran down her throat slowly, the thick goo moved like molasses.

“Don’t swallow till I tell you.”  I stood over the girl, the adrenaline still racing through my veins, her hair still clutched in my hand forcing her head back as tears streaked down her face.

“You are a pretty little bitch, aren’t you.”  Allie’s whole body convulsed as spasms racked her frame.

Her mouth was filled with my milky cum, it pooled on her tongue and her teeth were slimed with the warm sperm.

“Swallow slut!”  Allie sobbed as she closed her eyes and forced herself to gobble down the pecker-snot.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it cunt?  You should be honored that I let you have the pleasure of my cum.”  I laughed out loud as I smacked her hard across the face again.

“Clean me bitch!”  I slapped my prick down on her forehead, then rammed it between her lips without giving her time to react.  I pinched her nostrils shut and jerked my hips forward, burying my cock deep against the back of her throat.  Instantly she started to gag and tried to pull her mouth off my shaft, but with her hands still bound, she couldn’t fight me.

“That’s it bitch, you know this is what you’re made for.”  I loved the way she choked on my cock as I forced it against the back of her throat.

“God that’s incredible.”  Allie gasped desperately as I pulled the head of my cock from between her lips and let her gulp down much needed air.

“Lick me cunt!”  Her whole body was shuddering, trembling with fear as she started lapping her tongue nervously along the length of my shaft, her face was flush as she moved her tongue over my prick.

“That’s fucking incredible bitch.”  She was sobbing so loud it wasn’t even funny as her tongue moved over my dick and balls.

“Time to get you out of those clothes cunt, don’t make a fucking sound, understand me?”  I slapped her across the face again.

“Never mind.”  I laughed as I picked my boxers up off the floor and stuffed them between her lips, they were wet with pre-cum.

“How does that taste slut?”  I grabbed a piece of duct tape and put it over her lips then I spit in her face.  Her eyes jerked shut as the saliva hit her skin.

“Get off your knees cunt.”  I grabbed her by the hair and tugged her to her feet, she squealed as I pulled hard on her hair.

“I want to see that skanky little body of yours.”  I picked the knife from where I dropped it on the floor and brought it to her face.

“I’m going to cut your arms free, and then you’re going to strip for me, understand.”  Allie cried as I put the tip of the blade up under her chin, making her lift her head higher making her stare me in the eyes.

To be continued…

Each year a eight or ten are found large and strong enough to serve as possible mounts.  They were sent to learn about tack and saddles at an intense summer program under the direction of experienced riders and in the Fall, are assigned to a trainer.

Ethan’s mother was deeply interesting in racing and his house was filled with racing souvenirs and paraphernalia.  No one was surprised when Ethan tried out for the Riding program.  He was known as a hard worker but a mount needed adequate size to carry a rider.  Many were surprised by the growth spurt at the end of his Freshman year and his qualifications were obvious at the end of his Sophomore year.  His mother had chosen her sperm donor wisely.  That summer, he learned to bear a Pony’s saddle, bridle, and control rods.    He was worked hard by the experienced equestriennes.  He quickly gained strength and stamina to match his great heart.

Ethan wore the blue and gold Suffragette colors when Beth, a new freshman, first saw him.  He stood proudly in his tack and saddle.  Sheridan, a senior girl, ordered him down and he dropped smartly to one knee.  She showed Beth how to grasp his bridle and mount.  Beth swallowed her trepidation.  She had ridden before though and had no lack of moxie.   She grasped his bridle in her right hand and lifted her right foot to his muscular thigh.  She swung her left leg over his neck and neatly mounted the large creature.  That first day, he only walked with Beth in the saddle and Sheridan leading him but Beth’s potential as a jockey quickly became apparent.

At first, Ethan ran under Sheridan who taught him to respect the control rods and answer promptly to her crop.  He learned to run with a rider.  He learned to sprint.  His strength and stamina increased further.

Beth learned too.  She learned to help a mount don and doff his gear.  She learned to ride at the walk, jog, stride, and finally sprint.  She learned to use the tools of her trade, the control rods and crop.  She learned to bring her mount to an all out sprint and how to keep his speed under control.  She learned exit the starting gate cleanly and to negotiate the press of bodies at the start as jockeys and mounts tangled for inside position.  She learned to read her mount to know just what she might ask of him.  Some mounts required strong encouragement while others required restraint lest they exhaust themselves too soon.  Too many novice jockeys failed to read the warning signs and blew their mount too early.  If their mount didn’t collapse under them, they staggered painfully across the finish line lagging behind the rest of the field.  Beth had the small stature, physical courage, and will to win of a champion.  She also seemed to have a special rapport with her mounts.

Ethan ran under the other exercise girls and jockeys, but Beth was his favorite.  Though only a freshman, she was ranked second among the jockeys by the end of the year.  In her sophomore year, she enjoyed breaking in the green mounts who had just graduated the summer program but Ethan carried her to a number of victories for the Cady Stanton Suffragettes in dual meets against the neighboring high schools, the Steinham Valkyries, the Freidan Freedom Riders, and the Greer Riot Grrls.  She and Ethan would go to Sectionals.

II

The long drive to the Sectionals  had been difficult for Ethan.  This was his first year.  He had been uncomfortable riding alone in the close confinement of the pony trailer.  Beth had ridden up front in the car with her coach and her best friend Amy.  Beth noted his nervousness and uncharacteristic ill-temper when she led him down the ramp and to his stall.    Riders and mounts were arriving in scores for the Sectional race the following day and the tumult and noise elicited a palpable unease.  Her light conversation did little to relieve Ethan’s anxiety.  He settled poorly in the unfamiliar stall.  Finally,. Beth apologized to Amy and decided to spend the night with her mount rather than in the motel with the others.  Amy wasn’t pleased in the least and promised to come by first thing in the morning.

Beth showed Ethan where he might attend to nature’s call and gave him a few moments privacy.  She found something for him to eat and urged him to lie down in the straw.  She had her jeans and bulky hooded sweatshirt.  Ethan had only his trunks.  She covered his large body with a coarse blanket and spread her blankets right next to him.  She assured him that she’d be right back and left to see to her own needs, securing the stable door behind her.

She returned and slipped into her blankets.  The stables were poorly heated and the damp chill drove Beth ever closer to her large, warm mount.

Ethan derived real comfort from her close presence, the quiet sounds of her soft breathing and her familiar fragrance.  Once upon a time, such an arrangement would never have been allowed.  Most would have thought the petite young woman at risk for virtue and even life from the hormonally crazed adolescent male.   Those times were safely in the past.  Beth was his jockey and Ethan was her mount.

Ethan’s skin felt deliciously warm to Beth’s cold hands.  Sleeping, he seemed totally unaware of her frigid touch.  She snuggled even closer and her nearness seemed to quiet him.  She ran her hands gently over the strong muscles of his bare back and flanks.  He did not stir when she lightly kneaded his powerfully built buttocks. Finally, she rested her frigid hands  between his brawny thighs.

Inadvertently, Beth brushed his bulging ball sac.  Ethan was intact, while most of the older certified mounts had been gelded.  Intact males were notoriously distractible, lazy, and prone to violence.  However, elite riders usually preferred intact males because their greater competitive spirit and special bond that might be forged.  Ethan was too young for such considerations.

Beth felt Ethan relax at her touch.  His body’s warmth cut the chill and soon Beth fell asleep also.

Beth awoke first in the dim light before dawn.  Ethan slept soundly.  Nestled between his muscular thigh, her hands were snug and warm.  A mischievous notion seized her, she slid her hand carefully up the inside of his thigh.  The coarse hairs tickled her palm.  She slipped her hand inside the cuff of Ethan’s trunks and stroked his muscular buttock.  She imagined how he’d look with her brand.  Some day she would own a string of boys.  She grinned wickedly and reached for his sex.  As she guessed, her Ethan boasted his morning erection.  She encircled his girth between her thumb and index finger.  He sighed.  Beth froze motionless, then carefully removed her hand.  He did not wake.

III

The field was unusually large at the Sectional meet.  The ponies and their jockeys lined up shoulder to shoulder in the starting gate, eager for the final race to begin.  Beth and Ethan, in Suffragette blue and gold,  had done well in the preliminary races and stood third of ten from the inside rail.  The start was delayed until the track could be cleared.  Beth and the other jockeys worked frantically to calm their anxious mounts.   The doors opened and Ethan surged forward, leaving the gate cleanly.  Beth brought down her stick sharply to send him forward.  A whip cracked and the mount to her right hand panicked and jumped inside.  Ethan swerved and shot inside to avoid him only to collide with the mount to his left.  Mounts and jockeys went down in a jumble of arms and legs.  Somehow, Ethan avoided the pile-up and kept his feet. It wasn’t pretty but he won!

Ethan was still in high spirits from his hard-won victory.  The race had been grueling.  Breath came only raggedly and with effort.  His muscular chest still heaved from exertion.  His powerfully built legs still wobbled and trembled unsteady.  Utter glee and slowly resolving oxygen debt contributed to his giddiness.

Beth was exhilarated too.  She simply loved to win.  She wore her best leather boots, the brightly colored blue and gold silk top and white jodhpurs of the of the Cady Stanton Suffragettes.  Spurs were not allowed in the high school division.  Ethan wore only trunks, shoes, socks, his saddle, and tack.  In high school meets, the mounts always wore shorts.  After high school, males always ran naked except for their gear.

Beth knelt at Ethan’s feet to help remove his shoes.  Her Ethan was quite able to take off his own shoes but this was something that a jockey always did for her mount.  She had always dreamed of being a jockey.  She sat in Ms. Collins class and cringed at her teacher’s vivid retelling of the horrors of the Patriarchal Age.  She gave thanks that she lived in a more enlightened time.  Some day she would own her own string of ponyboys.  She half listened to Ms. Collins’ frightening tales, half-glanced at the frightening images she presented, and filled her notebook with various designs for her personal brand or mark.

Ethan bent at the waist, rested his large hands on his muscular thighs, and caught his breath  He felt his strong thigh muscles quiver with fatigue.  He looked down at Beth, kneeling at his feet as she wrestled with his stubborn laces, and tried to catch a whiff of the faint fragrance of her perfume.  She was small, but she wielded the damned whip with great energy and unwanted strength.  The laceration on his body showed her handiwork.  She loved to win every bit as much as he.  Perspiration had darkened the bright colors of her racing silks.  She usually smelled of soap and understated perfume  Now a more primal scent admixed with the others and yielded an even more alluring fragrance.  He thought just perhaps to bend a bit further and nuzzle her sweat-damped hair.

Just then Beth looked up to see him staring down at her. Ethan dwarfed the smaller woman.  “Ethan, lift your foot, she said, brooking no nonsense.

Ethan stopped and did as he was told.  Beth slipped off one shoe and stocking and then the other shoe and sock in turn.  She inspected his feet for any injuries. An army marched on its belly but a pony ran on his feet.

Her task completed, Beth stood.  Her usually deft fingers fumbled with his belts and straps as she helped him from his saddle and tack.  His perspiration had made everything slippery.

“Mount,” she said and Ethan dropped to his left knee in the ‘mount’ position.  To mount, Beth would grab hold of his bridle with her right hand, step up onto his broad thigh with her right foot and swing her left leg over this muscular neck.  Today, Beth reached forward to remove the bridle.

Kneeling, Ethan’s eyes were at the level of her chest.  He studied her blouse and cursed the pearl white buttons that held it closed.  He saw the outline of her pert breasts beneath her silks.  Perspiration had made the material translucent. He might just lean a bit forward and press his cheek against her inviting chest.

“Great race, Beth!” exclaimed Amy as she pushed into the stall.  She startled Ethan and he straightened quickly with Beth never learning of his intent.  Amy was tall.  Not just taller than her petite friend but tall and long legged.  “you did the Suffragettes proud. For a moment, I was certain that that cock-sucking Steinham Valkyrie bitch would beat us,” Amy confessed.  Steinham and Cady-Stanton High Schools were long-time bitter rivals.

“Great mounts make great riders.  I never doubted Ethan would win,” Beth said.

“Great race, Ethan – Beth -  really,” gushed Madison, one step behind.  “give the poor bugger some credit too.  He did all the work.”

“Not quite all the work,” insisted Beth. “My whip arm will be stiff and sore in the morning.  I may even have a blister from gripping it too tightly.” She studied her hand.

“Poor baby.  I’ll give you some ibuprofen.  Just look at poor Ethan.”  Amy pointed to the red streaks that Beth’s crop had inflicted on his flanks and thighs as she brought him in a winner.  Several of the deeper gashes still shed dribbles of blood

“He’s really magnificent, Beth,” Madison said, looking admiringly at Ethan.

Madison helped Beth with Ethan’s tack and Ethan thoroughly basked in all this feminine attention.

“Ethan, you are quite a fellow!”  Beth admitted to Ethan. “I’ve been trying to get Amy to ride you,” she explained to her friends, “forever!  Every time, she chickens out.  You’re really a great mount.  Here, let me show you off for my friends.”  She looked directly at Ethan.

“No,” Ethan retorted.  “I know what you want.  Never!”

“Ethan,” she smiled.  She felt a bit ridiculous arguing with her mount, even if he was her Ethan.  “Take off those silly shorts Let them see you.  You’ve got a great body and no reason in the world to be ashamed.  Like Madison said, you’re really magnificent.”

Ethan looked at Beth.  He saw no sign she would back down.    Then he appealed wordlessly to Amy and Madison.  Their faces betrayed their amusement.

“You know, Ethan, you haven’t got anything we haven’t seen before,” Madison explained matter of fact, “and we’ve probably seen better.”  Ponies ran naked except for their gear in the senior division. One could see riders and their mounts in the park all the time.  One could see races on the flat screen in super high definition.

Ethan thought hard for a long moment.  “Tell you what.  I’ll take off my clothes for you, Beth, but only if you take off your clothes for me.”  Ethan smiled broadly at his clever stroke.  He looked to Amy and Madison to sanction his victory.

Amy and Madison were shocked by his temerity.  Now Beth’s face revealed her shock.  Temporarily stymied, she  thought very carefully before she spoke.

Ethan felt pretty good about himself.  He had strong feelings for Beth.  He carried her on his shoulders endlessly in training as well as in his races.  Her weight was nothing to him but the fragrance of her perfume filled his head and dreams – both sleeping and awake.  Her sweet breath warmed his ear as she urged him forward.  When she hunched forward her soft breasts touched his head.  He wondered if he might turn his head and take her nipple in his mouth.  For the races, she wore her white jodhpurs.  In practice, she wore only brief shorts.  Her smooth trim thighs rested skin to skin on his massive shoulders.  The secret place between her thighs pressed firmly up against his heavy neck.  He studied her face and watched her lips press together while she formulated her answer to his challenge.   He allowed himself to wonder how those lips might feel pressed against his.

“Well Ethan, okay,” Beth said, surprising even Ethan and leaving her friends utterly speechless.  “But gentlemen first.”  “Gentlemen” was an old expression one no longer heard too often.  Ethan’s studdly behavior was becoming clearly annoying.

Ethan crowed his victory.  A triumphant grin stretched his face.  He turned his back to the women and stripped off his briefs.

He had a great ass.  Beth imagined her latest brand design on his muscular left buttock.  She wondered if she would have the nerve to brand him herself.  Branding required some skill but a woman forged a special bond with the mounts she branded with her own hand.   “The jockstrap too,” Beth reminded him, “remember, you agreed, naked.”

He turned away , hesitated, and then complied awkwardly.  You and me both, he thought, rejoicing. He waited a long moment before turning to face Beth, Amy, and Madison.

Beth stepped in beside him and slipped an arm around his waist. She was truly fond of the creature.   Inadvertently, she touch a tender laceration left by her whip.  Ethan pulled a little bit away.

“Sorry,” she said chagrinned.  “Say, isn’t my Ethan magnificent, just as I said!”

Once upon a time, a male might intimidate a score of healthy adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia.  That time was safely in the past.  However, his “otherness” was striking – the mere size and bulk of him, his heavily muscled male angularity compared to the graceful rounded feminine curves.    His exuberant hirsutism betrayed his kinship with the bestial.  In a well run stable, he would be depilated for reasons of hygiene and aesthetics.  His ample male parts, once symbols of male power and authority, were now incontrovertible proof of his innate inferiority.

Ethan’s muscular body was every bit as impressive as the older ponyboys who raced naked at the track.  Scientific nutrition and long hours of strenuous training had made the most of the outstanding physique he had brought to the program.

Ethan put his large hands on his hips.  “Okay Beth, take off your clothes now.  Now I get to see you naked.”  He looked to Amy and Madison for support.  They had heard Beth promise, after all.

Amy and Madison looked at their friend, Beth, their sincere unease evident in their faces.

Beth showed no hint of distress. Beth took Ethan’s face in her petite hands and pulled him toward her.  Ethan closed his eyes and allowed himself to be guided.  She deftly avoided his questing lips and kissed him wetly on his broad forehead.  She was honestly fond of the big guy.  Boldly, she took his sex gently in her hand.  With both Amy and Madison there, she had no doubt she could control him.  Ethan was a silly name for a ponyboy.  Someday, he would have a real ponyboy name.  “Can Amy touch you too?” she whispered.

Her small hand on his sex made rational thought difficult for Ethan and coherent speech impossible.  Her warm hand just  felt so good.  He wanted to say, no, but he feared that Beth would take her hand away.

“I really don’t want to,” Amy objected.  Ethan breathed a sigh of relief.

I do!” volunteered Madison cheerfully.  Madison gave him little time to refuse.

Ethan started to protest but the kneading movements of Beth’s hand on his sex made coherent speech difficult.

Madison cupped his ball sac gently.  She certainly didn’t want to hurt him.   The coarse hairs tickled her palm.

“Amy, you should cop a feel.  He feels really weird.”  Ethan’s ball sac bulged ripely.  Most ponies in a stable were gelded.  Intact males tended to lazy, distractible and prone to violence.  However, elite riders generally favored intact males because of their greater spirit.

“I hope you guys wash your hands before you touch me!” Amy exclaimed.  She hoped her friends weren’t secret stag hags.  The mere notion of a large hairy male forcing himself into her most private places, nauseated her.

Without volition, Ethan’s  body responded to all the feminine attention.  His penis grew to fill Beth’s fist.  He was still uncircumcised.  He’d lose his foreskin promptly in a properly managed stable.  Lacking enthusiasm for a messy climax, Beth dropped him and put her hands on her hips.

Ethan overcame his burning humiliation with some effort.  “Okay Beth, I did what you wanted.  Now it’s time for you to get naked.  I want to see your little titties and cute little ass.”

“Okay Ethan, you’ll see me naked, I guess,”  Beth said with apparent resignation.

Amy and Madison gasped aloud.   Would their friend really humiliate herself?

“Close your eyes.”  Ethan enthusiastically complied. “And turn around.”

“You can see me naked, in your dreams!”  Beth slapped his butt sharply for his unbelievably egotistical presumption.  She then led Amy and Madison from the stall quickly, closing the door behind them.

“Can I open my eyes now?”  Ethan asked plaintively, but no one answered.

IV

Beth had told Ethan to meet her at the stables on Sunday, one last time.  High school was over now for Ethan and his promising future lay glistening before him but they had had so many pleasant times and shared  so many treasured memories.  They had been a championship pair on the Cady-Stanton Suffragettes equestrian team.  Beth was Ethan’s favorite jockey and Ethan was Beth’s favorite mount.  High school was over and Beth looked forward to one last ride.

Ethan went down to the stables, changed into his shorts, and waited.  In high school, mounts wore running shorts, brightly displaying in school colors. After high school, mounts ran naked except for their gear.  Custom required Ethan to wait and let his jockey put on his saddle and bridle and place the control rods, wooden dowels secured in his ear canals that put his greater strength fully under the control of his smaller rider.

Beth arrived no more than a few minutes late.  She wore battered leather boots, a casual tee shirt and jeans rather than her brilliantly colored racing silks and white jodhpurs.  After sharing a hug, Beth donned her leather gloves.  Ethan knelt and she helped him with his saddle and bridle.  She placed the control rods.  He stood; the saddle securely restrained his strong arms.  Beth pulled down on his bridle and Ethan leaned forward.  She placed a hand on either side of his head and kissed him fondly on the forehead.

Playfully, she pushed him away and inspected her mount one last time.  Reminiscences of past races, proud victories and hard fought defeats, flashed through her mind.  “One more thing,” she said aloud.

Her words puzzled Ethan.

Beth put her hands on his hips and deftly unfastened the buttons on his shorts.  A sharp jerk of her hand left him stark naked.

Surprised, he pulled away.

Beth yanked his bridle back sharply, yanking on the control rods and quickly quenching any insubordination.  “Ethan, come on!  You’re not in high school anymore.”

“You’re still in high school,” he added.

Real mounts don’t wear clothes.  You just looked so silly.  You’re magnificent.  You have no reason to be embarrassed.  If I were as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t ever wear clothes.”  She tucked the shorts securely in her pocket.  Her collection at home included the shorts of all the mounts she had defeated.

Ethan was confused.  Beth had seen him naked already.  He grimaced to remember how she had tricked him after their last race to the amusement of her friends.  However, he had found it utterly impossible to stay angry at her. She meant so much to him.  If he thought about it,  Ethan had to agree that she was correct.  After high school mounts were naked.  Older ponyboys ran naked in the park and on the flatscreen.  He had seen them himself..  However, never before had he been placed on public display.  One upon a time, a lone male might intimidate a dozen adult women simply by threatening to expose his male paraphernalia.  That time was safely in the past.

Suddenly, he realized that his Beth must ride other mounts too.  When she was older, they would be naked too.  He, at least, would be her first.

“Mount!”  Beth commanded and by reflex Ethan dropped to his left knee.  Beth grabbed his bridle and stepped up with her right foot on his brawny right thigh.  She swung her left leg over his neck and settled comfortably into his saddle.

“Up!” she ordered.  Some day she would own a string of mounts and she hoped they would be as sound and well trained as her Ethan.

Ethan felt her spurs jab sharply into his flanks.  He had never felt anything like it.  In high school riders did not wear spurs but Ethan recalled that he was no longer a high school mount.  Two more years of high school remained for Beth.  Ethan rose smartly and let Beth guide him forward into the yard.  On a weekend, the yard was busier than usual with mounts and riders, but the pair attracted little attention.

The stable lay on the edge of a vast park.  Beth brought her mount to a jog and then to an easy stride.  Ethan ran gladly and carried her effortlessly.  He had had long practice and he lived for these precious moments with her.   He ran and took pleasure in Beth’s closeness.  He relished the feel of her weight in his saddle.  The fragrance of her hair filled his head, even if her scent was only shampoo and cleanliness.  The secret place between her thighs pressed up against his neck, at times more urgently than might be ordinarily needful.  .  He ran and felt her warm breath on his ear as she whispered fond encouragements.  He let all conscious thoughts recede.  He heard his feet strike the ground and the sound of his breathing and of hers.  He ran and lost himself in the seductive rhythm of his stride.

Abruptly, pressure on his control rods broke his reverie.  He came to a quick stop and looked about.  He saw another rider, Cicely Westfall, on a sturdy mount.  Cicely sat astride his brawny neck.  Her graceful legs, ending his booted feet, boasting shining, spurs, draped over his muscular chest.  Her sharp, shining spurs impressed Ethan mightily.

Beth greeted her cheerfully.  Ethan heard little of their conversation.  The control rods impeded hearing.

“I call him Gambler,” Ethan heard Cicely say.  His eye was drawn to the other male. Although the bridle distorted his facial features, Ethan recognized the mount.  Greg as a naked as Ethan.  Greg had been a senior and a leading mount on the Cady-Stanton team three years before when Ethan was a freshman and an eager beginner.  Ethan doubted that Greg would remember him.  Ethan had grown much over the four years and Greg looked even more muscular than he had as a senior.  Greg was now a certified mount.

Ethan noticed several further alterations.  First, Greg had been branded.  Second, the metal ring that pierced the end of his circumcised sex was linked to a second ring set below his navel, lifting his manhood from his groin and displaying his scrotum beneath.  His sac hung flat and empty.  He had been castrated.  Intact males were notoriously lazy, moody, and ill-tempered.  All knew their penchant for insane jealousy and their alacrity for violence.  Most equestriennes chose to geld their mounts to facilitate easier handling and maintain peace in the stable.

Ethan thought to greet him but remembered his place.  Ponies didn’t speak.  Most likely Greg’s vocal cords had been altered to prevent speech.  That was fairly standard for certified mounts.

The women chatted merrily.  As she talked, Beth stroked Ethan’s cheek with the back of her hand.  Ethan relished her touch.  He thought to ease his head back and see if he might press his head against her soft breasts.  At his first touch, Beth pressed a control rod forward sharply and continued her conversation without comment or hesitation.  Foiled in his plan, Ethan leaned his head forward.  He waited impatiently, eager to be back on the trail.

Greg stared back at Beth and Ethan with no hint of recognition.  He looked as impatient to be back on the trail as Ethan.

Ethan was grateful for the jab of Beth’s spurs as she brought him back into motion.  He took several steps, began to jog, and quickly returned an easy stride.  They came to a long flat section of the trail.  Beth saw no other riders, hikers, or bicycles that might get in their way.  She applied her spurs sharply and urged him forward urgently.  Ethan exploded into a sprint.  His speed exhilarated both Beth and himself.  His long strides devoured the ground and they seemed literally to fly.  Both were breathless when she brought him back to a walk.

Beth spotted Amy, Madison, and Laura up ahead at the picnic site beside the lake and brought Ethan back to a run, eager to meet her friends.

“Hey!” Amy shouted when they were close enough.  “Took you long enough.”

“We made great time and I’ve had a wonderful ride,” Beth answered.  “You should try him yourself.”  Tall long-legged Amy would have made an awkward rider, even if she had had the inclination.

“Hey, Beth.  Hey Ethan,” Madison called cheerfully.  Beth brought Ethan to a halt and Madison grabbed his bridle.  Perspiration cascaded from his body and pooled on the ground at his feet.

Laura stood beside Madison, a bit intimidated by the male’s obvious size and strength.  On one level, she knew that she had little to fear.  The male could kick but he was otherwise restrained by his tack.  On another level she remembered her lessons about the male alacrity for violence and the horrors of the Patriarchal Age.

“Ethan’s magnificent,” Madison gushed and petted his neck.  She had been party to his humiliation in the stable but Ethan still relished her touch.   She stroked his flank and slapped his buttock playfully to show her confidence and lack of fear.

“I worry Beth’s too fond of the smelly creature,” Amy warned.  Sometimes she felt a rivalry with the male for Beth’s time and attention.

“Mount!” Beth called and Ethan dropped to his left knee.  Beth dismounted deftly.  “I’m thirsty.” she announced.  Amy handed her a water bottle.

Ethan was thirsty too.  He eyed the bottle keenly.

“I’ll get Ethan a water, Madison offered.  Ethan’s hands were restrained by the saddle and Madison held the bottle while Ethan, kneeling, drank it down greedily in three long swallows.

“Let me give him a water too,” Laura asked with some hesitation.  She held the water bottle and examined the large male, kneeling naked before her.  She could smell the musky odor of his perspiration.  She didn’t want to stare but she couldn’t completely suppress her curiosity about the male paraphernalia hanging between his brawny thighs.  She had seen pictures in school but his immediate physical presence had an ineluctable reality.

His thirst less urgent now, Ethan studied the girl standing before him, the dark cloud of hair that surrounded her head, her bright eyes and curious smile.  He also saw her pert breasts pressing against her tee-shirt and a hint of her nipples and dark areola.  Ethan smiled broadly, hoping no one might guess the cause of his good humor.

Both somewhat distracted, he drank messily, spilling water on himself and Laura, her wet tee-shirt becoming translucent.

Studying for college finals for the last few weeks really bogged down my time at the gym for the last month so the next day I started my morning with a trip to the gym. I love fitness and staying in shape since I like to feel sexy with my 34b cups. My only complaint would be my small stature standing at 5’2. I was searching the internet researching different countries to see where I might have the most fun then an interesting picture caught my eye. I saw picture of a BDSM club in Amsterdam, Europe. I have always been interested in BDSM but I have never tried it. My darkest fantasy is actually being forcefully raped, but of course I’ve never been close to fulfilling such a wild and crazy fantasy like that.

I was somewhat nervous thinking of visiting a BDSM club and more so because it would be outside of the States. Still, I talked myself into it, noting that that most of my time will be spent site seeing, shopping, and having fun and not hanging out at some sort of creepy dungeon all day and all night for 2 whole months. It was decided. I told my family and friends that I will be going to Europe for the summer. I booked a flight to Amsterdam and packed my things and was ready for my summer vacation!

In Amsterdam, I checked in my hotel and started to plan my week. The night was young and before I hit the streets, I went through the coupons that I received from the hotel. Interestingly, there was a free 1-day pass to a local BDSM club. The expiration date for the vouchers was that very same night so I thought why not; I’ll check it out. If I feel uncomfortable, I’ll just leave and come back later. There wasn’t anything to lose. I decided to wear a skin tight white shirt with tight blue jeans, and then I headed out.

The club name was something like Slavoic or something like that, I forget. When I entered the club I decided to sit at a corner table to stay somewhat distant from the other people while I observe the area. As I ordered a drink, I was greeted by a man who was leading a girl around on a leash.

“You’re not from around here are you,” Lexington asked.

“No, I’m visiting from the United States. How’d you guess,” I replied.

“You don’t see many Asians around here, at least not in this club. Are you Japanese?”

“No, I’m Korean actually.”

“I’m Lexington, and you are?”

“My name is Alice. So I believe you are what you call a Master?”

“Yes that’s right. So are you collared or are you a Mistress?”

“Um, well I’m not a Mistress and I’m not collared but I guess being collared would fit my category if anything.”

“How long have you been here in Europe?”

“This is my first night actually. The thought of bondage and whips is exciting and I wanted to check this place out.”

“A brave little one aren’t you. Are you brave enough to crawl around here while I lead you around on a leash?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What have you got to lose Alice? You want to try it don’t you? As you can see, this is a safe environment. You have everything to gain. I promise nothing bad will happen to you. I’ll keep you save.”

At first, I was thinking this is crazy. Though I was reluctant to agree to his proposal, I had to admit that I did want to try it and it did seem safe. As you can imagine, I was nervous but extremely anxious to take him up on hi offer.

“I’m guessing I should call you Master Lexington?”

“That’s a good girl. Just call me Sir. Put this collar on little one.”

I already felt so humiliated after hearing such degrading words: “good girl” “little one”. It was such an exciting feeling! As I put the collar on, he tied the leash he was holding onto the legs of the table and told his “slave” to stay put. He then pulled out a leash from his pocket and snapped it onto my collar.

“Listen carefully Alice. You are free to stop whenever you want. You must answer all my questions. If you refuse to answer or if you reply with an incomplete answer, I will spank you once. Do you understand?”

“Yes I understand Sir.”

“Good. Do you have any experience with BDSM Alice?”

“No Sir”

“So I guess this is your first experience. Tell me your ultimate fantasy.”

“….”  I hesitated to answer. My mind just blanked out.

“Stand up and turn around and put your hands up against the wall.”

I did not answer and I sat still looking at the ground. His question shocked me and I knew I knew he would spank me. I’ve never been spanked before and guy was still a stranger to me. I knew I could stop but I didn’t. Lexington slowly pulled on his leash upwards and I stood up and submitted to his commands. I stood facing the wall and put my hands on the wall. Interestingly, I also spread my legs. I have no idea why, I did that. It felt like it was just natural.

“If you understand what I am about to do, nod your head.”

After hearing those words, I knew it was coming. I nodded my head and in a few seconds, with a swift motion, he slapped my ass. I felt so violated, yet at the same time, I felt so free at the same time and so relived to actually experience such a feeling.

“Alice, I want you to pull down your jeans.”

“Please Sir, I do not want to.” I really wanted to but I just couldn’t agree to it.

“Very well. Answer my original question. Tell me your ultimate fantasy.”

“Sir, I guess… I guess I always had a fantasy of being raped.” I said in a low tone.

I immediately turned around and told Lexington I wanted to stop. I couldn’t believe I just told a complete stranger such a crazy fantasy of mine. It was so dangerous and stupid for me to say. I was breathing heavily and was scared of what Lexington’s reaction would be.

“Of course Alice. Relax, you’re safe here. Take a deep breath. Please have a seat.” Lexington replied as he took the collar off my neck.

“I’m sorry Lexington. You’ve been more than kind but I think I’ll be heading back to my hotel.”

“Miss, would you please call a cab for me,” Lexington asked one of the waitress’.

“While you wait for the cab Alice, let me give you my business card. My company provides professional BDSM services. We are extremely professional and I think I’ve proved to be a true gentleman and wouldn’t you say your time with me was truly enjoyable?”

“…..yes it has actually.” I looked at him and smiled and took his card and started to the exit.

“Alice, I’ll be waiting for you call. You won’t regret it,” Lexington said as he sat at the table not even glancing at me, looking very calm, cool, and collected. Indeed a lasting impression.

I waited quietly outside for the cab just playing back in my mind all that had happened to me just now. When I got to my hotel, I took a hot shower. I was in bed but I got up to checked and make sure I still had Lexington’s business card. I sat on my bed dazed while I stared at the card for a few minutes. The business card said “True Dreams” and just had a phone number. I finally put it on the table and went to sleep.

The next morning, I just thought about having a relaxing vacation and decided to think about the other night sometime later.

A week passed by and as I returned to my hotel from dinner, the receptionist said I received a package. The package was from “True Dreams” which was Lexington’s company. As I was walking to my room, I pondered for a moment thinking how he knew where I was staying. The only thing I could think of was he somehow asked the cab driver that took me back to my hotel that night I first met him. Either way, I opened the package and found a DVD and some documents that looked like a survey. I played the DVD on my laptop which was a promotional video for True Dreams.

I looked over the documents which was a list of BDSM related sexual activities. The instructions state to cross out all activities that I am not willing to perform and to put a number 1-5 to all other activities, 1 being will but not too interested in doing and 5 being extremely interested in doing. I started to look at the extensive list. Some of the activities were: oral sex, anal sex, dildos, vibrators, and whips. That stuff sounds somewhat interesting but I started to freak out when I saw some of the more extreme activities like piercing and branding which I definitely thought to cross out. Anyways, I decided to hit the hotel gym before thinking about filling it out.

After coming back from my daily exercise, I took a hot shower and went through the list True Dreams sent me earlier. I decided to fill it out. It was somewhat exciting at first but actually a little annoyed by the end of it since it was so extensive. I wasn’t even sure why I was filling it out since I was almost sure I wouldn’t send it out.

I noticed an envelope that was slid under my door. I looked at the envelope and it was from True Dreams. I immediately called the hotel receptionist and asked them if they told anyone which room I was staying at. The receptionist said they would never give away my privacy like that but did state that they sent room service to deliver an envelope to my room that was dropped off just now. I was somewhat relived and thought at least I’m not being stocked.

The envelope was from Lexington and was hand written. He stated that we should meet tonight. He offered a free “session” tonight as a sample of what his company has to offer. He also stated that his company does not normally offer free sessions but said that our first time together was memorably enjoyable and hoped that it was for me as well. The rendezvous would be 10:00 p.m. tonight at the same club we first met. He wrote: P.S. bring the safe list. I think he meant the BDSM related sexual activities list.

I thought why not since it would be safe at the club. I double checked my safe list started to get ready. I decided to wear a sexy black mini skirt and a tight black shirt with a knot at the front to show some of my cleavage. At 9:30 p.m. I went downstairs and got in a cab and headed to the club.

When I arrived at the club, I saw a sign with my name. I walked up to the lady holding the sign and asked me to follow her. She took me to a private room and instructed me to sit down. A minute later, the door opens and Lexington walks in.

“Hi Alice. I’m glad you made it. Don’t say a word and put these on,” said Lexington. He gave me a collar to wear. I was hesitant at first but I decided to comply since it should be safe while I’m still this club.

“Alice let’s have a quick conversation. I’m not going to waste any of your time. You’re here because you are interested in fulfilling your fantasy. I’m here as a professional and I can make your dream come true. I want you to know that everything that happens tonight is free. Do you want to continue tonight?”

“Yes Sir,” I replied.

“Good. Then from now on, I will talk to you however way I want. Alice… you will be raped tonight. I have not reviewed your safe list so I am telling you the only thing that will happen to you tonight for the next hour is that you will be in restraints and you will be raped vaginally. Nothing else will happen. You will not be spanked, choked, no anal… only raped vaginally. If you agree to this, put on this ball gag.”

“If I put on the ball gag, how would I be able to signal you that I want to stop.”

“Alice, you will not be able to stop. I am a professional. I will know if you are hurt or cannot continue, at which point I will immediately stop. Trust me.” After thinking for a moment, I was just too excited to turn away. I put on my ball gag and was ready.

“Alice, bend over on that table and hold your hands behind your back,” pointing to a rectangular table.

As I was bent over forward on the table at a 90 degree angle, Lexington began to tie my hands behind my back and pulled the rope towards my neck and tied the rope to the back of the collar, effectively restraining my hands behind my back with little ability for movement. He went on to pull my skirt and panty off me. He then tied my left ankle to the left leg of the table and my right ankle to the right leg of the table effectively spreading my legs.

Lexington walked around the table and put duct tape over the ball gag in my mouth. He then tied a rope on the front of my collar and tied it to the table forcing me to stay in a 90 degree angle. My whole body was in absolute restraint with my bottom part of my body completely bare. I was getting so wet just thinking about my situation.

“You stupid little fuckin’ whore,” Lexington said to me as he started to rub my pussy.

I felt so degraded as he spoke those words to me and the thought of being so vulnerable was turning me on. As he continued to rub my pussy up and down, I had a strong orgasm shoot through my whole body! It was an intense orgasm, one of the most pleasurable orgasms I’ve felt in a long time.

“Damn you must have been a horny little bitch. You don’t know what you got yourself into little bitch. You’re going to get fucked hard. Have you taken a 9 incher?”

When he said this, I realized that we haven’t really talked about how hard I will be raped or how deep he’s going to go. I thought to my self that he’s right in that I don’t know what I got myself into. I started to noticeably panic.

“Shut the fuck up bitch,” Lexington said as he started to caress my face as if he wanted to silently ‘out of character’ calm me down. It did calm me down.

I felt what seemed to be a dildo tip teasing my pussy. The dildo was slowly slit into me. It wasn’t a huge dildo but it wasn’t small. I’d guess it was about 6 inches. Lexington was slowly sliding the dildo in and out. I felt so helpless and so humiliated but the mood was perfect. I really started to get in the mood and started to fight the restraints. I was about to reach my second orgasm then Lexington pulled the dildo out.

“Not yet bitch. Don’t move.”

Lexington walked out of the room and left me. I thought to myself that this was turning out to be a great experience. About 5 minutes later, the door opened and I heard multiple people walking in. I realized that we never discussed if there was going to be more than 1 person raping me!

“You guys know the rules,” Lexington said.

“You guys paid for this so enjoy it.”

After realized that Lexington was making money off me, I felt like such a whore. I was so shocked and appalled. I felt like I was tricked into this situation and there was no way for me to stop it! The first man walked behind me and started to slap my pussy with his dick.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard. Fuck you’re such a small lady, this is going to feel so good but I heard this is what you wanted. So what’s the largest penis you’ve ever taken? Too bad you can’t talk” the man said as he slowly inserted his penis inside my pussy.

He went on to grab both sides of my waist with his hands and he slowly pushed his penis in me. Judging by his hands, this man was a fairly large, well built person. Feeling his fully inserted penis, I thought it may have been roughly 8 inches!! This size was more than I could normally take as it was in contact with my cervix causing some pain.

“Are you ready bitch? I’m going to fuck the shit out of you and you can’t do shit about it you stupid little Asian whore.

I kept telling myself that this is all part of the act. I was pretty sure of it. Lexington hasn’t technically broken any of our agreements. He started to slide his massive package in and out of my pussy. It was pleasurable but every time it was fully inserted, it would hurt me deep inside. He started to hump harder and faster!! I was so helpless but it really hit me… I realized my rape fantasy was occurring at this very moment! My mind was going wild but my body, the pussy in particular, was in more pain than I originally imagined in my fantasies. As he kept pounding my pussy with his cock, the pain was great but my mind kept telling my body that THIS IS IT!! And that’s when my second orgasm hit me.

“That feel good bitch? Hah take my load bitch,” the man said as he pulled his cock out and started to unload his ejaculation all over my back. It felt disgusting… but I guess I knew this was all part of it.

Without a word, the next man came up behind me and just shoved his cock in my pussy all the way. I wasn’t ready for it and it hurt like shit! His penis was probably a similar size as the last guy at around 8 inches. He firmly grabbed my waist and lifted my body a few inches off the table. As he held me up, my feet were also lifted off the ground which was spread apart and tightly tied to the legs of the table. Then he began to pound my vagina with his rock hard cock, shoving it in and out of already ravaged cunt!! After that second orgasm a moment ago, my sexual sensations decreased and this no longer being a fantasy.

This was literally becoming a real rape. A rape that I consented to!! I was struggling and moaning with no avail. The pounding became so mechanical. As I was being pounded with his cock, I felt his thighs and lower abs bouncing off my ass making a *clap* sound with each thrust without missing a beat. My body refused to build another orgasm and my cervix was in excruciating pain with every thrust and yet, my mind was somewhat hoping that it never stopped!! I can’t believe I just thought this and that I really am just a fucking whore. After being ravaged in this position for the longest 5 full minutes of my life, the door opens and Lexington demands the man having his way with me to stop. To my surprise, the man stops immediately without hesitation.

I laid there tied down to the table like a broken, lifeless mannequin. I honestly didn’t know what to think. As Lexington was untying me, I wasn’t sure if I should respond to him angrily or if I should thank him. I decided I’ll let him talk first, and then I can respond according to how I feel.

“Alice, how do you feel,” asked Lexington.

“….” I didn’t reply.

“Alice, since this was your first experience, maybe it was more than you could mentally handle. Tell me if I’m wrong but do you have any regrets? Would you do have done it in the first place if you knew it would turn out like this?”

” I have no regrets.”

“Get dressed. There’s a cab waiting for you outside. Here’s a cell phone. I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss our services.”

Part 2 – Too Good to be True

Tired after a long day of school, Leslie returned to her rented apartment facing a pile of homework, a sink of dishes and a night of boring television. The college lifestyle seemed so easy and free from high school – freedom, partying, a future. Now, it just seemed like work.

22, single, with a few friends and a student income, Leslie pondered. Was this really all it was supposed to be?

Slim, with short brunette hair and an average body, Leslie never considered herself extraordinary – just average. Which suited her fine. With the other girls off partying, dancing, drinking…. getting into dangerous situations and trouble, Leslie was quite happy to stay at home and relax.

Tonight, however, she needed something different. She thought about calling home – no, she did that all the time, and talking to her parents and her brother had just become routine. Internet chat was just too much – guys trolling for partners, girls dangling availability….  or just people i the mood to fight and mouth off. Flipping through her notes, Leslie saw a phone number….  from a classmate, who had offered it to her in case she had questions about the upcoming test.

David.

Dave, actually. He preferred Dave. Sweet, charming, easy-going….. seemed like a good guy. Had a good handle on the class material – always happy to talk, even to the shy Leslie. He lived at home, and had a car, so if she called him….. he might even be able to come over…..

Leslie`s hands trembled at the thought. She`d been with a few guys as boyfriends before, even had a little sex, but nothing in the past year or so. She was always nervous, anxious….  worried that a man would judge her based on her 36B breasts or the width of her hips. She always told herself that she had nothing to worry about, but the thoughts crept in anyway.

Before she even realized what she was doing, the phone was ringing.

“Hello?”  It was Dave.

In a few moments, the plans were set. Notes, studying, 8:00. Her place.

!!!! Went the thoughts in Leslie`s head. The place was a disaster! But she had almost 4 hours to make it presentable. With that kind of time, she set off to make it clean and ready for Dsave`s arrival, all the while wondering….. does he like me enough to hang out? Or is he just coming to help with studying?

The doorbell chimed at promptly 8, and Dave came in and sat down. 2 hours of studying, a bag of chips and 2 cans of cola passed in a blur for Leslie, who knew – she wanted to feel a closeness with him, it was so nice to have someone here – but how to express it?

Finally, she just said it – “Dave, what do you think about me?”  Shocked that the words came out of her mouth, Leslie suddenly saw a grin across his face.

“Leslie, you`re a great girl. Smart, funny, happy, not full of drama….. honest, and to be hinest with you – very cute. Whether you believe it about yourself or not.”

Stunned, but feeling warm and happy inside, Leslie moved to the couch to sit with Dave, and she sat down beside him….. and they came together in a passionate kiss.

Leslie could feel the heat build inside her, she wanted more from this man….. but she was afraid. Afraid he`d go too far, afraid he would brand her as a slut if it was too easy, afraid to lose him if she moved too fast or slow. Her brain flooded and overspilled with emotions.

They discussed past relationships. Dave, 4 girlfriends – sex with two, but they both had plans to be with big, hulky rich guys. Leslie, 3 boyfriends – sex with the last one, who was her longest at 5 months. He had not been much – a little foreplay, a few strokes inside her until he came, and then he was done. Rather unfulfilling.

“Leslie”, Dave said, “How about I show you an experience like no other? I guarantee you will find out what it is like to climax, perhaps multiple times. You may even discover something about yourself you didn`t know.”

Leslie`s heart pounded. How do you turn down an offer like that? Is it too soon? Am I ready for that kind of thing?

It was an easy decision. Her trust for Dave was great, having known him for this school year plus the one before.

“What did you have in mind, Dave?”  Leslie asked sweetly.

Standing in her bedroom, Leslie began to feel hot as Dave explained. “The safeword is orange, I will immediately stop and we will make sure you are ok. Don`t be afraid to use it if you are uncomfortable.”

Leslie nodded. That was easy.

Dave explained as he gathered some scarves. “Bondage is a different kind of experience. It can be rough, it can be gentle, it can be painful. But done right, it always has pleasure.. ”

Bondage? Leslie`s heart pounded. Her head swam.

“I really want to try this, and Dave…. he`s so cute and fun…..”

Leslie decided to go for it, but with a condition.

“Dave, I have one limit.”

“Go on,” he answered.

“No sex.”

“No sex?”

“I`m paranoid about being pregnant, and I don`t want to risk it…. and I don`t know if I`m ready, and….” Leslie began to stammer out some words, but a simple shush and smile from Dave stopped her.

“No sex, is no problem.”

“Really?”

“Really. I will make you happy and climax in other ways.”

Wow. Leslie was floored. Climax? And he wasn`t insisting on sex?

“Leslie?” Came Dave`s voice.

“Yes?”

“Please take off your shirt.”

Her heart pounded as Leslie pulled her t-shirt over her head to expose her lacy blue bra.Dave`s eyes lit up in approval.

“Nervous?” Came his voice.

“A little. But I know I shouldn`t be”… Leslie answered, as she tried to calm herself.

“Bra too?”

Leslie easily reached around back, and undid her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts were exposed, perky and ready, for Dave to see. Her nipples were already hard with the anticipation.

“Very nice”, Dave said, as he pulled his t-shirt off and tossed it aside.

Leslie blushed, as she saw the pile of her scarves and bathrobe straps, waiting for her. Was she really going to let this man tie her up?

“Pants too, Leslie…..  if you`re ok with that…. it`s a lot easier before I start on you…”

Her head racing, Leslie undid her jeans and let them fall to the floor. She was now standing in just her black panties, which covered her trimmed pussy hair, and her bum.

“Do you prefer the bed or the floor?”

“Floor”, Leslie answered, knowing the carpet was soft, and gave more room.

Dave helped her to kneel, and gently took her hands in his, guiding them behind her back. She breathed deeply, trying to relax as her hands were fastened together behind her, with a soft scarf. It was an odd feeling, but surprisingly comfortable…. and she relaxed, knowing that Dave would take good care of her.

From behind, she jumped as Dave reached from behind her, and began to tease her nipples, while at the same time teasing her neck with his tounge. Leslie moaned in awe, as she never realized how sensitive she was at her neck.

Dave came around the front of her, and dropped his pants, leaving him just his boxers. Leslie could see a hard-on within, but she wondered – why would he agree to no sex?

Her question was put on hold as Dave grabbed another scarf and retreated behind her again, this time taking her elbows and working them together. Although she couldn`t touch them, she as close…. and she felt the scarf tighten around them. Looking down, she saw her breasts standing out further, and realized she liked the effect.

“Is that ok?” came Dave`s voice.

“Just fine” Leslie answered. She wasn`t in any pain, and it felt good to have her breasts standing proud, and she hoped it impressed Dave.

It must have. He went to work on her sensitive nipples, and neck….  and back, as she found out….. his touch was like magic, and before long her pussy was very warm, and wet.

Her moans surprised even her, as she found them getting louder and longer….. and without warning, she felt Dave`s hands track south…. to the waistband of her panties…..

His hand slipped effortlessly inside, and found her clit….

Just a few touches, and she was practically humping his hand at this point….

“Ohhhh, please…. ohhh god, it feels so good…….”

Leslie was in heaven, and she knew she couldn`t hold out much longer……  and then,…..

She came.

Hard.

She thought she might have wet herself, but it was just the juice from her pussy.

Dave stood, and walked over to the bed for more scarves.

Once Leslie`s breathing had returned to normal, Dave stood in front of her.

“Did you like that?”

“Uh-huh” was the reply.

“More?”

Leslie`s head spun. There could be more?

The girlie mags didn’t interest her half as much as these did.

Where Art had got them from, heavens only knew. But it was easy to see why they were hidden.

As she flicked through them, she felt something strange happen. She was actually getting incredibly turned on.  She had no idea why, but it was a fact.

It wasn’t the girls. They did nothing for her, but the ropes the girls were in. that was what did it for her.

For four weeks she waited until Art went out with his mates to the pub, then she would sneak in his room, get the mags, and leaf through them, imagining it was her tied up and helpless. Every time, she found her fingers under her skirt, stroking her pussy through the thin material of her knickers.

She simply couldn’t help herself. And the more helpless she thought she was, the more intense her orgasm.

Once, she had almost been caught out. Art had arrived back from the pub early, and she had to rush into his room, and get the mags back under his bed before he came upstairs. She only just made it in time, out of breath, both from running, and from the orgasm she had back in her room, at the thought of Art catching her with them, and tying her up as punishment.

She started searching the internet in the safety of her own room. Similar pictures were easy to find, and she spent hours looking at them, her hand a permanent fixture up her own skirt. The knickers had long gone, and she spent a lot of time with her own fingers in her pussy, whilst laying on the other hand, as if it was tied there.

The more she couldn’t move, the more she thrived on it. She knew she wanted to feel the rope itself on her body. On her naked body. But she was never going to ask Art to do it for her.

That would be far too embarrassing, especially when he laughed and refused, as she was sure he would do. There had to be another way.

Her search on the internet eventually led her to a site that dealt with bondage, but self bondage. The thought of tying herself up had never dawned on her. Would it be the same? She remembered when she lay on one hand, and pretended it was tied behind her, the rush as she came. She had almost screamed out loud. Only just in time had she been able to stop the scream.

Her parents would never understand. As far as they knew, she was still sweet and innocent. And to some extent, she was. She had kissed a couple of guys, but had never gone further than that. She had even seen one guy’s cock, but had refused to touch it, and certainly refused when he asked her to kiss it.

It wasn’t that she was saving herself for Mr Right or anything, she simply hadn’t wanted to have sex with them. One day, maybe she would. But not yet.

And now, these magazines were making her feel as she hadn’t before. They turned her on more than anything at all.

She even dreamed about being tied up. She was a captured princess, tied to a ship’s mast, or tied to a wall in a cell. Where didn’t matter, as long as she was tied up and helpless. That was all she desired, craved.

And with finding the self bondage site, she now knew she could try it for herself. But first, she had to find time, space, and the rope. Not to mention the actual courage.

It was fine dreaming about it. But what would it feel like if she actually went through with it and tied herself up?

The more she looked at the site. And watched how the other girls did it, she knew she could do it to herself, given the right circumstances.

They came out of the blue, and she could hardly believe her luck.

Her parents were celebrating their wedding anniversary, and decided to go back to where they had spent their honeymoon. Art was going to keep an eye on her, and the house whilst they were gone.

But Art had other ideas. He took her to one side the night before their parents left for their second honeymoon, and told her he had plans to stay away for a few days, but would be back before their parents.

“Look, Sis. Its going to be the only time I can spend with Lucy, alone. You know what mum would say if she knew Lucy and I were fucking. She would go ape shit. When they said they were going away, I booked a hotel room for me and Lucy, so we could spend time together. So, you get the house to yourself, and can bring your mates over, as long as there is no mess. And, as long as you don’t tell mum, I will also give you twenty quid as a bonus.”

She looked at Art in disbelief. She wasn’t shocked about him and Lucy. Lucy had already told her what a great lover he was. Not that she had been interested, but Lucy had told her anyway. The disbelief was that it meant she would have the house to herself for the whole four days her parents were away. And she knew where to get the rope from. Under Art’s bed. Unless, of course, he took it with him.

She decided that if he did, she would use her old school ties, and Art’s ties that he no longer wore.

“Okay” she said, almost reluctantly, hiding her excitement. “But I want the money up front. Last time you owed me money from my birthday box, it took me months to get it back”

Art smiled at her and opened his wallet, bringing out a twenty pound note, and handing it over to her.

As she made a move to grab it, he held onto it.

“This buys your silence Sis. Remember that. And if you have your mates over, the house has to be spotless when they leave”

“Don’t worry. Mum and dad will never know about it. And I wont be having my mates over. I need to study for Uni”.

Letting go of the money, he ran his fingers through her hair and smiled.

“Deal then, Sis. They are leaving in the morning, and I will be about an hour behind them. I will be back Monday morning. The hotel kicks out about ten, so I should be back by lunchtime. If you have any problems, and by that I mean real problems, it’s the hotel on Water Street. Call me, and I will come over and see what I can do for you. You shouldn’t have any problems that I can think of, so hopefully, we wont see or hear from each other until Monday”

She couldn’t believe her luck. She must remember to buy Lucy a better present for her birthday next year. As for Art, he would only get the same as he got every year, toiletries.

She was already planning what she would do long before her parents left the next morning. She knew she would have to be careful, and not take risks, but what she saw on the internet looked so easy, and so sexy.

That night, she lay awake picturing herself tied up, and had the biggest orgasm of her life, as she told herself that she would be, in less than a day.

She waited until her brother had been gone an hour, texting Lucy to thank her for taking Art out of her hair.

Lucy wrote back that she would be too busy to text for the foreseeable future, and ended it with a smiling face.

Now, she could think about what she was planning.

She had already checked under Art’s bed, and found the ropes still there. That would save her using school ties.

She was on the internet again, looking at the self bondage pages, trying to decide what she wanted to do first. She had three clear days, and wanted to try as much as she could, before she had to stop.

She started by getting undressed, after checking that all the doors and windows to the house were locked and bolted. By slamming home the bolts, Art could not come back and surprise her, without having to knock at the door. If he said anything, she would simply tell him a girl alone at home, can’t be too careful.

She started simply by tying her ankles together with a piece of rope, and tying them to the bottom of the bed. Another piece of rope came from one corner of the headboard, with a slip knot tied into it. This was for her hand. Slowly, gingerly. She placed her hand into the loop, and pulled.

Almost immediately her body began to tingle. She had done it. She had tied herself up, even though she still had the one hand free.

Her free hand immediately went to her groin, finding the way between her legs, and locating her clit. Even as she first touched it, it was as if she had been struck by electric.

Her feeling were overwhelming, as she coaxed her clit, teasing it. She found herself pulling at the tied hand, involuntarily. She didn’t want it free, but somehow, struggling seemed to maker her even more horny.

It lasted only minute. That she knew, but it felt like a lifetime. With no-one in the house now, she no longer had to hold back. Her fingers were driving in and out of her sodden pussy, as the orgasm seemed to rip her apart.

Still her fingers wouldn’t stop. They were already in as far as she could get them with her ankles tied, and stretched. But still she tried to get them deeper.

She had hardly noticed the pain as she had broken her own hymen, her fingers having gone so deep. The trickle of blood mixing with her own hot juices, were everything to her.

Only when she was physically tired, did she finally stop. How many orgasms she had given herself she had no idea. Each was as powerful as the one before. Her whole body shook like a volcano.

She didn’t even realise she was falling asleep. It was already dark when she woke, still tied to the bed, the smile on her lips impossible to remove.

She had done it. She had tried what she had dreamed about for so long. And it had been wonderful. Better than wonderful. It had been magical.

Slowly, reluctantly she used her free hand to released the other one, before finally releasing her feet. She needed to eat, she knew that, but more important, she knew she had to try something else. Something not so easy, something more exciting, and she knew exactly what it was.

As her dinner cooked in the oven, she went to her parents room. She didn’t even know if her mother owned one, but hoped that she did, and that they had no taken it with them.

She found it in a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Whether her mother actually ever used it or not, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to use it herself.  The batteries in it were still alive, but she knew that there were always spare batteries for the remotes in the kitchen.

As she ate, she changed the batteries, remembering to keep the ones she had pulled out safe, so she could put them back in afterwards. Hopefully, her mother would never know it had been used.

It was about eight inches long, and had ribbing all around it. It didn’t feel like a cock, not that she knew what one actually felt like, but she didn’t think they felt like that.

Certainly, the one that guy had tried to get her to kiss didn’t appear to have ribbing on it.

She lay it on the table in front of her, watching the whole time she ate. Soon, very soon, she would know what one felt like.

Diner was ate in a rush. She had better things to do, and eating was taking precious time away from her. She knew she did have to eat, but never before had she eaten so fast.

The ropes were now in the living room, where she planned to tie herself up next. The bed was fine, but one set of pictures had taken place in the living room, or a studio made up to look like one. And she did want to try to do the same, so she could tell how the girl doing it had felt.

She hadn’t dressed. There was no point in dressing, simply to undress again. And she was going to be naked every time. She did, however, take the precaution of going to the toilet. She didn’t want nature interrupting what she planned. That would have been unthinkable.

She had everything ready for what she was going to do. The curtains were closed, and with a last look at the internet site, she returned to the living room and prepared herself.

Although she had never felt one before, the vibrator was going to be the first thing. As she pressed it between her open legs, and felt it touch her pussy, she paused. She had no idea what it was going to feel like inside her. The only things ever to have been there, were her own fingers.

Slowly, gingerly, she started to press up on the vibrator. It felt strange, as if it shouldn’t be there, but at least it didn’t hurt. She had no idea how far it was meant to go inside her, but as she pressed, it seemed to go deeper and deeper. Once, she felt hit touch something inside her, and stopped. But moments later, she was pressing again, feeling it slide ever deeper into her pussy.

It felt a little uncomfortable, but not painful. She twisted it so the switch was at the front, ready for when she had done the rest. She tied her thighs together tightly, to stop the vibrator being able to slide out as she did the rest. Another piece of rope pulled her knees together, and a third stopped her opening her ankles.

She had seen this on the site, and had wanted to try it. Another piece of rope had two slip knots, one on each end. It was long enough so that later, she could get at least one end to her mouth, so she could use her teeth to untie it. Though she would not be able to see it. She passed one slip know over her left wrist, leaving the other end of the rope free, for later. Already standing by the sofa, she picked up the scarf that she started to tie around her head, covering her eyes. She would not be able to see anything after that, but she wouldn’t need to do.

According to the site, it would heighten the experience. Lastly, she lowered herself to the sofa, feeling the vibrator move inside her. It felt a little more uncomfortable, but when she lay flat, the pressure eased again.

Her fingers poised over the switch that would start the vibrator. She didn’t know what to expect from it. She had not even turned it on in her hands. Taking her courage in her hands, she pressed the switch.

Immediately, the thing came to life inside her. It was as if her whole body was being taken on a ride to somewhere new. She flung her head back, as her hips tried to move, as if trying to push the vibrator in and out of her.

Quickly, before she lost the chance, she found the other end of the slip knot, and placed her hand inside it, pulling on the rope to tighten it, her hands now behind her.

It was like no experience she had ever had before. The vibrations inside her pussy were like nothing she had ever felt. Her whole body was reacting to it, not just her pussy. Her head pounded with the blood rushing through her body, she thought it had only been one minute, when her tightness in her stomach exploded between her legs.

She screamed as the orgasm ripped through her like an express train. And still, it wouldn’t stop. Her head was flung from side to side in wanton lust. as the vibrator continued its job, taking her further and further away from the reality she had known less than a day before.

She didn’t know if sex with a guy was the same. She didn’t care. All she cared about was the reactions her body was giving her. The darkness of the blindfold had taken the world away from her. All it had left her with, was what she could feel, not what she could see.

And feel she did. Her stomach churned again and again as the vibrator brought her to the edge of orgasm after orgasm. Not easing hr over, but thrusting her headlong into them. It was incessant, unstoppable, unbelievable.

If her mother had not used the vibrator, then she didn’t know what she was missing.

She felt weak, drained. She could handle no more, but still the vibrator attacked her unmercilessly. It was pleasure, it was torture, it was all she could have wished for, and more than she could handle. And yet, still she made no attempt to bring her hand to her mouth to bring blessed relief from the onslaught.

She was hurting. She could feel the slight pain already, the incessant vibrations did not come without cost. She knew she had to stop it, to get free, but why? This was more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she could handle, and yet. And yet, it was pure agonisingly beautiful and exciting.

Only when the pain became too great for her to take anymore, did she bring her hand to her mouth. It took several painful minutes before her teeth finally released the ropes around her wrist.

Quickly, she pulled the blindfold off, and slipped her fingers between her legs, to stop the vibrator, but not before it had her screaming one last time in euphoric agony.

She lay on the sofa, too weak to complete the release, her hand were free, but her legs still tied, still holding the vibrator inside her. It had stopped, but she could still feel it, deep. She knew she had to get one of her own for Uni.

That, would be her first purchase. Long before books and bedding. It was, after this, number one on her shopping list.

Even as she fell into a deep sleep, the vibrator remained in place. She didn’t have the strength to untie her legs to release it.

It was daylight when she awoke. The sun was streaming though the curtains and she lay on the sofa, her legs still tied. It was only as she began to unti them, that she knew she had left it far too long.

The pain doubled her over as the blood began to rush back into her legs. The circulation hadn’t stopped, but it had been slowed dramatically.  And now  it returned with a vengeance.

Pins and needles in both legs. She tried to stand, but sank to her knees in agony, as the blood continued to rush back into her legs. The vibrator had slipped out as she had stood, and when it hit the floor, had turned itself on, as if to remind her of what she had done.

She remained kneeling by the sofa, hearing the vibrator rattle on the floor, unbelievable pain in both legs.

How she had let it go on for so long, was due only to her not knowing the effects the ropes would have over a prolonged period.  She didn’t know how long the girls on the sites remained tied, she assumed overnight would be okay. But now, she knew better.

For almost half an hour she knelt, unable to stand. Her legs felt cold to the touch, but she knew they were still very much alive. The pins and needles were testament to that fact.

The tears had bee falling  without stop since the pain began, and only now, was it starting to die down.

Her feeling were mixed. The intense orgasms she had felt, the wonderful feeling of being alone with it, and the pain of having left the ropes on for too long.

She knew she had to make choices. Either she stopped tying herself up, or she set herself time limits. As she finally. Found her feet, she sat on the sofa and looked at the ropes, and the vibrator in her hands, which she had only just stopped.

She already knew the answer. And it did not involve stopping tying herself up.

Uni was a week away. Seven days, and she could do what she wanted, in private, and not worry about her family interrupting her.

Uni was going to be fantastic. Of that, she was certain.

TWO

I guess it was just about a year or so ago that Ramsey had his accident.
Ramsey didn’t act any different after that time in Charley’s, and he never mentioned what had happened, then or any of the other times, and we sure as hell didn’t either, not to him–though you can bet when he wasn’t around it was about all we did talk about for a good long time. At the mill Ramsey was his old self, working hard and keeping to himself mostly. He was probably the best damn worker they had out there, and I never knew him to miss a day, either, until he hurt himself.
How it happened was he was using the big power saw, and maybe the board he was working on had a rotten patch he didn’t see or something, but the thing broke, and normally it wouldn’t be any problem for Ramsey, but whether he was careless or just unlucky or whatever, his foot slipped and the saw got away from him and got him right in the leg, just above the knee.
I wasn’t far away and I saw him go down, and when I got there he was twisting on the ground and the blood was just coming out like crazy. A couple of other guys got there at the same time, and one of them ran to get the mill doctor. I yelled at somebody else to make sure they called an ambulance, and then I got down by Ramsey, but there wasn’t much I could do but try to tie my belt around his leg to staunch the blood. That didn’t work too good, and I got some of that blood on me and it was a mess. It seemed like forever till the doc came running up. Then I started feeling weak and had to move away for a minute.
When I got back the doc had made some kind of tourniquet and wrapped the leg up temporarily, but blood was seeping through anyway, and Ramsey was white as a ghost. Then we heard the ambulance siren, still a ways off but coming closer. Ramsey looked around then, his eyes kind of glazed, but he saw me bending over him and started to say something. Doc told him not to talk, but you couldn’t tell Ramsey anything, even then.
“Josh,” he says, and he could hardly get it out, but meanwhile he’s digging into his pants pocket for something, and he pulls out a bunch of keys all tied together and holds them out to me. “Abby,” he chokes out. “Get Abby.”
“Sure,” I said, and I took the keys automatically. “I will, Ramsey. Don’t worry.”
“Be sure,” Ramsey says, and he’s forcing it out now. “Abby.” Then he passed out.
Well, the ambulance came and they got Ramsey into it and the doc went along with him, but they wouldn’t let any of the other guys come. I went to tell the section boss where I was going, then I went and got my car, it was a little jeep I had then, and I started out to get Abby. Because Ramsey didn’t have a telephone up there. He never much wanted to talk to anybody, Ramsey, if he didn’t have to.
Ramsey’s place was back in the hills, not real close to anything at all, and you had to know that area pretty well to find it. I hadn’t been out there since I was a kid, but I remembered all right. Going up there I started to wonder why Ramsey’d given me his keys, since Abby was sure to be up there. But I figured probably he wasn’t thinking too clear right then, and who would be?
Took me close to an hour, I guess, and when I got there it was pretty much like I remembered, just a clearing with the old wooden house, not very big, but Ramsey had fixed it up some and the whole place looked neat and not all scraggly like it used to. I figured Abby would hear me drive up and come out to see, but there was no sign of her. So I got out and went up and knocked on the door. But nothing happened, and I couldn’t hear anything inside, either.
I knocked again, louder, and I called out, “Abby!” I still didn’t hear anything for a minute, but then her voice came from inside the house. It said, “Go away!”
Well, that set me back a little. I waited a minute, then I pounded the door again. I yelled, “Abby! It’s me, Josh Hawkins. From the mill. It’s about Ramsey. He’s had an accident. Abby!”
No sound.
“Abby!” I shouted. “Open the door. Please!”
Then her voice came again. She said, “I can’t.”
I didn’t understand what was going on, and I didn’t know what to do for a minute there. Then I recalled Ramsey’s keys, so I pulled them out. It took me a couple of tries to find the right one, but then I did and I got the door open and went in.
She wasn’t in the front room, so I called her name again. I heard her say, “Oh, god!”, and she sounded real strange. It came from one of the other rooms–there was just the three rooms in the house–so I went to take a look. It was the bedroom she was in, and when I got there I stopped short right in the doorway and I daresay my mouth fell right open like a fool. I know I was so damn startled that for a minute there I just flat couldn’t move.
Abby was lying on the bed, and she was all stretched out, what they call spread-eagled, you know, and she was chained down there that way. I mean she had these handcuff things on both wrists, one end holding her wrist and the other end fastened to the corner bedpost. And she had cuff things on her legs too, only bigger, and they held her ankles to the bottom posts the same way. I want to tell you, she was stretched out pretty good, too.
She had on a kind of a dress, but it wasn’t much longer than that skirt she’d been wearing in Charley’s that time, and I’m telling you those legs stretching out like that in different directions–well, it just made my mouth go all dry, once I got over the first shock of seeing her like that. Not to mention I could see she still didn’t have on a brassiere or anything, and the way those round damn titties stuck up…
Abby looked straight at me, and her face was flushed but her eyes were real steady, and it was like she was daring me to say something, but I couldn’t say a word. I just stood there gaping. Then she says, “What happened to Ramsey?”
I had to kind of pull myself together and clear my throat once or twice before I could say anything. Then I said, “He just had a little accident. He–he cut his leg pretty bad, but he’ll be all right. They took him to the hospital.”
Abby just kept looking at me, so I said, “He told me to come and get you. He gave me his keys.” I still had the keys in my hand and I held them up for her to see. I felt like a fool.
“All right,” Abby says then. “You’d better use them, hadn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I says. I started fumbling around with the keys, looking for small ones to fit the cuffs, and I knew I should just get on with it and mind my own business, but my guts were just busting with curiosity or something, and I couldn’t stop myself. So I said, “I guess maybe it’s none of my business, but why does Ramsey–I mean, how can he…leave you like–like this?”
“You’re right,” Abby says. “It isn’t your business.”
I could feel my face get red. “Right,” I said, and I was so kind of embarrassed that I dropped the damn keys and had to pick them up and start going through them again.
Then Abby says, “It excites him.”
I didn’t say a thing.
“It turns him on,” Abby says. “To see me this way. He loves to come home and find me like this, completely helpless. His for the taking.”
I was getting a little tight in the throat. I picked out the smallest key I could find and went to the bed to open one of the handcuffs.
“It excites me, too,” Abby says.
Well, I kept my mouth shut, not that I could have gotten anything out without choking. I just got down by the bed and tried to fit the key in the cuff on her wrist, but my fingers weren’t very steady.
“You can probably see that,” Abby says. “I get very aroused being kept like this. I can’t help it. Ramsey and I are two of a kind, you see.”
Her voice sounded a little funny. I couldn’t get the little key to fit that handcuff, so I figured I’d try the other one. The bed was next to the wall, so I couldn’t go around, and I had to kind of lean over her to get to her far wrist. It didn’t help any to keep my fingers from shaking, let me tell you. I tried to concentrate on fitting the key in the lock, but it wasn’t easy in that position. Then, just as I was getting it, Abby sort of shifted on the bed, and I don’t know how she could move much as tight as she was pulled by those cuffs, but she raised her body a little, and her breasts brushed against me. Shit, I could feel those hard poky nipples right through that dress and my shirt. I jerked back out of pure reflex.
“Sorry,” Abby says, and she sounded kind of hoarse. “I told you it excites me.”
I was still leaning over her, sort of sitting on the edge of the bed there, and I looked down at her, looked down at that mouth, those eyes, and I guess maybe I moved toward her again without even knowing it, because when she raised her body again it moved against me like before. The blood was just pounding in my head and I couldn’t think worth a damn. I just looked in those damn deep eyes and she looked back at me.
And then she whispered, “Do it.”
And I kissed her.
Well. Maybe you think you’d of done different if it was you. And maybe you would, I don’t know. But just don’t be too damn sure. A man can feel pretty sure of doing right when he’s sitting back thinking about it, but that’s not exactly the same as being right there with temptation itself spread out underneath you. I can tell you that.
I wasn’t thinking at all once I kissed Abby. Oh, somewheres in the back of my brain I knew damn well it wasn’t right. I knew she was Ramsey’s wife and Ramsey was my friend. I knew it the way you know you should be going one way when a hurricane is blowing you the other.
That mouth was as soft and sweet as it looked to be, and it knew what it was doing, too. So did her tongue. I never wanted to stop kissing her. I was bent over so the top half of my body was just about touching hers, and I felt those damn breasts against me as she breathed. Then somehow I was sort of lying on top of her, still kissing her, and I had a hard-on like a telephone pole.
Well, finally we stopped kissing, and I raised my head up and looked down into those big brown eyes and she looked up at me. We were both kind of breathing hard. She must of been hurting in those cuffs with me on top of her like that, but she didn’t look like she was suffering.
Then, like before, she says, “Do it.”
I said, “Abby–” But I was choked up so I couldn’t hardly get it out.
Then she starts twisting underneath me. Just a little bit, which was all she could manage stretched out that way, but it was enough to drive me crazy. I had to kiss her again, and I did, and she kissed me back, kind of moaning, and her body is pushing up at me. Then she rolls her head away and says, “Now! Do it now!”
Well, it surely wasn’t what you’d call romantic. All I did was open my pants and kind of push them down, along with my shorts. Then I pulled her dress up, and sure enough there was nothing under it but her, just like in Charley’s. And then I was inside her.
It didn’t take very long, that first time, but it didn’t matter. We were both so worked up. Abby groaned and sort of squirmed as much as she could and made little noises in her throat, and I tried to hold back but there was no way right then. But we both finished at the same time, Abby yelling out with it just as I came inside her.
Then after a minute I got up and pulled up my pants. I was feeling kind of strange, maybe embarrassed, I guess, and I couldn’t look at her right away. I heard her breathing get back to normal, and then she says, “You’d better unlock me now.”
So I did. First I pulled her skirt back down, and then I finally managed to find the right keys and get the cuffs unlocked. Abby got up slowly. She was kind of stiff, naturally.
Then she says, “What did you say your name was?”
I didn’t know if that was funny or sad. “Josh,” I says. “Josh Hawkins.”
“Right.” She walked slowly over to a kind of dressing table and sat down and started brushing her hair. “I’ve seen you before,” she says.
“I guess,” I says.
“You were in Charley’s one time.”
I said, “Yeah. Couple times, actually.”
First she doesn’t say anything, then she says, “Did you enjoy it?”
“You mean Charley’s?” I says. “Or just now?”
She looks at me, kind of smiling a little. “Well, I’m pretty sure you enjoyed just now,” she says. “I certainly did.”
I said, “We shouldn’t have done it.”
She didn’t say anything.
I said, “If Ramsey ever finds out–”
“Don’t worry about it,” she says. Then she says, “Ramsey’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“I guess so,” I says. “But he cut his leg pretty bad.”
Abby stood up. “Let’s go,” she says.
So we left and got in the jeep and started out for the hospital. I was still feeling kind of funny about the whole thing and I couldn’t think of anything to say. After a while Abby says, “How long have you known Ramsey?”
Ever since we was kids, I told her.
She says, “I’ve never been able to imagine Ramsey as a child.”
“He was a kid just like anybody else,” I says. “Except more ornery than most.” Then, just for something else to say, I asked her, “How did you two meet, anyway?”
Abby didn’t answer that one right away. I didn’t ask her again, I just drove, figuring if she didn’t want to tell me that was fine, I was just making conversation anyway. But finally she starts to talk.
“It was back in Youngstown,” she says, “where I come from. Ramsey’s mother was living there, and she died, and Ramsey came east for the funeral.”
I already knew that, but I didn’t say anything.
“I was a friend of his sister’s–she stayed with their mother, you know, when the family broke up and Ramsey went west with his father–so I came to the funeral. And afterwards…there was this gathering of friends and relatives at the house, and that’s where I met him. His sister introduced us. And I–well. You have to understand. I was no pushover. Not that I was a virgin or anything, but I was my own woman, you know? Sure of myself. Pretty sophisticated, I thought. Able to look at men with a cool eye. So I–then I met Ramsey. I can’t explain this. His sister introduced us, and I put out my hand, and he took it, and–well, I fell apart inside. That’s all. He kind of looked at me and held on to my hand–not hard or anything, not at first–just stood there looking at me and holding my hand. And he knew. I think he knew even before I did, but I knew too.”
“Knew what?” I said.
It took her a minute. “That I–that he was–that I–I belonged to him. That’s all. I know it sounds crazy. It just–I couldn’t believe it myself. I mean, I didn’t want to believe it, for god’s sake, I wasn’t–like I said, I was my own woman. I thought. Up to then. But there it was, he just–And he knew it too. Oh Christ. He knew it right away.”
“What happened?”
She gave a short little laugh. “He squeezed my hand, that’s what happened. Just for a minute. Not even a minute, just a few seconds. But he squeezed it hard. And oh Jesus, I don’t know how he knew things about me that I didn’t even know, but I was ready to go down on my knees to him, right there. In the middle of all those people. Just like that.”
“Like at Charlie’s,” I said.
She glanced over at me with a funny kind of a grin. “Yeah. Like at Charlie’s. Only I didn’t actually do it. Oh, I probably would have if he’d told me to. And I’m sure he could see it on my face. But him, his face never changed. All he did was let go my hand, and all he said was, ‘Come.’ That’s all. And he walked out of the room.”
She stopped, like she was expecting me to ask her what she did, but I knew she was gonna tell me anyhow, so I just waited.
“And I followed him,” she says finally. “He went out in the hall and came to the staircase and walked upstairs, and I just walked up right after him, with all the people watching and looking at us. He went into one of the rooms up there, and I went in after him, and he closed the door.” She stopped again. “And then he said his second word to me,” she says. “He said, ‘Strip.’”
“So you stripped,” I said.
“Oh yes. And he stood there and watched. And then he stripped too, and then–Christ, I’d never had anything like it. None of this foreplay stuff, none of this tender lovey-dovey lovemaking like women are supposed to crave and respond to, oh I’d had my share of that, and I was just as brainwashed about it as anybody, thought that’s where it was at all right. But not with Ramsey. He took what he wanted, he was direct and forceful, and he was rough too, and the rougher he was the more I liked it. The more he took the more I wanted to give him. And when he hurt me I…Oh Jesus, I…I begged him for more. And when I–”
She suddenly stopped again, like she had to catch her breath. “Shit,” she said, and that shocked me for some reason. “I’m telling you more than you want to know. Sorry.”
“No problem,” I said. It wasn’t really more than I wanted to know, but probably more than I should’ve known. I was damn interested, but also I had a hard-on again. “Anyway,” I said then, “don’t tell Ramsey about–you know, about what happened before.”
“Well, I’ll try not to,” she says. “But I can’t promise he won’t find out. You know Ramsey.”
That sure as hell didn’t make me feel any better.

THREE

Some of the people at the county hospital knew me when they saw me, on account of I was kind of going around with this girl Molly, who was a nurse there. Molly was a real cute lady, blonde and kind of short–but curvy where it counted–and I guess you’d say we were more or less engaged, though it wasn’t formal or anything. Anyway I used to go there sometimes to pick her up when she was getting off work, so they knew me there, like I said. When I walked in with Abby the gal at the desk looked at me funny and said, “Hi, Josh. Molly’s not off yet, she’s just started her shift, you want to see her?”

“No,” I said. “No, I’m–we’re here to see Ramsey. Ramsey Boyce? Hurt his leg up at the mill?”

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, right. They brought him in earlier on. Let’s see.” She looks up something on the computer they got there. “He’s in room 313. I guess you can go up there if you want.”

“Thanks.”

We found him all right, and he looked okay, maybe a little pale. They’d patched him up and sewed up his leg and given him a bunch of painkillers and stuff, so he wasn’t feeling too bad. Abby rushed over to the bed and kissed him, and they whispered back and forth a little, with me standing there by the door, feeling pretty strange about the whole thing.

Finally Ramsey looks over at me and says, “Thanks.” Not one to waste a lot of words, Ramsey wasn’t.

“No problem,” I says. Now I don’t know if there was something in my face or my voice or whatever, but Ramsey’s eyes didn’t move away from me. He just kept looking at me till I got kind of uncomfortable, but I just tried to keep looking normal. Seemed like an hour he kept looking at me like that, but probably it was just a few moments. Then his eyes shifted to Abby. Her back was to me and I couldn’t see her face. He just glanced at her and then looked back at me. I could feel the sweat starting on my neck.

“How’s the leg?” I said, to distract him.

“Leg’s gonna be okay,” Ramsey says. “Be a big scar, they say, but it’ll work good as ever. Take a little time though.” He’s still looking at me.

“Knew you’d be all right,” I said. “Takes more than a damn saw to kill Ramsey Boyce, right?”

Ramsey doesn’t answer. Then he turns to Abby again. “Ab, why don’t you go to the can or something, let Josh and me talk a little.”

“Sure, Ramsey,” Abby says. She turns around and goes out, not even looking at me.

Ramsey motions with his head for me to come closer to him, and I do. I’m still trying to act normal, but it’s not easy. I don’t know what Ramsey’s thinking. I mean, there was no way he could really know about what happened with me and Abby, but you could see he was sensing something. He was the damnedest guy for sensing things, Ramsey was.

I sat down in a chair close to the bed. Ramsey’s still looking at me. “Guess you were kind of surprised when you found Abby the way she was,” he says then.

“Yeah,” I said, and sort of shrugged. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You have any problem getting her loose?”

“Nope. Just had to find the right keys.”

Ramsey nodded. Then he says, “Makes a picture, don’t it? Seeing Abby like that.”

I shrugged. “Guess so,” I says. “I was just thinking of getting her out of there so we   could–”

“Gets her kind of excited, you know? Being that way. Gets all hot and bothered.”

“Is that right?” I says. “When I told her–”

“What happened up there?’ Ramsey says.

“What do you mean? I just–”

“Josh.” Man, I knew that voice. I was sweating again, but I wasn’t about to let him see it.

“Yeah, Ramsey.”

“If something happened up there I want to know,” Ramsey says.

I made my own voice hard. “I told you what happened, Ramsey. I got her loose and we came down here. What the hell else?”

“You know,” Ramsey says, “if anything happened I’ll find out from Abby.”

“Well, fine,” I says. “Then you can stop this bullshit.”

“She’ll tell me, Josh. You know it. She’ll tell me everything.”

“Good,” I said. “Christ, you’re a suspicious bastard. Must be all those drugs they gave you.”

Ramsey just kept looking at me. “Okay, I’m going,” I told him. “I’ll come see you tomorrow.” And I got up and left.

As I was going down the hall I saw Abby coming back from the bathroom. I stopped her.

“Listen, Randy’s suspicious. It’s like he knows, but he doesn’t really, you know? I mean he can’t. But–”

“I know,” Abby says. “He saw it right away.”

“He says you’ll tell him. He says you’ll tell him everything.”

Abby closed her eyes for a minute, then opened them again, but she didn’t say anything.

“Christ!” I said. “You ARE gonna tell him, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t looking at me. “I told you I’d try not to, Josh.” Her voice was flat, kind of empty. “But I–If he really–Oh God, I can’t lie to Ramsey. He can see right through me. If he wants to know, he’ll find out. I can’t help it, Josh. I’m sorry.”

“Jesus,” I said. I was feeling a little bit sick.

“I’ll–If he does find out–I’ll tell him it was my fault,” Abby says. “I’ll tell him how it was. I tempted you into it, you couldn’t–”

“Won’t make any difference,” I said. “Ramsey’ll come after me. Probably kill me. I’ll have to fight him.” All the years I’d known him, I never saw anybody win a fight with Ramsey.

Then I thought of something I should have thought of before, only I was too busy worrying about my own skin. “Jesus Christ,” I said. “What will he do to YOU?”

Abby didn’t answer right away. Then she said, “I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll kill me, though.”

“But he’ll–he could–”

“I’m sure he’ll punish me,” Abby said. There was only like a little tremble in her voice.

“Punish you how?”

“I don’t know,” Abby says. There’s a pause. Then she says, “But you know, I enjoy being punished. Especially by Ramsey. You know that, don’t you, Josh?”

I knew she was thinking about the times I’d been in Charley’s back when Ramsey brought her in. But whatever it was she’d done then, it couldn’t have been near as bad in Ramsey’s mind as this. “Yeah, but–but this is–I mean, Ramsey could  get–”

“He won’t kill me,” Abby said again.

“Maybe not,” I said. “But he could damn well make you wish he would. Aren’t you scared, at least?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Then she says, “Yes. Yes, I am. I am. But…but being frightened is…the fear is part of it. You know? Being afraid is part of the excitement.” She looks at me then, and I could see that kind of melted look in her eyes, that look she’d had when Ramsey whipped her in Charley’s, the look I’d seen when she was shackled to Ramsey’s bed. It had made me hot then. Now it just made me feel sicker.

“Not for me it ain’t,” I said.

FOUR

Molly was working the nurses’ station on that floor, and I saw her on my way out. She gives me a smile and asks me how Ramsey is and I tell her he’s fine. Then she wants to know just how the accident happened, and I tell her that. Molly wasn’t too crazy about Ramsey, but because he was a friend of mine she didn’t bad-mouth him too much in front of me, and anyway she hated to see anybody suffering or in pain. I guess that’s why she wanted to be a nurse, part of it anyway. I was feeling kind of bad for what happened with Abby. Like I said, we weren’t really engaged or anything, but I guess we had what they call an understanding. I knew she wasn’t going around with anybody else, and neither was I, and since we’d got kind of serious I hadn’t fooled around with anybody either. Until Abby. I didn’t think Molly would like it too much if she knew, and I surely wasn’t about to tell her, but then I felt kind of bad about not telling her too. Things can get really damn complicated when it comes to women, but I guess you probably know that.

I think Molly could tell something was wrong–not the way Ramsey could see things, with those eyes of his that probed right into you, but more like women’s intuition, and because she knew me pretty good–but I guess she thought I was just upset about Ramsey’s accident. She asked me if I still wanted to go to a movie in town that night, like we’d been planning to do, and I said yes. I knew that afterwards we’d probably go back to her house and do it real quiet in her little bed, with her old father sleeping in the next room. We couldn’t go to my place because I was living in this boarding house, and the landlady didn’t allow the men to have women in their rooms. In spite of feeling kind of guilty, like I said, I couldn’t help thinking that this would be the first time I ever had two different women the same day. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking that way, but there was a sneaky kind of proud feeling about that. I couldn’t help it.

While I was talking to Molly, Abby came along down the hall from Ramsey’s room. I couldn’t remember if Molly had ever met Abby before, but I didn’t think so, so I kind of introduced them. I thought Molly had a kind of funny look on her face, but I didn’t think she could have suspected anything right then. I sure hoped not anyway. I had enough to worry about with Ramsey suspecting.

“Josh,” Abby says to me, “Ramsey said I should ask you if you’ll drive me back to the house so I can pick up some things. I’m going to be staying here for a while, until Ramsey gets better.”

Well that kind of surprised me for sure, but of course I couldn’t show it too much in front of Molly. “Yeah, sure,” I told her. “You want to go now or what?”

“Any time you want,” Abby says.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

Molly was definitely giving me a funny look now, but I didn’t want to think about it. I told her I would be back in plenty of time to pick her up when her shift was over, and I left with Abby.

As soon as we were in my jeep and out on the road I said to her, “Did you tell him?”

“He knows,” was all she said. Her voice was real flat and quiet.

“Jesus,” I said. I couldn’t say anything else for a while. Then I said, “Well Christ, if he knows, how come he’s letting you go back there with me, all alone?”

“I have to get my things,” Abby says. “And anyway, he knows it won’t happen again.”

Well I had never expected it to happen again, hadn’t even thought about it, but when she said that I have to say I felt a real kind of disappointment, just for a minute there, down in my gut, you might say. I was kind of mad at myself for feeling that, but it was just for a minute.

We didn’t say anything else all the way up there. When we got to the house, Abby says, “Just wait out here for me, okay? I won’t be long.”

So I waited, and I guess it wasn’t more than fifteen minutes or so before she comes out. She’s carrying this heavy-looking suitcase, so I jumped out and took it from her and loaded it into the car. Then we started back.

We were still quiet as we headed out. I was worrying about Ramsey, and Abby didn’t seem in the mood to say much anyway. The roads up there were pretty rough, and once when I hit a bump I heard her make a kind of gasping noise. I looked over at her and she looks kind of pale, and her mouth is set tight.

I asked her if there was anything wrong, but she just shook her head. But after a minute, when I look at her again, she’s got her head lying back against the seat back, with her eyes closed and her mouth open, taking long deep breaths, and her face looks like she’s about to be sick any minute.

I pull the car over then and stop on the side of the road. “Abbhy, what’s wrong?” I ask her again. “Are you sick or what? You want to get out?”

“No,” Abby says. She opens her eyes then and looks at me. “It’s all right, Josh,” she says, and it’s like she’s forcing herself to talk. “I’m fine. Just go on, okay?”

“That’s crap,” I said. “Something’s wrong with you. What the hell is it, Abby?”

She closed her eyes again, but just for a minute. But she wasn’t looking at me when she said, still in that kind of flat voice, “I’m hurting, all right? I’ve got–I’m following Ramsey’s orders, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ramsey told me to put these things on,” Abby says. “It’s part of my punishment. All right? Don’t worry about it. Just go on.”

“What things?” I says.

She kind of sighs, but not very deeply. “Clamps,” she says then. “I’ve got these clamps on my–on my nipples. Ramsey told me to put them on. He–he told me to put them on tight.”

I couldn’t help looking at her chest. She was wearing a kind of loose blouse, so I couldn’t make out too much, but there did seem to be a couple of unusual little bumps around where the nipples would be, though you might not even notice if you weren’t looking right there.

I didn’t know what to say. I mean I had heard of things like that, but it was hard to believe people actually did that kind of stuff in real life. Not in Montana, for god’s sake. “Tight?” I said finally. “How–what do you–”

She still wasn’t looking at me. “They’re adjustable,” Abby says. She’s breathing a little harder now, and her voice is still low but it sounds kind of strained. “They have–these kind–they have like little screws, you can make them as tight as you want. Or not. Ramsey told me to make them tight this time. As tight as I could stand it. Okay? Can we go on now please?”

I couldn’t believe this. “God damn, Abby,” I said. “That’s crazy. You want to take them off? I can get out while you–”

“No,” Abby says. “I can’t. Ramsey would–No. It’s Ramsey’s orders. That’s what he wants. I do what he wants, you know that. Besides I–” She stops.

“What?” I say.

She closes her eyes again, and when she answers I can barely hear her. “I like it,” she says.

I can only stare at her. “Come on,” I said then. “That’s bullshit, Abby.” I don’t usually swear in front of women, I try not to, but this was too much. “I can damn well see you don’t like it,” I said. “You’re hurting like hell, you look like you can hardly stand it. I can hardly stand it myself, just looking at you.” Now this was true, in one way, it really was. But what I don’t tell her–hell, I could hardly even admit it to myself–was that there was something exciting about it too. Damn if I know why, but it was like when I watched Ramsey whipping her, or like when she was all stretched out in chains on that damn bed. I couldn’t help it that my dick was hard, but I didn’t have to like it.

“Yes, I’m hurting,” Abby says. “But it’s–it’s what I–it makes me–Oh Christ, Josh.” Her body is kind of squirming around a little bit now on the seat. “It turns me on, you know that, you have to know that by now. I can’t help it. It’s awful, the pain, it is, but I–I need it. Oh god I do need it, Josh.” Now she opens her eyes again and looks straight at me. “If you felt my pussy right now you’d find it was wet,” she says. “If you put your hand on it. Right now.”

“Jesus, Abby!” I said. I nearly did, though. Ramsey be damned. My damn hand was already moving before I stopped it. “No,” I said. “Damn it, no!” And I started up the jeep and got back on the road.

We didn’t say another damn word before we got to the hospital. I got out with her and carried her suitcase for her, right to Ramsey’s room. I figured I might as well face him now as some other time. If he knew, he knew. Whatever was going to happen, I figured might as well get it over with. Besides, at least he couldn’t do too much to me lying in a hospital bed. Not that I wasn’t kind of scared anyway.

Ramsey barely looked at me when we came in, and the first thing he says to Abby is, “You got them on?”

“Yes, Ramsey,” she says.

“You got them on tight?” Ramsey says.

“Yes, Ramsey.”

And Ramsey says, “Make them tighter.”

By now Abby is white as a sheet, and really looks like she’s gonna be sick, worse than she looked in the car. And from what she told me, she’d already made them as tight as she could. I could see her swallow hard, but all she said was, “Yes, Ramsey.” Her voice so low I could hardly hear her.

“Look, Ramsey–” I started to say.

“Shut up,” Ramsey says. He’s still not looking at me, but his voice cracks like a whip.

Abby moves slowly over to a chair and starts to sit down. “No,” Ramsey says to her. “Don’t sit down. Just do it. Now.”

Abby starts to open her blouse, and she kind of turns a little away from me, though she’s still facing Ramsey. “Don’t be shy, Abby,” Ramsey says then. “Josh has seen your tits already. Right, Josh?”

“Ramsey, listen. If you–”

“Save it,” Ramsey says. “I’m waiting, Abby. You want me to do it?”
Abby goes even paler, if that’s possible. She kind of shakes her head, biting at her lip. She turns back the way she was before, and I’m standing there and watching as she unbuttons her blouse. I can see her hands are shaking a little. I don’t know what the hell is going on in her mind. I know what she told me, but I still can’t figure it out. I can damn well see that she’s hurting already almost more than she can stand, and that she sure as hell isn’t happy about it. And that she’s scared that Ramsey will hurt her even more. Yeah, she’d told me she liked it–or at least that she needed it. That it turned her on. I remembered what she said about her pussy. Was it wet now? I couldn’t believe it.

But I stood there and watched. And Abby got the blouse open, and there were her tits, only sure enough, the nipples were covered by little metal gadgets, and they were being squeezed all out of shape. I could see the little screw things on the clamps, just like she’d said. Her hands were shaking harder when she reached for them.

Ramsey was looking at me now. “Maybe I should let Josh do that,” he said. His voice didn’t have much expression in it now. Just like his face. “You want to tighten them for her, Josh?”

“No,” I said. I think my hands were shaking a little too, but I tried not to let it show in my voice. “Ramsey, this is crazy,” I said. “Look, we can settle this ourselves, okay? It wasn’t–I mean, it just–Abby didn’t–”

“I know what Abby did,” Ramsey says. His voice still flat. “I know what you did. Abby is being punished. She’ll be punished some more, but that’s not your lookout. You I’ll get to later.”

I made myself shrug. “I’m not scared of you, Ramsey,” I said, which was an out and out lie, and Ramsey damn well knew it. “Any time you want to have it out, fine. But you should let me explain to you about what happened. And this here is not right. You can beat up on me all you want, but this isn’t right on Abby. She couldn’t–”

“You see her leaving?” Ramsey says.

“How can she–”

“She ain’t tied up,” Ramsey says. “She can leave anytime she wants. You want to leave, Abby?”

Abby closes her eyes, then opens them again. “No,” she says, in a whisper.

“Then do what I’m telling you.”

Abby’s fingers are on the little screws now. “I’m going,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” Ramsey says.

But the thing is I didn’t. Not because of Ramsey. I just didn’t, that’s all.

Abby had said she’d made those things as tight as she could, and I believed her, but now she was damn well trying to do more. I saw her knuckles were white with her trying to turn those little screws even further, and she must have been doing it, because a little whining sound started coming from her throat. Her body kind of went stiff, and that sound got louder, slowly, that whining sound, it was like little whimpers at first, and then it was one continual soft moan, not loud enough for anybody outside to hear, but enough to damn well make me shiver myself. And those knuckles were still white. And then Abby gives one loud cry that sounds like some kind of animal made it, and her legs give out on her and she goes down onto her knees, all bent over and just kind of gasping really hard. Then she topples over onto her side. I don’t think she’s turning the screws anymore, but her hands are still on her tits, and now she’s squirming around and whining again, and sort of crying.

“Looks good that way, don’t she?” Ramsey says then. “You want to fuck her now, Josh?”

“Damn you, Ramsey,” I said, but my voice wasn’t too steady. I don’t know if he could tell that my dick was hard.

“Why not?” Ramsey says. “You fucked her once, don’t make any difference now. Go ahead. The way she’s hurting now, she’ll give you one hell of a ride, tell you that.”

“You must be crazy, Ramsey,” I tell him. “Or they give you too much drugs, one. How about letting her take those things off now?”

“Why don’t you take them off her?” Ramsey says. “You know, that hurts like hell too, when they come off. The blood going back into those nipples. Makes her scream, every time. Right, Abby?”

Abby makes some kind of sound, I guess it means yes.

“You want to do it, Josh? Then fuck the shit out of her? What do you say?”

Well I always knew Ramsey was tough, and that he could be one mean son of a bitch when he got riled, but this was some twisted side of him I never saw before. I didn’t want to think about the twisted side of me, and how much I was tempted to do just what he said. “Go to hell, Ramsey,” I said. “I’m getting out of here.” And I started to leave.

“Well, damn,” Ramsey says. “What are you gonna do with that hard-on, Josh, go fuck that little blonde nurse instead?”

I was heading for the door, but I stopped and looked back at him.

“Molly, right?” Ramsey says. “Cute little thing.” Then he says, “How do you think she’d look with those clamps on her, Josh? You think she’d like it?”

For a minute I just stood there. I felt a little dizzy. Then my throat got real tight, and maybe I would’ve jumped on him if it hadn’t been Ramsey, or if he hadn’t been lying there with his leg all tore up. But I just said, sort of squeezing it out, “You got no call to bring her into this, Ramsey.”

“Why not?” Ramsey said. “You fucked my wife, right? You know what they say, Josh, turn about is–”

I went toward him then, and maybe I made some kind of noise, I don’t know. Ramsey just stayed as he was, not moving an inch, just looking at me. I guess he knew I wasn’t gonna hit him or anything, not with him in that bed and all. Or maybe he didn’t care. Anyway I got right close to him and stood over him, and I was kind of shaking, but it wasn’t from being scared, not then        . “Listen, Ramsey,” I said to him, and I was breathing real hard. “You try–you do anything–you touch her–Molly–I’ll kill you. I swear to god, Ramsey. I swear to god.” Then I turned and got out of there.

#

I had to go looking for Molly, she was working on another floor. I finally found her changing a bed in an empty room. She gives me a quick look when I come in, and goes back to what she’s doing. “How’s Abby?” is what she says.

“Molly, listen,” I say, “I want you to keep away from Ramsey, okay?”

She looks at me then, kind of surprised. “What do you mean?” she says.

“Just keep away from him, that’s all. Don’t go in his room, don’t have anything to do with him. All right? It’s best that way.”

“What are you talking about, Josh?” Molly says. “He’s a patient here.”

“I know, but just let the other nurses take care of him, okay? You stay away.”

“I can’t do that,” she says. “I can’t pick and choose who I nurse here, you know that, Josh. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m telling you, stay away from him,” I said. “Or at least don’t go in there alone. You can do that, right?”

She’s staring at me. I can see she’s getting a little pissed off, and it’s weird, because like I said she never liked Ramsey all that much, and I was always the one kind of standing up for him. But she’s standing up for herself now, which is something she always did. She was no shrinking violet, Molly.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Josh, okay?” she says then.

“I’m not. I’m not, I’m just telling you to steer clear of Ramsey, that’s all.”

She’s getting hot now. “What makes you think you can tell me to do anything?” she says. “Who do you think you are? Just because–”

“Molly, for god’s sake. This is for your own good, I’m trying to–I’m just–”

“What is this all about?” she says then. “What’s going on here, Josh. Is this about Abby?”

“No, it’s–I just don’t want you to–to get hurt, all right?”

“It is, isn’t it,” she says. “It’s Abby. What went on with you and her?”

“Damn it, Molly! Just listen to me for once, okay? I’m telling you–”

“Don’t tell me,” Molly says. “Just don’t tell me anything, Josh. And don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself. Now I’m busy here, all right?”

I can see it’s no good trying to talk to her now. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll come back when your shifts over, we’ll go to the movie.”

“No,” Molly says shortly. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m too tired tonight, I’m just going home.”

So I don’t get to do it with two women that day after all.

FIVE

The next day I went to work as usual. A lot of the guys ask me about Ramsey, if he’s gonna be okay and so on. There were some guys who didn’t like Ramsey, and I guess there were even a few who’d had run-ins with him and really hated his guts, though they’d never have the nerve to do anything about it. And for sure nobody ever got really close to him. But mostly the guys kind of respected him, his toughness and the way he carried himself. I told them he was going to be okay, and that was that.

When I came out of the mill after my shift was over, I got a surprise. Abby was there in the parking lot, standing by my jeep, waiting for me. Some of the other guys coming out made a couple of wise-ass remarks–not so she could hear them–and they were all staring at her, but nobody went up to her or anything. A few of them hung around, just watching out of curiosity as I went to my car, but most of them just got their own cars and left, or went down the street to get a beer at Charley’s.

Abby just stood there watching me as I walked up to her. When I got close I couldn’t help taking a quick glance at her chest, and she smiled a little. “No, Josh, I’m not wearing them now,” she says. “Ramsey took them off after you left.”

I recalled what Ramsey had said about that. I tried not to show it, but it must have showed anyway, because she smiled again. “What are you doing here?” I ask her.

“Ramsey sent me,” she says.

“Jesus,” I said. “What for now?”

“Ramsey says my punishment isn’t over,” Abby says. She’s looking me straight in the eye, and her voice is calm and level. “He says I need to be whipped–you know, like in Charley’s–but he can’t do it right with his leg hurt and all. So he wants you to do it.”

I can only stare at her. I guess my mouth is open. After a minute I close it and shake my head hard. “Tell Ramsey to go to hell,” I said. I pushed past her and started to get into my jeep.

“Wait,” Abby says.

“Wait for what?” I say. My head is spinning around, but I get in and start the engine up. “I think Ramsey has gone crazy,” I tell her. “And you’re crazy too. I don’t want to have any more to do with this, okay?” I put the jeep in gear and gunned it out of there.

I was a little worried about Molly though. I didn’t think Ramsey would actually try anything with her, specially laid up the way he was. But with Ramsey you could never tell. I thought about going back to the hospital, but Molly being so pissed off at me, I figured that wasn’t a good idea. She’d probably be off by then anyway. When I got home I tried calling her up, but all I got was her father, who told me she was out shopping. I told him to have her call me back, but she didn’t.

Next day I called the hospital from work, but they told me at the switchboard that Molly hadn’t come in for her shift that morning. I called her house again, but no answer. Now I was getting really worried, and when lunchtime came I drove over to the hospital. Went right up to Ramsey’s room, and it was empty.

“Oh, he’s gone,” the nurse at the desk says. “Bulled right out of here, wouldn’t listen to anybody. Nobody could stop him, even though he could hardly walk on that leg. Doctor told him he’d make it worse if he didn’t stay put, but he didn’t care, just grabbed his stuff and charged right out. Never saw anything like it.”

“Was his wife with him?” I said.

“Oh yeah, you’d think she’d have more sense, at least, try to get him to take care of himself, but she never said a word. Just went with him.”

“Okay,” I says. “Listen, you seen Molly yet?”

“No, not today, Josh, but you know, she might be working on another floor.”

“Yeah,” I says. “Okay. Thanks.”

But she wasn’t there. I called her house again. No answer. It was time for me to go back to work, but I had a bad feeling now. I knew it was crazy, but maybe it wasn’t. I had to know for sure. I got in my jeep and headed up to Ramsey’s place.

Soon as I pulled up at Ramsey’s house, the front door opened and Ramsey came out. He had on a T-shirt and a loose pair of khaki shorts. His leg was still all wrapped up, and he was limping, but he looked as solid and as mean as ever. And he was carrying a double-barreled shotgun.

My stomach started flipping around, and I could feel myself sweating, but I just sat there in my car and tried to sound normal. “What’s going on, Ramsey?”

Ramsey gave me a little grin. “Figured you’d be coming up, Josh,” he says. “Got everything ready for you.”

“What are you talking about, Ramsey?”

“Talking about Abby, for one thing,” Ramsey says. “You remember Abby, right, Josh? My wife, who you fucked?”

“Look–”

“You didn’t have any problem fucking her when I wasn’t around, did you, Josh? While I was in the fuckin’ ambulance, right? But when I wanted you to fuck her again, with me right there, when I said it was okay, then you wouldn’t do it. What the hell kind of a friend is that?”

“Ramsey–”

“And then,” Ramsey goes on, “I send Abby to tell you I want you to whip her for me. And you say no to that too. That ain’t very friendly either. That’s downright insulting, you know?”

“Ramsey,” I said.”I’m looking for Molly. Is she–”

Ramsey grins again. “Yeah, I thought you would be,” he said. “And that’s the other thing I’ve got ready for you, Josh.”

“What–” I climbed out of the jeep now and started to go toward him. “What are you–if you–”

Ramsey raises the shotgun and holds it so it’s pointed at my chest. I stop short.

“I told you, Josh,” Ramsey says. “I told you turn about is fair play, didn’t I? Isn’t that what they say?”

I couldn’t hardly believe Ramsey would actually shoot me, but I wasn’t about to take too many chances on it. Not the way he was now. “Ramsey,” I said, “Where is she? Where’s Molly?”

“She’s inside,” Ramsey says. “Don’t worry, Josh, I didn’t fuck her. Not yet anyways. Thought I’d let you watch it when I do. More than you did for me with Abby, right?”

You know how people say they get so mad they see red? Well that’s true, I swear to god. I saw red, and for a second I thought I was gonna jump him, shotgun or no shotgun, but I didn’t. I was kind of shaking all over, and I was so choked up I couldn’t even talk at first.

“God damn you, Ramsey,” I says finally, and my voice is shaking too, and I didn’t hardly recognize it. “I told you if you touch Molly I’ll kill you. I told you that, and I will, Ramsey. I swear it. Now you–”

“How you gonna do that, Josh?” Ramsey says. “Looks like I’m the one holding the gun here.”

“Let her go,” I said. I was having trouble breathing. “Bring her out here, Ramsey, and I’ll take her back home and we can just forget about all this crap, okay? You don’t want–”

“Can’t do that, Josh,” Ramsey says. “Gotta even the score here. Guy fucks my wife. Won’t even help me punish her. Can’t just let that happen. Not do anything about it. Can’t do that.”

“All right,” I said. “You want revenge, Ramsey, fine. Hit me, beat me up. Whup the hell out of me. You’re crazy enough to shoot me, okay, shoot me. You want to punish your wife, that’s your business. But Molly didn’t have anything to do with it. She didn’t do anything to you, don’t take it out on her. That’s not right. You know that, Ramsey, come on.”

“Guess she’s really got her hooks into you, ain’t she?” Ramsey says. “That little blonde gal. Yeah, she’s a cute one all right. Sexier than she looks too, once you get her clothes off. That body is–”

This time I really did jump him. I couldn’t stop myself. He didn’t shoot me, he just hit me with the shotgun barrel, right across the head, and I went down. Things went blurry for a minute, and it felt like my head was split open. But it wasn’t.

“Dumb thing to do,” Ramsey says. “Lucky for you I don’t want to kill you without we first settle the score a little. Get up now, we’re gonna go inside and get to it.”

It took me a minute to get back up. My head hurt like hell, and I guess I was bleeding a little. But mostly I felt sick worrying about Molly. Ramsey made a movement with the gun like for me to go inside the house, and I did, with him after me.

Soon as I got in the front room I nearly fell down again, and I guess I made some kind of noise. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

They were both in there, Abby and Molly. And they were both naked. Abby was bent over a little table on one side of the room, sort of the way she’d been at Charlie’s that time, only instead of her hands tied behind her they were tied to the legs of the table. Her toes touched the floor on the other side, but there were ropes around her body holding her to the table, so she couldn’t move very much. It was a sight to see, just like before, but I could hardly take it in, because all I could focus on was Molly.

She was standing in the doorway between the front room and the bedroom. Her arms were stretched up over her head, and her wrists were tied together. There was a small beam running across the top of the doorway, and the other end of the rope was tied to it, the rope that held her wrists, so her arms were pulled up really tight, and so was her body. Her feet touched the floor all right, but her body was really stretched out. I could see that she’d been crying. She wasn’t crying now, but her face was twisted with pain, and her eyes were all scared and crazy.

When she saw me she choked out something that might have been my name, but there was like a roaring in my ears, so I’m not sure. I turned to Ramsey and I swear I was about to jump him again, but he was ready, he was holding that shotgun right at my chest, and his finger on the trigger. I was shaking. Hard.

“Easy, Josh,” Ramsey says. He’s grinning a little bit, and I’m looking at his eyes, and I knew then that he really was crazy. “You don’t want to get yourself killed now, or how will you be able to rescue your little sweetie here?” He moved around me then, slowly, keeping that gun pointed at my chest, till he was standing close to Molly. “I could kill her too,” he says. “But not so quick. Not till I have a little fun with her, you know? Or a lot.”

“Ramsey–” I said. I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what. My head felt like it was going around, and my voice sounded far away.

“She’s a sweet little piece, isn’t she, Josh?” Ramsey says. “Looks real sexy all stretched out that way. Didn’t know she had so many curves on her. Look at this.” He swung the gun away from me and pointed it at Molly. I almost screamed. But all he did was bring the barrel up to one of her breasts and rest the tip of it against her nipple. Molly made some kind of sound and tried to pull away, but she couldn’t move very much.

“Look at that,” Ramsey says. “Even all pulled up tight that way, these little titties still stand out real nice, don’t they, Josh?” He rubbed the barrel back and forth over her nipple. I could see her trembling. “Nipples get real hard too, see? You think she’s turned on or what?”

I was still shaking, but I knew I had to stay as calm as I could. Long as Ramsey had the gun I couldn’t take any chances. “No,” I said, and I had to clear my throat. “No, Ramsey, I think she’s scared shitless, and so am I. Is that what you want? What the hell is this all about anyway?”

“Told you what I want,” Ramsey says. He moved the gun barrel over to Molly’s other breast and did the same thing, rubbing it back and forth over the nipple. “Told you I wanted you to whip my wife for me, ’cause I couldn’t do it right with this damn leg. Sent Abby to tell you that. You said no to her. Not very friendly, Josh, you know? Gave you the chance to fuck her too. Right in front of me, ’stead of behind my back, like you did before.” I couldn’t look at Molly. “Wouldn’t do that either,” Ramsey says. “That’s a pure insult, you ask me.”

“Ramsey–”

“Think you might do it now?” Ramsey says.

I’m staring at him. He moves the gun up under Molly’s chin, kind of lifts up her face with it. I can hear her panting, almost gasping. “Damn it, Ramsey!” I say. I wasn’t sure just how crazy he was now, but like I said, I couldn’t take any chances. I looked over at Abby, tied over her table. Her head was up, she was watching what was going on, and god knows she couldn’t have been comfortable, but there wasn’t any expression on her face that I could see. She was just waiting.

“Okay,” I said then. “All right, Ramsey. Sure. You let Molly go, I’ll do anything you want. Okay?”

“You do it first,” Ramsey said. “You do it good, do it right, I’ll let her go afterwards. Can’t say fairer than that.”

“Without hurting her?” I said. “Without…doing anything to her?”

Ramsey almost grins. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, and he runs the gun barrel down over Molly’s body to her crotch. I have to hold on to myself to keep from bursting out. “But yeah,” Ramsey says. “That’s the deal.”

“How do I know you’ll do it?” I said.

Ramsey looks straight at me then. “You ever know me to go back on my word, Josh?” he says.

I thought about that, but I didn’t really have to think about it. Ramsey’s word was always good, everybody knew it. It was part of his code. I’d never known him not to do something he said he would do. But I’d never known him to act as crazy as he was now either. Still, it was all I had to hold on to. “No, Ramsey,” I said. “I never have.”

“Then do it,” Ramsey says. He was still holding the shotgun pressed against Molly’s crotch. I could see her trying to strain away from it. She was shaking, and little whimpering sounds were coming from her mouth when she couldn’t hold them in. Her eyes were wide open, but she wasn’t looking at me. I was shaking too.

“What do you want me to do, Ramsey?” I said.

“Told you that,” Ramsey said. “Just what I asked you to do before. Want you to whip my wife for me.”

I looked at Abby. She was still holding her head up, still watching, still without any expression that I could see. Except maybe her eyes. That look in her eyes. I couldn’t hardly breathe.

“All right, Ramsey,” I said. “I will do that. But take that damn gun away.”

Ramsey didn’t move the gun. “And fuck her too,” he said.

“Damn you, Ramsey!” I said. I looked at Molly. She still didn’t look at me. “Listen, Ramsey, that’s crazy,” I said. “How can I–”

“You done it before,” Ramsey says. “Bet you can do it again.”

“Not like this, for Christ sake! Not with you–not in front of–”

Ramsey kind of sighs. “Okay,” he says. “Then there’s no deal.” He pulled the gun away from Molly and went around behind her. He held the shotgun in his right hand and brought his other hand up around to take hold of her breast. He squeezed it hard, and Molly cried out. I took a step toward him, but he brought up the gun and leveled it at me. His hand was big enough so he could hold it steady and still put his finger on the trigger. I stopped.

“Damn it, let her go!” I said.

“Nope,” Ramsey said. “Fair is fair, right?” And he squeezed harder. Molly kind of screamed, and I could see her trying to double up, to ease the pain some way, but she couldn’t.

“All right!” I yelled at him. “All right, damn you, stop! I’ll do it!”

“Thought you might,” Ramsey says. His hand was still tight on Molly’s breast. She was crying now, soft little sobs, and twisting with the pain. “Coulda saved a lot of trouble, you did what I asked you in the first place.”

“Let her go first,” I said. I sounded like I was choking. “Untie her and let her go, and I’ll do whatever you damn want.”

Ramsey shook his head. He let go of Molly’s breast, but he ran his hand over it, rubbing it, tweaking the nipple with his fingers. “Can’t do that, Josh,” he says. “Need her here to make sure you do it right. Besides, I want her to see it.”

I started to curse him out, but I was afraid he would hurt Molly more, so I stopped. I wanted to say something to her, but I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything I could say. But I swore to myself that whatever happened, I would kill Ramsey when this was over. If he didn’t kill me first, I would kill him for sure.

“Go on,” Ramsey said. He was kind of grinning now, but his eyes were hard as ever. Harder. “Do it. You can use your belt on her. And don’t hold back, Josh. You hear me? I’ll know if you hold back, okay?”

I couldn’t think straight. All I knew was I had to keep him from hurting Molly. I started unbuckling my belt. My hands were shaking. I made them stop. I opened the belt and pulled it out. It was wide and thick, wider than the one Ramsey had used in Charley’s place. But I hadn’t never whupped anybody with it. Never wanted to. Didn’t want to now.

Ramsey was waiting. Didn’t say anything now. But his hand slid over to Molly’s other breast. Playing with the nipple. Molly wasn’t looking at anything. She still made that little sobbing sound once in a while, but you could tell she was trying not to.

Abby was just watching, holding her head up that way. But when I went around behind her she dropped her head, like she was waiting. Her hair hanging down almost to the floor. It would’ve made my dick hard again, like back in Charley’s, seeing her that way, if it hadn’t been for Molly and what Ramsey was doing.

I was holding the belt by the buckle, and I knew what I was supposed to do, what I had to do, but it was like I was paralyzed or something, my arm wouldn’t move. Ramsey stood waiting. Looking with those eyes. I looked back at him. Probably not more than a few seconds, but it seemed like a hell of a long time we stood there staring at each other.

“Okay,” Ramsey says then, still looking at me. “If that’s how you want it, Josh.” And he brings his hand down off Molly’ breast and opens his shorts with it. They fall down. And Ramsey’s dick is big and hard, and then he started rubbing it against Molly’s ass.

“Goddam you, Ramsey!” I shouted, and it was like something exploded inside me, and I raised my arm and whipped the belt down onto Abby’s backside, I guess about as hard as I could do it. I was still shouting as I did it, but not words now. Abby made a little sound, but I could hardly hear it.

“That’s it,” Ramsey said. “But harder. She can’t hardly feel that.” He wasn’t rubbing against Molly any more but his cock was still right up against her rear end. “Whip her back too,” he says.

Now like I said, I wasn’t wanting to whip Abby or anybody else, but now I just went crazy. I guess all that hate and fury that I was feeling for Ramsey just had to come out somehow, and the frustration that I couldn’t do anything to stop him, and it was like everything inside me was boiling over, and once I started doing it I couldn’t control myself. I started bringing that belt down with all the strength of my arm and with strength I didn’t even know I had. I could hear myself yelling as I did it, and then I could hear Abby yelling too, and I whipped her ass and her back and the backs of her legs, her kicking legs and her squirming body and I did it and did it and did it until Ramsey said, “Okay. stop.” He didn’t say it loud, but he said it sharp enough to penetrate even my craziness, and I stopped. I was panting like crazy and sweating, and my legs felt weak.

And my damn dick was hard as steel.

Abby was moaning and crying, but those moans were not just from the pain. She’d moaned that way when Randy had whupped her back at Charley’s, and when he’d made her tighten those clamps in his hospital room. And when I’d been humping away at her stretched out body at their house, with the iron cuffs digging into her wrists and ankles. She was hurting all right, she was hurting bad, god knows I’d hit her hard enough, but just like she told me, that was what turned her on.

But what was my excuse?

I expect Ramsey could see the bulge in my pants, and I expect Molly could see it too, if she was looking. But I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Knew you could do it,” Ramsey says. He was still kind of grinning, but his voice was flat. “Time to fuck her now. Go on.”

Well, my dick might have been ready, but the rest of me wasn’t. Even with a goddam hard-on, I didn’t see how I could make myself do it. Not with Ramsey right there, with his damn gun. Not in front of Molly, for Christ sake. It was impossible. I stood there, still panting, and even as I thought about it my cock started to go down.

But not Ramsey’s. It was as hard as ever, and now he started rubbing it on Molly’s ass again. His free hand rose to her breast, and then moved down toward her crotch.

“All right,” I croaked out. “Goddamit, all right. Stop. I will.” And I made myself reach for the buttons on my pants and I got them open somehow and they fell down and my cock was already sticking out of my shorts, but it was only half hard now and kind of drooping.

Ramsey made a short sound that might’ve been his idea of a laugh. I had never heard Ramsey really laugh, so I wasn’t sure. “Maybe you oughta whup her some more so you can get hard again, boy,” Ramsey says. “But never mind. Abby can take care of that. Right, Abby? She ever use her mouth on you, Josh? It’s a treat, let me tell you. She’s a real fine cocksucker, Abby is.”

I’d never heard him talk so much either. I knew he’d gone crazy. I was scared. For all of us.

“Go on, Josh,” Ramsey says. “Go around and let her suck your dick. Go on.”

I made myself move. I must’ve looked pretty damn silly with my pants around my ankles, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I kind of shuffled around the table till I was standing in front of Abbhy’s head. She lifted it up to look at me. She was still making soft little moaning sounds and kind of catching her breath quick, and there were tears on her face and in her eyes, but even so those eyes had that shiny melting look that I remembered from before. My throat got tight and I took a step closer to her.

“Okay, Ab,” Ramsey said. “You know what to do.”

And Abby did it. And Christ, Ramsey was right, she knew what to do all right. She started with her tongue, and then she used her lips, and finally she took me right in her mouth and used all of it, and I had to try real hard not to do some moaning myself. I didn’t exactly forget about Molly and Ramsey, but damn, I think everybody in the world could’ve been watching right then and it wouldn’t've kept me from getting hard again. Not with that mouth on me. I could still hear her making little sounds around my dick, little sobs and whimpers, but it didn’t seem to interfere with anything she was doing, and pretty soon it was hard for me to keep from pushing myself at her. Not that she didn’t take me in all the way, because she damn well did, but just because I wanted to fuck that mouth, and I couldn’t help that. But I didn’t.

Then Ramsey says, “Okay, stop.” And Abby stopped. She pulled her mouth away, and I was hard all right. I don’t think I was ever harder in my life. And Ramsey says, “Told you, Josh, didn’t I? Okay, you can fuck her now.”

I couldn’t hardly see straight anymore. I sure as hell couldn’t look at Molly. I just stood there for a minute, and then I started to move, shuffling around to the other end of the table with my damn pants still around my ankles. That table was just high enough for me to do what Ramsey wanted, and Abby was bent just right too. I got between her legs and I didn’t let myself think about anything and I brought my dick right to her and she was wet and ready, and I pushed into her, all the way in, and she kind of tossed her head back and made a little cry, and then she lowered her head again and let it hang like before and she started gasping and groaning as I started to fuck her.

I did it hard. I was pissed off, like when I’d started whipping her, but now I guess I was mad at myself along with everything else. I kind of hated myself for enjoying Abby’s mouth, and now her pussy too, and for getting hard when I whipped her. And I was scared, but all of that didn’t stop me from fucking her, and from wanting to fuck her, and doing it as hard as I could. Till I heard Ramsey telling me to stop.

“Fuck her ass,” Ramsey says.

I heard a sound from Abby. I couldn’t tell what it meant. I still had my dick inside her but I wasn’t moving now. Fact is, I hadn’t never done that before. Oh, I knew about it all right, and maybe I was a little curious about what it’d be like, but I’d never actually done it. Not even with Molly.

“That wasn’t in the deal, Ramsey,” I said. I was breathing hard from fucking Abby.

“Oh no?” Ramsey says. “Well hey, Josh, if ass-fucking isn’t part of fucking, then I guess I can fuck little Molly here up the ass without going back on my word, wouldn’t you say?” And he rubbed himself against Molly’s backside again.

I started to curse him, but I was so crazy mad that the words wouldn’t come. And he was still holding that damn shotgun steady as a rock, pointing right at me. I made some kind of sound and I pulled out of Abby’s pussy and brought my dick to her asshole. It was right there, but it was so small and tight-looking that I didn’t think I could get into it. At least I was all wet and slippery from being in her cunt, so I just pressed it against her and held it steady and pushed at her until the tip went in. Abby made a noise, one of her noises, and I knew it had to be hurting her, but I kept pushing. I got a little way in and it was so tight it seemed impossible, and then I couldn’t go in any more. I pushed, but I couldn’t, and Abby was groaning, and then suddenly she gave a louder noise and sort of unclenched or something, and I was pushing in, going in deep, and it was still so damn tight, and she was squirming but I was pushing in and in until I was in all the way.

Abby was sobbing now and still squirming, even though she was tied and all. Her ass was clutching me so hard I didn’t know if I could actually fuck her that way, but I soon found out. I could and I did. And Christ, it was like nothing I ever felt before. Again I nearly forgot about Ramsey and Molly, until Ramsey started to move. He moved away from Molly, still holding the gun, and limped around to the front of the table, where Abby’s head was. His cock still sticking up, big as hell. Then he takes hold of Abby’s hair with his free hand and pulls her head up that way. Abby is moaning and crying and now she gives a little scream as he pulls on her hair. I couldn’t see her face, but I’m betting it’s got that look on it as he looks down on her, that worshipping look. He holds her that way for a minute and then jams his cock into her open mouth.

Now I’m fucking her at one end and Ramsey is fucking her at the other. Because that’s what he’s doing, he’s holding onto her hair to keep her head up and just fucking her mouth, moving pretty hard too. The sounds she’s making are muffled now, not only by Ramsey’s dick but also because there’s kind of a roaring in my ears. I was close to coming and a goddam army couldn’t've stopped me now. I heard myself shouting and I grabbed hold of Abby’s hips and banged into her harder than ever and I just shot and shot and shot, right up her ass, and then it was over.

Ramsey was still banging away at her face, but not for lonq. But he didn’t come in her mouth, like he’d done back at Charly’s. He pulled out and shot his wad all over her face, still holding her head up by her hair. I couldn’t see it, but I could see the stuff shooting out of his dick, and there was a hell of a lot of it, and it must’ve gone all over her face and her hair and everything. Then he let her go and her head fell down again and she was making those noises. Those Abby noises.

“Okay,” Ramsey says then, real quiet, and it was like something just all at once drained out of him, and not only his jism. He looked old all of a sudden. He broke open the shotgun and dumped the shells out of it, then just dropped it on the floor. He pulled up his shorts and buttoned them. Then he limped over to where Molly was, picked up a folding knife off a table and cut through the rope that ran over the ceiling beam. Molly’s arms came down and then she just kind of collapsed and laid there on the floor making little whimpering sounds. Her wrists were still tied together, but Ramsey didn’t bother about that. He limped over to a big chair and just fell down into it.

“Okay,” Ramsey says again. His voice sounded old too. “Did what I had to do,” he says. “Get out now. The two of you.” Then he nods over to Abby, still tied over the table. “Take her too, you want,” he says. “I’m done with her.”

Abby’s still making her moaning sounds, but now she gives a kind of scream and her head comes up, and now I can see her face dripping with Ramsey’s come. Ramsey doesn’t even look at her.

I am staring at him. My head feels like it wants to explode, and I can feel that red rage going through me again. I can’t believe Ramsey has left that shotgun right there on the floor. All of a sudden without even thinking I’m lunging for it. I expect Ramsey to come out of his chair and stop me, but he doesn’t even move. I pick up the gun and a shell and jam the shell in and close the gun and point it at him.

“I said I’d kill you, Ramsey,” I told him. I couldn’t even recognize my own voice, it was shaking so much and my hands were shaking too, but I kept the gun right on him. “I told you I’d kill you, you son of a bitch. Told you.” I even brought the gun up to my shoulder, my finger on the trigger. There was like a haze in front of my eyes, but I could see him all right. All I had to do was pull the trigger.

Ramsey never moved. “You ain’t gonna shoot me, Josh,” he says. Then he shrugged. “You want to do it, go ahead,” he says. “But you won’t. You ain’t got the guts.”

I was standing there ready to do it. I was shaking and aiming right at him and all I had to do was pull the trigger. But I couldn’t. I stood there like that and I told myself to do it, and I couldn’t.

Then Molly was screaming at me. “Do it!” she yelled. Her voice was all shrill and hoarse and crazy. “Kill him! Shoot him. Do it, damn you! Do it!” She was lying there on the floor and when I looked at her her face was all twisted up, and she was screaming at me to do it.

But I couldn’t.

I lowered the gun off my shoulder. I was still holding it, but I knew I wouldn’t use it now, and so did Ramsey, and so did Molly. She started crying now and she tried to get up on her feet but she couldn’t quite make it, so she started kind of crawling toward me, with her tied hands. “Damn you!” she says, choking and sobbing. “Damn you, kill him, kill him, do it!”

“I can’t do it,” I said. I still sounded strange. “I can’t shoot him. We’ll talk to the police, Molly. He’ll go to jail. He won’t–”

“You fuck!” Molly shrieks, and I swear I never heard her use that word before in all her life. But I never saw her look like that either, her eyes are all crazy and her face is twisted and she’s yelling and crying at the same time. “You bastard!” she yells, and she’s practically choking. “What’s wrong with you! What kind of a man are you! Kill him! Kill him now!”

“Molly–” I start to say.

But now she’s just shrieking, trying to say something but I couldn’t make out the words anymore, and she was still crawling, on her knees and her tied-together hands, and when she got to me she raised up on her knees and made a kind of crazy try to grab the gun, but I pulled it away and she fell back down. Now she’s moaning, still crying. I broke the gun open and dropped the shell out and kicked it away, and then I threw the gun to the other side of the room. Then I got down and reached for Molly to untie her wrists, but she pulled away from me.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouts. “Don’t touch me, damn you. Damn you!”

“Molly–”

“Fuck you!” She’s really hysterical now, and I didn’t know what to do. “Fuck you!” she yells again. “You’re not a man, you fuck! You’re a worm! A fucking worm! At least he–” She breaks off then, she’s crying too hard to talk, but then she stops. Like all of a sudden. She’s breathing hard, she still sobs a little, and her eyes still look funny, and  her voice sounds strange, but it’s lower now. “At least he’s a man,” is what she says. “He’s not a worm. He takes what he wants. He does what he wants. He’s a man. What are you?”

“Molly–” I reached for her again, but she moved away, and then she started crawling across the room toward where Ramsey was sitting. I started to go after her, but my goddam pants were still around my ankles. I cursed and pulled them up real quick, but by the time I got them buttoned she was there in front of him. Ramsey was just looking at her. No expression on his face. Even what she said to him didn’t seem to surprise him, but it damn well surprised me, I can tell you that for sure.

“You still want to fuck me, Ramsey?” she said.

I’m standing there staring at her. I’m what they call thunderstruck, and I couldn’t even move. Ramsey, like I said, doesn’t react at all. Just looks at her.

“You still want me, Ramsey?” Molly says again. “You’re a man, you can take me if you want.” She holds up her tied hands for him to see. “I’m still tied up,” she says. “I can’t stop you. I couldn’t stop you anyway. Take me, Ramsey.”

“Can’t do that, Molly,” Ramsey says then. “Told Josh I wouldn’t.”

“Screw Josh,” Molly says. “Screw him, he’s not a man. You’re a man. You do what you want. You want me, you said you did. Take me.”

“Nope,” Ramsey says. “Gave my word.”

“I don’t care,” Molly says, and now she starts scrabbling at his shorts, opening the buttons. It’s not easy with her wrists tied that way, but she does it. Ramsey doesn’t make a move.

“Stop it, Molly!” I said, and I started to move toward her. She turned to look at me, and damn, her face just froze me in my tracks. I can’t describe it. Her eyes were still kind of wet, but they were blazing, and her mouth was open, showing her teeth, and she looked like some kind of a wild animal, I swear.

“You touch me and I’ll kill you!” was what she said. I couldn’t believe it. I guess I could have stopped her all right, there was not much she could do to me in that condition, and I guess I should have, but the way she was looking at me and the way she sounded just knocked everything out of me. I suddenly felt weak as a baby, and I could hardly stand up.

“Come on, Molly,” I said, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. “This is crazy. Let’s–”

She made a sound like a screech and kind of exploded. She reached for something on the floor–it was the other shell Ramsey had discarded from the gun–and threw it at me. Of course she couldn’t throw too good with her hands like that, but she threw it pretty hard anyway, and it nearly hit my face, but I knocked it down. I didn’t know what to do with her like that. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do anymore. I was maybe as crazy as she was now, or as Ramsey was. I was so weak my legs were buckling, and I just sat down on the floor. Just sat there.

Molly turned back to Ramsey. His shorts were open now, and his cock was sticking up. It wasn’t really hard, but it was big as ever. Molly touched it with her tied hands. She stroked it. I heard some kind of choking sound. It was me. But I didn’t move. Neither did Ramsey.

Then she took his cock in her mouth.

I sat there and watched her sucking on his cock. I didn’t know whether to cry or scream, but I didn’t do anything. Now Ramsey looks at me. His voice is calm and even, like he’s talking about the weather. “I’m not doing anything to her, Josh,” he says. “Told you I wouldn’t, and I’m not. She’s doing it to me. Not the same thing.”

“Fuck you, Ramsey,” I said. Or maybe I didn’t say that. I don’t remember.

Molly couldn’t get all of Ramsey’s dick into her mouth, but the part she got she was sucking pretty good. She had sucked my cock too, though it wasn’t something she did a lot, and she might not have been as expert at it as Abby was, but it had still felt damn good. Ramsey’s dick was getting harder, and when she took her mouth off him it was good and stiff. But she didn’t stop. She dug her face right into his crotch and she was kissing and licking the base of it, the part her mouth hadn’t reached, and his balls too. And making little whimpering noises as she did it. Ramsey never moved.

Finlly she raised her head. She’s looking right into his eyes. “Now,” she says. She’s breathing hard. And she gets up off her knees and climbs right onto his lap and reaches down for his dick and sticks it right into her pussy as she comes down on him. Her back is to me and I can’t see her face, but her head goes back and she’s moaning. She slides down on him slowly, and she doesn’t stop till he’s all the way inside her. Then she stops and she’s moaning louder and she says something, I think she says something but I can’t make out what it is. Then she’s moving again. Up and down. Up and down. Fucking him. Up and down. Her arms come up with her wrists tied and she hooks them around his neck and she moves up and down, fucking him and moaning and whimpering and panting, and Ramsey never moves. Never touches her. He sits there and lets her fuck him. His face like stone.

I don’t know how long she did that. It seemed like a long time but I don’t know. After a while I could hear her sobbing, still moaning and panting, but sobbing too. But she didn’t stop. She just moved harder. Ramsey never made a sound, even when he came. I wouldn’t've even known he did except that Molly slowed down and then stopped moving and she sat there for a couple of minutes, breathing hard and whimpering and still sobbing, and then she unhooked her arms from around his neck and got off him and his dick was mostly soft again. She slid down and sat on the floor by his feet. She didn’t look at him again. She didn’t look at me either. She was crying.

Ramsey was buttoning his shorts like nothing had happened. I guess he figured he’d kept his word, and maybe he did, I don’t know. After a while, I don’t know how long it was, I made myself get up and I went over to Molly. She didn’t try to stop me now, and I stooped down and got her hands untied. She still didn’t look at me. I said, “Get dressed, Molly, I’m taking you home.”

She didn’t move. She just shook her head. The crying had mostly stopped now, but her breathing was kind of jerky.

“Come on,” I said. “Come on, Molly. You got to get out of this place.”

She looked at me then, and what I saw in her eyes just hit me like a punch in the stomach, I swear. It made me actually feel sick, not that I didn’t already. “Not with you,” she says. Her voice real low and strange, and the sound of it matched what was in her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

It took me a minute to be able to talk again. I had to try to be calm. “Molly, for Christ sake!” I said. “How will you get home? You can’t stay here, come on.”

“No,” Molly says.

I look at Ramsey then. No expression on his face. He just shrugs.

I didn’t know what to do. I was sick and mad and I didn’t know what the hell was happening, and I guess I lost it. “Okay,” I said finally, and I was panting like as if I just ran five miles. “Okay, Molly, you want to stay here with this–this crazy lunatic, that’s your lookout. You want to fuck him some more, go ahead. At least till the police get here.” Then, when neither of them says anything more, I turned and headed for the door.

“Josh,” Ramsey says.

I stopped. “What?”

He nods his head toward Abby again. “Take her with you,” he says.

I swear to god I’d practically forgotten about Abby. Still tied over that table, she raised her head and looked at me.

“The hell with all of you,” I said, and I walked out and got in my jeep and went back to town.

SIX

It’s kind of a wonder I didn’t kill myself driving down off those hills, crazy mad as I was, and I could hardly see. But somehow I made it back to town and I drove right to the police station. Old Lester was there, he’s the main cop we got there, and him and two young part-time deputies are the whole police department. He needs more help, like too many drunks shooting it up or something on a Saturday night, he calls the sherrif’s office over in Durston. But that doesn’t happen much.

I walk in there and he’s sitting there drinking coffee. He looks at me. “Hey, Josh,” he says. “You look all riled up, boy. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Lester,” I said, and I’m breathing hard, even though all I’d been doing was driving. “You gotta get out to Ramsey Boyce’s place. He’s gone crazy, and he’s got a girl there. Two girls, I mean one’s his wife, but he’s got another one too, he kidnapped her and she’s–”

“Hold on,” Lester says. “Just hold on there, Josh. What the hell you talking about?”

“Ramsey Boyce, damn it!” I said. “He’s got Molly up there and he’s gone crazy, Lester, I’m telling you. You gotta get up there and get her out. You better take your guys with you, ’cause he’s–”

“Wait a second,” Lester says. Lester’s not real excitable, which I guess is good most of the time, but I was ready to strangle him. “Molly, you say? Molly Harling?”

“Yes, damn it! He’s got her–”

“Okay,” Lester says. “That solves that mystery, I guess.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Her father was in here a while ago, said she was missing,” Lester says. “I got Jake and Connell keeping an eye out for her, but I figured she’d turn up all right. Shacked up with some guy, that’s usually what it is. Didn’t know it was Ramsey. His wife know about this?”

“Yes, but she’s not shacked up with him, dammit! I’m telling you, he kidnapped her! He’s got her up there and he–he had her tied up, and she’s–”

“Tied up?” Lester says. “Holy shit, you mean like with that wife of his, over to Charley’s? I heard about that. Molly like those kind of games too?”

I wanted to hit him. “It’s not like that, damn it!” I said. “She’s there against her will, Lester, and he’s–he’s–”

“Oh yeah?” Lester says. “How do you know that, Josh? How do you know what they’re doing up there anyway?”

I had to tell him, at least part of it. “I was there,” I said. “I just came from there, damn it. I couldn’t–”

Lester’s staring at me. “You were there? At Ramsey’s?”

“Yes, and he–”

“And Molly was there?”

“She still is, and you have to–”

“Ramsey’s holding her against her will, and he let you go so you could come tell me about it, or what?”

“Lester, listen, for Christ sake!”

“I’m listening, Josh. How come she didn’t come with you?”

“He’s–she–she–I mean, she doesn’t know what she’s doing, for Christ sake, and she–she just–”

“Sounds like she knows what she’s doing, all right,” Lester says. “Sounds like she wants to be right where she is. Women usually do, with Ramsey, you know that, Josh. Why, before he married that Eastern gal he had just about every–”

“No!” I yelled. “Damn it, Lester, you gotta listen to me! It’s not like that! Ramsey’s out of his head, and Molly is too, she–And Abby is tied up out there, and I don’t care if she likes it, it’s not–and Molly–”

“But you were there, and now you’re here,” Lester says.

I could have told him the whole story, but I knew he wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t hardly believe it myself. “Lester, if you don’t go out there and get Molly back, I’ll call the goddam sherrif’s office over to Durston,” I told him. “I’ll call the state police, I’ll call the fucking FBI if I have to! I mean it, damn it!”

Lester sips his coffee. “Well, you do that, Josh,” he says. “‘Course, the sherrif will just call me to find out what the story is. He wants to come out here and go up against Ramsey Boyce for playing kinky games with his wife and your girlfriend, that’s his lookout. I sure as hell ain’t gonna. Now I’m sorry your girl is doing whatever she’s doing with Ramsey, but that’s women for you. I was you I’d go home and sleep it off. Lots of other girls around.”

I don’t even remember how I got out of there.

#

I went to my place and got out my hunting rifle. I loaded it up and put it in my jeep and started back for Ramsey’s place.

I wasn’t thinking too straight I guess. The thing is, I wasn’t thinking at all, I wouldn’t let myself. If I couldn’t shoot him before when I had the chance, why did I think I could do it now? But this was different. All I could see was Molly, up there naked and sucking Ramsey’s dick and fucking him. Of her own free will. But it’d been Ramsey that had made her crazy like that. I was ready to kill him now, if that was what it took to get her out of there.

I was only a few minutes away from Ramsey’s place when I saw somebody up ahead, walking along the road, heading down, and then I saw that it was Abby. She was walking kind of wobbly, and like she didn’t know where she was going, and when I got up to her I saw she was crying. She had a coat on. She stopped when she saw me and I pulled over.

“Abby!” I said. “What the hell? Where you going? Where’s Molly?”

She was crying hard. She kind of waved back in the direction of Ramsey’s place.

“Get in here,” I said. “What the hell’s going on?”

She got in the jeep and the coat kind of pulled open at the bottom and it looked like she wasn’t wearing anything under it. She was crying too hard to talk, and I had to wait till she could.

“Ramsey threw me out,” she says, and she can hardly get the words out between her sobs. “He–he threw me out. He said I was a whore, and he–he said he had a–a new slave now and he–he never–”

I saw red. “Molly?” I said, and it sounded like I was croaking. “He said Molly was his slave?”

She nods. “He–he asked her,” she says. “Right in front of me,” she says. She’s still crying, but not as hard. “The bastard,” she says. “‘Do you want to be my slave, Molly?’ He asked her that. And she said yes.” She starts crying harder again.

I felt sick. “She’s crazy,” I said. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying. He’s made her crazy, tying her up that way and saying he’d kill her and–Jesus!”

Abby was shaking her head. “She’s not crazy,” she says when she can talk again. “She’s like me. Ramsey just brought it out in her. That’s what he does. That bastard. He’s got to her and she’s–she can’t–”

“No!” I said. “That’s bullshit. Molly’s not like that! She just–”

Abby kind of laughs, even while she’s still crying. “No?” she says. “No? You should have seen what she was doing for him before he threw me out. He made me watch. You should have seen her crawling for him. You should have seen her with her tongue up his ass. You should–”

I was really sick then. I got out of the jeep and threw up on the road, right there. I threw up until I couldn’t do it anymore. I felt like I was choking. Then I got back in the jeep and started it up and drove the rest of the way to Ramsey’s place. I parked a little ways away so he wouldn’t hear me drive up.

“What–what are you going to do?” Abby says.

“I’m going to kill him,” I said, and I picked up my rifle.

“No!” she screams out, and then she’s clutching at my arm, trying to hold on to me as I’m getting out of the jeep, and yelling. “No, Josh, no! Please! Oh god no!”

She’s yelling so loud I was afraid Ramsey might hear her, even though we weren’t that close to his house. “Shut up!” I told her, and when she didn’t I gave her a hard slap across the face. I didn’t even know I was going to do it. She stopped yelling and started whimpering, and she was looking at me with those melty eyes again.

“Don’t kill him,” she moans. “Please, Josh. I’ll do anything you want.”

“You’re crazy,” I told her. “Just stay here and be quiet.” Christ, we were all crazy. I left her there and went up the road and when I got to Ramsey’s place I snuck up and looked through the front window, and what I saw almost made me scream myself.

Molly was bent over the arm of a chair and Ramsey was fucking her in the ass.

I had a sort of side view, or three-quarters view I guess you’d say, from behind them, and they were turned away from me so I couldn’t really see their faces, but I could hear the sounds Molly was making even through the closed window. She was howling. I swear to god. Howling like a wolf, like a coyote, and I’ll never forget that sound for as long as I live. It was like she was screaming in pain, and I knew he was hurting her, he had to be, he was pounding into her ass with his huge damn dick like a fucking piledriver, but that wasn’t all it was. And she was kind of twisting like crazy and throwing her head up in a wild kind of way, but she wasn’t trying to get away from him. Once when she threw her head up she kind of turned her face toward me, and I could see her mouth wide open and I could see the tears in her eyes, but what else was there made me crazier and sicker than–well, I don’t know what.

I brought up my rifle and I was going to break the damn window and shoot Ramsey right there, shoot him right through the head with his dick up her ass, but right then I heard a sound behind me. I started to turn around, but before I could something crashed hard into my head, and I was gone.

SEVEN

First thing I felt after that, which I don’t know how long it was, was that my head was throbbing like hell, and the second thing was that I couldn’t move. For a couple minutes I couldn’t even think, and then I opened my eyes and I got it all right away.

I was tied into a chair in Ramsey’s place. My hands tied behind to the back of it, my legs tied to the rungs, and ropes around my body holding me in pretty good. Ramsey was sitting in that same chair he’d been sitting in before, looking at me. He had my rifle on the floor nearby, and his shotgun. Molly was at his feet, on her knees. And Abby was where Molly had been before, strung up in the archway with her arms over her head. All of them were naked.

“Hey, Josh,” Ramsey says.

My head was just pounding. I couldn’t even talk, it was hurting so bad. Anyway, what was I gonna say?

“Pretty good gash you got there, Josh,” Ramsey says. “Guess Abby here really whopped you with that tire iron. Guess she saved my life, the way she tells it. Never know about women. Threw the bitch out, you’d think she’d hate me, right? Think she’d want to kill me herself. ‘Stead, she keeps you from doing it. True love, I guess. Maybe I should keep her around after all. Along with this one.” He nudged Molly with his foot. “What do you think?”

Out of some dumb instinct I tried to get up, pulling against the ropes, but all it did was make my head feel like it was exploding. I was in there good and tight and I wasn’t going anyplace. I think I was shouting, but that hurt too, and I stopped. Ramsey just kept looking at me, like he was expecting me to answer him.

It took a while till I could talk at all. Then I had to force the words out through the pain. “You said you wouldn’t–do anything to her,” I croaked out. “You said you’d let her go.”

“Not holding her,” Ramsey said. “She wants to go she can go. Told her that. You want to go, Molly?”

“No,” Molly said. She was looking right at me too.

“Didn’t do nothing to her till she did it to me,” Ramsey says. “Didn’t do nothing to her she didn’t want. Right, Molly?”

“Yes,” Molly said.

“Kept my word, far as I can see,” Ramsey said. “Girl wants what she wants. Can’t help that.”

“She doesn’t want–” I was feeling sick again, but I didn’t have anything more to throw up. “She’s just–she’s–she’s not Abby, you bastard!” I felt like crying, but I wouldn’t let myself do that. “She’s not like Abby!”

Ramsey sort of shrugs. “Hey, all women are like that, deep down, Josh,” he says. “Just takes a real man to show them, that’s all.”

“Molly,” I said. “Molly–” I’m looking at her, and she’s looking back, but her eyes are empty. “Molly, for god’s sake–”

“Molly,” Ramsey says then. “Suck my dick.”

And Molly hardly even hesitates. She’s still on her knees, and she just crawls between his legs and takes his cock in her mouth. His cock isn’t hard, but she takes it in and starts to suck on it, and I can’t see exactly what she’s doing, but pretty soon her head starts bobbing up and down. Ramsey just sits there, like before, nothing showing on his face.

“Fucking bastard,” I said. It came out like a whisper. But he heard it.

“Don’t be jealous, Josh,” Ramsey says. “I’ll have her do it for you too. Kind of a parting gift, you could say.”

“Go to hell,” I said.

“Molly,” Ramsey said. “Go suck him off.”

This time she did hesitate. Her head came up and she looked at him. I couldn’t see her face, but Ramsey just looked back at her. “Do it,” he said. No expression in his voice. “Crawl over to him and suck him off. One last time.”

Molly lowered her head again, then turned and got on all fours and started crawling toward me.

“No!” I shouted. “No, damn it!” I tried pulling at my ropes again. Still a bad idea.

Molly reached me. The way I was tied she couldn’t get between my legs. She had to raise up on her knees and bend over to open my pants. Which she did.

“No!” I yelled again. “Molly, don’t! For Christ sake, Molly!”

But she never stopped. She got my belt open and my pants unbuttoned and she pulled out my cock. She wasn’t looking at me now. But she bent down and took my soft limp dick in her mouth, and I felt her lips close around it and her tongue licking at it. Even through the pain and the sickness and everything that was going on, it felt good. But I didn’t get hard. There was no way. I could feel her breasts pressing down on my legs as she did what she was doing. I could see the top of her head moving slightly. I could see Ramsey sitting there watching, like it was a movie he wasn’t particularly interested in. I could see Abby in the archway, with her arms stretched over her head, but her eyes were closed and she was kind of moaning to herself. I kept telling Molly to stop, but she didn’t. She kept her mouth around me and she kept working her tongue all around, and any other time I would have been hard as hell and blown my stuff down her throat in a minute, but not this way. After a while I heard her making little sobbing sounds in her throat as she sucked at me, but she just kept on. Until finally Ramsey told her to stop.

She pulled her mouth off my limp dick then and looked up at me, and her eyes weren’t empty now. They were hating. They were full of hate and contempt, like as if it was me who had made her do what she did.

“Christ,” she said. “You’re not a man at all!” And she kind of spits at me, or tries to, though nothing much comes out. Ramsey gives a little laugh.

“Don’t know,” Ramsey says. “Didn’t have any trouble getting it up for Abby, did you, Josh? You want her to suck you off instead?”

“Go to hell, Ramsey,” I said. “If you’re gonna kill me, do it. You sick piece of shit,” I said. “You’ll burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!” I was pulling at my ropes again, I couldn’t help it. Trying to shout and choking and hurting and crazy. Right then I didn’t really care if he did kill me, as long as I could get to him first. But I couldn’t.

Ramsey gets up then and he limps over to where Abby is half hanging in the doorway. She’s still moaning, with her eyes closed, but she opens them as Ramsey stands in front of her. He reaches out with both hands and takes her nipples between his fingers. He clamps down on them and then twists them hard. Abby screams like hell and tries to bend over, but she can’t. Ramsey holds her that way and she starts lifting her legs, first one then the other, bringing them up to try to stop the pain but it doesn’t do any good.

“How about it, whore?” Ramsey says to her. “You want to suck off your boyfriend here? Think you can do a better job than Molly? Bet you can. You scum-sucking cunt.” Then he lets go of her nipples and slaps her hard across the face. Abby is moaning and crying.

Ramsey cuts her loose then, but not like with Molly. He cuts right through the rope that ties her wrists together, like he doesn’t care if he cuts her too while he’s doing it, and in fact he does nick her skin and I can see a little blood, but it’s not a bad cut. Abby reaches out to clutch at him as she falls against him, and he steps back so that she kind of slides down his body, trying to hold on to him but falling to the floor.

“I love you, Ramsey!” she cries out between sobs. “Please, Ramsey, please, I’m sorry, I love you, please!”

Ramsey spits on her. He does a better job than Molly did, his spittle splashing onto her face as she looks up at him. Abby doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s holding on to his legs, or trying to, but he pulls away and limps back to his chair and sits down.

“Got a better idea,” Ramsey says. “Put on a show for him. You two girls. Always wanted to see that.”

Molly looks at him kind of dazed, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing, or doesn’t understand it. Abby is still crying, and I’m not sure she even heard him.

“You ever see that, Josh?” Ramsey says. “Two girls making it? In real life? Guess everybody oughta see that before they die, don’t you think?”
“Ramsey–” It’s just a croak coming out of me, and the blood pounding in my head makes me feel like I’m gonna pass out.

“Do it,” Ramsey says. “Do it good, you two. Come on, Abby. You know what to do, right?”

Abby’s sobs gradually fade out. She looks over at him, and he just looks back at her hard. No expression. Then she gives a little moan and starts to crawl over to where Molly is crouching on the floor, right in front of me. I hear Molly give a little whimper as Abby comes closer.

When she reached her Abby looked over at Ramsey again. Just for a moment. Then she turned back to Molly and brought her face to hers, as if to kiss her on the mouth. Molly reflexively turned her head away.

“No,” Ramsey said. That’s all he said. Molly made another tiny sound. Then she turned her head back and let Abby kiss her.            Abby kissed her for what seemed like a long time. Then she put her hands on her. She rolled her over onto her back, and Molly was a little stiff at first, as though she wanted to resist, but she didn’t. Then Abby started to play with her. She played with her breasts, rubbing her hands over them and tweaking the nipples. Then she moved down a little and put her mouth on them, and her hands moved down to her crotch. Molly didn’t seem to react much, but her nipples were hard. Abby moved down further. She slid her mouth over Molly’s stomach and stroked her thighs. Then she pulled her legs apart and put her face between them.

Molly jumped just a little bit and caught her breath. Her body kind of stiffened up, but she didn’t didn’t make any further sound, except for her kind of ragged breathing. Once she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them wide, staring at the ceiling. I couldn’t see what Abby’s mouth was doing, all I could see was the back of her head, moving slightly, just slightly, up and down, side to side. Her hands reached up to cover Molly’s breasts as she went on doing what she was doing.

Then Molly began to moan. Softly at first, just barely, but I could hear it all right. At first she put one hand over her mouth, as if to stifle the sound, but soon gave that up. In spite of herself, I guess, her moans gradually got louder and longer, and then her body started squirming a little. I heard little muffled sounds coming from Abby too, and her head kept moving. Then Molly went all stiff and pushed her body up, her lower body, and she was groaning and gasping, and then she collapsed. I thought I saw tears in her eyes, but my vision was all blurry and I couldn’t be sure.

“Nice,” Ramsey said. “Your turn, Molly.”

Abby rolled over onto her back and lay sprawled out. She was panting a little. Molly was panting harder. She didn’t move for a long minute as her breathing started to slow. She was shaking her head, I didn’t know if she was saying no or if she was just still in a daze. Maybe she didn’t either. But then she rolled over and crouched up over Abby’s spread-out body.

I couldn’t watch. When I turned my head away Ramsey told me to look at them, but I told him to go fuck himself. I could hear Abby moaning, and I could hear little whimpering sounds coming from Molly, and I thought I was going to be sick again. Abby went on moaning, and then she was kind of squealing, and it sounded like she was close to getting off. And then there was the sound of a car pulling up outside. There was a light flashing on and off through the window, one of those rotating lights. It had to be the police.

Molly’s head came up. She looked bewildered and startled. Abby looked dazed, and scared. Ramsey had no expression at all. He didn’t even move.

“Okay,” Ramsey says. “We’re just having a little fun here. That’s all you girls have to say.” I heard the car door opening and closing outside. “Josh, you just think about Molly, okay? If you–” But he didn’t have time to say anything else before the knock came at the door.

“Molly,” Ramsey says. “Get the door.”

Molly got slowly up to her feet, still looking out of it. She looked around for her clothes and headed toward them.

“No,” Ramsey says. “Just like you are.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. He looked back. There was another knock, louder.

“Now,” Ramsy says.

Molly made a little sound. Then she went to the door. And opened it.

It was Connell Dreyfuss, one of Lester’s part-time deputies, in his cop’s uniform. He was around twenty-two maybe, tall and gangly. When he saw Molly standing in front of him stark naked, it was like in a cartoon–his mouth actually fell open, and his eyes got so big it looked like they might really pop out.

“Let him in, Molly,” Ramsey says.

When he came in and saw Abby, also naked, Connell nearly fell over. I thought he might actually faint. His eyes took me in too, but he was already so overwhelmed that I wasn’t sure it even registered.

“Connell,” Ramsey says. “How you doing?”

Connell had to take a deep breath to steady himself. “Jesus!” he said then. “Jesus, what’s going on here?”

“Just having a little fun,” Ramsey says. “Right, girls?”

“That’s right,” Abby said. She had pulled herself together, and she now got up off the floor. “Just a little fun, that’s all.”

Connell looked at Molly.

“Yes,” Molly said, a little faintly, but she looked him right in the eye. “Just a little fun.”

Connell focused on me then. “But–but what–why is–”

“What’s the problem, Connell?” Ramsey said.

“Well, I–Lester told me to come out here and check things out,” Connell says. “He said, he said Molly’s father called him again, fussing at him about Molly being missing, and–and he said Josh had told him she was here and told him some kind of wild story, and–well, he told me to just come out and look things over, you know?”

I was thinking about what Ramsey had started to say to me. I knew he’d meant it as some kind of threat about Molly. I didn’t know what else he could do to her, but I didn’t want to find out. I figured Connell could see for himself that things weren’t right here. That was pretty damn obvious.

“Well,” Ramsey says, “you can tell Lester that everything’s fine. Nothing illegal here. Just playing around. It’s all a game. Molly’s just fine. You can see that, right? Tell her daddy she’s gonna be here for a while. But she’s just fine.”

Connell looked confused. “But–but why is Josh–”

“Josh got a little out of hand,” Ramsey said. “He’s the jealous type, you know? Came up here threatening to shoot me.” He indicated the guns lying on the floor. “Had to knock him out and tie him up. You better take him away with you. Put him under arrest or something till he calms down.”

I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. Like I said, I didn’t know what Ramsey could do to Molly that he hadn’t done already, but I couldn’t let her stay there. And he couldn’t do anything to her if he was in jail. And I was pretty sure he would kill me now if he ever got the chance.

“That’s bullshit!” I said. I was hoarse, but I tried to stay calm, not to sound too crazy. “Listen, Connell. Ramsey kidnapped Molly. He was holding her against her will. He had her tied up, and he– Jesus, look at me! He’s gonna kill me if he can. He’s gone crazy, you’ve got to–”

Ramsey laughed. “You’re the one that’s crazy, Josh,” he said. He looked at Connell again. “Like I said, he’s crazy jealous about Molly. But nobody’s holding her here. She’s here ’cause she wants to be. Isn’t that right, Molly?”

“Yes,” Molly said. “That’s right.”

I felt like crying. I could see Connell looking around now, taking in the guns, the bits of rope, the clothes on the floor, but his eyes always returning to the naked women. He was shaking his head. “I dunno,” he said finally. “Pretty kinky games you play, Ramsey.”

“Maybe so,” Ramsey says. “But nothing illegal about that, right?”

Connell still hesitated. “I dunno,” he said again. “Maybe I oughta call in to Lester, see what he thinks I should do.”

“No need for that,” Ramsey said. “Don’t want anly more trouble. You like these girls, Connell? Abby? Molly? Pretty sexy girls, right? Which one you like better? Or do you want both of them?”

Connell was staring at him.

“They’ll do anything you want,” Ramsey says. “Give you a good time. And then you can take Josh out of here and just tell Lester that everything’s fine. Okay?”

“Jesus!” Connell said.

“No!” I yelled.

But it was no good. Connell was a single guy, not all that bright or especially attractive, and most of the pussy he got, he got out at Anna Mae’s cathouse just outside town. There was no way he was gonna turn down an offer like that, especially with Abby and Molly standing naked right there in front of him. I yelled some more, but I couldn’t stop it. Connell looked like he was paralyzed at first, and Ramsey told the girls to undress him. And they did. Molly looked like she was in a trance, but she didn’t hesitate anymore, she didn’t protest, she just did everything Ramsey told her to do. Abby did too, like always. They got Connell naked and then Abby sucked his cock. He came really quick, and Ramsey told Molly to work on him till he was hard again, and then to fuck him, and that’s what she did. Connell didn’t have much staying power, but he kept coming back for more, and I’m not gonna tell you everything they did with him, but Ramsey kept them at it until he just couldn’t get it up again. It took a while.

After that Ramsey told Connell what he wanted him to do and say. He said that if Connell didn’t do it right he would get him in big trouble, tell Lester how Connell had attacked his girls at gunpoint, and the girls would back him up. But if he stuck to the story, Ramsey said, then Connell could come back from time to time and get a little more of what he’d just enjoyed so much.

Connell put handcuffs on me before he cut me loose from the chair. I knew nothing I said would do any good, but I tried anyway. Connell told me to shut up. He even pulled his gun. He took me out to his car and put me in the back and drove back to town.

Lester was still at the station. He didn’t bother to draw his gun. He listened to me, and he listened to Connell, and Connell told him how I was crazy jealous and had gone out there to kill Ramsey. He said Molly was fine and obviously having a good time with Ramsey and Abby. He didn’t say they were naked. He didn’t tell what they’d done with him. I told Lester the whole story, but I knew it sounded crazy, and that I did too, and I was obviously out of my head with jealousy and hatred of Ramsey because he’d taken my girlfriend. I knew that was what Lester believed, and I knew that’s what Ramsey would tell him if he bothered to ask him. And that that’s what Abby would tell him. And Molly too.

Lester finally said these were serious charges, and he was gonna put me in a cell overnight to calm me down, and maybe he’d go out to talk to Ramsey in the morning. Next day he told me that Ramsey wasn’t going to press charges, but he said I should keep away from Ramsey’s place. He said if I went out there again he’d put me away for a lot more than a night. He said he was keeping an eye on me.

I didn’t go out there again. I knew it wouldn’t be any use anyway. I didn’t go back to the mill either. I got myself a job in a garage out at Summerton, fixing cars. Molly quit her job at the hospital and she’s still up there with Ramsey. Abby too, far as I know. I heard Molly’s father went out there once, came back and never said anything to anybody about it, and he died soon after that. Nobody else ever goes out there, except I hear Connell does once in a while. Ramsey went back to work once his leg healed up. From what I hear he’s the same old Ramsey, keeps to himself, does his work, goes home. Only other time he ever comes into town is when he goes to Charley’s. Not very often. But now I hear it’s not Abby he brings with him, most times. It’s Molly. That’s what they say anway. I never go there anymore.

“You’ll enjoy it so much, Jane,” Carol told her enthusiastically. “Just think; a whole three weeks in role together!”

Jane was dubious. Her cousin’s proposal was exciting, but Jane had never role-played before strangers and she inwardly quailed at the very idea of appearing naked in public. But, deep within, a queer little thrill at the prospect stirred.

Carol laughed at her. She knew very well what was troubling Jane. A veteran of several BDSM Club events, she herself had once shared the same reservations.

“It isn’t at all what you may think, dear!” she said earnestly. “Take it from me, BDSM Clubs are extremely tough on anything sexual; they’re positively Puritanical on the point. No-one, particularly a woman, will be subject to any sexual innuendo even, or anything of that kind! And, don’t forget, this will be a Femdom event; the men present will all be slaves and well under the control of their Mistresses. And also, we’ll be there in animal roles, and these people are very experienced in letting people play their parts; they will think of us purely as animals; attractive and graceful animals perhaps” (she chuckled) “but animals just the same!”

Jane, despite herself, was almost convinced. But at once she put an unerring finger at the weak spot in her cousin’s scheme.

“If this is a Feminine Domination event,” she said, “they won’t want subordinate women there. Surely it would make a mockery of the whole thing?”

Carol’s brow creased in a frown; her cousin had a point!

“Yes; it would rather,” she admitted. “But we wouldn’t be present as woman, but as female animals. Anyway, that’s the argument I’ll put to Lady Isobel when I see her tomorrow. Why don’t you come too? One look at her will put your mind at rest!”

And to this proposition Jane agreed; after all, what could it possibly cost her?

Noon the next day found them driving along a narrow lane somewhere near Minchinhampton. A broad gateway flanked by two stone lions led by a winding route through extensive park lands to a large, Georgian mansion.

Carol parked in front of the house, slid out from beneath the steering wheel and walked confidently up the broad steps to the imposing front door where she pulled insouciantly upon the bell rope at its side, while Jane stood uncertainly at her cousin’s side, a little over-awed by the grandeur and scale of their surroundings. Her equilibrium was further disturbed when the door was opened by an immaculately dressed Butler.

To Jane’s secret admiration Carol was perfectly composed in the presence of this forbidding apparition.

“Good afternoon, Perkins,” she said airily. “We have an appointment with your Mistress!”

“Quite so, Miss Carol,” he murmured in reply. “Yourself and…?”

He glanced at Jane, an eyebrow raised in polite enquiry.

“My cousin; Jane,” explained Carol.

“Of course!” he gravely replied. “Good afternoon, Miss Jane. If the ladies will follow me…?”

On their way along the broad corridor, with its walls hung with paintings and its high ceiling, Jane’s hand sought out that of her cousin for assurance, and it was thus they entered the large, sunny morning room; hand in hand like two children.

‘Lady’ Isobel turned out to be an incongruously large and jolly-looking woman in her middle years. When they were decorously ushered into the room, they found her poring over a pile of official looking documents, steel-rimmed pince-nez perched upon her ample nose. Perkins uttered a polite cough, and she looked up from her papers.

The smile of welcome on her face changed to one of tender and appreciative wonder when she saw them together. Two pretty young girls, hand in hand, virginally fresh, and identically dressed from their tiny sandals to their simple dresses and even to the leather collars around their slender throats. Carol she had met on several occasions, but the other girl – who might well have been her twin – was unknown to her.

Introductions were made, Perkins was dispatched for refreshments, and the three settled down to the business of their meeting.

Isobel sat in a comfortable armchair, facing ‘the twins’, as she was already mentally thinking of them. They sat opposite on a sofa, close together as if loath to be separated. Every so often their hands would steal into each other’s, and they spoke alternatively, often completing each other’s sentences, obliging their hostess to look from one to other. marvelling as she did so at their uncanny resemblance to each other.

“We know it might be a problem,” began Carol.

“Because of it being a Female Domination event,” added Jane.

“But we wouldn’t be attending as slaves,” said Carol.

“But as animals – female animals, of course!” her cousin said, giggling infectiously.

“So we could be hunted…” “Like the male slaves…” “Except that when we’re caught…” “Our new owner would treat us as animals…” “We’re very good at being animals – really!” Carol ended earnestly.

Isobel looked at their anxious faces and burst into helpless laughter, the tears running down her homely face.

“Oh, my dears!” she gasped. “Of course you may take part; if it was my sole decision. You shall both stay for lunch, and meet Mistress Sarah – it’s at her place that the Hunt is taking place. If she agrees – and I’m sure she will – the other Ladies will fall into line; I’m sure!”

With that, she sent them both off under the charge of Perkins to prepare for lunch.

In the large and luxurious bathroom, Carol acquainted Jane with the details of Lady Isobel’s eccentric menage.

“Perkins is a permanent resident,” Carol informed her cousin. “He’s a slave, of course. Did you notice his collar? It’s silver, you know!”

Jane was astonished at this bland declaration. Carol went on.

“Lady Isobel has quite a few slaves. Some temporary – weekends and holidays, and so forth – and two or three permanent. We’ll probably be waited on at lunch by one of her transvestite slave-maids.”

Jane giggled, and was about to express her amazement that anyone would want to be a transvestite, let alone a slave, before remembering her own reason for being here with Carol. Wisely, she remained silent and joined her cousin in the large shower.

Showered and lightly scented, they descended the sweeping staircase in Perkins’ wake. By some triumph of organisation, their sandals had been cleaned and polished, and their dresses pressed and ironed during their brief absence in the bathroom.

They entered onto the sweeping terrace on which lunch was to be taken, Carol confidently – because she had met Mistress Sarah before – and Jane timidly, her hand stealing again into that of her cousin to give her confidence.

Everything went perfectly swimmingly, Mistress Sarah being as struck by the cousins as her friend. They departed with the assurance that the rest of the Ladies would agree to their presence, odd though this innovation was. But they were warned that one member of the Group, a certain ‘Lady Noire’, might be awkward about it.

Chapter TWO

The possible objections of Lady Noire were evidently overcome, or set aside, for only three days later an E-mail confirming the admission of Jane and Carol to the Hunt was received, and a copy of the Rules was being down-loaded on Carol’s computer.

Jane had bought, on a whim, an extra-large office chair and installed it before the computer keyboard. Designed to seat a very large man, the diminutive cousins were able to sit in it side by side, the fingers of their four hands flying over the keys.

They stared at the Rules on the monitor before them in silence before beginning to summarise them for each other’s benefit.

“All slaves to be hunted shall be naked and mitted,” read Carol, with a little giggle.

“The Hunt will start daily one hour after dawn, and cease one hour before sunset,” read Jane.

They printed out a copy for each of them and retired to the patio with a large jug of cold lemonade to study them.

The methodical Jane read carefully, often referring to the detailed map of Mistress Sarah’s estate which had been sent to them. A skilled model-maker, she even went so far as to build a relief map of the area and spent hours studying it carefully and making numerous notes.

The less organised Carol was astonished by the seriousness in which her cousin was approaching their forthcoming ordeal.

“It really isn’t worth the effort, my dear,” she told Jane. “No slave has managed to stay uncaptured for more than the first day and night. Nearly everyone is taken by noon on the second day, and no-one lasts till that evening.”

“Well,” said Jane, her mouth set in a grim little line, “they won’t find it so easy to capture us!”

Carol gaped at her in amazement.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked in a tiny voice. “You surely can’t hope to stay free for the entire time?”

“I can and I do!” replied her cousin confidently. “And so shall you if you do as I tell you!”

Carol begged her cousin for more information, and they went outside to for Jane to explain her strategy over a cup of tea.

Jane began by saying that the slaves were almost all middle-aged town dwellers. They would not know how to live, naked and unseen, in the woods; after a single night of cold, hunger and loneliness they would be delighted to be captured – they enjoyed being slaves, after all! And the threat from their Mistresses was not great. They, too, would only be playing at hunting, and would soon become discouraged when their quarry failed to oblige them by offering itself to be caught.

“But we are wild animals,” Jane told her, “and we don’t enjoy captivity!”

“But what about food?” Carol asked doubtfully.

“The Lord will provide!” Jane replied cryptically, and giggled.

Chapter THREE

They arrived at the appointed time of noon to be welcomed by Perkins, lent by his Mistress for the occasion. At Jane’s desire, he took them on a short tour of the outside of Mistress Sarah’s imposing Georgian mansion. She payed particular attention to the walled yard at the rear on to which opened the kitchen. There were kennels on the far side, at the ends of narrow, barred runs. There was a large barn, in which were ‘pony’ stalls and cages, and Carol shuddered at the delicious thoughts that these sights suggested to her.

It had been decided, Perkins told them off-handedly, that, as they were to be ‘animals’ as opposed to slaves, they were to be introduced in that role. A suitable cage had been provided for them, and they would spend the night in it before being released tomorrow morning when the Hunt started.

“So if the ladies would care to follow me,” he told them smoothly, “I shall show them to their, er, temporary accommodation where they may prepare themselves.”

Giggling, the two girls followed the Butler into a smaller barn where he left them to get into role.

“One of the household slaves will attend you in ten minutes in order to, er, secure you,” he said before leaving them.

They walked over and regarded the cage provided for them with professional interest. At six feet long and four feet high and wide, it was easily large enough to hold two creatures of their diminutive size in moderate comfort. There was a broad, shallow steel trough welded to the bars halfway down one of the long sides, and a thick absorbent pad covered the steel floor. There was no sign of any ‘toilet’ arrangements for the cage’s inmates, an omission which made them giggle afresh.

Carol at once removed her single garment and her sandals; Jane, after a moment’s hesitation, following suit. Her cousin, kneeling to rummage in the small bag of gear they had brought with them, brought out the little gags and the mitts they would wear for the next ten days. Jane, caught up in her cousin’s excitement, swiftly fitted her gag and clamped her mitts shut around her wrists. Then she went down on all-fours in readiness for Carol to switch on the portable transmitter they had brought with them which would keep them from rising above the pre-set height of three feet. Tittering in delight, they scrambled into the cage.

The promised slave, a middle-aged man in a steel collar and thick sandals, a short linen skirt covering his loins, arrived within a few minutes. To their great delight, he took no more notice of them as if they’d really been the animals they’d set out to imitate. He merely spared them a casual glance before closing the cage door and securing it with its simple latch. As he left the barn, he shut the door behind him, leaving them in the dusty dimness.

Jane lay on the soft but scratchy pad, her head propped upon her cousin’s thigh. Now that the die was cast she felt much more comfortable, enjoying again the delicious feeling of total irresponsibility which accompanied her complete helplessness. Carol, judging by her regular breathing and lack of motion, had dozed off, and Jane lost no time in following her example.

It was still dim in the barn when Carol awoke, the only light coming through the gaps in the crude wooden door. She turned drowsily on to her other side, her legs colliding with the ankles of her cousin. Opening her eyes fully, she saw Jane crouched in a corner of their cage, and, by the sounds of liquid splashing on to the pad, she was urinating. Carol felt herself flushing, and giggled silently. The sight made her conscious of her own full bladder, but she postponed relieving herself until she gathered the courage to do so in such close company. But she would have to do so soon, and she was in the process of debating imitating her cousin when the opportunity was lost for the moment.

The door opened, letting in a flood of bright late-afternoon sunshine, and two burly slaves entered. Jane instinctively crouched to preserve her modesty; but Carol, much more used to being naked before the eyes of others, rose on her hind legs and placed her front ‘paws’ upon the transverse bar midway up the side of the bars to see what the slaves were doing.

Completely ignoring the two girls, the slaves took up a long, ‘T’ shaped, steel rod and inserted its plain end into a socket at the front of the cage. Grunting with effort, they pumped it up and down, and the cage rose smoothly upwards on the hidden rubber wheels in its thick base. Each grasping one side of the ‘T’ shaped handle, they pulled the heavy cage through the doors into the sunshine.

Travelling slowly across the concrete yard, Jane was flushed with embarrassment, feeling that every eye was upon them, crouched naked in their cage. But Carol had no such qualms; she ran from one end of the cage to the other, occasionally stumbling over Jane, eagerly drinking in the scene as they progressed.

The cage, after traversing the yard, was brought to rest on a lawn under the shade of a huge tree. Around them were scattered pretty little rustic tables with comfortable padded chairs of wicker, obviously for the use of the Ladies, though none were to be seen as yet. Fifty feet away, directly across the lawn, was the raised terrace of the house. An ornate white-painted balustrade protected any occupants from falling to the ground four feet below and was extended down each side of a broad flight of shallow steps to end in a gate at the edge of the lawn.

The two slaves left as silently as they’d came, but Jane had scarcely time to feel her relief at being unobserved before a woman walked briskly into view around the corner of the house, leading on a chain a man, his shoulders bowed in submission.

The distance was not so great as to prevent them noticing that the slave had been punished recently, for several thin, red stripes disfigured the white skin of his buttocks and the backs of his upper thighs; and he was stark naked, too, apart from the steel collar to which his chain was attached. Jane felt herself flushing once more, but she continued to watch as the woman, on reaching the gate, uttered a curt order at which the slave fell to his knees for his chain to be secured low down to a gate post. The woman left him crouching there miserably without a backward glance and Jane, who had dreaded the prospect of the woman coming over to their cage, relaxed. Carol took the opportunity to squat and relieve herself despite her embarrassment at the near proximity of her cousin.

Jane stiffened in surprise and apprehension as there appeared on the terrace, one after the other, two women, ‘Ladies’ by their apparel, for they were dressed in the gauzy garments beloved of Edwardian painters, and they carried dainty parasols which they erected against the glare of the sun as they descended the steps.

The tethered slave, rising instantly as high as his chain allowed him, scrambled to open the gate for them. They passed through, talking softly together in languid voices, totally ignoring the slave crouched obsequiously to one side. Reaching the lawn, they stood for a moment as if in search of diversion. Then, to Jane’s horror, they turned their slow steps towards the shade of the tree.

Jane crouched in the centre of their cage, her head buried between her paws as if, ostrichlike, she believed that if she couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see her. But, of course, she knew it to be wishful thinking, and she felt that she was glowing bright scarlet all over her body with embarrassment and mortification when the Ladies halted so close that she could hear the faint rustling of their silken garments.

Her cousin had no such inhibitions. Scrambling over Jane, she crouched at the bars, her front paws on the transverse bars as before, her rump quivering eagerly as if trying to wag an invisible tail, as Jane could plainly see through her slitted eyes.

“Ah, you dear little thing!” She heard a voice coo affectionately. “Isn’t she sweet, Samantha? And her twin sister, too! I never knew she had one!”

Jane became uncomfortably aware of being stared at from both sides as the other Lady moved to stand opposite her friend. Blushing an even deeper crimson, she pressed her hot face into the pad between her paws, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of her unbathed body, and the faint but growing smell of the damp patch in a corner of her shared cage.

“Poor little doggy!” a voice said. ‘She’s shy!” Then: “We surely aren’t going to hunt these poor little things tomorrow? They won’t last five minutes! I shall trap them both and walk them on gilt leashes!”

With that, Jane felt a soft, scented hand stroke her gently down her back from her hunched shoulders to her upthrust buttocks. Before she could react to this impudent assault, she heard the steps of the two women move off and the creaking of wicker as they took their seats at a table.

Anger overcame her shyness; how dare these languid, over-dressed women patronise her so! Five minutes indeed! There and then she made a vow that she would see those soft, pampered, scented creatures fume helplessly in frustration at their failure to capture her. And her cousin, too; if Carol would follow her example! Raising her head a little she shot them an angry glare, but they were too interested in watching the approach of a slave bearing glasses and a tall, dewy pitcher on a silver tray to notice her defiance.

The tables were rapidly filling up as more and Ladies, each clad in Edwardian grandeur, crossed the terrace and came down the steps to the lawn. The cringing slave at the gate was ignored by them all except once, when he was a little slow scuttling out of the way of a large, angular Lady. She, without seeming to change step, took a small coiled whip from her linen belt and brought it down across his shoulders. Then she strode on without a word to join her sister Mistresses.

The cage was now completely surrounded by the softly chattering women, some of them less than ten feet away. Every Lady had paid the cousins a visit, cooing over them and petting the eager Carol, while Jane continued to crouch sullenly in the middle of their cage, often jostled and trodden on by her cousin as she shamelessly scurried about to attract the attention of the Ladies.

The sounds of ice tinkling in tall glasses, and the constant visits of sweating slaves bearing pitchers and bowls of fruit, made the cousins increasingly aware of their thirst. Jane, abandoning her futile attempt at concealing her body from the casual gaze of those around the cage, rose to all-fours and licked her dry lips with her tongue while Carol put her front paws on the bars and whined piteously.

During a lull in the conversation at the nearest table, a Lady rose and sauntered towards the cousins. Carol redoubled her whimperings, and the woman put a slim hand through the bars for Carol to nuzzle. Extending her other hand to Jane, she snapped her fingers in command. Almost against her will, Jane found herself at the bars, her hair being ruffled by the woman’s scented fingers.

“I’m sure these dear little things are thirsty,” the woman said languidly. “We really ought to tell a slave to water them.”

“Oh, it’s far too hot to bother about that now, Melissa,” a woman at a nearby table said dismissively. “Do come and have some iced lemonade!”

The woman shrugged; after ruffling Jane’s hair absently a final time she wandered back to her friends, leaving Jane seething inwardly at this cavalier treatment.

However, some such order must have been given, for a little later a slave appeared bearing a bucket of water, some of which he casually splashed into the cage’s dusty trough. The cousins lost no time in slurping up the tepid water while all around them the women cooed affectionately at the sight of the two fair heads bent over their trough side by side.

Feeling considerably better after slaking her thirst, Jane lay down on the padded floor and closed her eyes, affecting to ignore the chattering women a few feet away, though Carol shamelessly continued to paw at the bars and whine for attention at anyone who passed by.

Jane must have fallen into a light doze, for she was abruptly brought back to full wakefulness by a painful jab in the ribs with something hard and sharp. With a little gasp of shock and surprise, Jane rolled over on to her back just in time to see the ferrule of a gaily-striped furled parasol withdraw through the bars. The hand that held is was black, as was the narrow aristocratic face peering down at her – a deep, soft, sooty black.

“This one’s awake now!” she heard a foreign-accented voice remark with satisfaction. “Come to Noire, little pale beast; come and lick my fingers!”

Jane could scarcely contain her anger and outrage, but her cousin was having her hair ruffled and her back stroked by the narrow black hands, and she was uttering little mews of satisfaction and wriggling her rump in ecstasy. Suddenly aware that she was still lying on her back, exposed to the gaze of the chuckling onlookers, Jane scrambled to all-fours. She was unable to avoid the hand that seized her by her collar and pulled her to the side of the cage, nor the other hand that stretched through the bars and began to scratch her behind her ears.

“They are so pretty, these little white animals!” the black women said. “I shall hunt them both down tomorrow; it will not take long. And then I shall find a good use for them.”

The watching women burst into laughter.

“Come off it, Noire!” a nearby Lady said, to general agreement all round. “We all have plans for those two!”

There and then it was decided that, if the pair were captured separately, one of their captors would sell her prize to the other.

Chapter FOUR

The gathering broke up shortly afterwards as the Ladies went to bathe and change for aperitifs on the terrace before dinner. Jane and Carol, left alone in their cage in the early twilight, gazed after the elegant, departing forms. Carol whimpered in disappointment, then lay down and curled up to sleep, but Jane stayed on all-fours, staring at the brightly-lit mansion through the bars and plotting her vengeance on these patronising, pampered, over-dressed women. Hunt her down, would they? It wouldn’t take long, would it? She’d lead them a merry dance!

But worse was to come. An hour or so passed, and then the two slaves who had brought out the cage returned and wheeled it back into the little barn. There the slaves each took down from the wall a thin leather leash before opening the door of the cage. Carol, who had been expecting this, and had none of her cousin’s inhibitions about being on public display, came out eagerly to have her leash clipped to her collar. But Jane hung back until a slave thrust a brawny arm through the bars at the top of the cage, and, grasping her collar, dragged her to the entrance. There she felt fingers fumble under her chin and heard the sharp little click of the leash’s spring-clip engaging with the ‘D’ ring of her collar.

The ensuing tug at her neck was stubbornly resisted. Jane heard the slave swear under his breath, then felt his knuckles grind into the back of her neck as he seized by her collar and dragged her forward by main force. With her head held down by the imprisoning hand, Jane didn’t see the downward blow of the short riding crop which struck her painfully across her rump, nor the blows which followed it. But she felt the stinging pain they brought, and she gave a little yelp of agony at each one.

Through her tears, she heard a dispassionate voice from above. “Bad girl!” it said, and when her leash was tugged again Jane followed meekly, occasionally wriggling her buttocks to ease the pain of the blows she’d received.

The slaves led the cousins in single file out of the barn and into the flood-lit yard. Jane found it difficult to look ahead, for the slave leading her held his hand well down on her leash, but she could see the Carol’s little white haunches some three feet in front of her as they crossed the concrete yard and went through a wide door into a dim corridor smelling of liniment, stale beer, tobacco smoke and male sweat.

The coarse carpeting and dim lighting of the corridor gave way to damp, white tiling and a glaring light from above. Jane, when she’d recovered her vison, found that they were in a large communal shower room. There were no partitions, only shower heads jutting from the tiled walls under which three or four slaves were even then showering.

Jane had never seen a naked man before, or been seen naked by any man but her father when she’d been a tiny baby. After a single horrified stare, she blushed to the roots of her hair as she was led behind her cousin across the centre of the brightly-lit tiled floor. But, to her relief, the slaves paid the two naked women being led amongst them on all-fours no attention whatsoever apart from a casual glance. So little was their appearance remarked that Jane, with a certain feminine perversity, found herself becoming annoyed by their indifference to the sight of her body, and she found herself giggling at her own contrariness.

Reaching the wall, each cousin was tethered by a short chain ro a low-set ring in the wall. Then the shower-head above them was turned on, and their attendant slaves, after removing their sandals and thongs, began to wash them down.

Jane endured the following indignities with all the fortitude she could muster. Once again, however, she felt obscurely aggrieved at the impersonality with which the probing fingers treated her body. When they all dried off in a narrow room set about with enormous hot-air blowers, a delicate scent was sprayed upon both cousins; on their fluffed-out hair, under their armpits, and between their buttocks and the tops of their thighs, all the time with the same maddening ordinariness as if they were indeed two little animals being prepared for presentation.

Clean, dry and perfumed, the cousins were led away again, once more in single file. Somehow, after threading a maze of corridors, they found themselves being led along a wider, brighter passage, this time floored with soft, deep carpeting, up to a set of broad wooden double-doors. A discreet knock by the leading slave caused the doors to be opened by a slave standing behind them, and Jane found herself upon the same terrace that she’d been able see from their cage on the lawn below.

The Ladies had begun to dine; some at single tables, other in pairs and threesomes, each attended by her personal slave. The smell of food reminded Jane forcibly of the fact that, apart from a single slice of toast that morning, she had eaten nothing all day. Her cousin was equally hungry, but she was accustomed to this scenario, as she showed by tugging on her leash with the obvious intention of approaching the nearest table at which a Lady in lavender silk dined in solitary splendour.

At a sign from this Lady, the slave leading Carol stooped to detach her leash, and she bounded forward to sit by the Lady’s chair. Then she rose, balancing on the balls of her feet, her upper body raised and her mitted hands dangling downwards from her wrists in front of her breasts for all the world like a dog begging. The Lady smiled down at Carol, ruffled her bright hair with a casual hand, then picked up a morsel from her plate and offered it between the tips of her perfumed fingers. Carol took it neatly, gulped it down, then raised her head once more to stare insistently upwards at her smiling benefactor. Another morsel and another followed before the Lady tired of Carol’s persistance and made an impatient gesture to the slave. He uttered a curt command, and Carol slunk back to his feet to be leashed once more.

The cousins were then led from table to to table, Sometimes a Lady would signal for them to be unleashed and come to be fed; sometimes they were ignored. At first Jane could not bring herself to such humiliating conduct, but she very soon realised that this was likely to be the only opportunity that she’d be given to eat anything at all before the Hunt began in the morning. Swallowing her pride, she joined her cousin in her shameless supplication for scraps. They soon discovered that, when they begged side by side, their two golden heads together, the women gushed over them, plying them with morsels from their plates.

They were back on their leashes as the last course of fruit was brought in and it was then that the sharp voice of Lady Noire was directed at their handlers and they were led to the table where she was dining alone.

“Come, little pale beasts! Come and beg for scraps from me!”

Picking up an apple, she showed it to them before slicing it into several pieces and taking them up in her hand. But then, instead of offering the apple to them slice by slice, she casually tossed the the pieces to the floor at her elegant feet.

Once more Jane seethed with anger; once more she swallowed her pride, the more so as her cousin was already down, her fore-arms flat on the floor, snuffling amongst the fragments. Jane joined her immediately, conscious all the time of the black woman’s gaze from above. A peach followed, and then a pear before Lay Noire tired of them and waved them away.

Her dismissal was the end as far as Jane and Carol were concerned, for they were led away down the steps to the lawn, around the corner of the house, and into the yard behind the kitchens. There they were taken into the barn and put back into their cage. Water was splashed into their trough, the barn door slammed shut behind the departing slaves, and the cousins were left alone in the dark.

Chapter FIVE

They were woken from a deep sleep, curled up together, by the abrupt opening of the door and the entry of their handlers. The ‘T’ shaped bar was put into use once more, and their cage dragged out into the fresh coolness of the dawn air.

The slaves continued pulling the cage along, across the yard and on to the turf separating the mansion from the scattered woodlands of its surroundings. On and on they went, lurching from side to side as the cage rode the bumpy ground, until they were two hundred yards outside the enclosing walls of the mansion grounds. Under a lone thorn tree the slaves left them and went back to the house.

Sheep continued to crop nearby, unconcerned at the novel presence of two naked women in a cage. The two sheep-dogs came to investigate, poking their long muzzles through the bars. Carol shrank away in fear, but Jane returned the dogs’ interest, sniffing and licking their muzzles and allowing her face and body to be thoroughly sniffed and licked by the dogs. All this was for a purpose, for she meant to be known to the dogs as harmless and for them to be her unwitting allies in defeating her hunters.

The dogs departed, satisfied as to the harmlessness to their charges of the strange bitches in the cage, and Jane and her cousin lay down to wait in the faint but increasing warmth of the newly-risen sun. They were now outside the range of the portable transmitter that kept them on all-fours under the threat of paralysing agony and could have stood upright had their cage been higher; and that was a relief, for Jane had feared they’d be hunted on all-fours. She cocked an experienced eye at the sky. It had been a cold, clear night, and it would be a hot, windless, sunny day. So much the better; the prospect of a perspiring hunt in hot weather would dampen the ardour for the chase of the pampered creatures now slumbering in their soft and scented beds, and so would wind and rain; perish the thought that their delicate and elegant clothing should become damp and muddy! She glanced at Carol, regretting that she hadn’t impressed upon her more indelibly the importance of doing exactly as she did, of copying her every action. But she was dumb now, and it was too late. She nuzzled Carol to rouse her and tried to communicate her concern with her eyes.

The grazing sheep looked up, startled by the faint but growing sound of lusty male voices roused in song in the distance. A group coming across the turf from the house resolved itself into twelve slaves, stark naked and linked together by chains to their steel collars, and two attendant guards in thongs and sandals bearing sticks. At their head came Mistress Sarah’s husband, Mark, the chief slave of the establishment, in his silver sleeveless tunic, his silver collar and carrying his staff of office in his hand.

The chained slaves were singing as they walked.

“Heigho, heigho,” they sang cheerfully, “it’s to the hunt we go!” and so forth until they reached the thorn tree and formed themselves into a straggling line, with much surreptitious pushing, shoving and tripping of each other under the humorously disapproving eye of the head-slave.

“Now, gentlemen!” Mark began, to ironical cheers and raucous ribaldry from his audience. “Now, gentlemen,” he repeated, making the word drip with sarcasm, “you all know the rules. When I blow this whistle, you have an hour’s grace before the Hunt starts. There’s another hour of immunity an hour before dark, when food will be left for you in the usual clearing. There won’t be enough to go round; but that won’t matter. I confidently predict that all you knock-kneed dead-beats will be captured and in your cages long before then!”

Jeers and boasts greeted this announcement, and he grinned broadly. Jane looked on in astonishment, amused in spite of herself by the spectacle of these sturdy middle-aged men, jovial and self-assured. She began to suspect that, just as with herself and Carol, these men enjoyed their roles, even if they didn’t seem to be taking them entirely seriously.

The chains linking the slaves’ collars were removed, the whistle was blown, and the ‘prey’ bounded off across the turf to the the shelter of the woods, laughing and exchanging badinage as they ran. Then the door of the cage was opened, and Mark and the two guards walked off without a backward glance.

Chapter SIX

Jane was first through the door, closely followed by her cousin. Tentatively, they stood upright, then Jane led the way at a loping trot over the turf into the woods. Once under the trees her careful studies of the maps was put into play immediately as she wound her way through the trees to a little dell through the middle of which ran a tiny, sparkling stream. There they drank their fill before rising and moving deeper into the woods until Jane found a stagnant pool. There, under Carol’s disbelieving eyes, she flopped down and rolled vigorously around in the mud at its edge. Rising, dripping with slime, she glanced significantly at her cousin. Carol, her face screwed up in disgust, gingerly followed suit. Then Jane again led the way at a fast trot through the wood.

She quickly found what she was seeking; an area of lush, green grass that the sheep, nervous of venturing so far into the trees, had ignored. The mud had been drying on their bodies as they ran, and Jane, without more ado, fell down upon the grass and rolled about in it energetically. Carol watched in wonder, and when her cousin rose she followed her example doubtfully.

Carol found rolling about in the thick, cool grass very refreshing, but when she sat up, dizzy from her exertions, she found that her cousin had vanished! She stared around in confusion and dismay, then something moved against the greeny-brown background and Jane stood before her, smiling down at her. Carol scrambled to her feet; now she understood the purpose of Jane’s actions.

“Oh; you clever girl!” she thought admiringly. “Camouflage!” She glanced down at her own body, observing the way the brownish hues of the drying mud combined with the green stains from the grass to produce a curious striped, mottled pattern on her skin, then turned to her cousin with a smile of thanks.

Jane did not linger. With a gesture to Carol, she turned and ran off at an easy loping trot through the woodland.

Carol had no idea of where they were bound, and it was with trepidation that she saw the woods abruptly end and the open turf begin. But Jane, after a cursory glance around, dropped to all-fours and scrambled into the open, running quickly and easily on the balls of her feet and the tips of her mitts, and her cousin followed suit.

The terrain they found themselves in was an area of broken ground, with tiny valleys and ridges, none more than six feet deep or high. Turf was the sole covering except for occasional little stands of small thornbushes on the ridges. Sheep grazed everywhere, ignoring the silent passage of the two cousins. The two dogs, lying in the shade under a thornbush, merely gazed at them in mild curiosity, recognising their scents and knowing these hairless creatures to be harmless.

The broken ground ended in a sea of gorse bushes, so close together that they formed a continuous mass of green needles and mustard-yellow flowers. It was old gorse, ranging from four feet to six feet high in places, and Jane halted for a moment, seeking a way inside.

Carol saw her cousin dart forward, drop to elbows and knees, and worm her way into a gap in the gorse. Jane’s brown and green striped rump passed from her sight, and, dubiously, she followed.

To Carol’s relief the passage wasn’t as painfully prickly as she’d feared, and in the gloom under the foliage the ground was clear except for a deep, soft layer of shed needles and dead leaves blown inside by the Autumn gales. She saw Jane facing her a few feet further in, then followed once more when her cousin turned and began to wend her way, silently and skilfully, through the maze of passages formed by the twisted trunks of the gorse plants.

Carol found a surprising amount of head-room, from thirty inches rising to almost three feet, and they made quick progress in a direction she could only guess at until Jane came to a halt, flopped down on her belly, and began to inch her way forward.

Carol stayed where she was, uncertain of what to do, then her cousin gave an unmistakable gesture of one mitted hand, and Carol went down on her belly and wriggled forward to lie at her side.

The sight before her brought a little gasp of astonishment from her lips. There, only inches in front of her eyes, the gorse came to an abrupt stop, They had climbed during their journey from the wood, and were now at the far edge of a little rounded hill, no more than fifty feet high and crowned with impenetrable gorse. But they had a view, from only a hundred yards or so, down over the low surrounding wall into the big yard on to which the kitchens, the stables and the kennels opened.

Carol gazed at her clever cousin in unfeigned admiration once more. She was beginning to have an inkling of Jane’s plan.

“What a clever thing she is!” she thought. “They’ll never think of looking for us here!” And she nuzzled her cousin’s shoulder in appreciation.

But Jane knew that only the first minor skirmish had been won in their battle against the Huntresses; she continued to gaze steadily downwards into the walled compound, taking mental note of all she saw. Beside her Carol, bored and drowsy, dropped off into a doze.

Chapter SEVEN

Jane, her chin propped on her ‘paws’ watched the activities in the yard. Mistress Sarah’s slaves were hard at work bolting together a row of six by six by six foot cages. There were a dozen in all; one for each of the hunted slaves. She expected little action as yet from the Ladies; by her experienced reckoning it was barely seven o’clock, and these pampered females would still be asleep in their perfumed boudoirs. Not until nine, or even ten o’clock, did she expect the Hunt to begin. The weather promised to be her ally, too, for it would be a hot and airless day. The Ladies would soon become too warm and uncomfortable, away from the cold drinks and the diversions of the house, to carry on their hunt much after eleven. Then they would retire to rest, then to lunch, then a siesta until the heat of the day diminished. Then they might come out again for a final hour or so before they took their aperitifs on the terrace.

She stared with interest as the men in the yard; slaves of Mistress Sarah judging by their short white skirts, pulled out from a barn several carts. Jane counted them carefully. There were six in all, three two-seaters painted in gay colours of blue, green and red, and three light single-seaters; yellow, orange – and black; the last obviously the property of the Lady Noire. She frowned at the thought of Lady Noire, then brightened up as she realised the Hunters had made their first mistake. She knew that they had available for the Hunt only twelve slaves at the moment; if three pairs were used to pull the larger carts and three slaves to pull the smaller, then only three remained to be employed as ‘hunting dogs’ – and it was those she feared most.

Settling herself more comfortably, she observed the ‘ponies’ being led from the stalls where they had spent the night. She grinned happily; these middle-aged men would not be at their fittest after a night spent on straw with their arms pinioned behind their back. And nor would the ‘dogs’; they had been kennelled on all-fours. Now, as they were taken from their barred runs and dragged upright, they stretched their cramped limbs in obvious relief before their arms were strapped behind them. They were muzzled too; evidently their Mistresses didn’t trust them not to escape their control once they were off their chains!

“Good!” thought Jane. As far as the ‘ponies’ and their riders were concerned, she had no fears. Both she and her cousin could outrun them with ease, and they could thwart them by merely running into the woods and among the the trees where the carts couldn’t follow. But the ‘dogs’ were more dangerous, though she was puzzled about how they were supposed to trap their prey.

One by one, Mistress Sarah’s house-slaves harnessed the ‘ponies’ to their allotted carts; the last, the one selected to draw the sinister black single-seater, was a tall and powerful black man, obviously the personal slave – or even the husband – of the equally sinister Lady Noire. Jane watched him with narrowed eyes before relaxing. Big and strong though he was, and skilled at directing him as his Lady was likely to be, she and Carol could outrun any man harnessed between the shafts of a cart!

Nothing happened for some time, and Jane yawned as she watched. Then the the budding ‘Dianas’ made their appearance, and she gulped back her laughter.

Exquisitely dressed in simulations of the hunting costumes of Edwardian Ladies in delicate pastel shades, some even wearing veils beneath their broad hats, they mounted their carts. Only Lady Noire, clad in black relieved only by a jacket of bright scarlet, was an exception. They even took a stirrup cup, proffered to them in silver goblets by obsequious slaves, before the wide gate was opened and they drove forth on to the open turf.

Jane watched them disappear into the haze to her right, then she rolled over on to her back, crossed her arms behind her head, and closed her eyes – not in sleep, but in thought. Her chief concern was Carol; the programme of evasion Jane had planned demanded not only ingenuity and guile, but also endless patience and an infinite capacity for boredom, qualities that Jane had been obliged to acquire during her long period of imprisonment by her own dog. She feared, above all, some impatient indiscretion by her cousin that would result in her capture. Turning on to her side, she opened her eyes and nuzzled her cousin’s dirty green-streaked hair affectionately.

Rolling back on to her stomach, she took up her watch once more. At about ten o’clock by her reckoning, the first of the carts came into view. Their hunt had been successful, for three slaves, their arms bound behind them, ran leashed behind three of the carts.

Jane looked on as the slaves were led into the yard and placed each in one of the row of cages reserved for them. Half an hour later the rest of the Hunt returned, and with them five more slaves.

This was what Jane had expected. The slaves, hungry already and quite content to be captured, were easy prey. Only four now remained at liberty, and probably none would survive the afternoon Hunt. But for now it seemed the Ladies were content. It was hot, and they would crave cold drinks. Then they would take a light luncheon and afterwards their siestas; only when the afternoon had cooled, at around four o’clock, would they return to the Hunt for the two hours before they took their aperitifs. Then they would have the added aid of the captives, perhaps as ‘hunting dogs’, perhaps as ‘ponies’, but Jane was unconcerned – at the moment, anyway. Intending to wait a couple of hours, then to take herself and Carol to drink from the stream in the full heat of the day, she wriggled back a little from the fringe of her cover, came to all-fours, and went into the gorse a few yards to urinate. After scraping debris over the damp patch of soil to guard against its future smelliness, she returned to her post where she rolled on to her side and fell asleep.

Carol woke wondering where she was, and what she was doing lying in this dim, hot place. Then her memory returned and she glanced over at the sleeping figure of her cousin. She was hot, thirsty and bored, and her bladder needed relief. On all-fours she went further into the gorse to squat, then she carried on to the far edge of the gorse and looked down across the broken ground towards the inviting coolness of the woods. For a moment she considered returning and wakening her cousin, but dismissed the notion. Jane would come and drink when she was thirsty enough. Slipping out of the dimness into the full glare of the noon sun, she made her way across the turf and into the cover of the woods.

For sometime she wandered among the trees searching in vain for the little stream she’d drunk from earlier. She found it, although at a different point in its course, and lost no time in going down on all-fours and lapping noisily at the cool water. Then she followed it downstream until it met another, larger stream where their confluence had built up a bank of soft sand under the bright water.

Carol bathed herself thoroughly, delighting in her feeling of cool cleanliness. Climbing out at last, she stood in the hot sunlight to dry herself, then wandered off further into the woods. Soon she came across a little grassy bank, shady and fragrant with the smell of wild flowers. There she lay down and slept.

Chapter EIGHT

Jane woke at the time she’d mentally set: at about one o’clock in the afternoon. At once aware of the absence of her companion, she was not perturbed at first; no doubt Carol had wandered off into the maze of gorse trunks. Jane stretched where she lay, yawned, and rose to all-fours. Then she padded back under the dim, green roof of her hiding place to where she’d entered it, keeping a sharp watch for any sign of her cousin.

She saw and heard nothing of Carol in her passage, and she emerged from the gorse to look down towards the woods still none the wiser. Jane scanned the fringes of the wood, still with the same negative result. Carol, she decided, had gone to drink.

Jane moved swiftly and easily down the little depressions and over the tiny ridges over the rough ground. She ran on all-fours with the ease of long practice, her rear legs straight and her rump in the air, pausing every so often to lift her fore paws from the ground to enable her to raise her head and check her surroundings. Once inside the cover of the trees she stood upright and flitted like a ghost between the trunks until she reached the stream. There she drank, and, after drinking her fill she cast around for her cousin before realising the futility of the enterprise. Her belly swollen with the water she’d drunk, Jane trotted slowly through the woods until she reached an appropriate place to deposit her droppings, though she doubted whether either the Ladies or their slaves had the skill to tell from their condition how long they’d been there. Above all, she was determined that no signs of occupancy would be found anywhere near her hiding place. Then she made her way back to the gorse-covered hillock. Carol had not returned, and Jane lay down in her sentinel’s postion over-looking the yard and dozed off.

The first stirring of the cooler breeze that sprung up in mid-afternoon woke Jane. After relieving herself, she went back to her position to spy on the Huntresses. Carol was still absent, and Jane hoped fervently that she’d have the sense to remain hidden and still until the Hunt was called off for the day.

Once more the carts drove out, this time with the addition of the slaves captured that morning in the roles of ‘hunting dogs’. Jane was unconcerned; when they’d passed from her sight she wriggled quickly through the gorse and chose a vantage point which allowed her a view to the South.

She saw the remaining slaves quickly rounded up; as she’d thought, the occasion was not wholly serious. And then she saw the capture of her cousin.

The black cart had lagged behind the others on their triumphant way back to the Manor and was out of Carol’s sight when she stepped blithely out from the cover of the trees.

The same cool breeze that had wakened Jane and caused the Hunt to restart had woken Carol too, and she trotted through the wood enjoying the fresh coolness of the air on her now clean skin. Despite being thoroughly lost, she had no fear of being unable to find their hideaway, for all she needed to do was to go out far enough on the open turf and look around her for the low, gorse-clad eminence where it lay.

Reaching the fringe of the wood, she lay flat on the ground and wriggled forwards , congratulating herself on her caution. She, too, saw the brightly-coloured carts; she, too, saw the newly-captured slaves being led away leashed to the rear of the carts.

After waiting ten minutes, as she reckoned it, she rose and walked confidently out into the open.

Twenty yards, then forty yards straight out from the trees she came. The place she’d left cover from took the shape of a little bay, with narrow promontories of thin-scattered trees to her left and right. Carol knew that her goal lay to her left, for she could see its low summit, but instead of cutting through the few trees towards it, she chose to continue out into the open until she could walk around them.

Jane could do nothing but watch with horror as the sinister black cart appeared around the point of the Southern stand of trees, moving at a walking-pace and attended by three ‘dogs’. Carol was then two hundred yards from cover, and Lady Noire stiffened in surprise at the sight of her unsuspecting prey. Acting quickly and decisively, she waved her three ‘dogs’ off to her left; one by one they vanished into the fringes of the woods.

The Lady’s plan was obvious to Jane; she meant to infiltrate her ‘dogs’ along Carol’s flank, then she would drive her pony after her quarry, forcing her further out onto the open turf or into the arms of the waiting ‘dogs’.

The unsuspecting Carol strolled on in the warm, turf-scented air, behind her, when she judged the moment was ripe, Lady Noire brought down her whip hard across the haunches of her giant black ‘pony’ and he leapt forward with amazing speed, straight for Carol, three hundred yards away.

The breeze was in her face, and she heard nothing of the cart’s advance until it was fifty yards behind her. She turned, startled, then raced away at full speed. Instead of angling off to the woods, using her greater agility to escape the lumbering ‘pony’, she ran straight on, trusting in her superior speed over the man handicapped by the weight of his cart and its driver.

Then it was too late. At their Mistress’s signal, the ‘dogs’ emerged from Carol’s left, one a little ahead of her, one level with her and the third to her left rear. Forced further and further away to her right and open country, Carol ran with desperation. The two nearest ‘dogs’, fit and rangy men despite their years, gained upon her fleeing figure inexorably. Then Jane saw just how the ‘dogs’ trapped their prey. It was a brutally simple technique; they merely ran into Carol, knocking her from her feet. When she tried to rise, they pushed her down with their hips, knees and thighs. A quarter of a mile away in her aerie, Jane ground her teeth as she saw the black cart halt nearby and Lady Noire make a languid descent, walk over to Carol’s prostrate body, and place a narrow, black-sandalled foot on her neck.

The rest was quick. Carol, her fore arms strapped together in an arm binder behind her back, her face wet with tears, was leashed to the very front of the left-hand shaft of the cart. Lady Noire’s whip rose and fell twice; once upon the rump of her black ‘pony’, once across the right buttock of her tiny captive. The cart moved forward, dragging Carol with it.

Jane went back to overlook the yard again. There she saw her cousin led in and the ‘dogs’, their arms released, were dismissed to their cages, all of which would be occupied until the last fugitive, Jane herself, was captured. Lady Noire herself led her captive away, around the corner of the house and out of Jane’s sight.

Jane lay in deep thought, resolving her plans for the night. In a couple of hours the Hunt would officially finish for the day with an hour of immunity before sunset. At its beginning, a slave would be sent out with food to a prearranged spot, but Jane had no intention of going there in daylight. She would wait until after nightfall, when the nearly full moon rose at eleven o’clock. Nor did she intend to rely on the few morsels of food they would provide in this manner; she had a much better and more attractive alternative in mind. Curling up, she prepared herself for sleep.

She was awake to see the moon rise, and, after half an hour, she judged there was enough light for her to depart her hiding place. Slipping surely through the gorse trunks, she emerged into the open and trotted over the moonlit turf secure from observation. In the little glade designated for the purpose she found the small heap of food left out for her. It was pig meal, as she’d suspected, coarse, fibrous and smelly; and there was little enough of it. But she ate it anyway; she didn’t want her prime source of food to be suspected. Then she trotted confidently away towards the dark bulk of the Manor and its outbuildings.

She found the entry to the yard that she’d suspected; through an outlying orchard. But first, a hundred yards from her destination, she dropped to all-fours lest the little transmitter was switched on. Pushing aside the flimsy wicker hurdle set there to deter the sheep from entering, she came out into the yard. Crouching in the deepest shadows she could find, she waited patiently.

Jane smelt the fox before she saw it, then she watched as it slunk cautiously into the yard and up to a plastic bin. Expertly, it rose on its hind legs and knocked off the plastic lid. With its front paws hooked over the edge of the bin, the fox pulled it over, releasing a flood of food scraps over the floor. Its head lowered, and it snuffled up those that it fancied with feverish hunger.

Long after it had gone, Jane came out of cover. She knew the fox would spurn all the vegetable scraps, and she made a good meal of what the fox had left. She had no qualms about it; after all, she’d lived for months on what the dogs she’d lived with had left her. Licking her lips, she looked around at the moonlit cages in which the captured slaves were snoring, then went in search of her cousin.

Padding along the corridor in the stables off which the pony stalls opened, she peered through the barred doors. But, though several ‘ponies’ were tethered in them, none was Carol. The door to the small barn in which their cage still stood was open, but the cage itself was empty.

Jane sat upon her haunches in the moonlight. Perhaps her cousin was at that moment curled up asleep, chained to the wall, on the thick, soft carpet of Lady Noire’s bedroom, now the lapdog of her captor, a fate Jane had sworn to avoid. Around the corner, in a little yard of its own, was a lone cattle pen of concrete and steel, and Jane padded over to investigate. Over in the corner formed by the junction of two walls, something bulky lay upon a pile of straw. Jane lay on her belly and wriggled beneath the horizontal steel bars. It was a tight squeeze, but she managed it at last and crawled over the concrete floor to the corner where the figure lay.

It was indeed her cousin, but a brief examination told Jane that her vague hopes of being able to rescue her were foiled in advance. Carol’s face was strangely blank in the moonlight, its lower portion was covered by a leather muzzle, and she was blindfolded, too. Her ankles were linked by a short, thick chain between thick leather ankle cuffs, and she was chained by a six-foot chain from her collar to a steel ring set about four feet high in the wall behind her. None of these could Jane remove with her animal-helpless paws; for that matter she couldn’t even open the gate of the pen. She nuzzled her cousin’s shoulder, trying not to weep at the sound of Carol’s heart-broken whimpers. Her cousin rose clumsily to her feet, and Jane was about to follow suit when she realised that the tiny switch on her cousin’s collar was turned off. But she tried to rise all the same, only to fall back to all-fours with a grunt of pain. Hopelessly, Jane stared up at her cousin, tethered blind and helpless in her pen. She stayed with her as long as she dared before slipping away with a heavy heart, raging at Lady Noire’s cruelty.

It was some consolation to see the return of the dejected Ladies the next morning from their fruitless quest, but while they were away Jane had been treated to the spectacle of her cousin being exercised, walked slowly back and forth on a short leash on a stretch of turf by the yard gate, still blind, muzzled and hobbled. Worse for her was the return of Lady Noire in her black cart. Dismounting, she tossed the rins to a waiting slave, than signalled the slave leading Carol to let go of her leash. Carol stood uncertainly, not sure of what was happening, and Lady Noire flicked her on her lower left thigh with her whip, causing Carol to utter a little stifled gasp of surprise and pain.

Lady Noire continued to torment her blind and helpless captive, walking silently round and round her, flicking her with her whip from every angle until Carol, confused and terrified, tripped on her hobble and fell down. Hauled brutally to her feet by a slave, she was led off into the yard while the watching Jane wept with fury.

Later, in the full heat of early afternoon when she was confident that the the Ladies would be asleep, Jane slipped away to drink and to empty her bowels in the spot she’d chosen far away from her hiding place.

It was really hot now, and airless, and the sky held a high haze. The weather-wise Jane anticipated a thunderstorm. She was not far from her own country, the pattern was familiar, and a mischievous idea came to her.

Deliberately, she washed herself clean in a stream, then, instead of returning to the gorse-covered hill-top when the air cooled, she wandered as far from it as possible, loitering in the open, her eyes fixed in the direction of the Manor.

When the gaily-painted carts came into view Jane’s little pink body was clearly visible against the background of the woods. Faint cries of triumph came to her ears, and the ‘ponies’ were whipped into a run. The ‘dogs’, now numbering fifteen, spread out into a hollow concave crescent and ran towards her. She let them get within two hundred yards before she affected to notice them for the first time. Turning, she loped into the woods in simulated terror.

There, on the broad paths and among the thick undergrowth, Jane led the Hunt on a merry dance, flitting silently along in contrast to the crashing of the clumsy male bodies of the ‘dogs’. Occasionally she showed herself, luring the Hunt deeper and deeper into the woods while all the time the sky above them grew darker and more ominous.

Jane felt, rather than heard, the first rumble of thunder. A sudden breeze, hot as from a furnace, stirred the tree tops, and Jane went to ground under the thick cover of a large clump of bracken and brambles on the edge of the large clearing in which the Hunt, tired and angry, had gathered. Within minutes she heard a far off sound, rapidly nearing, as if of surf on the shore, and she grinned happily to herself in anticipation.

The first huge raindrops pattered down simultaneously with an earth-shaking clap of thunder directly overhead. Jane heard the Ladies cry out in fear and outrage before the downpour blotted them out of her vision. The rain stopped abruptly, the temperature dropped, and hail, borne on the South-Westerly gale, lashed the clearing, turning the muddy ground into a seething mass of white. When it stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, the Ladies were huddling under the inadequate shelter of a large oak tree, their delicate Edwardian-style finery soaked and muddy, their flimsy parasols tattered. The ‘dogs’ had dispersed in all directions seeking shelter while the unfortunate ‘ponies’, abandoned by their drivers and maddened by the stinging hail, had wandered off. Those who had not been tethered, that is; those like Lady Noire’s giant black ‘pony’, left by her blindfolded as well as tethered, had no choice but to endure the storm. The black cart was within a few yards of Jane’s hiding place; when the rain of the last flurry of the storm began again she crouched by the wheel furthest from the huddled group of Huntresses. The big ‘butterfly’ nut which held the wheel on the axle was easily turned with her mitted hands, and she loosened it as much as she dared. Then, without a backward glance, she ran off into the thinning rain.

Dry and comfortable under the gorse, Jane lay at her ease and watched the sorry procession come into view. The sun was now fully out, and steam rose from the soaked and bedraggled finery of the dejected Ladies as their tired ‘ponies’ trudged along over the damp turf, their ‘dogs’ following in a single exhausted huddle. A full hundred yards behind them came the black cart driven by Lady Noire, even her huge ‘pony’ scarcely able to summon up a trot. Jane observed the nearside wheel keenly; was it developing a wobble? Apparently it was, for it suddenly dropped off its axle, causing the cart to lurch heavily to its side and tipping its driver unceremoniously on to the muddy turf. Jane revelled in her enemy’s shriek of alarm and outrage, and giggled at the sight of her sprawling on the ground. Bereft of assistance, the furious Lady blindfolded her ‘pony’ and trudged away, leaving him to be fetched in later by Mistress Sarah’s house slaves. Hugging herself with laughter, Jane watched her vanish around the side of the Manor.

Lying on her back, her head resting comfortably on her crossed arms, Jane gave full vent to her elation. All alone, a tiny, naked, hunted animal, she had outwitted her numerous pursuers and rendered them ridiculous in their own eyes. Behind closed eye lids she played out the memory of Lady Noire’s discomforture. Smiling, she fell asleep.

Back in the Manor, bathed, perfumed and in clean, dry garments, Lady Noire stood in the Billiard Room thoughtfully examining the huge relief map of the Estate, complete in every detail, ignoring the occasional burst of outraged speech from the Drawing Room behind her where the other Ladies restored themselves with tea. They had only just reached the uncomfortable conclusion that their ordeal had been deliberately contrived by their quarry, but Lady Noire had been sure of it for some time.

“Where are you, little pale beast?” she murmured. “Where are you hiding? Where are you getting all your food?”

There was only one answer to that as a few questions to her Hostess’s kitchen slaves confirmed. Afterwards, she walked past the row of cages in which crouched the unfortunate ‘dogs’ and thought that they, at least, would be keen to capture the sole survivor of the Hunt as until then they’d be kept caged at nights. She needed allies, but she needed somehow to enlist their aid without the other Ladies getting wind of her plans.

Thoughtfully, she wandered into the small adjoining yard and into the pen where she kept her captive. The little creature shrank instinctively from her touch as she ran a hand down its flanks and thighs, noting the long, firm muscles under its grimy skin. She would come back and feed it later – she had already trained it to eat from her gloved hand – and tomorrow she would have it harnessed to a light racing cart. Then she would test its strength and endurance. But now she would consult Mistress Sarah.

The pattern of the previous night repeated itself; Jane, having rolled thoroughly in the dirt beneath the gorse, went unnoticed as she scavenged for food and paid a regretful visit to her helpless cousin. Long before dawn she was back in hiding and asleep.

Chapter SEVEN

Jane woke to see the carts being pushed out into the yard. Automatically she counted the ‘dogs’ in their cages. All were present, and she watched the ‘ponies’ being harnessed as usual. Then, to her surprise, another vehicle came around the corner, a light racing cart looking frail and spindly among the others. Harnessed between its shafts, bridled and bitted with her blinkers closed shut over her eyes, was her cousin, held on a short leading rein by a bored house-slave.

Jane seethed with anger at the sight of her imprisoned cousin, waiting like a patient beast for its rider, and her rage redoubled when Lady Noire stepped out of the house and mounted the cart. The attendant slave passed her the leading rein and flipped open Carol’s blinkers, then Jane saw the black-gloved hand holding the long whip bring it down on her cousin’s back.

The little cart moved through the gate at a slow walk. The whip came down again, and the pace increased to a slow trot. Jane was surprised; unlike her cousin she had never done any pony-play and she marvelled at how easily the little creature between the shafts pulled the weight behind it. But Carol had pulled heavier carts with heavier drivers many times before, though never for too long or too far.

Lady Noire was pleasantly surprised at the strength of the little body before her. Experimentally, she whipped it into a fast trot, watching with approval the rhythmic pumping of its slender thighs and taut buttocks. It was a well-trained little beast, answering easily to its bit and responding willingly to the tiny flicks of her whip which told it when to exert extra effort. She was quite pleased with it; bringing the cart to a halt she dismounted to inspect its condition.

The little animal was panting, but it was fast recovering its breath; obviously it was by no means exhausted. Lady Noire patted it casually on the rump, wrinkling her nose fastidiously at its strong odour of dung and sweat. Thinking that she must have it perfumed before she took it out it again, she mounted her seat and drove back to the yard.

Jane watched all this with gritted teeth, and she continued to look on as her cousin was led away by a house slave and tethered in the shade to await further employment. The slave went off to fetch a bucket of water, then returned to water Carol from his cupped hand. Then all the the Ladies, elegantly attired as usual, came out and mounted their carts to begin the morning Hunt.

The patient watch from the gorse went on; Jane needed to know that all the Ladies and their carts, and, more importantly, all their ‘hunting dogs’ had returned before she left cover to drink.

While she waited, she was witness to a further indignity inflicted on her cousin. A house slave came from the kitchen bearing a wicker hamper which he strapped to the rear of Carol’s cart. With it firmly secured, he undid her tether, and, with casual brutality, pulled her head around to turn her cart before opening her blinkers and taking his seat behind her. Jane watched with rage in her heart as the slave took up the long whip from its holder and flicked her cousin across her rump. She saw Carol lean into her harness and the cart begin to roll slowly forward. The whip rose and fell once more and the cart picked up speed on its way out of the yard. Moments later Carol was pulling it along across the flat turf at a slow trot in the direction the Hunt had taken.

Rigid with anger, Jane watched Carol disappear into the hazy distance. To see her little cousin treated as a draught animal in so matter of fact a fashion was unbearable, and mad schemes of rescue revolved in her mind before the knowledge of her own helplessness intervened. But she swore that Lady Noire would pay for this degradation.

Jane would have been surprised that her cousin didn’t at all share her feelings of outrage. Carol was well-used to ‘pony play’, although she’d never before even approached the length of time she’d been kept in this role so far, and she didn’t mind pulling the cart; anything was better than being shut up all the time, blind and tethered, in her pen. She leaned willingly into her harness, responding accurately to the slightest pressure on her bit and not resenting in the least the occasional flick of the whip warning her of the need to exert more effort to tackle the little obstacles her driver could see ahead of her. Deep down, she was enjoying the freedom from inhibitions that being an animal brought; oddly, in this her preferred role, she felt no embarrassment about satisfying the needs of her body under the gaze of others, and the slave driving her was one of Lady Sarah’s smallest and lightest.

The young slave lounged in his canvas seat, happy to be spared the long, hot walk to the woods carrying the heavy hamper with the cold drinks for the Huntresses. He looked down at his mount with vague interest, noting the smoothly moving muscles of the shapely little back, buttocks and thighs as she trotted easily along.

“A strong little filly,” he thought with approval, flicking her on her left buttock to encoursge her to surmount a tiny hillock in their path.

When he halted her in the shady clearing where the Ladies sat waiting for their cool drinks, he was glad to see that his mount was breathing easily and not sweating any more than might be expected. He had kept her at a slow trot for this reason, for he feared the wrath of her owner if he exhausted her new possession. Slaves unloaded the hamper and began distributing its contents to their Mistresses, and Lady Noire herself sauntered over to inspect her little ‘pony’. The driver held his breath with apprehension as she looked over the strong little body, then breathed a sigh of relief as she turned away. But then he went rigid with fear as she turned back.

“You, slave!” he heard her snap at him. “Come here!”

He walk the few paces to her and prepared to prostrate himself at her feet as he’d been trained, but she forbade him with a curt word of command.

Standing with his eyes fixed upon the grass at his feet, he shivered internally as she walked around him, her gaze considering and thoughtful.

Finally, she ended her examination, dismissing him with a flick from her whip and ordering him to water his animal and drive her back to the Manor. There he was to ask his Mistress if the beast might be washed down and perfumed, for it was very dirty and it smelt. With relief he saw her walk away. Once the used glasses and empty flasks had been collected and the hamper strapped back in place, he lost no time in making his escape.

Thus it was that Jane was able to watch her cousin returning, this time at a fast trot as the young slave, in sheer high spirits now he was relieved of the oppressive presence of the Ladies, whipped her onwards.

On his return, and when he’d blindfolded his mount and tethered her in the shade, his fear returned. But a Lady had instructed him to address his Mistress with a request, and he had no choice but to obey.

With trepidation, he approached the elegant figure sittting reading under the cedar trees at the edge of the lawn. Although he had been her slave for more than a year, he had never dared speak to her beyond a dutiful “Yes, Mistress!”

“Sir Jasper leered evilly at the back of the divinely tall figure standing in the bay window of her Drawing Room. A hand toying with his cruel black moustache, he advanced silently upon her to take her by the arm.”

“But Guinevere was on the qui vive; swiftly she turned and confronted him, her bosom under her tight bodice heaving with emotion.”

“She drew herself up to her full height, her sapphire-blue eyes flashing.

” “Unhand me, Sir!” she said haughtily.”

“Oh, wow!” thought Mistress Sarah happily, and took another gulp of her iced lemonade.

Then she frowned and cast her eyes down on the prostrate figure that had appeared at her feet. She vaguely recognised him as one of her lesser slaves and wondered at his temerity in approaching her.

“What is it, slave?” she demanded sharply, at the same time prodding him with a delicate shoe.

Humbly he gave her Lady Noire’s message, and waited patiently as his Mistress considered.

“Of course I shall accede to the Lady’s request,” she told him. “And you shall fulfil it. But not now. She has put the beast at my disposal for the present, and it will be useful in sparing the time and energy of my slaves. There will be letters to be taken to the Post Box later, and perhaps other errands it can help them perform. You shall wash it down and clean it when the Hunt returns this evening as its Mistress may desire to drive out before or after dinner. Now go!”

She returned to her book, ignoring the slave who came to all-fours and backed away from his Mistress, only rising to his feet when he was several yards off, and even then walking away from her in reverse, not daring to turn his back upon her.

The Hunt returned, empty-handed and disconsolate, and the various Ladies went off to bathe and change for luncheon. Afterwards they would take a siesta, and after tea the Hunt would set forth again in the cooler air of the late afternoon.

At about one o’clock, in the full heat of the day, Jane left her hiding place to drink as usual. She felt perfectly safe, having carefully counted the Ladies as they returned and checked that all the ‘dogs’ were back in their cages.

She drank her fill, then trotted off to the place she’d chosen to deposit her droppings, far away from her temporary home. On an impulse, she then washed herself all over. It felt good to be clean, and she could easily renew her camouflage. Unwilling to return to the hot and stuffy gorse, she wandered at length in the cool woods. Finally arriving at a spot North of the Manor where the paved road to the Lodge gates ran between pollarded trees.

The country hereabouts was much more open, but Jane, having examined the mettle of her opponents, was confident that she easily outrun any of the ‘dogs’ if she was to be spotted.

She lingered long in this open country, even going as far as the Lodge past which she and her cousin had driven a few days ago where she spied upon the Lodgekeeper and the chained slave whose task it was to open the heavy gates on demand.

The first breath of cooler air told her that the Hunt would soon commence, and she slipped away from the lodge and struck out across the smooth turf towards the woods from which she would regain the gorsey hillock unobserved. Observing a flicker of movement from the corner of an eye, she turned to see her cousin being driven along the paved track towards the Lodge.

Carol came on a fast trot, whipped on by her driver, a slave bigger and heavier than her previous one. He would be punished if the letters he’d been entrusted with missed the next Post, and he plied his lash unsparingly. Jane wept with rage, but there was nothing she could do.

The pattern of events repeated itself; the Hunt grew more and more disheartened and angry, and Lady Noire spent long hours studying the big relief map and revolving plans in her mind. The ‘dogs’ were frustrated in their unusual roles, longing for the elusive little animal to be captured allowing them to return to serving their respective Mistresses. Mistress Sarah had been concerned that Jane, virtually unseen since being released with her cousin from their cage, might have been injured and incapacitated, but the scanty food left for her disappeared every day, and a little pile of fresh droppings was deposited daily in the usual area.

Two mornings later, Lady Noire had perfected her plan for Jane’s capture. Just as dawn was breaking, six of Mistress Sarah’s slaves, grumbling sotto voce at being deprived of their thongs and sandals and being mitted, took the place of six of the ‘dogs’ in their cages. Then the latter, well briefed by Lady Noire, sped off into the early daylight.

Later Jane watched her cousin trot along the track to the Lodge between the shafts of her car. She seemed to make that journey frequently, and today she looked cleaner than usual. Her hair had been pulled back, appropriately enough, into a ‘pony tail’ secured by a bright red ribbon; for some obscure reason this act of decoration angered Jane afresh. Then she looked on as the Hunt left and settled down to wait patiently for its return.

After an hour or so, her cousin, now returned from her errand to the Lodge, was driven across the turf with the usual cool drinks, then, after an interval, driven back again.

Chapter EIGHT

Far beyond Jane’s sight, a tarpaulin in the load bed of one of the two-pony carts was pulled back, and the slight figure of Mistress Sarah’s young slave was revealed. He was quickly hustled away by Lady Noire. Fifteen minutes later he stood before her, clad in an ensemble of her old clothing. Black trousers, black satin shirt, scarlet jacket, black veil under a black hat with a scarlet band, long black gloves covering his hands, from a distance he had a more than passing resemblance to Lady Noire. Without a qualm, she sent him off in the company of her colleagues, driving her great black ‘pony’. She made the rounds of the waiting ‘dogs’ she’d spirited from the Manor that morning, giving them the ropes and nets brought out, along with certain other equipment, under the tarpaulin along with Mistress Sarah’s young slave. Then she settled down to wait for her prey, hoping that the ‘dogs’ would be able to use their gear effectively with their clumsy mitted hands.

At her usual hour of one o’clock, Jane did a final count of the ‘dogs’ and ‘ponies’ in the yard. All were present and correct, and she’d seen all the Ladies return. Slipping easily through the gorse, she ran over to the woods and through them to the stream.

The first pair of ‘dogs’, well hidden on either side of the path, watched avidly as the small, brown and green streaked figure flitted silently past them. Heeding their instructions, they waited until it was out of sight before rising and following.

The next pair of ‘dogs’ were passed by the oblivious Jane, lulled into a false sense of security by her previous immunity; behind her they spread out on either side of the others. Then one of the ‘dogs’ uttered a peculiar bird-like whistle; ahead of them the third pair of ‘dogs’ left their cover and walked openly down the track towards the oncoming Jane.

Rounding a bend in the track, Jane saw them and turned to run. The net clumsily thrown by the first of the ‘dogs’ fell over her head and shoulders. The end of a rope thrown by the ‘dog’ opposite fell neatly into his ‘paw’; together they sprang forward and wound the rope around around their quarry. Soon Jane, trussed and and helpless, was being carried by six pairs of triumphant hands to where their Mistress sat.

The Lady Noire smiled at the sight of Jane, sprawling at her feet. At her signal, two slaves, mitted ‘dogs’ no longer, seized Jane by her wrists and ankles while the others removed the ropes and net which bound her. Thick, padded cuffs were strapped around her ankles and wrists, and linked together with short steel clips. Then her wrists and ankles were linked together. A muzzle and a blindfold rendered Jane completely helpless, and the slaves withdrew, flexing their freed fingers and smiling with satisfaction.

Lady Noire looked down at the prostrate body of her captive, blind, muzzled and helpless at her feet. The little beast seemed even smaller with the ankles of its fore legs linked to those of its hind legs. She rolled it on to its back with one narrow, elegant foot and placed the sole of her shoe upon its neck in token of her possession. Then she flicked it casually with her whip, noting the little start and gasp of shock and pain and the angry red welt that appeared on the flesh of its uppermost buttock. Continuing to flick its body with her lash, she spoke to it thoughtfully.

“So, little pale beast, I have you both now. Shall I harness you to my cart alongside your sister-animal? Or shall I keep you as my lap-dog? You will make an amusing little pet once I have tamed you. You shall eat from my hand and sleep at the foot of my bed, and I shall walk you on a scarlet leash. But we shall see,” she went on.”Perhaps you will be more useful to me as a pony. Have you been trained as a pony, little pale beast? I do so hope not!”

Jane sobbed silently into her stifling muzzle, trying not to react to the endless painful little blows from the whip of her tormentor. But worse was still to come. Lady Noire sent off one the slaves to fetch her cart. When he returned, driving her big black pony, two of the burliest slaves took up a long pole, padded at each end. Jane couldn’t resist a sigh of relief as the link between her fettered wrists and ankles was removed, then she felt the smooth wood of the pole slide past the insides of her fore arms and lower legs. And then she was hoisted from the ground as each slave lifted the pole and placed the padded ends on a broad shoulder. Dangling from the pole by her wrists and ankles, her head lolling downwards, Jane was carried back to the Manor feet first like a captured wild animal.

Jane knew nothing of the excitement and glee of the Hunters, particularly the ‘dogs’, now released from their cages and allowed to shower, put on their thongs and attend to their Mistresses again. She was dumped unceremoniously on the hard ground and left alone. In a far corner of the yard, her blind and tethered cousin was aware of the excitement and wondered vaguely what it was all about.

An hour later Jane was freed of the pole and dragged roughly to her feet. Her arms were pinioned behind her back and forced into a leather arm binder. Her muzzle was removed, and a bridle buckled around her head. She felt cold steel at her lips, insisting on entrance, and she clamped them firmly together until a large hand closed over her nose, forcing her to open her mouth for air. Then the bit was rammed between her teeth and secured behind her head. She felt fingers at her cheek, and heard the click of a halter being attached to a ring of her bridle. There followed a sharp, powerful tug on her bridle, and she staggered forward in response, discovering that her legs were still hobbled in the process.

Jane walked beside her handler, silently sobbing with rage and humiliation, knowing that the arm binders pulled her shoulders back, thrusting out her breasts; knowing that every intimate detail of her body was exposed to the casual gaze. The slave who led her so easily was big and burly, he held her halter high up by her bridle, and Jane could feel the heat from his large hand on her cheek while the hairy skin of his brawny fore arm brushed across the top of her shoulder.

She was halted, and fingers fumbled at her waist, buckling around it a wide, heavy leather belt. Outraged that they intended to put a harness on her, Jane struggled violently, only for her handler to cuff her on the side of her head with a heavy hand.

“Stay still, you little brute!” he told her.

Her head ringing with the force of the blow, Jane stayed as still as she could bear while the hard male fingers continued their task. She shivered as the rounded strap from her belt which divided into the broad shoulder straps was forced into the valley between her breasts. The diamond shaped leather carapace was fitted over her her solar plexus, stomach and groin; its upper corner just below her breast, its lower ending in her modest little bush of pubic hair. She gave a little squeal of outrage as the large oval steel ring attached to this corner of the diamond was positioned around the lips of her vagina. The ring was held in place by the two narrow straps which went between her crotch and up below the cheeks of her firm buttocks to her waist belt.

Her harness secured and checked for tightness, she was led a short distance and halted again. Felling the fingers at her waist again, and realising that she was about to be hitched between the shafts of a cart, Jane uttered a stifled cry of anger. She struggled once more, and her reward was another stunning cuff on the head from the slave holding her. Very soon both slaves left her. She’d heard the slither of leather around wood and she knew that she was tethered by her bridle. Weeping with fear and rage, she awaited the next ordeal.

It was not long in coming. Jane’s keen ears heard the tap of leather soles and concrete and caught a faint whiff of perfume. Her blood ran cold; Lady Noire was near her. Come to gloat, Jane thought at first, but then she sensed movement and heard the soft sound of her tether being unwound from whatever it was tied to. Then her head was pulled around gently but firmly, and instinctively Jane followed, the light cart bouncing behind her.

After she’d been turned in a half-circle, she sensed movement near her face, and smelt Lady Noire’s perfume from a closer range. Her blinkers suddenly flipped open, and she screwed up her eyes against the dazzling light. Then the cart behind her sagged and lurched alarmingly, and she knew that her enemy had mounted it.

Her bit was jerked in her mouth, and she gasped in shock as the whip flicked her upon her left buttock.

“Walk on!” The curt voice was that of Lady Noire, but Jane, seething with anger, stayed stubbornly motionless.

This battle of wills could have only one outcome; a few minutes later, whimpering from the pain of the whip-blows, Jane began walking forward.

Lady Noire watched the straining back of her captive with satisfaction; the little beast was learning, as captive animals must, that the price of disobedience was pain. For the moment she kept it at a slow walk to accustom it to its limited vision and the weight of the cart it was drawing.

Jane walked onwards in sullen fear of the whip at her back, surprised despite herself at the ease with which she was pulling the cart and its passenger along. The shafts, which had transferred part of the weight of the empty cart to bear down on her waist, were now weightless, allowing her to use all her strength to push into her harness. Her view of the world was very restricted; a narrow vertical slot permitting no vision at all to the sides. Because she was obliged to lean forward into her harness she could see very little before her except for a few feet ahead, and despite herself she automatically obeyed the light pressures on either side of her mouth telling her which direction to take.

Behind her, Lady Noire nodded approvingly. The little beast was learning fast. Leaning forward in her seat a little, she brought her whip down casually across the slender haunches of her mount.

The result was all that could be desired. Instinctively Jane jerked forward against her harness to get away from the pain; as a result the cart gained speed, and, after a further blow, she found herself slowly trotting across the turf.

Lady Noire smiled. For a moment she considered whipping the little beast into a full trot, but these were early days. Instead, she drove Jane in a large circle four hundred yards in radius and back into the yard for a further stage in her taming. Throwing the reins to a waiting slave, she gave him a few terse orders. When she’d left, the slave unhitched Jane from the cart and led her away by her bridle, her blinkers closed over her eyes.

Chapter NINE

On their brief journey Jane was led within ten feet feet of her cousin, though neither were aware of it. But Jane felt the concrete beneath her feet alter to smooth stone, and by the change in the atmosphere she guessed she’d been taken indoors. Down a ramp they went, round a sharp corner, and down another long ramp, passing as they went the various dungeons in which the Ladies punished their slaves, all unseen by Jane but producing a shiver of fear in the slave who led her.

A small cellar of about fifteen feet square was their destination. There they found Mistress Sarah’s slave carpenter and her saddle and harness maker, both lent to Lady Noire for her purpose. A thick rotating circular pillar stood in the centre of the room; obviously it was meant to be turned by the long capstan bar which jutted from it horizontally. This the carpenter had modified to be adjustable for height, and when the saddle maker had clamped a bulky leather yoke around Jane’s neck and checked that it rested comfortably upon her shoulders the yoke was clamped to the bar. Then the bar was adjusted for height and secured in place. When they were satisfied, they left her alone in the darkness.

Jane took what little stock of her position she was able. Her neck and shoulders were rigidly held by the thick padding of the yoke, and the bar had been set at such a height that she was bent forwards a little at the hips. The air was hot and humid, and she could feel a stone floor beneath her feet. And that was the sum total of what she could learn about her condition. Closing her eyes behind her blinkers, she tried to get as comfortable as she could.

The sound of approaching feet brought her to full awareness and she listened carefully. There was the clack of of a woman’s leather soles, the heavier sound of a slave’s sandals, and the light patter of bare feet. They stopped a few feet from her, and she stiffened in apprehension.

Lady Noire smiled mockingly at her captive before making a cursory gesture at the sandal-shod slave holding the his barefoot fellow on a leash. He led his charge to the rotating central pillar to which the capstan bar was fitted and locked a chain to his steel collar. Thrusting a pony-whip into his hand, he left him and joined Lady Noire in the doorway.

She nodded curtly at the chained slave with the whip; at once he brought it down across the taut protruding haunches of the little woman yoked to the bar.

Lady Noire smiled again as Jane uttered a little gasp of shock and pain and began to move forwards, pushing her shoulders into the yoke. She waited as the slave brought Jane up to a slow walk before he pressed one of the switches on a panel fixed to the central column. Jane slowed a little, then resumed her pace, encouraged by a flick from the slave’s whip. Another switch was pressed, then another. As each switch was pressed, the load on Jane’s yoke increased, and the slave only stopped when she was panting lightly, her body leaning fully into the yoke. Satisfied, Lady Noire and her attendant went away, leaving the cellar door open to provide a dim light for the tethered slave to see his target.

In the elegant salons of the mansion large fans hanging from the ceilings began to turn slowly. The elaborately dressed Ladies glanced up at them, welcoming the stirring of the warm, scented air. They spared not a thought for whoever was trudging round and round like a blind ox in the darkness far below their feet.

Jane plodded on and on, in constant terror of the unseen whip at her back. After a time she fell into a sort of hypnotic trance in which the only realities were her steady panting and the smooth movements of the muscles of her calves, thighs, buttocks and back, broken into now and then by the lightning-swift sting of the lash. The demands of her full bladder gradually broke into her reverie and she automatically began to slow to a stop to empty it. Quick as thought, the lash fell on her back. Stifling a sob of despair, she increased her speed again. Finally she had no choice; still keeping up the same steady pace, she urinated, the warm liquid splashing down between her thighs with each step.

Not until the last Lady, yawning delicately behind her delicate paper fan, had gone to bed was Jane released, and then only to be tethered in a corner of the cellar on a heap of dirty straw. She was fed and watered, then left in the darkness to sleep. It seemed only minutes passed before she was yoked to the bar again and trudging on her endless journey. This time she was turning the fans in the kitchens, and the sweating slaves, preparing breakfast for their Mistresses, glanced up and were grateful.

Lady Noire kept Jane to her task for three endless days until she judged her spirit had been broken enough for her to be brought back into daylight. This time, when Jane was harnessed to her cart, she obeyed immediately. Lady Noire drove her round for an hour or so; satisfied with Jane’s new docility and obedience, she generously put her, along with her cousin, at the disposal of Mistress Sarah and any other Lady who wanted a drive or had errands for their slaves.

For the two cousins the next few days became a routine of being driven here and there by various people, both Ladies and slaves, most of whom they never even saw. Kept blindfolded except when actually being driven, the first warning they would receive was the sound of footsteps, usually those of a slave, then the sound of their tethers being untied from the fence. Their heads would be wrenched round and they would be led forwards a few feet before being halted again. The opening of their blinkers and the lurching of their carts would come next, then the slapping of their reins on their shoulders. A flick of their driver’s whip on a buttock and Jane and Carol would lean into their sweaty harnesses and pull their carts forward, faster and faster, obeying the whip at their backs and the guiding pressure of the reins on their bits.

Carol was in her element at this treatment, revelling in being a ‘real’ pony, her shyness at being observed relieving herself forgotten. But Jane still writhed occasionally at the mental picures she couldn’t help summoning up; of herself, naked and harnessed between the shafts of a cart. A further insult was inflicted when, like her cousin’s, her own hair was scraped back into a pony-tail and secured with a bright red ribbon. That she should be so bedecked at her Mistress’s whim was unbearable.

When Lady Noire drove her (and she always knew by the whiff of subtle scent which came to her nose, and by the firm, self-assured touch on her reins) Jane still seethed with humiliation. Sometimes she raged at the trivial natures of the errands she and the slave who drove her were continually sent on, errands on which she was made to run a mile each way to bring a bucket of ice for the Ladies’ drinks, or a fan, or a book some Lady had forgotten to bring back from some secluded glade where she’d been reading. The track to the Lodge became boringly familiar to her, so much so that she knew every little bump and hollow on its surface. Often she would see her cousin pulling her own little cart, panting and sweating like herself. Her vision, when she was allowed it, was firmly restricted by her blinkers, but occasionally some careless slave would forget to blind her before tethering her, and then she would see the Ladies walking elegantly along the raked and weeded paths around the Mansion, or sitting at tables on the lawn under the trees, sipping cold drinks while their slaves attended to their every whim, and then Jane would writhe anew.

The days continued hot and sunny, the nights, which the cousins spent tethered in the same stall, were still and chilly. Occasional short-lived thunderstorms occurred, always in the late afternoons, and then Jane and Carol would be driven through the rain to recover oddments of discarded clothing, fans, parasols and the like while the Ladies, having been transported by their slaves back to the house in dry comfort and in good time, sat drinking tea on the terrace.

But the worst times for Jane were the evenings, when the Ladies had dined. Before her meal, Lady Noire woiuld usually have her two ‘little pale beasts’ – as she would refer to them – harnessed side by side between the shafts of a two-seater cart in case she wanted a ride after dinner. Sometimes she drove them out, either alone or carrying with her a friend; sometimes she lent then to another Lady or Ladies. And sometimes they were left to stand in blind patience until a slave was sent to unharness them and put them away in their stall when the last Lady had gone to bed.

One particular velvet-soft evening, sweetly scented with night-flowering shrubs, Carol and Jane had been left harnessed to their individual carts. Lady Noire and one of her friends, a certain Lady Bronwyn, drove them out for a ride, intending to stop en route and take their coffee and digestifs at a little gazebo half a mile away.

Jane was vaguely wondering why she and her cousin hadn’t been harnessed together that evening, and what their Mistress intended for them, when her halter was untied and she was led away. She felt the concrete of the yard under her feet change to the clipped turf of the lawn, then she was halted by the slave leading her. A moment or so later, she heard the distinctive lightness of her Mistress’s feet on the turf, accompanied by a heavier tread. Her cart heeled under the weight of her driver taking her seat, then her blinkers were flipped open, dazzling her with the dim evening light. Allowed a moment to adjust her eyes she noticed the rear of her cousin’s cart, above it the dark shape of her driver’s back. Then the whip fell across Jane’s haunches and she leaned obediently into her harness.

She very soon realised that she was being driven by a Lady other than her Mistress. The other Lady was heavier, for one thing, and she was by no means as skilful in driving her as Lady Noire, sawing with the reins on Jane’s mouth as she drove her uncertainly in the wake of the other cart and using the whip to punish rather than to encourage her.

Jane was panting heavily when she caught up with her cousin, considerately brought to a stop by Lady Noire at the edge of the woodland. The two Ladies exchanged a few words, then Lady Noire flicked Carol’s rump with her whip and drove her into the wood at a walk. Lady Bronwen’s inexpert lash caught Jane painfully high on her back, and she uttered a little, stifled gasp of pain as she pulled the cart into motion. Head down, she followed the other cart into the wood.

The two Ladies drove around the wood for half an hour or so before going to the gazebo where slaves was waiting for them with coffee in a silver flask and a selection of digestifs. Little coloured lights had been strung in the branches of the nearby trees, and the rendezvous presented an almost fairy-like appearance as they came to it from the gloom of the wood. With glad little cries the Ladies dismounted and took their seats at the marble table after tossing the reins of their ponies to an attendant slave.

Carol and Jane waited patiently, tethered side by side to a sapling several yards downwind from where the Ladies sat. Jane had not been blindfolded on this occasion, and both Ladies were fully in her narrow field of vision though she couldn’t see her cousin only a few feet away. She could smell the rich aroma of their coffee and saliva flooded her mouth; treated since their arrival as animals, neither cousin had drunk anything but water. She wondered just how long they had been at Mistress Sarah’s, and how long they were to remain. The Feminine Domination session was to last three weeks, and she unsuccessfully tried to count how many days must pass before she and Carol resumed human roles again. But the days since she had been trapped by Lady Noire and made into a draught animal for her convenience blurred into each other, so alike in their drudgery as to be identical. A tiny scream of dismay from Lady Bronwen caught her attention.

“Oh dear!” she wailed. “I’ve left my cigarette holder on the terrace!”

At once her companion snapped a curt order at a slave and he walked briskly over to where Jane and Carol stood. Seconds later Jane was being driven at a fast trot back to the Mansion.

This was not the only time that evening in which one or other of the cousins was driven off at speed to fetch some trifle or other considered necessary to the Ladies’ comfort. Fresh coffee, more ice, a silken wrap for Lady Bronwen, who was feeling chilly as the evening advanced, all of these and more.

At last the lateness of the hour persuaded Lady Noire’s companion to return to the house for a nightcap before bed. She drove away with Carol between the shafts, leaving Jane alone with her Mistress and the slaves patiently waiting to clear away the debris of the evening. Lady Noire called out to her personal slave.

“I shall go for a drive in the moonlight,” she told him. “I may be some time. See to it that a bath is drawn for me, and a hot drink and Brandy await me on my return!”

“Yes, Mistress!” he replied humbly. Striking him with her whip as a token of dismissal, she turned and walked slowly over the short, sweet-smelling turf to where Jane was tethered. Halting at her side, she ran her narrow hand down Jane’s back and flanks.

It was one of those occasions when Jane’s blinkers had been closed over her eyes when her driver had left her. Too far from her Mistress to have heard her conversation, she’d had no notion of her intentions.She stiffened as the casual hand swept down her body, and she heard the unmistakeable voice of her Mistress.

“I am not yet tired enough to desire rest, my little pale beast. You certainly are tired; but that is of no moment. I shall go for a ride, and you shall pull my cart under my direction. That is the way of things between a human being and an animal she has trapped and tamed!”

Jane clenched her teeth on her bit at these insulting words. Her blinkers were opened to the straight-ahead position, then she felt her cart heel as her Mistress mounted it. The reins jerked her bit, the whip flicked her buttocks, and she leaned wearily into her harness and began to walk forwards.

Whether out of an unlikely consideration for Jane’s tiredness, or because she wished to prolong her own time in the cool night air, Lady Noire kept Jane at a slow trot, even allowing her to drop into a walk whenever there was an uphill slope in their path. Jane trudged on in that state of blessed indifference she had come to welcome; her vision limited to a few feet in front of her, automatically responding to the gentle pressures on her mouth which told her which way to turn and to the painful little flicks of the whip which told her when to exert extra effort. In this state of self-imposed hypnosis, it was some time before she realised that her Mistress was talking to her in her low, clear voice.

“I have said that I have tamed you, little pale beast, but that is not really true. Rather, I have trained you to obey me under fear of punishment. But, when I have truly tamed you – and I SHALL tame you, little pale beast – then you shall obey because your beast mind will not be able to conceive of any alternative to obedience. I shall make of you a friendly, docile, obedient little animal. I have not the time here and now, but you will come to me to be tamed when I command you; you and your pale beast of a sister, too|! But she will be easy to tame; she is very submissive. As for you; I do not think that you are submissive at all, and that will make my success the sweeter. But someone has tamed you in the past; I wonder who he was? I can see the invisible collar you wear; did he put it around your neck? Or did you do it at his command? You have been a real animal; and you shall be one again. I have you on an invisible leash, and you shall come to me when I call to you.”

Jane, panting as she drew her cart across a patch of rough ground, only half-heard this soliloquy, though its words were later to become engraved on her mind. The whip flicked her hard on her rump, and she broke into a weary trot.

“Run, little pale beast; pant and sweat in yoiur harness!” she heard her Mistress say. “I grow chilly, and I want my hot drink, my Brandy and my bath before I go to my warm, soft, scented bed. And you; you will want to be given water and allowed to sleep in the straw of your pen. Run; little pale beast – run under my whip!”

So saying, Lady Noire brought down the lash in a flurry of blows on the slender back and haunches before her.

Chapter TEN

Unknown to either cousin, Lady Noire and her entourage left the Mansion early the next morning. The long session was winding down; there were only five days remaining, and, while several new Ladies appeared to spend a few days with Mistress Sarah, more left than came. The weather grew hotter and the cousins spent much of their time yoked together in the cellar, turning the blades of the big fans in the house above them.

Saturday was the day the session was to to end, and, by tradition, the Friday was ‘Slaves’ Freedom Day’, the day allotted for the slaves to become used again to being fully clad ready to resume their normal lives. In the late afternoon of Thursday all the slaves were freed, including those under punishment in the dungeons, and the cousins too, although some of the Ladies made a little moue of displeasure at the prospect of being deprived of cool air in the Salons for the next two evenings. But their Hostess was obdurate; the ‘animals’ would be freed along with the slaves.

Jane and Carol were led up from the cellar for the last time. They stood in dull astonishment as busy fingers undid the straps and buckles of their harness, as their arm binders and their bridles were removed at last. Finally, blinking in the sunlight, they found themselves standing unrestrained in the yard behind the kitchens among the bustling of cheerful slaves.

“Welcome back, you two!” a kindly slave told them. “Use our showers, then see Perkins for your clothes. The Mistress wants to see you!”

Their hands stole out to find each other, hand in hand they stared about them. No one was taking any notice of them at all; seeing the doorway to the slave showers they walked timidly towards them, strangely ill at ease at the novel feeling of being able to move around at will after so many days of restraint. But Jane’s first moment of freedom, now that she had the use of her hands, was to remove the hated red ribbon securing her pony-tail and shake her hair free about her face even before she took out the little pastic gag imprisoning her tongue.

Later, fully clean for the first time since their arrival, they went in search of the Butler. As they padded bare-foot along a thickly-carpeted corridor, Carol began to giggle.

“Oh, Jane!” she whispered. “We’re still naked – except for our collars!”

To her delight, Carol saw her cousin blush a deep crimson all over her face and neck and down to her breasts. But her giggle was so infectious, and the total lack of interest shown by everyone that met so reassuring, that Jane began to giggle helplessly in response.

Perkins, when they’d tracked him down in the Morning Room, gazed gravely at the two naked little women, only a twinkle in his eyes indicating his true feelings. A stickler for protocol, as a good Butler must needs be, he had decided that their true position, when they were not in role, was that of Ladies and therefore his superiors. True, they both wore collars, but he been assured that this was an affectation of certain young ladies and that he was to regard it as merely a mild eccentricity.

“If the ladies would follow me,” he murmured, “I shall show you to your suite where your, er, garments await you.”

His stately figure preceded them up a broad flight of stairs, along a lushly-carpeted corridor, and halted by a polished wooden door. Opening it, he ushered them into a luxuriously appointed Reception Room. Beyond that, in a delicately scented, entirely feminine bedroom, they saw their freshly-washed and pressed dresses lying upon the large, soft single bed. For the first time, he seemed a little nonplussed; a mere male confronted with feminine mysteries.

“I’m told that these garments,” he said, indicating the simple dresses, “are the only articles of clothing the Ladies arrived wearing – apart from your footwear, of course.” He paused helplessly before continuing. “If the Ladies require additional garments …?”

Carol giggled.

“Our dresses will be quite sufficient, Perkins!” she told him regally.

“Very good, Miss Carol,” he replied, scarcely hiding his relief at being able to change the subject. “Tea is being served upon the terrace where my Mistress will meet you later.”

Left alone, the two cousins wandered about examining their surroundings before taking another shower, this time employing the delicately scented soap left out for them. Then, after perfuming themselves lightly, they put on their dresses and sandals, giggling together at the novel feeling of light, cool silk on their bare bodies. Hand in hand before the huge mirror, they spent a few minutes in innocent admiration before their reflections, from the golden halos of their hair, still fluffed out from its drying, to the tiny gilt sandals on their shapely little feet. Still holding each other’s hands, they made their way to the terrace.

It felt odd to be seated on comfortable, padded chairs after so many days confined to either standing between the shafts of their carts or lying in the straw of their pen, and odder still to regard from the terrace the fence to which they has spent so many hours blind and tethered, draught animals patiently waiting to be driven away. Carol eyes glistened with her memories, but Jane gazed out sombrely, remembering her past anger and outrage. The words of her captor came to her mind. Perhaps, she thought, I am not really of a submissive nature. Then a further phrase of Lady Noire’s presented itself. “You will come to me to be tamed when I command you” she had said, and Jane gave a little shiver at the memory. She was Jane, wild and free; she would not be a tame animal!

Mistress Sarah joined them, accompanied by her slave-husband, Mark. Both congratulated the pair on their devotion to their roles and expressed unstinting admiration of their stamina. That evening, at the dinner in which the slaves joined their Mistresses and dined on human food, the cousins were feted by everyone present, sitting side by side on Mistress Sarah’s right hand.

Friday passed in a pleasant, restful haze, and on Saturday morning their Hostess herself drove them to the car park by the Lodge in a cart pulled by four laughing, volounteer slaves.

On their way home, Carol continued to marvel at their recent experiences, over and over again expressing her determination to repeat them. Jane, however, remained more circumspect; she did not altogether like being an animal, she decided. All the same, the little thrill that appeared whenever she thought about it refused to leave her.

She worked very hard at being a privileged pampered princess. Everyone liked to look at her and she did her best to give them a good show. The Sheriff had understood and after she flashed him with a taut pink nipple he had let her go home. Alas, there were still jealous meanies who raised a fuss and she was soon back in her little room. She was feeling quite despondent until the weekend rolled around and a new guard came on duty.

Her name was Sandy. She had a cute face and short dark hair but, outside her new job, Sandy didn’t have much of a life. She loved to look at pretty women and had many fantasies about them but never had the nerve to approach anyone and state her desires. On her bedroom wall were posters of Paris, Gwen, Fergie and several others that made her want to touch herself. She had figured that being a guard in a women’s lockup would give her a chance to taste many a fine pussy. Sadly, most of the girls there were some really fucked up bitches so she just did her job and chilled out with wine and fantasies when she was off work.

On Friday nights she would use her vibe and make herself cum while watching celebrity news shows that featured the adventures of upscale hotties. Pictures of starlets and debutantes filled her computer. Mmm, what if she were their best friend or maybe their maid? Mmmm, perhaps they would be very demanding and spank her if she misbehaved. She liked the idea of being under the control of such sexy women. She came very hard as she thought of being flogged by Fergie, queened by Gwen, or caned by Cameron.

On Monday morning she her got duty assignment for the next week.

Sandy was thrilled to learn that she was scheduled to work on the wing in which Paris was being held. Ms. Hilton was one of her faves and she had creamed many a panty thinking of the naughty things she would like to do with her.

Sandy approached the cell door and knocked gently. “Paris, are you awake?”

At first there was no answer so she knocked again.

Paris was lying on her bed and fllicking a well manicured nail over the crotch of her orange jumpsuit and did not want to be disturbed. Seven days without a decent orgasm was making her feel all bitchy.

“Go away!”, she said but Sandy persisted.

“Paris, my name is Sandy. I think it’s terrible that you have to be here,”

“I have all your posters and I’m a huge fan.”

“I brought some apples and grapes if you would like them.”

“Can I please come in?”

.

“Ummm, yeah, whatever,” said the naughty heiress.

She sat on the side of her bunk as Sandy entered holding the promised fruit

in a little basket adorned with pink ribbons and tiny flowers of pink and white.

Sandy knelt before her and offered her some grapes.

Paris tried one and then another. Sandy told her she was beautiful and looked at her in a way that made her feel like her sensual self.

The girl was clearly starstruck but there was more. Her petite little guard really wanted her. Paris let some grape juice drip from her mouth and was intrigued to see Sandy was wide eyed and licking her lips. Paris took several grapes into her mouth and squished them around. She drew Sandy forward for a kiss and was not disappointed. Sandy was eager for such contact and sucked up all the grapey goo that Paris fed her. They broke the messy kiss and both had a smile.

“”That’s hot,” said Paris.

“Oh, Paris, that was so great. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Well!”, said the svelte blonde. “We just kissed didn’t we?”

“”I loved it, Paris, but I would like to kiss you more.”

“I could get you a ‘cellie’ if you would let me kiss your pussy.”

The heiress thought for a moment about her situation. She was lost without a phone  and the unfulfilled need in her quimey was becoming urgent. Why not let the girl lick her privileged pussy? She still got tingles when she thought of that sweet girl in Tokyo who had serviced her so well. As she looked into the pleading eyes of the kneeling girl she began to appreciate how cute Sandy really was.

All things considered, it seemed like a pretty good deal.

She stood and wiggled out of her orange jumpsuit and white panties finally standing nude before Sandy. The girl hugged her from her kneeling position, kissed her belly and then began softly kissing her way downward. Sandy was blessed with a long agile tongue that found its way between Paris’s legs and was soon lapping deep inside her neatly trimmed pussy.

Paris fell back on her cot. She held tightly onto Sandy’s head and pulled her lover down with her while keeping the girl’s mouth tight to her sex. Paris loved the feel of firm hard cocks and had enjoyed many but there was a unique thrill to having a worshipping mouth lick and suck on her honey tunnel.

She began to move her hips against Sandy’s mouth and closed her thighs tightly around the girl’s face. Her cunt cream was flowing freely now and the dark haired pixie between her thighs seemed eager to drink every drop. Sandy’s tongue was better than many of the big dicks she had allowed the pleasure of her body. Somehow it was able to reach her G-spot and then sweep to her clit and make her writhe in sexual abandon.

She climaxed with a high pitched rant. “Oooo, yes, yes, suck me slut. I love fucking your mouth. You’re making me Cuummm.” With a few final thrusts, she did cum and then let her limbs go limp as she savored the moment.

Sandy calmed her lover with gentle licks and then raised her wet face.

She had removed the belt from her uniform and offered it to Paris.

:

“Please spank me, Paris, I could cum so good if you did.”

Sandy shed her clothes and began to finger her pussy.

“Ooo, this really is hot”, thought Paris. The so called prisoner ordered her so called guard to lay across the bed and had to admire the perky buns that she was about to whip into a bright pinkness. She swung the belt ten times while Sandy shamelessyly masturbated. The dark haired pixie climaxed with muted little whimpers and caught her resulting effuse in her hands. She asked Paris to turn around and ran her syrupy hands all over and deep in between the heiress’s ass cheeks. She followed with long slow licks and worked her way inward. Now it was Paris that was bending to allow Sandy full access to her pussy and ass, The girl licked her to another kneebending orgasm and she collapsed face down on her tiny bed.

Exhausted, she fell asleep and awoke alone in her cell. There, atop her basket of fruit was a cute new phone. During the day, she learned that Sandy had been fired for missing all her check in times the night before. It seemed the girl had been more interested in licking pussy than keeping her job.

;”That’s hot,” thought Paris.

She did not see Sandy again and spent the rest of her incarceration planning where she would party once released.

A few weeks later,she was making the most of her vacation basking on a secluded beach and browsing her laptop. Her fansite and inbox were filled with comments and messages.

She breezed through most but one caught her eye.

“Orally talented girl seeks position as maid or personal assistant to ladies. Call Sandy at ***-7382.

Paris ordered another daiquiri, swatted the cabana boy on his ass and began to dial.