Nicola was trapped in a vulnerable position over the desk. “Please... He forced me... I couldn’t stop him... ” she squeaked in fear as the fat man clapped his hand between her thighs and squeezed her sticky quim with a proprietorial hand.
“You randy bitch! You’re wet as hell! You enjoyed that old goat! I’ll teach you who has the only right to your cunt!”
He slid the drawer open and plucked out the cane. Nicola, realising she was wasting her breath, clenched her chattering teeth and squeezed her bottom cheeks tightly together. The cane hissed in the air and landed with a sharp cracking report across both tightly pressed rounds. Nicola shrieked her head off, kicking her legs wildly. The burning line left by the cane divided her unprotected bottom in two and she knew better than to suppress her reaction.
“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... ” she yelped, then clapped her lips tight again, as she suddenly realised that she dare not tell the truth about the letter.
“Stop kicking and keep your mouth shut!” the Controller barked savagely. “I’m going to give you ten strokes and every time you show off your wet cunt or try to tell me lies, it’ll earn you double, so you’ve been warned!”
He gave Nicola another two searing strokes and she managed to keep silent apart from a sharp gasp as each one landed. She had to exert all her will to keep from parting her legs. She felt that she would rather be fucked than thrashed, especially as she guessed it would end up with that anyway. A third and fourth came down remorselessly and she began to wish her ankles were tied like her wrists. She squirmed fruitlessly on her belly, tossing her head from side to side.
Five, six, seven, eight. Her brain whirled; She hadn’t deserved this! She banged her knees hard upon the desk as the cane crossed earlier wheals and her teeth gritted nearly broke out in an irrepressible shriek. She managed to control herself at last while the Controller waited breathing heavily and then suffered two more strokes with only two little kicks, hardly kicks at all, and two stifled shrieks, hardly more than squeals. Her bottom burnt and throbbed Appalled she heard him say, “An extra two strokes!”
“Please... I thought it was you... I really wanted you... ” she lied. “Please have mercy... I’ll be really good... You’ll really be satisfied!”
The Controller grunted and gave her the two additional strokes any way, not very severely, but with the state of her bottom cheeks, helping to produce convincing howls.
“You are just a randy little bitch, are you not?”
“Yes... yes... ” Nicola wriggled, and yelped at the effect upon her thrashed bottom. “Yes... I am... a randy bitch... ”
“You will take any man who comes, will you not?” “Yes... yes... anyone... ”she averred fervently.
Tapping her trembling bottom suggestively with the cane, the Controller assured her that the civil disorder in the countryside had reached such a level that she had no other hope of reaching freedom than at his pleasure. He explained that he had revealed the secret of her acquisition to several friends whose cooperation would be necessary and were eager to meet her, so that he now proposed to give a series of parties at which he would introduce her to these men and she would serve their pleasure in the same way that she did his.
Nicola reflected unhappily upon her fate, forced to become a whore to any stranger whom she was told would serve her purpose, but she felt that she could only acquiesce. She had been prey to two men already. It surely wouldn’t take much skill or enthusiasm simply to lie back with her legs open while these presumedly useful male contacts pounded away at her. But then she was told that he had boasted of her sexual capacity to his guests and they would expect to find her hot and eager, so he expected her to give a good show of it. She was to produce the sort of orgasmic performance she had just displayed, so convincingly as to please and flatter his friends’ masculine egos.
Chapter Six
Dawn broke and sent a dim light through the blinds of the office. Nicola was awoken by the man who had been her last partner rolling off her with a groan and staggering away towards the bathroom. The Controller had given one of his card playing and drinking parties at which Nicola was the principal diversion. He had invited three men who were complete strangers but who had evidently been told exactly what to expect. Two of them were stout and elderly, almost twins except that one sported a thin moustache, the third one was younger with long hair down to his collar.
At first they only drank and played cards. Nicola was expected to drink too, desiring it as a sort of anaesthetic, but afraid to indulge in it too far, dreading the consequences of being too inert to please. After a while she was sent into the kitchen and set to work frying up snacks on the small stove with which to stoke up the men’s energy. Because of her cooking chores she wore the old man’s canvas apron tied with tapes behind the neck and in the small of the back, but nothing else, so that from the front she was modestly covered but from the rear, provocatively naked.
The guests treated her without shame like a sexual toy that they expected to make further use of, groping her under her apron, caressing and fondling her with loudly appreciative comments between games, or when she was bending to refill their glasses.
The long haired young one was the first to make a decisive move towards the sexual game. Nicola had been nervously anticipating this and reacted to his lustful gesture without attempt at evasion. She undid her one garment and dropped it to her feet, flushing when the men’s expression of her reaction seemed to be one of satisfied approval of her obedience. The young man took her by the arm, grinning, and led her towards the bedroom, further amplifying his lascivious intentions with a hand under her bottom. But the idea of the others seemed counter to his desire for privacy; evidently they felt she should be enjoyed in common. Moustache took possession of her from the younger man and gestured that she should lie on her back on the card table.
She hardly had enough time to settle herself before he was on top of her and thrusting between her thighs, already giving a loud commentary to his friends. He was another one typical of his race, not very big, but vigorous enough so that Nicola knew when he was well up her. The host himself then appeared by her head where it overhung the table edge and, turning her to face him, presented his much larger cock to her lips. She was conscious that the other men must be watching this, but the distraction of already having one hard cock ramming her made it impossible to keep up any pretence of refusal of the other. She started to suck the Controller as well as being consistent with having a struggle to breathe, his merciless fist keeping her from making any withdrawal.
The man between her legs was gripping the soft flesh of her bottom cheeks with strong hands, squeezing hard as he drove the last rapid strokes of his cock into her. She tried to assist as best she could in her distraction and felt almost gratified by the swiftness of his conclusion, squirting wetly into her.
Fresh hands heaved her over as soon as he withdrew, turning her upon the axis of the cock in her mouth like a chicken on a rotisserie spit. The two men at either end argued without heat and then she was heaved up onto all fours, precariously posed on hands and knees on the table top, gargling on the man’s penis all the while. The fresh man behind her wriggled himself into place between her spread thighs, his buttocks supported on the table beneath her, so that she bestrode him and he was able to insert his rigid penis into the cold wet opening left by his friend’s withdrawal.
Still gobbling on the Controller’s cock, prevented from losing her place on that by his inexorable grip, Nicola shimmied her hips dutifully over the new protrusion, allowing her weight to do the rest, sinking her downwards onto the upright stem.
Laughter and mutual encouragement flew between the men. Another cock was nudging between her bottom cheeks, temporarily elevated and spread wide enough to make access to her bottom hole readily accessible. Whichever man it was, the orifice he had chosen was the one most calculated to produce a penetrating effect
even in the middle of Nicola’s other distractions.
Thrust, lifted, split and penetrated in three directions, she clung to the unsteady table, head going back and forth like a metronome, gobbling and slurping noisily as she desperately seized the chance to finish off at least one of them. Above her head the Controller roared approval and let go his slackening grip. Nicola lost his cock, but fortunately it was already exploding as it went, leaving a series of sticky spurts along her tongue, over her lips and down her chin. A flash went off in her face. One of the men had his camera out and had begun taking pictures so now he had one of her licking the Controller’s cum off her bottom lip.
Without the gagging distraction, Nicola now had more attention to spare for the other two. The one beneath her was hampered by his position and her greater weight, managing only short strokes with a lot of grunting effort. The top of his head was only level with her collarbone and, dragging her down upon him now that she was free, he fastened upon her dangling breasts, cramming them into his mouth alternately, licking and nibbling the saliva-wet nipples.
By contrast his friend going into her anus was thrusting painfully hard and fast. She could feel the strained flesh around the opening plucking and dimpling as his cock went in and out, faster and faster. The thrusts rocked her to and fro so that her breasts kept bouncing and swinging loose over the face of the man below. Nicola floundered between sensations, trying to satisfy two men at once. At last between her painfully flexing bottom rounds and his energetic thrusts, penetration of her anus provided him with the long-awaited orgasm, the man announcing it to his friends with loud satisfaction, Nicola with tremulous groans, the camera wielder with ecstatic flashes.
That left only the tit-sucker. Nicola made even more effort to reach a conclusion here, pushing her hips up and down, pumping wildly as if suction alone would suffice. Fire had invaded her belly, thighs and backside; her hard-worked nipples throbbed, shooting sensations through them every time they were touched. The conclusion she was now aiming for was hers as much as his.
She urged him wildly to thrust harder, forgetting his inability to understand, but her mere tone drew a reaction. They both came almost together, groans and yelps intermingled, drawing loud and envious applause from her three previous partners.
The party went on and Nicola was despatched into the kitchen for more food and to the storeroom for more whisky. Now that they had established the pattern for her use, Nicola was obliged to perform with each of the men individually in turn as the night wore on. Until they ran out of film, the camera was passed from one to another between the men so that each could have his own souvenir of his sexual performance. In between times, Nicola’s thoughts had circled incessantly round the question of these photo-flashes, imagining the results passed about by boastful men and somehow her being identified as the victim.
Pulling herself together in the dawn light, Nicola found that she was still wearing the apron, it had just been thrust up about her waist for the last man to take her doggy fashion. She tugged it back into place as she struggled to her feet.
Plucking out a crumpled plastic flower that she found lodged uncomfortably between her naked bottom cheeks, she began automatically to clean up the debris of the orgy, bottles, dishes and spilt food scattered about the floor. The Controller himself was where she had left him back in the bedroom, spread-eagled naked across the bed, face up and mouth open only the slight tremor of his huge belly betraying that he was still breathing. The remaining two men were just beginning to stir where they lay half naked, snoring in different keys on the office carpet among the debris.
She heard the roar of the mob without knowing at first what it was, it sounded like heavy surf approaching the shore.
The soldiers who smashed in the office door evidently knew she was included in the party, as if acting upon information received, probably the work of the displaced assistant. She had fled before them into the storeroom and burrowed into the stacks of cartons, lying trembling like a rabbit in its burrow but eventually they tracked her down, dragged her into the light and took her downstairs into the yard. Hit by the wall of sound outside she winced and cowered back in their grip. The railway yard was swarming with people climbing over the motionless rusting trains, filling the spaces between and even crowding on top of the trucks, like the audience at a wild beast show.
The Controller she didn’t recognise at first. His clothes were half torn off him and his bowed head was bloodied. He was kneeling amid the tracks before the mob, one of a line of other men in the same state. Even as she spotted him in the line, a soldier stepped slowly from one to the other placing the muzzle of his short weapon at the backs of the bent necks and firing deliberate single shots. The victims collapsed one after another in an untidy row until the whole line had been despatched.
Nicola was hustled forward, sobbing in fear. Throughout, the noise had been continuous and menacing, almost submerging the noise of the shots and apparently unallayed by the deaths. She was thrust out into the blood soaked space from which the bodies had been unceremoniously dragged clear. Facing her was a row of half-dozen people, men and women, huddled nervously behind a table as if it were a bunker against the mob. They were being addressed by a succession of complainants, men in uniform; men in rags; a woman with a baby who shook her fist at them and at Nicola. The incomprehensible harangues went over Nicola’s head. The judges, if that was what they were, began shouting themselves, shaking their fists theatrically one after another.
Two soldiers seized Nicola by the hair and shoulders, bending her double, head downwards almost level with her knees in the fashion she had faced the tribunal in the school. Her bottom was thrust out towards the ominously roaring crowd, the loose apron falling apart to expose her nakedness.
Crackkk!!!
Nicola shrieked but with a note of relief amid the pain and shame. She had expected to be shot like the men. A public caning was something she already knew about.
Crackkk!!! Crackkk!!! Crackkk!!!
She could see between her knees the distant mouths open and shut as if yelling in time with the painful descent of the cane across her bottom.
Crackkk!!!
Then from somewhere ahead of her from the direction of the offices, a single male voice broke into a chance lull. The mob roared and as Nicola gaped upside down, surged towards her like an impending human wave. The soldiers made no attempt to stop it. With only momentary hesitation they took up the cry and as the roaring mob enveloped them, they let go of Nicola and were then parted from her, apparently carried helplessly away. Feeling their grip go, Nicola had dropped onto hands and knees in terror, thinking that her last moment had come as the mob broke upon her.
But it wasn’t her they were after. She was banged and kicked into the lee of the overturned table, but it was only to clear her from their path. Still on hands and knees she looked after them, bruised and panting. The last of the mob swarmed through the open doors of the ground floor warehouse and clambered the stairs. From within the office, windows were being smashed and things hurled out. Some people were fighting their way back out of the mob with boxes and sacks of groceries, while others still tried to get in. A box hurled through the upper window from which Nicola had watched her substitute march away, burst as it landed, and people fought over tumbled orange packets of dried noodles. The Controller’s food hoard was being re-distributed.
Chapter Seven
Dim lamps at long intervals reflected dully off the shale roof and the walls of the mine tunnel. The lights only served to emphasize the narrow confines of their prison to those who toiled there and the crushing overburden of the hillside into which it burrowed. Cool fresh air wafted from some opening out of sight, while from the other came the scrape and clang of pick and shovel working the faces within. Transmitted by the double line of rails that shone in the wide spaced patches of light, came the louder sound of rumbling iron wheels. Out of the rec
esses of the mine was coming a string of loaded coal tubs.
At a junction with the main line a man crouched back in the side tunnel. He was short, squat and shaven headed, wearing a singlet and short leather breeches fastened by a thick leather belt. Into the belt was tucked a short whip made of lengths of electrical cable bound to a wooden handle. His long simian arms dangled a lantern like a toy in one big hand. Into the yellow patch of light that it shed, the coal tubs emerged from obscurity and rumbled past at intervals. Each was drawn by a half-crouched, half-crawling figure, more or less naked and only identifiable as female by dangling skinny breasts, black from head to foot except where white rimmed eyes briefly caught the light as they turned to glance at the lurking man.
He inspected them dispassionately each in passing until, as the fourth or fifth appeared he lifted the lamp and, reaching forward, pulled back a long iron lever. With a grinding sound the configuration of the points before him changed.
“Yung-gwaw Kwee-huh!”
The newcomer, chained by the waist to her coal tub, swerved obediently from the main to the switch line. Noticeably more curved of figure than her precursors, her naked breasts swung heavily beneath her straining torso as the heavy truck conformed in turn to the alteration of the points. The waiting man released his lever with a grunt, returning the line behind to its former state.
“Zaa-eting!” The man followed the tub and reached down as the woman halted just within the side tunnel. He reached down and unshipped a slip-link in the heavy chain which, dragged between the woman’s legs, fastened her to her charge.
At the clinking sound Nicola Horsham straightened, groaning, from her animal- like position upon all fours. She was naked but for a pair of heavy boots a size too big for her, leather knee-pads and the thick straps of her harness. A hardened leather cap covered her hair, dangling thick flaps over her ears. The lantern reflected the whites of her eyes and the pink flicker of her tongue in a coal black face. Restored to two-legged progress she plodded after the bobbing lantern as it receded along the branch road past the rusting hulks of useless coal cutting machinery. The mine was only working by hand labour. Disorder had interrupted every system, but as well as filling the occasional train, coal was a commodity that could be traded for food to peasant villagers on the plain.
Chinese Justice Page 7
