by Alan Horn
I saw Elizabeth was sobbing and shivering despite the warmth. Mary was quietly cursing in a corner as we rocked along.
In fact, three wagons left the court. One turned north toward Welwyn. One turned south toward Croydon. The third turned east toward Reading. As they passed through the courthouse gates the wagons were surrounded by a shouting mob of women. But the police were there in overwhelming force and forced the wagons through the mob. Three blocks from the court they picked up their escort. All were followed at a discrete distance by a troop of armed police.
Mary fumed, "What did that pompous judge mean 'enslaved.' 'Tis what we are fighting against now. Slavery has been outlawed for decades! They can't do that to us, can they? This just means we've got to escape as soon as possible. We can't wait for a hunger strike to get us out. That takes weeks. Once they've got us put away its going to be much harder. Do either of you know where we're being taken?"
I was silent. I didn't know any more than she did. Elizabeth also shook her head. All three of us were the same age, 24. Elizabeth was a shop girl. She had a job 'with benefits' and didn't like her manager. She was little more than a sex slave already. Mary worked in a mill and had been in prison once. She was one of the original hunger strikers and was let out when she became malnourished. The police had been looking for her for over a year now to put her back in prison. She had changed her name and moved to London from Cornwall. She was angry and tough. I was educated and had a bit of property my parents left me. I shouldn't be here. I just marched before this. It was exciting. I had been arrested but released the next day. I only went along to be lookout when their regular team member came up sick.
Slavery? I didn't know what to say. Ever since I was a little girl I had dreams, fantasies really. In recent years they had reappeared. I thought it was because of my unlucky encounters with men. I never fell in love. Several men declared their love for me, but I felt they were just after my money. In my dreams I was often a slavegirl. He was a romantic and a strong, demanding master. I was tied or chained and I did domestic duties for him. Sometimes he was a pirate, sometimes a prince. Always he owned me and I always obeyed him.
As I grew older my dreams had me ravished all the time. When I woke my loins would be wet. My mother thought I had a bed wetting problem. I never had the courage to tell her I had an orgasm problem.
It was hard to keep my secret in jail. Mary told me I had nightmares and moaned in my sleep. I told her I had nightmares that we would never succeed in our cause . I didn't tell her that equality wasn't a viable concept in my dreams. In my dreams every woman was owned by a man. Free women never appeared in my dreams and they aroused me to the point of orgasm.
But I knew the difference between my dreams and reality. Here and now this wasn't possible. We all expected years in prison. Not a life sentence. This was so unfair. We had all talked about this months ago. The plan, successful until last week, was to immediately go on a hunger strike when sent to prison. The coppers always let us out when we got sick and then the girls would hide us. But starting last week, the girls who went to trial just disappeared. Our WSPU visitors had told us the last ones to be tried had just vanished. The sentences were being kept secret. There was speculation they we were being executed or had been sent to a an other country.
We had all agreed we wouldn't eat until they let us out. Mary had been released once that way. We knew a lot of other girls who had gotten out that way too. We were committed to the cause. But no one knew what had changed. WSPU had watchers stationed outside the court to try and follow us to see what was going on.
15 May 1913. Royal Asylum
Finally, the wagon stopped, paused a moment, then went on a short ways. The door opened and we were pulled out into a courtyard. We were hustled inside.
There were six large women in the room and two men. All dressed in the same unfamiliar uniform. One of the women stood closest to us. It looked like she was in charge. She said, "Stand on the yellow line."
Mary, always the belligerent one said, "Not on your life, sister. We reject your authority."
The woman said, "Strip her." Two of the women grabbed Mary's arms and held her. Another started cutting Mary's clothes into tatters with a large pair of scissors.
Mary put up an enormous fuss. She tried to twist away. She kicked and screamed, but to no avail. In less than a minute she stood naked in front of us.
The woman said, "gag her and hang her hands up."
A leather ball was forced into Mary's mouth and strapped tight. A rope was tied to her cuffs. I saw it ran through a pulley on the ceiling. One of the women pulled on the rope, causing Mary's hands to rise behind her. Mary was forced to bend over to relieve the strain on her shoulders. Her hands were lifted until they were higher than her head. Mary made muffled pleas and moans as the rope pulled her hands higher, until finally it was tied off.
The woman picked up a slender cane from a table. Calmly she started beating Mary's bottom. Elizabeth and I were helpless with our hands still cuffed behind us. I watched the red stripes emerge on Mary's ass cheeks. I was fascinated. I had never seen a woman caned before. Mary kicked and spun about, but there was no way she could escape her torment. Only muffled pleas and cries escaped the gag. In a strange way, I liked watching Mary being beaten. It made me feel all warm inside. The beating continued until Mary sagged as if she couldn't bear it anymore. The woman ordered, "OK that's enough for now. Let her down but leave the gag. She talks too much."
She turned to Elizabeth and I. "Do either of you want to make trouble? No? Stand on the line." We hurried to comply. Mary joined us. "Listen girls. You have been sentenced to enslavement. As of now you have no rights. You are worthless, untrained cunts. You will obey every command, instantly. Do not speak unless acknowledging an order or you have been given permission to speak. You are the lowest of the low. Every man is your master, every free woman is your mistress. Are we clear?" None of us said anything. "When I give you an order, the proper response is 'Yes, Mistress.' Are we clear?"
I didn't want to say anything. I wanted to show Mary I was made of stern stuff too. I would not yield my dignity so cheap.
Mary was gagged but she nodded. Elizabeth said, in a quiet voice, "Yes, Mistress."
The woman stood in front of me. "Do this one too." The same two women grabbed me. I fought as best I could, kicking and trying to bite them, but they controlled me. I was stripped, gagged, and my arms lifted behind me. The first blow was mind boggling. It hurt so much more than anything I had ever felt or imagined. It was sickening. I might have thrown up if not for the gag. I danced and spun like a fly in a spider's web. Mo matter how I danced, I could not evade the biting cane. It was terrible. I thought I would die. The cane was like a thunderbolt hitting my ass. My ass was on fire after the first blow. I ran every which way, but the rope always pulled me back for more. My shoulders hurt with a sharp biting pain almost as bad as the stripes I was getting. I screamed into my gag in pain. I pleaded for mercy. I swore allegiance to the woman. I promised to obey her in all things. In that one beating I lost all my dignity, all my dedication to the cause. I would do anything to make the pain stop. Finally, she stopped. I crouched there at the end of the rope, sobbing and trying to say, "Thank You, Oh, Thank you." But of course no words passed the leather. They let me down and removed the gag.
"Are We Clear?" "Yes, Mistress." "Put her gag back in."
"One left. Strip her." Elizabeth lost her clothes even faster than we had. She didn't fight at all. One of the assistants strapped a gag in Elizabeth's mouth. She was strung up and caned too. But she only received three strokes. It was enough to set her sobbing, like us. It was also enough to show Mary and I the difference between punishment and training.
They let her down and took the rope off her handcuffs. "Stand on the line." We obeyed. "Girls. You are official slaves. You have no rights. As you stand, you are worthless cunts. We are your trainers. We will make you valuable pleasure slaves. Disobedience will be dealt with instant pain
ful. You won't believe this, but at the end of your training you will thank us and mean it. Take them to a holding cell. Processing is busy now."
Steel collars were locked around our necks. Each collar had rings front and back. There was a short chain hanging from one ring. This was put in back. Our hands were pulled high on our backs and locked to the chain. My fingers could grasp the collar they were so high. We were taken into a shower room and cleaned. Our orifices were checked for contraband. God that was humiliating. They would make one of us squat and a woman would feel around inside us with a gloved hand. It was the most humiliating experience I ever had. To be cavity searched in front of my friends and eight strangers. But what could we do. We had all been rendered mute and helpless. We had tasted the whip and been conquered.
A chain was locked to the other ring on my collar. I saw similar chains put on Mary and Elizabeth. A woman took the other end of each of our chains and led us along bright lit corridors to a dark cell. We were each fastened to a wall ring. We couldn't reach one another, but we could see the others. The women left. I looked at Mary. I could see anger and frustration in her face. We moved as close as we could, but we were still a yard apart. Our gags would stay in place until our captors decided to remove them. I saw we each had a waste bucket. There was no bed or cot or chair. The cell was bare save for the buckets and three naked, chained girls. Slave girls? There was nothing else to do, so I sat on the stone floor.
15 May 1913. On the road to Welwyn
Besides the driver, Sgt. Vines and ten armed constables were in the wagon. Sgt. Vines was up front with the driver. The driver halted the wagon as they rounded a bend. There was a large wagon blocking the road. A woman stood beside the wagon and said, "could you help me please, I've lost a wheel."
Sgt. Vines knew this was an ambush, but he played along and climbed down from the wagon. As he neared the woman, three armed women came out of the bushes. One said, "raise your hands, Sgt. We just want our friends back. No one will get hurt if you let us have them." Sam Vines raised his hands and said, "I'm not going to fight and get shot. We'll catch the lot of you soon enough. I've got the key to the wagon door in my shirt pocket. Can I get it out.?"
The woman said, "All right. Move slow and it better not be anything but a key that comes out."
Sam pulled the key out and threw it to the woman who caught it. She said to the driver, "You there, get down and go to the back with us. The four women marched Sam and the driver to the back of the wagon. The one with the key said, watch these two while I get the door open. She put her gun away and the other three faced Sam and the driver, ten feet back of the wagon.
She unlocked the doors, threw them open, and found herself facing eight long guns.
One of the police said yelled, "Drop your weapons. We have eight rifles aimed at you. Face down on the ground or the next sound you'll hear will be our guns. NOW."
The woman who opened the doors said, "do it girls or we're all dead." They tossed their pistols into the grass and lay down on the ground. Sgt. Vines strolled over to the woman with the key and took it from her hand. He said, "Well, you're in custody a lot sooner than you thought, I imagine." He cuffed her hands behind her and said, "stay here."
After all the women were cuffed and searched, they were put in the wagon and the driver took them all back to London. They met their armed escort just after they turned around.
15 May 1913. Royal Asylum.
We've been sitting on the cold concrete for hours. My arms and shoulders ached. I was hungry and thirsty. I was so bored. My jaw ached from the huge leather ball filling it. I was drooling and couldn't stop it. I could see Mary and Elizabeth were as bad off as me. They looked miserable. I heard a key in the door. It opened and a woman in that strange uniform came in. She looked at us and unlocked my chain from the wall. She said, "Stand up." She held a crop in her hand. I struggled up. Damned hard with no hands at all to help. She pulled me out the door and locked it. I was led down the hall and into an unmarked door. The room was stark white. It had a sturdy wooden table and a man standing beside it. He was holding a whip. The woman handed him my leash and left.
He said, "I am one of your trainers. He took the gag from my mouth and held a glass of water to my lips. God, it was so good. Cool water sliding down my open mouth. I gulped down as much as I could then raised my head, I worked my poor stiff jaw. That gag was huge.
I said, "Thank you."
He looked at me and asked, "Is that all?"
I said, "Thank you, Master."
"Good."
He bent me over the table so my breasts rested on it. It was low enough so that my ass was higher than my shoulders. He told me to spread my legs then not to move. He started stroking me with his whip. So soft they didn't hurt at all. He increased the strength of the strokes but kept the pace slow. After a few minutes of this slow whipping. I began to feel my body heat up. My skin felt like it was glowing with heat, but it didn't hurt. My belly was getting hot. Then I felt my trainer start to stroke my labia lips with his fingers. Feather light strokes running up one side then down the other. They were spreading my love juices all over my cunt.
The whipping and finger actions went on together. Like the strings and percussion instruments blending into a lifting harmony for my senses. I heard a moan and realized it was me. The gentle stroking and soft impacts led to a huge orgasm. When I opened my eyes I saw him studying my face. I had not felt this good in months. I realized my arms and shoulders weren't hurting any more.
I was sure I was awake, but this was so much like my dreams that I wasn't sure. I was helpless, unable to move, but I felt safe, secure, and loved. He had been so gentle with me and so sensual. If this was slavery, I wanted it. I remembered what the woman who beat us said - in the end we would thank her. I hope she was right because there isn't a damned thing I can do about it.
He got me off the table and led me away on shaky legs, murmuring, “Good girl."
He unlocked the chain from my collar. A light chain leash took its place. He took hold of the and said, “Heel.” and led me out of the room. We entered a small, hot room. There was a black metal machine in the center of the room and a red hot brazier in the corner.
Chapter 2 - Steel and Gold
I balked when I saw the brazier, but two men grabbed me and dragged me the rest of the way into the room. One said, “There's no point in fighting, girl. You're now a slave and all slaves get marked for easy identification. It will hurt, but not for long.”
I screamed and fought, but they were too strong and with my hands cuffed behind me, I had no chance of stopping them. They lifted me and carried me to the machine. Its use became clear as the metal bars clamped down on my left leg and they strapped my right ankle high and to the side. I continued to scream and plead, but they ignored me. The light haired man went to the brazier and pulled the glowing iron from the coals. He walked up to me and said, ”This will hurt, scream all you want. Afterwards you can rest.” He pressed the red hot brand into my upper left thigh and held it for 5 full seconds. I screamed at the pain and the knowledge I was forever branded slave. I fainted.
I awoke to a burning pain in my thigh and it took me a moment to realize where I was. I jerked as I remembered my branding. My wrists were still locked high on my back to a steel collar. I felt cuffs on my ankles, too. I tried to lift my head to look at the brand. Nope, nothing happened. My collar must be fastened to the bed somehow. I raised my legs as far as possible. I could just see the mark on my thigh. It was a stylized crown with three points. I heard Elizabeth stirring on the next bed. And said, “Liz, can you hear me, how do you feel?”
Liz replied , “Maureen, I...I'm branded! I'm locked down to the bed. I can't move.”
I said, “Liz, I'm branded too. I don't think we can ever get them off. We're marked for life.” I could see my brand. It was a stylized crown. Actually it looked better than some of the tattoos I've seen. When it stops hurting and looking red and swollen, I might like it. Once again, there w
asn't a damned thing I could do about it.
I remember I decided to go on the raid with Mary and Elizabeth because I wanted to something exciting. To be active. To live. Now I was a slave. I'd been tried, convicted, striped naked, caned, chained, forced to orgasm, and branded. I couldn't move. My brand hurt. God has an evil sense of humor. In my condition, I couldn't even plan. I could only wait and see what someone was going to do to me. I guess slavegirls must learn patience.
The door opened and a man in a white coat entered. He looked like a doctor. He walked over between our beds and checked our brands. He said, “excellent. These are clear and crisp. You will be proud of the way they look.” Then he unlocked me from the bed put me in a wheelchair.
He locked my collar to the chair and gagged me. It was easy for him. He said, "open, " holding the gag in front of me. I opened my mouth and accepted the gag. When he was strapping it tight around my head, I realized what I had done. I obeyed him without thinking. I didn't want that nasty thing in my mouth, but when he said open, my mouth seemed to open without any thought of mine. I had been conditioned to obey with a single caning. Was that all it took to train a girl? Were we that easy? I had thought of myself as strong. A testament to feminine will. Lost in a single beating. Shit. At this rate I would be kissing a man's feet by the end of the day. As the thought occurred to me I felt my loins give a blast of submissive heat. I guess my body liked the thought even as my mind rebelled. Aw shit. They were going to make a slave out of me whether I liked it or not. If I couldn't escape I should start liking it. And I didn't see any way to escape. We were all kept helpless.
He wheeled me out of the room and took me to a workshop that stank of hot metal and oil. There were several large machines in the middle of the floor, all alike as far as I could tell. My chair was rolled up to one of them and I was stood up beside it. I just relaxed and let them move me around. They had the right. I was just a girl. A man fastened a short chain to my collar that forced me to stand up tall beside the machine. He measured my wrists, ankles, wait and neck. He walked out of my sight and I heard metallic noises for a few minutes.
