On A Short Leash

by Lindsay Ross

  Susannah firmly believed Emma had the choice of anyone who took her fancy, not only because was she so confident and strong-willed but also because she was so exceptionally attractive to both males and females, Susannah guessed, though she seemed uninterested in men. She punished boys just as severely as girls, however, she didn’t seem to mind if it was some hairy-arsed lad bending over for her. Perhaps her sadistic impulses were strongest of all her feelings. She’d witnessed other punishments she’d dished out to boys after that first time she’d caned Angus, dating back to before Susannah decided she liked her own sex best.

  Was that strictly true?

  Perhaps it was more that the men at the Septimus Grey Academy were so gross. She wouldn’t expect any young girl to enjoy being fucked by that grotesque band of inadequates. And they weren’t too particular where they put their cocks. The last few times she’d been forced to go to the loft they’d made her take anal.

  Her fellow students seemed so callow and inexperienced that she didn’t feel attracted to them at all. There were a few, like Angus, mature enough physically – he was pretty big with regard to genitalia – but he seemed infantile in all other aspects.

  When term ended, Miss Holman told Susannah that her parents had requested she stayed in school for the duration of the holidays rather than return home. On their one visit in seven weeks, they’d noticed some real improvement in their daughter’s manners and behaviour and, since Susannah had talked in glowing terms about one teacher in particular, they concluded that Miss Holman was the strong influence for good. All this was Emma Holman’s version of a telephone conversation with her parents because the matter had not been discussed with her.

  However, Susannah was pleased to learn she would be spending more time with Emma, though when she discovered Mr. Scates would be in attendance her joy was less than full-hearted.

  Miss Holman said she always took her holidays on a tiny island off the south coast where she had a boat and Susannah was more than welcome to come. She liked the phrase, ‘more than welcome’ and when she discovered that no other pupils were invited to come along her cup of joy overflowed.

  ***

  Chrissie pined for her mistress when she was away.

  From hearing snippets of conversation when Emma and Andy were home, Chrissie gathered they taught at another school which was somehow linked to Branksholme College. This work involved them staying away for a week or more at a time, followed by weeks when they seemed to work exclusively at Branksholme.

  They had set Chrissie the task of redecorating the flat from top to bottom, or more accurately, from side to side since most of it was on the one level. Every evening, when she was on her own, Chrissie scrubbed her body with white spirit to remove the flecks and blobs of paint, because she always worked in the nude as instructed. When she painted ceilings and the higher reaches of walls, her hair got tangled and matted, literally when she used matt paint, another play on words for Andrew.

  Then one weekend, Emma informed Chrissie that beginning the following week there would be a number of callers interrupting her painting and decorating.

  She explained she’d advertised Chrissie on the Internet and had made an arrangement with the woman on the first floor to give the flat key to bona fide men and women answering the advertisement. The text, published with her photograph, claimed Slave Chrissie, being fully trained, would appeal to the strictest master or mistress; taking her off the premises was allowed but at increased rates and individual deals could be negotiated by email.

  The first time Chrissie was taken away, she was collected by a young woman. They drove a long distance down two different motorways in pouring rain with windscreen wipers constantly flicking and side windows misting up, despite the air conditioning.

  On the journey, the woman informed Chrissie, in an accent that sounded slightly foreign, that she was called Anna. When Chrissie looked at her carefully she saw a sort of faded beauty in the girl’s face but her pallid skin and the dark rings under her eyes spoilt her looks and the headscarf she was wearing made her look older than she probably was. She spoke to Chrissie more like an equal than someone who considered herself to be in a superior position and it was clear she was no dominatrix. If anything she appeared to sympathise with Chrissie’s situation although she seemed guarded in what she actually said.

  Anna offered Chrissie her cigarettes and more than once she glanced down at Chrissie’s bare legs. Chrissie, following orders, was naked under her three quarter leather coat.

  These looks from Anna half-prepared Chrissie for when Anna finally placed her left hand on her thigh and stroked her bare flesh.

  They drove into the next rest stop, screened from the road by bushes and trees.

  ‘You are very beautiful girl,’ said Anna when the car was stationary. She untied the headscarf and revealed a shaved head.

  ‘I… not beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Who did this to you?’ asked Chrissie.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Is that what they’ll do to me?’

  ‘I hope not. You’re English. Perhaps they will treat you better. I love your fair skin, Chrissie. And your red hair.’

  ‘Hardly red,’ said Chrissie. ‘Where do you come from, Anna?’

  ‘From Latvia. I was tricked into believing there was a good job for me in England.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I started in London. They made me work in a brothel. I was forced to fuck ten men every day. Then I was sold to other bad people in your middle lands and then sold again and again until I ended up with…’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I don’t even know his real name. I have to call him Master.’

  ‘Is he cruel to you?’

  ‘He is not a kind man.’

  Anna was playing with Chrissie’s hair as she spoke.

  ‘Is there no way of escaping?’

  ‘I’m too scared.’

  ‘He must trust you to send you in the car to collect me.’

  ‘It’s another test to see if I am loyal. He’s always setting me tests.’

  ‘And if you’d just driven away?’

  ‘He told me he would hunt me down. They would use acid on my face.’

  The girl looked desolate as though she’d abandoned all hope that life could improve.

  Chrissie leaned towards her and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘You might not like being kissed by another girl.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Chrissie. I used to like men but I hate them now. They are all swine.’

  Anna returned the kiss with interest, her tongue deep in Chrissie’s mouth and they hugged each other, partly in solidarity and partly because they both wanted affection.

  It was easy for Anna to open Chrissie’s leather coat and place her hands over Chrissie’s breasts, to feel how erect her nipples were and then pluck and tease them till they hardened still more.

  Easy for Anna to reach down to Chrissie’s hairless pussy and use the backs of her fingers so her long nails were gently abrasive, tingling pleasure with a touch of pain.

  Chrissie was aroused. ‘Take your clothes off, Anna…please.’

  ‘Is it safe here?’

  ‘There’s no one around.’

  Anna undressed quickly.

  ‘Back seat?’ asked Chrissie.

  They opened the doors naked as they were and got into the back seat where they pressed their breasts against each other’s and kissed passionately.

  The rap of knuckles on the window made them start.

  When Anna cleared some of the condensation from the rear side window, the girls saw two policemen staring in.

  Before they could reach over the seats for their clothes one of the officers moved quickly to gather them up and take them to their patrol car which was parked directly in front of them. They had been oblivious of the car’s arrival, being so absorbed in their love making.

  Chrissie’s heart sank at the thought of how vulnerable
they were if the two officers cared to abuse their positions of power; there was nothing to stop them except their own consciences.

  The girls were ordered out of the car. It had stopped raining though the atmosphere was heavy and dank and large drops of rainwater dripped from the trees overhanging the lay-by.

  When they were told to walk into the woods, Chrissie found the twigs and fir cones hurt her feet. In some parts, the ground was so sodden they sank in up to their ankles. Chrissie thought it was obvious the officers wanted cover from the trees for whatever it was they had planned.

  They found a clearing and told the girls to squat down and do their business. Chrissie found it easy to pee and noticed Anna produced a strong stream almost immediately. The officers stood over them, watching them carefully, clearly enjoying the humiliation they were heaping on the two girls.

  It was much harder to defecate on order and Chrissie strained and strained, fearful of what would happen if she couldn’t obey.

  ‘Shit, bitch!’

  The officer nearest to her kicked her hard on her thigh.

  Chrissie had no choice but to make grunting sounds as she strained.Chrissie watched Anna lower her bottom.

  Anna’s sallow skin was deeply bruised around her bottom and back; it was obvious she’d been severely beaten and tortured, probably over a lengthy period.

  The pressure on Chrissie to perform increased, but she was embarrassed when all she could produce was a long fart.

  The policeman told her she was disgusting and hit her on the shoulder with his truncheon.

  After a time, the police officers lost patience with Chrissie. They picked her up and handcuffed her wrists round a strong looking branch so that her feet were well off the ground.

  She watched them search round for suitable sticks and knew they were going to whip her.

  When Anna pleaded with them, wrapping her arms round the booted leg of the officer nearest to her, she was kicked away brutally.

  They took it in turns to whip Chrissie across her breasts and belly, her back and bottom, until she was covered in thin red stripes. The branches they’d found were very whippy and the buds along the stems bit into Chrissie’s suffering flesh.

  She was surprised to see Anna kneeling down and sobbing. She wondered if she was re-living times when she’d been punished in the same way or perhaps she was expecting to be flogged when the officers had finished with Chrissie.

  When they tired of whipping Chrissie, the officers grabbed one girl each and Chrissie was forced to her knees. Her officer lowered his pants to reveal a huge erection and pulled her by the hair to make her suck it. Chrissie was remindedof Roy and Piers with their almost freakishly big pricks and knew she would have the same difficulty taking all of the policeman’s dimensions.

  She squeezed the base of his shaft with both hands as well as cupping her fingers round his balls, which had the effect of making his cock look even stiffer and straighter, red and purple veins standing out along the length of it, and the helmet shaped head looking swollen and angry.

  She licked the head and then ran her tongue down his shaft but he tugged her hair again, obviously impatient for her to fellate him.

  Chrissie opened her mouth wide and took as much of his cock as she could, gathering saliva in her mouth with which to bathe and lubricate the shaft. It was difficult because fear made her mouth dry. She knew this man had the power to abuse her terribly and get away with it. He was capable of anything, even killing her and covering his tracks by exploiting his position as an agent of law enforcement.

  She knew she had to give the cop a good time or the risk of serious harm would be greater.

  Once she had established a steady rhythm, her head bobbing up and down as she sucked on him, Chrissie used her nails to scratch his buttocks gently at first and then with greater force.

  ‘Put your fingers up my asshole, bitch,’ he ordered.

  She obeyed instantly.

  She moved her fingers around, stretching his hairy passage; then began to frig him steadily with three fingers.

  It wasn’t long before his scrotum tightened and his balls lifted as a prelude to his ejaculation and she prepared herself to drink all of his spunk, guessing he would be furious if she let any escape.

  It seemed the finger fucking in his asshole was sending him wild; he emitted atavistic grunts and punched her shoulders.

  ‘You fucking bitch…’ he yelled.

  Chrissie tightened her mouth round his cock ready for the rush of sticky warm fluid, ready to swallow instantly to make room for more, praying she wouldn’t gag or choke. He would expect her to take his semen effortlessly and if she made a sound it would have to be murmurs and groans of pure delight as though it was an honour to suck him dry, not coughs or splutters as if she couldn’t cope with the torrent pouring into her mouth.

  When she had swallowed enough to clear her vocal chords she said the things she knew he expected of her.

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Sir,’ she said as if in a state of bliss. ‘I want all of it, sir, every drop. Give it to me. Oh, sir…’

  He cried out as if in pain; his cock twitching as more and more salty fluid pumped down her throat and when he did speak all he could do was heap more insults on her shoulders.

  ‘You dirty whore,’ he shouted. ‘Fucking bitch!’

  He kicked her over onto her back, her mouth dribbling some of his come.

  Why were men like this, so aggressive towards girls they’d just used for sex, Chrissie asked herself. It was as though they resented women for arousing them. They seemed to hate themselves for having such strong impulses that made them need women and they turned that hate on the girls who were the objects of their desires. Objects. That was how Chrissie felt; the familiar sensation of shame and pleasure in equal measures.

  As she fell on her back into the tangled grass and ferns she felt degraded but aroused by the thought of being simply a receptacle for his come, de-personalised, almost de-humanised. She saw herself through his eyes, on her back, legs splayed, sweating, and spunk running down her chin.

  The cop hitched up his pants but didn’t zip his flies; he reached for his belt.

  He raised it high and began to thrash her indiscriminately not caring where the buckle end landed, almost beside himself with some inner rage, consumed by it as much as he’d been filled with lust.

  She knew her body would be black and blue.

  His face morphed into Brian’s. It was Brian standing over her, spitting hatred and contempt. It was Brian using the belt.

  She put out her hands to defend her breasts and body but it was useless.

  He whipped her until his arm tired and Chrissie thought her ordeal might be over but he made her endure one further humiliation.

  He came to stand over her and drew his pants down as far as his knees.

  Taking his tool in his hand, he began to empty his bladder, directing the gushing stream over her head and face and then hosing her body. He pissed like a horse and she was soon saturated, hair matted, body soaked; her nostrils filled with the strong smell of urine.

  Eventually he shook the last drops over her and said to his colleague, ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

  Chrissie was able to look over to Anna for the first time and saw she was being humped from behind by the other cop; she couldn’t tell whether he was fucking her pussy or her asshole.

  The officers had the nerve to deliver a homily about obscene behaviour in public places. When the girls returned to their car, they found the police had taken their clothes with them. Chrissie imagined their amusement at their childish prank in leaving two women with the problem of driving on the open highway without a stitch of clothing between them.

  Then Anna realised her keys were with her clothes.

  Chrissie could see no alternative but to walk on the hard shoulder and hope a motorist picked them up quickly.

  They would not implicate the police officers, simply say two anonymous men had stripped them and ma
de off with their keys.

  The driver of a large oil tanker pulled up and leaned out of his cab.

  ‘I thought I’d died and gone to heaven,’ he said with a grin. ‘Hop in.’

  When they got in and sat beside him, he produced a blanket and they were able to cover themselves at last.

  Anna asked the driver to stop after another half hour of travel down the motorway. Chrissie saw they had drawn into an area with a number of buildings clustered together.

  There were diesel pumps in the forecourt, a greasy spoon restaurant, and set back behind the parking area a large anonymous looking block which provided sleeping accommodation for truckers. Despite the proximity of the motorway, the place seemed to be in a very deserted spot far from any town or village. The vast parking space was half filled with huge articulated lorries, and vehicles seemed to be coming and going constantly.

  The driver let them take the blanket and the two girls kept it wrapped tightly around them as they waddled towards the building, keeping as close together as they could.

  Chapter Eleven

  Susannah saw the island at its best, in the bright sunlight, as they approached in the little boat.

  When they walked towards the cottage, a matronly looking woman greeted them in a friendly welcoming manner. Andrew introduced her as Mary.

  Emma had insisted Susannah wear white shorts (very brief) and a white cotton top (very clinging) so her legs were bare and she looked healthy and athletic in her white trainers.

  Mary told her she was very beautiful and Susannah glowed.

  There was a drink of lemonade for her in the bright kitchen and Susannah sat on a high stool to drink it.

  Both Emma and Andrew were watching her carefully, a smile playing on Emma’s lips; there was a feeling of anticipation as if time had slowed down. Susannah suddenly felt slightly nauseous as she often did in unpredictable situations.

  ‘She looks lovely in white shorts and top,’ said Mary.

  ‘She will look even lovelier when we strip them off,’ commented Emma. ‘Is everything ready?’

  ‘Just as you ordered, Madam,’ said Mary, still smiling. ‘She’s next to Bryony.’