Slaves to the Girlspell

by William Avon

  Jemima’s face crumpled in dismay. “I know! I can’t help it! I must be very bad. I hated seeing you hurt, but I kept wondering... what it felt like... I’m sorry!” And she broke down into uncontrollable sobbing.

  Sally looked down at her in amazement, then shook her head. She was taking her revenge on the wrong person. Though it felt nice, this pretty little mixed-up wimp was too easy a conquest.

  She rolled off the distraught girl and wriggled her breasts back inside her shirt. Jemima continued crying. After a minute Sally reached out an awkward hand and patted her shoulder. “All right, you can stop blubbering. I ain’t going to do anything else to you.”

  Jemima sat up slowly, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. She glanced guiltily at Sally.

  “Please... don’t tell anyone about this,” she begged.

  “I won’t if you tell me straight why you were really following me.”

  Jemima sniffed miserably. “Arabella wants to find Amber Jones and keep her for herself. She wants to train anoth... a slave of her own. She’s got us all out looking. I was sent to follow you because... just in case you did know where Amber was. And now I’ve got to go back to Arabella and tell her how I made a mess of it all...”

  She started crying again. Sally sighed in exasperation.

  “I told you: stop blubbing! You don’t have to tell Arabella bloody Westlake the truth.”

  Jemima caught her breath. “I don’t?” she sniffed.

  Was the girl stupid or just too dumb honest? Sally wondered.

  “No,” she said firmly. “Well, half the truth, maybe. Did you see the nurse go into the police yard while I was there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well she wants to save me from going to the bad by taking me under bond. I said I’d think about it. I’m goin’ to her house by the school gates to look the place over and maybe talk to her again. So I’ll be around here for the next few days at least - and it’s been okayed with Bailey, so he won’t be moving me on. You tell your precious Arabella all that, but not that I saw you, and she’ll think you’ve been real smart.”

  Jemima looked a little more cheerful. “I could say that, couldn’t I?”

  “‘Course you could,” Sally said encouragingly. “What happened here can be our secret.” If Arabella was going to have her followed, Sally thought, she’d rather it was by Jemima. She might even be able to use her to pass something really misleading to Arabella later on.

  Jemima was looking pensive again. “Is it strange to feel the way I do... about girls... and being punished?”

  Sally wasn’t sure quite how to respond. “Depends. The funniest things sometimes makes you hot.”

  “But did you get excited like that when you were in the pillory... or when Arabella was torturing you?”

  “I can get off on a bit of rough treatment,” Sally admitted. “But Arabella’s a mean bitch, the sort that’s never satisfied. She took it too far to be fun.”

  “She always does,” Jemima agreed sadly.

  Jemima returned the playhouse for lunch as agreed, so that Arabella could get reports of their progress.

  As the weather had clouded over and was threatening rain, they were all in the old sitting room when she arrived. The other girls were eating their packed lunches while Arabella lounged back in a chair using Sue as a footrest.

  Sue was perfectly if uncomfortably positioned to serve such a purpose, confined on all fours by her training harness. Steel rods a foot long with cuff rings mounted on the ends kept her wrists and ankles in close proximity. A three-foot chain connected the two rods, while from the ankle rod another chain ran up under her body and emerged between her breasts to fasten to her collar. These restraints meant that Sue could not straighten her body, and could only move about by shuffling on her hands and knees.

  Sue’s face was blank of expression, staring sightlessly at the carpet. Her dangling breasts still bore the scratches and prickmarks of yesterday’s torture, but there were no fresh punishment marks on her. In a horrible way Jemima understood her evident misery. Arabella could not be bothered to torment her further. She would continue to use Sue as it suited her, but she was no longer truly interested in her.

  As she tucked into her own meal, Jemima gave her edited version of her morning’s investigations and was secretly pleased to see grudging admiration on the faces of the others for the amount of information she had obtained. By the looks of it they had not found out anything useful. At least what she had discovered was interesting and showed she had tried.

  “You have been busy, Jem,” Arabella said when she had finished. “It almost makes up for your disappointing behaviour yesterday.”

  Jemima felt a sudden shiver at the tone of Arabella’s words. She saw the others were grinning at her nastily. What had they been talking about before she arrived?

  “I don’t understand,” Jemima said, trying to keep her voice level. “What did I do wrong?”

  “You showed too much concern over this,” Arabella said, tapping her heel on the piece of human furniture before her. “You started cleaning her up while I was still talking to you.”

  “But she was bleeding.”

  “A few scratches,” Arabella said dismissively. “There was no need to make such a fuss. You have to learn when to show the proper interest in a slave and when to ignore them. They’re here to be used for our convenience, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Arabella.”

  Arabella smiled thinly. “You do still want to learn about training slaves, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  The other girls sniggered. Jemima gulped.

  “Good,” said Arabella. “Then since you seem so fascinated by this one, you can try her out and get a proper taste for what owning a bondslave really means. Or perhaps I should say, she’ll get a taste for you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Belinda and Penny had risen and stepped quickly over to stand ominously on either side of Jemima’s chair. She tried to stand herself but they firmly held her down. Ernestine appeared with a handful of ropes and in seconds they had tied Jemima’s arms to the armrests of the chair.

  “Arabella - stop them!” Jemima wailed. “This isn’t funny!”

  “Yes it is,” said Belinda.

  “It’s your own fault for going all goopy over the girl,” Ernestine said. “Now you’ve got to be taught a lesson.”

  And they began rolling her skirt up to her waist.

  Jemima shrieked and kicked, but to no avail.

  When her skirt was out of the way they began tugging down her panties. She clenched her thighs together but they slapped and pinched and wrenched them apart until her panties were pulled free of her feet. They then spread her legs and tied them to the feet of the chair so that her private parts were exposed for all to see.

  They laughed at her pubic mound and the shy lips below it.

  “Now we’ll see if you’re a girl or a woman,” Belinda said.

  Arabella had turned Sue round and prodded her forward so that she was crouched in front of Jemima. Now Arabella picked up a device that had been lying along the skirting board and which Jemima hadn’t noticed before.

  It was a broomhandle-sized wooden rod with a trigger grip at one end and a rubber phallus at the other. Running along its length through eyelets was a wire cable, which ended at the base of the phallus in a dangling pair of toothed spring clamps.

  Arabella sat in a chair opposite Jemima and extended the rod device. The phallus end slid between Sue’s rounded buttocks and butted against her anus. With a sharp shove from Arabella the phallus vanished all the way inside her.

  “Put the clips on her,” Arabella told Belinda.

  Belinda squatted down and fumbled between Sue’s legs for a few seconds. Sue gave a littl
e gasp and Belinda straightened up.

  Arabella squeezed the trigger and the cable tightened. The pink petals of Sue’s inner labia were stretched painfully backwards by the clamps now biting into them, bringing forth another yelp from Sue.

  Arabella smiled and looked at Jemima. “That will continue until you come, do you understand?”

  Jemima, beyond words, could only nod.

  Arabella urged Sue forward with the control rod until her cheeks were brushing Jemima’s pale inner thighs and she could feel her warm breath whispering over her pubic hair. Sue flicked a glance up at Jemima and mouthed: ‘Sorry’; then nuzzled forward under the urging of her Mistress and kissed Jemima’s virgin orifice.

  Jemima bit her lip and shut her eyes.

  She didn’t blame Sue. She was just a tool of Arabella’s will.

  Both she and Sue were helpless prisoners of their secret desires. Now they were paying the price.

  Sue began kissing and licking Jemima’s love mouth, gently rousing the petals within into bud and flower. And like a flower a dew was forming as blood pulsed and the delicious knot of pleasure began to tie itself in her loins. Jemima groaned. It was like sitting on the butt again, but this time being able to touch Sue instead of simply looking at her.

  Sue’s nose was buried in her now slick and glistening cleft. Her tongue was probing into places Jemima herself had hardly explored. Jemima wanted to surrender herself to the pleasure, but she could not. That was the real torture; feeling the unfriendly eyes upon them. She heard them laughing and making rude comments about her and Sue. They didn’t want to see or share her pleasure, just her shame.

  Sue yelped. Arabella had pulled on the trigger that stretched her labia.

  “Faster!” she commanded. “Make her beg you to finish her off!”

  Sue had to obey, lapping at her like a frenzied dog, concentrating all her efforts on Jemima’s tender swollen young clitoris. And Jemima let the words be dragged from her as she knew they must be if they were both to be saved further torment.

  “Please... please... make me come... more... I must come now... yes!”

  The fireworks of pleasure exploded within her and for a few seconds nothing else in the world mattered.

  Then came the terrible fall into utter humiliation.

  Released by the contractions of her orgasm, hot urine was spurting from between her engorged lips. And, as with the butt, it was splashing over Sue’s face which still rested between her thighs. And Sue, the perfect slave, accepted her wetting meekly while the other girls laughed uproariously at their wretched double humiliation.

  Jemima broke down and cried.

  An eternity later, as it seemed, Arabella was pinching Jemima’s tear-streaked cheeks and forcing her to look her in the eye.

  “Learnt your lesson now?”

  Jemima nodded.

  “Next time don’t disappoint me.”

  Jemima shook her head, trying not to tremble.

  For the first time she fully realised how much Arabella frightened her.

  S.C.R.A.W. is Born.

  “I want to see Amber!” Sally said once again. “Is that so hard to understand? I thought you boys were supposed to be smart.”

  Sally was at the rendezvous near the gates of Cranborough House and had met Jackson, who had handed over the agreed sum of money. Now however he was standing his ground against Sally’s unexpected demand.

  “You’ve been paid what you asked, now go away,” he told her impatiently. “Amber belongs to us. She’s our responsibility, not yours.”

  “But she’s still my friend,” Sally persisted. “I want to see she’s all right. No harm in that, is there?”

  “Everybody knows bondslaves don’t get visitors,” Jackson said flatly.

  “Official, legal bondslaves, maybe not,” Sally agreed. “But then she’s not that, is she? This is a, what you call it, a private bargain. So now you can privately agree that it’s right and proper that I should visit. Unless you want me to think you’ve hurt her. Then I might go right back to Constable Bailey and...”

  “You promised not to tell!” Jackson exclaimed.

  “I promised not to tell who really sprung Amber from jail - and I ain’t and won’t. But I didn’t say nothing about what I’d do afterwards if I chanced to come across her, say, in the clutches of some evil gang keeping her prisoner in an empty school-”

  “All right!” Jackson stemmed the flow of Sally’s fanciful exaggerations. He sighed. “I supposed it won’t hurt if you see her. But we’ll be watching you, so don’t try to help her escape.”

  “If she’s being well treated I won’t do anything. She made her deal with you. How she lives with it is her business.”

  “You’d better follow me. We’ve got to go round the edge of the grounds in case Sister Newcombe comes along.”

  Ten minutes later Sally climbed through the trapdoor of the loft and looked around. Amber was roped and chained in her pen. Sally called out cheerfully and ran over and hugged her. Before Jackson’s fascinated if embarrassed gaze they kissed deeply mouth to mouth. Then Sally looked Amber’s naked and bound form up and down intently.

  “Bailey’s probably dreaming of having you back in the cells like this.”

  Amber laughed ruefully and shrugged in her bonds.

  “I said I’d probably be trussed up like a turkey the next time we met.”

  “Have they been treating you right?” Sally asked softly.

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Amber assured her in the same tone. In a normal voice she added: “They’re decent lads really, though I could have done with a bit of help handling them...” She grinned. “Well not handling, exactly. They want to try everything three times a day and once at night. But they don’t give me a chance to keep up. They’re finished before I’m halfway there.”

  “Young cocks are like that,” Sally agreed knowledgeably. “Toss their loads after half a minute of in and outs. Older men last longer. You can really work up a sweat with them...”

  She paused and she and Amber both turned their heads to stare at Jackson, who had been listening in silent fascination.

  “Do you mind,” Sally said haughtily. “This is a private conversation. People who’ve been brought up proper don’t earwig!”

  Such was the conviction in her words that Jackson actually looked abashed.

  “Er... I’ll be off, then. We’ve got jobs to do, but we’ll be free after lunch.”

  He left, locking the trapdoor behind him.

  Sally and Amber looked at each other and giggled girlishly.

  Sally settled herself beside Amber and cuddled up as close as her bonds allowed.

  “This Sister Newcombe seems to ‘ave ‘em well under her thumb,” she observed.

  “I only met her once, but she’s tough all right,” Amber agreed.

  “She came to see me this morning,” Sally said slowly. “She made me an offer...”

  Sally related what had been said. When she finished she looked at Amber expectantly. “What d’you think? Should I do it?”

  “You’re asking me? Isn’t there somebody who can give you a more informed opinion? I’m only just getting my mind round the idea that people can sell themselves into slavery. I’m a stranger here, remember.”

  Sally chewed her lip, suddenly looking younger than her brash outspoken manner made her appear. “You see, a bit of what she said was right,” she said slowly. “I ain’t got anybody else to talk to about it. I know people, but there’s none I’d call real friends. You’re the nearest thing I got to a proper friend.”

  The unexpectedly frank admission touched Amber. All they’d shared was a little less than two days in cells or the pillory. There had been some intimate moments, of course, but if that had been enough to make Sally regard her as a friend, the p
oor girl must be desperate.

  Amber bent and kissed Sally. “I’m very honoured that you think of me as your friend.” She frowned. “As for your decision, you know best what you’d be giving up. I suppose it would give you security of a sort. The trial period sounds sensible. If it didn’t work out you wouldn’t have lost much. Why don’t you talk to Miss Newcombe some more. Find out exactly what she’d expect of you. If this is all done legally there should be a contract of some sort. Get a copy and read it first.”

  “I ain’t very fast at reading,” Sally admitted.

  “Then bring it to me and we’ll go through it together.”

  Sally smiled gratefully, looking much happier again. They kissed.

  Sally fingers had been idly stroking Amber’s stomach as they talked. Now they slipped lower into the valley between Amber’s thighs held apart by the spreader bar tied to her ankles.

  “Oh... that’s nice,” said Amber. “Don’t stop.”

  Sally grinned. “Those boys ain’t been letting you finish yourself off, have they? Good thing I came along...”

  When all the boys returned to the loft after lunch Amber was looking far more relaxed. Not that they noticed. The other four only had eyes for Sally.

  “What did you let her up here for?” said Harris angrily.

  “You can never trust her kind,” added Gosset.

  “Why didn’t you just send her on her way?” said Bickley.

  “Getting in here might be part of a trick to help Amber escape,” Parsons warned darkly.

  “Look, they’re both still here, aren’t they?” Jackson protested. “No harm’s been done.”

  “Well let’s get her out of here quickly before Sister sees her,” said Parsons.

  “But will she tell on us?” Gosset said. “She may want more money. Her sort always do.”

  “Excuse me!” Sally said loudly, scrambling to her feet and pushing her way into the middle of the bickering group of boys. “That’s a fine way to talk about your new lodger!”