The men have arranged their chairs in front of the stage, and as the two naked girls blink uncertainly in the glare of the arc lights they take their seats.
‘Right, Bunty, you are the sow, and you are not too sure about this.’ Mr Porrit seems to be relishing the role of stage director. The fact that Bunty really is not too sure about it all is written clearly on the visible part of her face. In particular she keeps darting worried glances at Cherry’s imposing strap-on.
‘So,’ Mr Porrit continues, ‘you start moving away from the boar in circles. Cherry, this excites you so you follow.’
It is bizarre more than humiliating; it feels almost surreal. Cherry crawls across the little stage in pursuit of Bunty, the blonde’s bottom filling her field of vision. Cherry can see Bunty’s glistening sex and almost licks the livid weals. So close she can see the purpling tramlines stand proud on Bunty’s pale skin.
‘Quickly, Bunty, or the boar will have you,’ Mr Porrit goads.
Bunty gives a little whimper and crawls faster.
At first Cherry thought the pursuit would be a short formality, but as she pursues Bunty round the little stage in circles she realises the men intend it to be more. Her knees get sore as she scurries over the wooden stage and she’s panting and getting hot again.
The good thing, she sees with satisfaction, is that her quarry is flagging. Beads of perspiration drip down Bunty’s flanks and bottom, and her body heaves as she gasps for air.
‘Go on, Bunty, you can get away,’ Mr Porrit urges, conveniently ignoring the obvious fact that there’s nowhere for her to get away to, and the men will never allow her to escape in any case.
‘Go on, Cherry, you can catch that fat sow!’ Mr Manfry shouts, just as conveniently ignoring the fact that the ‘sow’ in question is a lot less fat than him.
‘Yes, get her, Cherry,’ Mr Porrit bellows gleefully.
This is the signal he’d previously whispered to her. ‘If she gets away I will thrash you,’ he warned. ‘When I shout “get her” you have five minutes to mount her. Any longer and I’m afraid it will be the whip for you.’
Fortunately for Cherry, Bunty is run out. Cherry jumps forward and grabs the girl’s ankles. Bunty collapses in a gasping pile, giving Cherry the chance to get astride her prey.
‘Get up, Bunty, no good lying doggo,’ Mr Manfry orders, but Bunty does not comply at once. Obviously shattered from the chase she lays gasping oxygen into her lungs between broken sobs, then she looks around with a panic, as if realising her situation. She squeals and tries to crawl away again.
But Cherry is ready for this. As Bunty gets up she grabs the blonde by both pigtails and pulls her head back. Bunty rears up with a shriek, but undaunted and putting both pigtails into one hand, Cherry moves her other to guide the artificial cock.
‘The boar has got you, Bunty, stop waggling your bottom like that,’ Mr Porrit orders, and Bunty gives a defeated sob but stops moving enough for Cherry to guide the dildo between her sex lips.
‘Ream her, piggy!’ Mr Manfry eagerly bawls, and the immense rubber phallus forges in like a well-oiled piston. Bunty moans as Cherry pushes deeper. The base of the rubber cock is pressed against Cherry’s swollen mons as she thrusts deep into the blonde girl, and the pressure on her clitoris makes her groan in turn.
Releasing her grip on Bunty’s pigtails, Cherry then reaches under the blonde and grabs her swaying breasts. Bunty moans again as Cherry fucks her and roughly mauls her tits. Cherry feels the nipples hardening in her palms as she squeezes. Something dark and atavistic seems to take Cherry over. She rams her strap-on hard and deep into Bunty’s wet cunt, ignoring the strange squealing sounds her efforts are wringing from the blonde’s lips.
And the pulsing pressure on her own clit is, slowly but surely, building to a climax. For a moment she’s aware only of herself, her growing need, her powerful strap-on dildo and Bunty’s bucking, sweat-soaked body, but then there’s an explosive splat and her right buttock is suddenly ablaze with pain.
‘That’s it, ream the sow, there’s a good porker!’ Mr Porrit encourages manically.
Splat! Cherry’s left buttock bursts into incandescent fire.
‘Ride her! Give it to her, Cherry! Fuck the nice plump piggy!’
With the small part of Cherry’s mind that’s still aware, she realises the men have the sorority paddles and are taking turns to swat her bottom, standing on either side of the desperately rutting piggy girls on the little stage, and she fucks the blonde with desperate gusto. Every time her bottom pulls back it gets another agonising paddle smack. Bunty wriggles and her moans turn to strange, desperate gurgling. Cherry yelps and gasps in pain with every wicked kiss of the hard wooden paddles, and it is getting more intense by the second.
Cherry cannot cope with this treatment for long. Already aroused to a point of near delirium, the pleasure each thrust provides with pressure on her clit mingles with the pain in her bottom to produce an explosive cocktail.
After a dozen or so scalding smacks she fucks Bunty one more time and is then shrieking with ecstasy instead of agony. Bunty starts convulsing too, and both sweat-slicked girls begin to shudder as they groan with delight. Cherry sinks her teeth into Bunty’s shoulder and squeezes the blonde’s tits even harder, and Bunty collapses on the stage again, writhing and mumbling incoherently.
‘Not a particularly dignified display,’ Mr Porrit says, shaking his head disappointedly.
‘It is actually very shocking, the sheer sluttish behaviour of young women today,’ Mr Manfry agrees.
The warm glow suffusing Cherry’s body does not dissipate at once. Her bottom is still throbbing but it has subsided to a bearable glow. She has collapsed on Bunty, her dildo still buried deep inside the prone girl’s cunt, and the two exhausted girls have slumped over onto their sides. Cherry has her arms around her panting companion.
The men tower over them; sinister dark silhouettes against the arc lights, the shape of the awful sorority paddles in their hands. For a few seconds the orgasm wiped away all awareness of the cellar and the men’s menacing presence, but awareness of her situation comes back slowly, little by little.
‘We try to train them to be good, but give them half a chance…’
Cherry listens dreamily, still simmering with pleasure. What Mr Porrit is talking about she has no idea. Exactly why does she need to be trained to wear a piggy tail and snout and fuck Bunty with a strap-on? Why does she need to do that stupid drill and learn all those positions? Why does she need to be ‘trained’ and ‘worked’ until obedience is absolutely automatic? Mr Porrit says it’s ‘for her own good’, but for the life of her she cannot see what earthly good it does her.
Mr Porrit has a dog collar attached to a leash in his hand, and crouches down to buckle it around Cherry’s throat.
‘All right, girl, withdraw from her now,’ he orders, and squeezes his hands between them to prise them apart. Bunty whimpers dreamily as the large, slippery dildo is withdrawn.
The buckles of the straps are soon undone and the harness falls away. The piggy tail is pulled out with a little ‘plop’ and the snout is taken off.
‘Now, sweetheart,’ Mr Porrit says, firmly but kindly, ‘let’s get you showered and fed. Come on.’
The glow is still suffusing her, but there is a little quiver in her belly when he picks up the paddle. Cherry still does not know why she needs to be trained in all this nonsense, but in the end it does not really matter.
What is important is that when Mr Porrit has a paddle in his hand and her bottom is so sore it feels like one big pulsing mess, there is simply no way she dares to disobey.
The Trouble with Alice
‘Please, Melody,’ Toby said with a note of desperation in his voice, ‘come over to my hall tonight. Gary is going out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’
Melody sighed. The truth was that her whole body
ached with desire. Toby might be desperate for her but she was just as horny for him. He was a beautiful boy, she thought longingly, with that shock of corn-gold curls. She knew she was lucky to have him after her; Toby Mason was the dream date of lots of other college girls. Some of them were in the library at that moment, darting jealous glances towards her.
‘I can’t, I’m sorry, Toby.’
A look of pain passed across his almost pretty face. ‘But why not?’
‘It’s Alice,’ Melody confided frustratedly. ‘She does not like me to be out after seven o’clock.’
Toby shook his head with disbelief. ‘I just don’t get this thing. I mean, she’s not your mother. But even if she was, come on, seven o’clock? That’s insane.’
She is insane, Melody thought. At least she sometimes wondered. ‘No,’ she said, ‘she’s worse than my mother ever was, and she was pretty strict. The trouble with Alice is—’
‘The trouble with Alice is that she’s a sociopath.’
‘I’m sorry, Toby, but I stay there rent free and if she throws me out its back to Boresville.’ The prospect made her shudder, and then suddenly she had an idea.
‘Look, Toby, I can’t come round later, but…’ she blushed at the idea of what she was about to suggest, ‘but I do really like you, and I would like to… so couldn’t we find somewhere quiet around here?’
Melody drifted back through Regent’s Park to the plush Prince Albert Road apartment in a sort of dream. It had been every bit as good as she’d imagined. Better even. The stockings had delighted Toby, an Alice rule that embarrassed Melody. But after experiencing his reaction, being banned from wearing tights did not seem such a terrible thing.
And stockings were by no means Alice’s only dress rule. Melody had to wear skirts that reached below her knee and chunky shapeless tops. It was a wonder that Toby fancied her at all in her frumpy librarian’s get up. The good thing, though, was how delighted he’d been by her figure.
‘Wow!’ he had said as he fondled her full breasts. ‘Why have you been hiding yourself under these shapeless things? With a body like yours it should be a crime!’
He had even liked the old-fashioned underwear Alice made her wear, saying the girdle was like something from a kinky magazine.
So maybe there were compensations for Alice’s tyranny, she thought, remembering his expression as he climaxed, and remembering her own delicious orgasm.
Alice was waiting in the lounge of her luxurious flat. Seated on the white leather sofa, she put down the paper she’d been reading and regarded Melody for a moment. Then she removed the horn-rimmed reading glasses that made her face look even more severe than usual.
Strikingly beautiful, Alice Macintyre wore her lustrous black hair to her shoulders. She always wore plenty of crimson lipstick that matched her long fingernails, and she had a beautiful, hourglass figure. Though she made Melody hide her curvaceous body in shapeless things, Alice always displayed her own charms in a way that was unusual to the point of bizarre.
Today she wore an outfit so customary it was almost her uniform. There was the red-based tartan pleated skirt, which as usual did not quite manage to cover her black stocking tops. Her seamed stockings smoothly encased shapely legs, with well-developed calf muscles and toned thighs. Above the skirt she wore a black polo-necked sweater, so tight it zipped up the back. This was usually one of Melody’s duties, and she never performed it without wondering why Alice’s always immaculate and alluring appearance did not cause more car crashes in the street, for the combination of Alice’s magnificent bust and trim waist produced an image nothing short of breathtaking. As always Melody had to struggle not to stare at her older cousin, and stood a little uncertainly by the door.
‘My feet are tired,’ Alice said in a bored tone. ‘Give them a massage, there’s a pet. It’s those shoes.’
Then why wear, Melody thought mutinously, six-inch heels? But as she put down her college books and hurried over to the couch she felt a surge of relief. She had got in by seven, but you never knew with Alice, and Melody felt guilty about what she and Toby had got up to in the storeroom.
She knelt on the cream carpet and took Alice’s nylon-sheathed foot and began massaging it gently. As always she felt oddly humiliated by this duty, and Alice regarded her imperiously as she knelt at her feet, like a servant. There was another reason that Melody felt uncomfortable, however, for glancing up she was confronted with a vision of black stockings, pale thigh flesh and a V of white cotton knickers tight between them. As usual this confused her and made a blush rise to her cheeks, so quickly she dropped her gaze to Alice’s shapely foot, with crimson toenails just visible through the double thickness of sheer nylon that formed the stocking’s fully fashioned toe.
‘You look flushed,’ Alice mused. ‘Have you been running?’
‘No, Alice.’ Alice did not like Melody running. She said it was unladylike.
‘So what have you been doing?’
Melody could feel Alice’s eyes on her. She swallowed hard and felt herself blush. ‘I was working in the library. I told you.’
‘Ah yes,’ there was something in Alice’s manner that unsettled Melody, ‘you told me. You were in the library, working. All afternoon, was that?’
Melody tensed. What was this about? What did her cousin know? ‘Yes, Alice,’ she said quietly.
‘Oh dear, I thought we had discussed your lying, Melody. Now, where were you really? Wait, I want you to think before you answer. I shall get the truth out of you eventually, you know that, don’t you?’
Melody felt her shoulders slump. It was true. Sometimes she thought Alice had supernatural powers.
‘I – I was with Toby,’ she confessed, letting her hands drop to the floor.
Alice used a stockinged toe to lift Melody’s chin, forcing her to look into sea-green eyes that seemed to contain a whole ocean of authority. Above them a neatly shaped black eyebrow arched inquisitorially. ‘And did you fuck him?’ The voice was melodic, and the use of such a word added an unfathomable edge to the enigmatic beauty.
The kneeling girl blushed furiously, and felt tears ready to fall. ‘Yes,’ she said at last, transfixed by her cousin’s amused gaze.
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, Aunt Alice.’
Alice was not her aunt, not even a first cousin actually, but she had started to insist on this bit of nonsense lately, and Melody did not feel in a position to resist.
‘I am deeply disappointed in you, young lady. Fucking when you should be working. Lying to your Aunt Alice. What am I going to do with you? Well, I expect you know. What am I going to do with you?’
‘You… you are going to spank me, Aunt Alice.’
‘That’s right, I am. But this is too serious for a simple spanking. I am going to spank you now, but later I am going to stripe that delicious bottom for you with the cane.’
‘Please, Alice, you can’t… I mean, this isn’t fair. I’m not a little girl!’
‘Well, you certainly don’t look like one, that much is certain.’ Alice regarded her with an amused sparkle in her eyes.
That much was certain. Alice had made her shower and wash and dry her blonde hair, during which Melody worried about the impending caning. She found the things Alice had set out on the bed for her to wear; white shoes with impossible six-inch heels, white lace-topped stockings, a lacy white bra and panties, and a white lace and satin suspender belt.
Melody’s bedroom was ringed with tall mirrors, so she could hardly help but see herself as she dressed. Then she sat at the dressing table and brushed her pale gold hair. The girl gazing back at her from the mirror was pretty, with wide, innocent blue eyes. If anything she looked younger than her eighteen years, and appeared to be about to cry.
‘When you are quite ready,’ Alice had opened the door without knocking, as usual, ‘come to me in the exercise room.’
‘Enter!’ Alice called, and Melody pushed the door open and went in.
Like most rooms in the flat it was brightly lit, with the outside wall made entirely of glass. This huge picture window looked out over the zoo and Regent’s Park; the flat being just above the level of the tallest trees.
There was a treadmill, a cycling and a rowing machine, and a comprehensive set of free weights, all of which were over by a wall. The room had fiercely bright strip lighting and a sprung wooden floor. In the middle was something Melody had not seen before; a small but sturdy looking vaulting horse.
‘It was a bit expensive,’ Alice said, fondly slapping the fawn suede pommel. ‘But what the hell, I thought, Melody is worth it. And the way you’re going, young missy, this little horsy will be getting a lot of riding!’
She stalked over to the wall, steeple heels click-clacking on the wooden floor. There was something else new in the room, Melody realised with a shock, as she followed Alice’s progress. Fixed to the wall there was now a sort of rack, and arranged on it horizontally were half a dozen cruel looking canes.
Alice perused them. ‘Which one do you think will hurt most, Melody?’ she casually asked over her shoulder.
Melody looked from the horse to the canes, understanding dawning.
‘Melody, I asked you a question!’
‘I, um, I don’t know, Alice. I mean, Aunt Alice.’
‘Actually,’ Alice picked a yellow cane of about four feet in length and swished it through the air experimentally, ‘I’m getting a little tired of your forgetfulness. From now on, let’s say I will give you one stroke every time you forget to address me correctly.’
Melody clenched her fists. It was just too much, she thought, anger fighting apprehension. Why should she put up with all this nonsense? She would revolt, she would defy Alice, she would just take her chances—
Damsels in Distress Page 20
