Escape from Buggery

by Bradley Stoke

  Sweetness and she were both treated the same, so although she had no mirror to see her reflection, she knew from looking at Sweetness exactly what she now looked like. Her head, arms, vagina, legs and armpits were all shaved by some lethal looking razor blades which skimmed over the fairly basic creamy soap which was applied to lubricate the skin and facilitate the shaving. This ritual was almost pleasant. The girl whose face Sharon had first glimpsed in some strange sense had adopted the pair, and she was the one who administered the shave. As each part was shaved clean, she then kissed the whole of the shaven area with her lips, as if to be sure it was sufficiently smooth. Sharon might normally have objected to this degree of intimacy, but she had seen that the pilgrims adopted the exact same routine when shaving each other. And it was undeniably quite pleasant to feel the brush of this girl’s nose and lips against the bare skin of her vagina. The most intimate and unthreatening sensuality those lips had probably ever experienced. At home, her labia was normally nothing but an open door, or one, when not open, was pushed ajar with as much haste as was required for a prick to get inside. Soon, she and Sweetness lay back on the grass under the morning sun, their skin fresh and clean after the application of the blade, glistening in the shine of the soap and saliva that had accompanied the shave.

  Sharon ran her hand over her shaven head, and looked sadly at the strands of her bleached hair where it lay on the grass. It certainly felt weird. And from looking at Sweetness, she could see how weird it also appeared. The pate was significantly paler than the rest of the skin which had otherwise been mostly tanned by the sun. Sharon was dismayed by how strangely nobbly Sweetness’ shaved head looked, and, of course, how it must be correspondingly so on her own head. The bump at the nape of the neck where it joined the skull. The ears looking so much smaller on a bare background. The sweep of forehead which went up without interruption of any kind at all. In fact, the loss of hair must have been more considerable for Sweetness than for her. Sweetness’ hair had previously been quite long, often obscuring most of her face and much of her neck and shoulders. Sharon’s hair, by contrast, had not obscured very much at all, and after the haircut administered by Primrose had been relatively short already. But short was not at all the same as bald.

  The shave wasn’t the last treatment meted out on the two girls by the Sodomite pilgrims. Sharon’s nipples were already pierced, as was her clitoris. This was not true of Sweetness who had never been pierced before, either voluntarily, like Sharon, or by law, like most women in Buggery. The pilgrims found little difficulty in threading chains and rings through Sharon’s nipple and crotch. She soon had weighty jangling ornamentation hanging from her front. This seemed to represent some kind of clothing to the Sodomites, although unlike any clothing Sharon had ever worn before, even in Buggery, this provided neither warmth nor modesty. A wreath of thin chains dangled from the rings through her nipples, and were somehow held in check by those threaded through the ring in her crotch

  Applying the same ornamentation to Sweetness was more difficult. Sharon had to explain to Sweetness what was happening to her as the Sodomite pilgrims pierced her small puffy nipples and her tender clitoris with their sharp pins. They were clearly skilled at what they were doing, because although they didn’t administer any painkillers, the operation in the three points was done extremely quickly and inflicted remarkably little pain on the young girl. Her yelps of pain were tempered by the kisses administered to her by the Sodomite girl who had taken responsibility for the two. She rested Sweetness’ head on her lap, and squeezed her hand tightly and affectionately as she winced and cried out. And then after all the piercing was done, she cuddled Sweetness to her chest as the rings which had been inserted into her nipples and clitoris kept the piercings open. And only after a quarter an hour or more of such voiceless comforting were the chains threaded through the rings, weighing her front down, and bringing her to fresh cries of pain, as they tugged at her tender wounds. And, there she stood, in front of Sharon who lay on the grass, gradually getting used to her own new appearance: her head shaven, bare legs and vagina, and a front obscured by chains. She stared ahead, sightlessly and confused, unable perhaps to be sure whether she alone had been singled out for this painful ceremony. Her eyes were still moist from the tears she had shed during the piercing ceremony, her breasts slightly bruised and even more puffy from the weight of the chains, and the bruises and scratches she’d gained after the two girls perambulations in the woods even more distinct against her hairless bare frame lit by the unforgiving glare of the Buggery morning sun.

  Sharon looked at the Sodomite pilgrims gathered around them and observed the indulgent smiles on their faces. She was suddenly struck by a bolt of lucidity and was just as suddenly frightened. She stood up and rushed over to Sweetness. She put an arm around the blind girl, and pulled her bare body against her own.

  “You’re not fucking cutting our tongues out! Or sewing our fucking cunts together!” She shouted at them.

  The girl who’d comforted them smiled more broadly. She then made some strange hand signals to her companions while mouthing something while her voice made a sound her tongue couldn’t articulate. The other pilgrims laughed in a good-humoured way: a way which seemed incongruous in such bizarre looking people. She then walked up to Sharon, placed a forefinger to her lips, and placed her hand on her crotch in a tender, non-threatening way.

  “Are you gonna fucking sew me up, you bastards?” Sharon asked aggressively.

  The girl shook her shaved head with a frown and a smile. She then pulled Sharon and Sweetness to her chest and kissed the two of them affectionately. Her mouth moved, and her throat voiced a response, but Sharon could make no sense of any of the guttural vowels. She smiled again, and returned to her companions. She immediately returned with a plate full of some more of the very tasty vegetables that she had prepared earlier, and made another growling sound which appeared to say “Eat up!”

  The Sodomite pilgrims violated the two girls no further, and indeed in their inarticulate way made their best efforts to make them feel at ease. In fact, as Sharon came to realise, as they followed the pilgrims through the countryside of Buggery, their newly shaved heads and chains of Sodomite bondage were actually something to be grateful for. None of the many police who they passed in their wanderings paid them any attention at all. As a result of whatever terms in which cross-border treaties had been phrased, the Sodomite pilgrims were actually the most free people in the Kingdom of Buggery. Indeed, the police appeared to be just as much disgusted by the Sodomites’ appearance as Sharon herself had been initially. Even when the Sodomites prostrated themselves in front of the police, arse to the air, gesturing invitingly at their anuses, this provocation seemed to serve the purpose of actually dissuading the police of doing anything. They left the Sodomites to their own business, strutting off with their massive dildos strapped to their waists, and protruding incongruously in front of them, more willing to cause harm to their own citizens than to these shaven, pierced and mutilated pilgrims. When they disappeared, the pilgrims would smile amongst themselves, and kiss Sharon reassuringly, aware of the terror that inevitably caused her body to tremble. Sweetness as always knew only as much as Sharon ever told her, which was normally just to keep quiet and pretend that her tongue had also been torn out.

  There was a comforting routine to the Sodomite’s day. At sunrise, sunset, and three other times a day, the pilgrims indulged in a ritual which was both fascinating and quite unpleasant to watch. Essentially, this involved anal intercourse: an exercise achieved by the use of rather ornate dildos which the pilgrims drew out of the cloth bags they carried over their shoulders. These bags were themselves of some ritual significance: each of them was embroidered with a slogan which must have had some meaning in their faith. “To Give is to Receive”. “Surrender to the Will”. “The Orifice Taketh and Giveth Release”. This was clearly not a faith of silent contemplation.

  Their ceremonies were an orgy of flesh and anal penetrati
on: the pilgrims’ bodies entwined around each other, the dildos strapped to the waists by leather and chains, their ends thrust deep inside the ritually presented arses. Even the male pilgrim was made to receive a dildo thrust up his arse. His own penis wasn’t used at all. The reason for this Sharon noticed with some distaste was because he had been castrated, and the scrotum which seemed so full beneath his flaccid penis was filled not with testicles but with metal balls. Like the girls, he had to use a dildo to fulfil his role in the ceremony.

  While this went on, Sharon held onto Sweetness, glad that her blindness precluded her from fully understanding what accompanied the grunts and gasps which freely exploded from the pilgrims in their orgiastic ceremony. The vaginas were sealed during the ceremony as much then as at other times, which meant that the pissing on each other that invariably conjoined the penetration was a messy and uncoordinated affair, as the urine burst through the barrier of stitches and rings, and splashed over the pilgrims in a random kind of way. As also did the shit, which thankfully they didn’t always choose to ingest as part of the process. Some of the more devout ensured that their ritual sodomy was also accompanied with flagellation from nettles and whatever else could be used for the purpose.

  These ceremonies rarely continued for much more than half an hour, and then, sated and somehow purified, and with expressions of beatific ecstasy, the pilgrims continued as before in the more mundane businesses of preparing food, hunting and gathering food, and, if they were already on their route, walking through the barren Buggery countryside.

  At night, Sharon rested against Sweetness, too weak from walking and her tribulations of the previous days, to complain as Sweetness showered her with affectionate kisses and cuddles. Indeed, she only complained when Sweetness’ fingers or tongue wandered towards her arse or cunt, on which occasions, she would forcefully remind the blind girl that she was not a fucking dyke. Sweetness seemed resigned to Sharon’s frequent rejection of her advances, but this did not stop her from declaring, much to Sharon’s embarrassment, that she was in love with her and would do anything she wanted. She noticed that Sweetness’ affection for her was observed indulgently by the Sodomite pilgrims, as they lay apart from the two girls, gathered in a body of intertwined, intermingling flesh, chains and naked skin.

  The days were spent in wandering: something which Sharon had become so accustomed to now that she no longer thought to complain even to herself. This wandering was the purpose of the pilgrims’ visit to Buggery, and the effort of it was a small price to pay for the food, water and protection the pilgrims provided. At irregular intervals, sometimes two or three times in a day, and sometimes only once in a day, the pilgrims would arrive at a place of some religious significance to them. Sometimes it was obvious what the object of their worship was. A tomb or a statue or a desecrated, disused shrine. Sometimes it was much more obscure. An old tree, the centre of a field of beetroots, a house lived in by puzzled Buggery subjects. At whichever place it was, the pilgrims would prostrate themselves, arse high in the air, their arms stretched out in front of them whilst one of them would intone in a voice made unintelligible by the loss of tongue. And then, after leaving some tokens of worship, like a bunch of thistles, a coin or a chain, the pilgrims would continue on their way. Sharon was never sure what she should do in these ceremonies, but she reasoned that whenever anyone from Buggery was watching, especially if they were police, it was best to follow the example set by the others and to instruct Sweetness to do the same. It amused her in a grim kind of way to see the obvious discomfort of people from Buggery at the pilgrims’ presence. They rarely came very close, but they would watch the strange ritual with fascination.

  On only one occasion did anyone from Buggery take advantage of the offer of abuse that the pilgrims made to everyone they met. Two policewomen with erect dildos and muscled bodies pushed into the pilgrims, kicking and punching them. But the fact that the pilgrims were taking the punishment with such apparent pleasure, asking for more with each punch or kick, clearly upset even them, and they gave up after hardly any time at all. The pilgrims themselves seemed quite gratified by the abuse that they had received and soon meted out even worse punishment on each other in an flailing orgy of nettles and brambles.

  That evening, the pilgrims were still quite excited by their brief encounter, proudly feeling the bruises raised on their faces and limbs, and gently kissing the scratches which they had sustained. Their ritual sodomy lasted longer than usual, while Sharon comforted Sweetness who was clearly frightened by what she could hear but could not see. And then the ritual became a softer, more sensual and gentle lovemaking as the pilgrims entangled bodies became engulfed in more conventional caresses and kisses: tongues and fingers exercised on mutilated genitals and tongueless mouths. The man seemed as keen on the sensuality as much as the girls, despite his emasculation and the inability of his penis to become erect or functional.

  The girl who had first befriended them noticed Sharon and Sweetness huddled together in the shade of the tree in the darkening shadows of night. She wandered over to them, crouched down and smiled. Wreathed in a rather becoming grin she attempted to say something which Sharon strained to understand. It was hopeless, however. Without a tongue, her words were just inarticulate noises and her hand gestures were too intricate and involved for Sharon to make any sense of them. Then the girl knelt down, put a hand on Sharon’s crotch and the other on Sweetness, and gestured with a jerk of her neck that she was inviting the two girls to join in the pilgrims’ lovemaking.

  Sharon had by now lost her fear of the pilgrims. They had not even once attempted to persuade or coerce either of the girls to join in their perverted rituals, and had made clear by their actions that they had no expectation that they should do so. It was sex and not physical abuse and humiliation that the girl was offering them; but however relatively benign such lovemaking was in comparison, it was still not something that Sharon could entertain. “I’m no fucking dyke!” she replied, but relatively good-humouredly. She was almost flattered by this extension of a hand of friendship, but her days of abuse in the soldier’s camp still left her scarred and the thought of sex, even with a man, was not something that attracted her. “But Sweetness here…”

  Sharon put a hand on her blind companion’s shoulder. “Our Sodomite friend wants to know if you want to … well, not fuck exactly … but, you know, have sex…” She glanced up at the Sodomite’s smiling, kindly face. “It’s not going to involve arse-fucking or fucking whipping or all that shit, is it? I don’t want Sweetness, you know, hurt or any kind of fucking shit you lot sort of do … It’s normal sex, isn’t it?”

  The Sodomite girl smiled broadly, and shook her head to assure Sharon.

  “What do you think, Sweetness?” asked Sharon, aware of the girls’ own sexual needs and hoping that if it was spent on the Sodomites it would no longer be focused on her.

  Sweetness smiled at Sharon. “You don’t mind?”

  “No, of course I fucking don’t!”

  Sweetness stood up, and allowed herself to be led away by the Sodomite. She turned back her head and smiled in a direction somewhat to the left and ahead of where Sharon actually sat. “Don’t forget. It’s you that I love!”

  Sharon settled back, feeling happier if Sweetness were happy, and felt good in herself as she watched Sweetness enter the mass of pale shaven flesh of orgying Sodomites. She smiled with pleasure as Sweetness gasped with pleasure. She wrapped her arms around her chain-ridden breast and observed with satisfaction as Sweetness was satisfied. She was so obviously enjoying the lips and fingers exploring her vagina, the kisses on her face and breasts, the feel of three or more bodies surrounding her. She yelped and gasped and grunted, her body shining with a glint of perspiration in the moonlight, as she was engulfed in the mass of flesh, lip and chains, both her nipples chewed on, her clitoris afire with the attention of two pairs of lips and discreetly applied fingers. Her cries of joy and ecstasy at first echoing across the fields from the copse
where the pilgrims were resting, and then gradually subsided as her energy and those of her lovers diminished and the caresses became less passionate and more languid.

  But even after all that, it was to Sharon’s arms that Sweetness eventually returned, her flesh sweaty and smelly, her vagina sore and plastered with her vaginal fluids, and in whose same arms that she stayed all night. “I love you, Sharon,” she whispered, her shaven head against her ward’s bechained bosom. “You are my perfect lover.”

  Chapter XVI

  The sun hadn’t yet arisen when Tracey and Buttercup were woken by Zeta, who was naked like everyone else, slightly podgy with a mass of black curly hair which flowed in ringlets to halfway down her back. She stood at the doorway with a very broad grin looking at the two girls whose only source of warmth through the night had been from each other’s closely entwined body.

  “We have to start early if we have any hope of getting into the factory,” she explained as she hurried them on their way.

  “Where is the factory?” wondered Tracey, yawning and only half aware, as they staggered across the dark fields.

  “Another couple of miles. It’s good that it’s not been raining for a while: that can make the journey quite horrible,” replied Zeta. “You’ll get used to it, though. But if you get there too late then you’ve got no choice. It’s first come first served most of the time.”