First he bound her on her hands and knees over a small low stool mounted on rocking chair runners so she was in an ideal position to be taken from behind. There was a large mirror set in front of her in which she could see her reflection. He wanted to watch her face as he mounted her, she thought. Then he brought out a pony mask and fitted it over her head. She whimpered as it enclosed her but he took no notice. The neck of the mask reached from her chin to sternum, encasing her own neck and collar, with rings embedded in the plastic to serve as new hitching points. Its horse-like snout complete with flared nostrils extended out from her natural jawline. It had an integral rubber bit that pushed between her teeth, trapping her tongue, while long, fluted forward-facing ears rose from the sides. They channelled sounds down to her ears in a strangely acute manner. Mister Winston pulled her hair through slots in the top and back of the mask, so that it hung down over her shoulders like a flowing mane.
She saw herself in the mirror; she had become a strange chimerical creature, the flesh-tinted, pliant mask merging with her flesh. Her breasts hung down beneath a horse’s snout. God, she looked so weird! Her human features were blurred and absorbed by the plastic, making it seem more alive.
Mister Winston patted and stroked her head as she had seen him do to his charges in the stables, calming them like you would a flighty animal. Then he went down on his knees behind her, prised apart her buttocks and pushed his shaft up into the hot greased pit of her anus. He was big and she gasped as he filled her rectum, but it felt good. Her groan of delight issued from the mouth of the mask as a slobbering snort. He began to pump into her and set her moving back and forth like a rocking horse. He was riding her. She was his pony, his mount. They were master and slave, that’s what mattered. He smacked her flanks and she clenched harder with her internal muscles. Her breasts swayed and jiggled and she tossed her head and snorted and whinnied with delight. Now she understood. All this time the trainers had been teaching her the most important lesson a slave girl could learn: complete acceptance of a master’s will. A slave girl could be turned into anything a master wished. When she truly accepted that, she was a perfect slave.
* * *
Staying overnight meant Vanessa could observe for the first time the full sequence of slave girl activity in B3 and the Shiller Building above.
She saw chain girls going up to clean at night and coming down again in the small hours. They were surely the most beautiful, and certainly the most naked, army of ‘Mrs Mops’ ever assembled. Hair tied back and rubber-gloved, clad in their slave chains, they diligently vacuumed, swept and polished. After all, there was no point in having a captive labour force if it was not used to the full. The duty was regularly rotated so it did not become onerous and it served not only as good physical exercise but also as a reminder of the mundane world of simple labour they were privileged to have escaped.
Privileged? Vanessa had wondered about that word when it had come into her mind when observing the small army of cleaning girls and contemplating writing a brief article on night life in the Shiller building for GN. She decided it was not inappropriate. She suspected many non-submissive women facing years of drudgery and grind cleaning offices would, if given an insight into the lives of Shiller girls, actually envy them.
Of course that sort of reasoning was what drove some to the miseries and danger of prostitution and worse. It only went to show how lucky the chain girls were living the life their true natures craved. They must never forget that.
The arrival of night also brought an almost magical physical transformation to level B3. As evening in the city above drew in, the lamps that lit the false sky slowly dimmed to a deep blue night glow and the air conditioning shifted to a cooler cycle. Wall lamps came on to provide pools of brighter light replicating street and house lights and colourful strings of bulbs garlanded about the larger trees and shrubs lit up. Now it became quite easy to imagine they really were in a tiny village of narrow alleys.
It was at this time of day, when the Cherry Chain girls were free of their duties, that Vanessa joined them as they went for a run round the exercise track that encircled the entire level. She’d come to know all the Cherry girls well since her first assignment for GN, which had been to cover their initiation and basic training, while at the same time she had gone through her own strange process of self-examination and inner awakening. That, together with her love for Kashika, meant they regarded her rather like their own personal reporter and friend in high places.
The running track was lined with more shrubs and small trees, overhanging it in places, which were also illuminated. Clad only in their collars and trainers and feeling the cool air flow over their naked bodies, they jogged through leafy archways hung about with coloured stars, knowing a freedom denied to those who had to pound along the streets above.
The ‘Mall’ was a corridor running parallel to the High Street in the manner of a mews. It was fronted by a double row of small cell-like rooms, each with large low windows sheltered by striped awnings and a single recessed doorway. The windows were in fact one-way mirrors, seen from the inside. Some of these mirrors were raised and stands put out to display small goods such as books, papers and magazines, fruits and sweets, perfumes and cosmetics, ribbons, footwear and jewellery that off-duty girls could buy. It was almost like a small shopping street above ground except for the naked women on both sides of the counter. Between the shops the cells served different purposes, though in a manner of speaking they also offered goods and services. Some were curtained and could be used by one or more slave girls wanting privacy, while others had girls enticingly on display bound to various restraining devices for use by members of staff from the offices above.
One day Vanessa was walking along the Mall arm in arm with Kashika, who had a rest day, when a familiar figure in a yellow collar threw herself at Vanessa from the mill of girls and hugged her. It was Julie 5 Canary.
‘I read your story,’ Julie exclaimed when she finally allowed Vanessa to breathe. ‘God, to think when you went home from the clinic you walked right into that! My chain only got back this morning. I had to see you and say how sorry I was …’
Vanessa formally introduced Kashika and the two girls hugged and kissed with a ready passion as only uninhibited Shiller-trained slaves could: mouth to mouth, nipples to nipples and a hand reaching round to slip between the other’s buttocks. For a moment Vanessa worried there might be some sign of jealousy between them, though it seemed rare amongst Shiller girls. Perhaps living such an utterly open life with almost no privacy helped, or that most sexual urges were satisfied by their work without any need for subterfuge or deceit. The kiss certainly was no mere politeness. You must learn a lot about somebody when you get that close, she thought.
When the two girls broke the clinch their cheeks were flushed and their eyes sparkled happily. Julie slid her hand through Vanessa’s free arm and they walked on together around the corner towards the High Street.
‘Vanessa’s told me how well you looked after her in the clinic,’ Kashika said to Julie. ‘Thank you.’
‘That was easy,’ Julie assured her. ‘Not like the crappy time you had. How are you doing?’ She sounded genuinely concerned.
‘The strapping and the screwing weren’t that bad, it was being in the other room not knowing what he was doing to Vanessa. I’d have my bum whipped raw rather than go through that again. But I knew she had a plan and I was ready to play along. I was sure it would work out all right. She always knows what she’s doing.’
‘I know what you mean. She’s so strong-willed.’
‘I love that,’ Kashika said with simple sincerity.
‘That’s what makes her so special,’ Julie said. ‘We can all see it, but she can’t.’
‘I know, isn’t it strange?’ Kashika agreed.
‘Hallo! I am listening to all this,’ Vanessa said, beginning to feel embarrassed. They apparently ignored her.
‘I mean she has to be special to have faced up to Rocheste
r twice and got away with it,’ Julie said.
‘I don’t think I could have done that,’ Kashika said.
‘Me neither. But she tries to act just like the rest of us, even though she’s so much more masterful.’
‘Yes, that’s another thing that makes being with her so exciting.’
Playfully Vanessa took hold of a handful each of their hair and made them look at her. ‘Shut up both of you!’ she said with a chuckle. ‘You’re making it sound like I’ve done something incredible, but I just told a bully what I thought of him and prevaricated until rescue came along, that’s all.’
They were both looking at her with adoring eyes.
‘Yes,’ Kashika said quietly, ‘but that took courage. He’s a powerful man but twice you’ve talked back to him like an equal, stood up to him and tricked him. If you hadn’t kept him and his man talking for so long they might have taken me away before the security squad arrived.’
‘And you came even when he was torturing you,’ Julie said. ‘That’s something we all hope we could do, but you were so casual when you wrote about it, when it must all have been terrifying and you were more concerned about Kashika than yourself. That’s what all of us admire about you.’
‘Which is why we’d do anything for you … Mistress,’ Kashika said.
‘Anything you want … Mistress,’ Julie added.
The look of anticipation in their eyes kindled a warm tingle deep in Vanessa’s loins. She had briefly felt the thrill of mastering another girl with Kashika at home, but she had thought that was a one-off private response just between them. Now Julie was offering herself and making it plain she was not alone.
What was it about her that Shiller girls found so alluring? The white collar? It still marked her as a slave and a submissive, which she knew beyond doubt that she was. The trainers were proving that every night. And yet there was something in her that the girls responded to. Was it because she worked for GN and wore her press hat … or because she had chosen to wear a hat? That decision had marked her out as different. At the time she had thought of it as a small act of defiance and a boost to her self-confidence. But was it symbolic of her willingness to be herself no matter what? Something Shiller had seen in her had convinced her to let Vanessa determine the fate of her girlflesh business. Only a strong personality could do that. Perhaps other girls recognised that power in her. But could one be both slave and master? She looked into the eyes of the two unresisting girls in her grasp and knew she had to find out.
She led them back to the Mall and an empty cell at one end. It was a spartan room with painted breezeblock walls and a concrete floor, fitted out with ceiling hooks, a metal-framed bed, a stack of rubber mats and a basic rack of restraints, sex-toys and punishment devices. She drew the curtains over the inside of the big window and looked round. Julie and Kashika had both gone down on their knees and were waiting with spread thighs, hands folded behind their backs. Their breasts, tipped by hard nipples, trembled as their chests rose and fell in nervous excitement. Their vulvas were already wet with anticipation.
‘Did you two plan this?’ Vanessa asked.
‘No, Mistress,’ they said in uncanny harmony.
‘What do you see in me?’
Briefly they exchanged glances. Hesitantly Kashika said: ‘If you were like us you’d know, Mistress. It’s only because you’re not that you have to ask. It’s that difference we love.’
‘You are one of us, Mistress, but also something more,’ Julie added.
They were so lovely and inviting, kneeling meekly before her, that she ached to use them. ‘So if I was to tell you I wanted to chain you up and give you both a good paddling you’d do it?’
Their eyes sparkled. ‘Of course, Mistress.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you ordered us Mistress,’ Julie said. ‘It’s your right.’
‘And we love you and want to please you,’ Kashika added.
There was really nothing more to say.
Vanessa took a deep breath: ‘Stand up and raise your arms …’
* * *
She cuffed their wrists to a ceiling hook and had them stand back to back, their buttocks pressed together.
The contrast between Kashika’s dark skin and Julie’s creamy complexion was striking and very beautiful. Though both blondes, Kashika’s hair was of a deeper, more mellow golden tint, while Julie’s had almost a touch of silver. The tension on their arms lifted their breasts, showing off their swollen nipples.
She lashed them with a spanking paddle, taking great care not to cut their precious flesh but delighting in the sharp smacks of rubber on soft skin. She circled them, swiping their thighs, bellies and breasts, making their ripe globes shiver and dance to her tune. They gasped and groaned and twisted and writhed, but they were responding to the blows, not trying to evade them, arching their backs and offering up their breasts for her pleasure and thrusting out their hips and spreading their legs in slavish invitation.
She swiped the paddle up into the fullness of their vulvas, connecting with swollen hot fleshy lips. The paddle blade came away glistening wetly while the mat under them began to be splattered with dark stains.
Vanessa turned them round to face each other and put a belt about their waists, pulling it tight until their breasts bulged against each other and their haunches jutted out. She strapped on a dildo and plundered their hot, tight rectums, ramming hard up all the way, moving round from a coffee bottom to one of peach cream until they gasped and shuddered and came.
How was the pain and humiliation she was inflicting on them different from what Rochester had done to her? Looking into their sweaty but jubilant faces she knew the answer. Because the girls were willing subjects! It was a loving suffering: slave girl foreplay. Now it was her turn to reap its ultimate reward.
She lay on the bed while Kashika and Julie, wrists now cuffed behind them, bent low and used their lips and tongues to kiss and lick and suck at her cleft and breasts. They acted like perfect attendants whose only thought was the satisfaction of their mistress. They were not just company slaves now but her slaves. She had dominated them and they had submitted totally to her will. And it felt wonderful.
The happy memory was still strong two days later when Vanessa knelt on the floor before Zara, who gave her the details of a new assignment for GN.
‘Have you heard about our outdoor recreational facility in Scotland: Glen Lothy?’ Zara asked.
‘I think I saw it mentioned in a back issue, Mistress Editor,’ Vanessa said. ‘A castle and lake in a private valley.’
Zara smiled. ‘That’s a very minimal description of a wonderful place. You’d better read the article again and anything else we have on file for background.’
‘Yes, Mistress Editor.’
‘We covered its opening over a year ago, but not from the slave perspective. Cherry and Jade Chains are being sent up to the Glen tomorrow to replace a couple of chains who’re due to come home. It’ll be Cherry’s first time up there so you can go with them and see what they make of it.’
Vanessa frowned. ‘So Kashika and I will both be going up there, Mistress Editor?’
‘She goes with the rest of her chain, of course. What’s the problem? I thought you liked being with her on assignment.’
‘Oh, of course I do, Mistress Editor. I just wondered if this was coincidence or if the Director was sending both of us away deliberately.’
‘As far as you’re concerned, Vanessa, the chains are going because it’s their turn on the rota and you’re going because I want a story. Any questions?’
‘No, Mistress Editor.’
Miss Kyle had charge of her again that night, but this time there was no sex.
A padded board a little larger than a coffin lid was resting against the wall of the room. It had a foot bar to stand on and straps for ankles, knee, waist, neck, and wrists. Vanessa lay back against it as Miss Kyle fastened them in place.
‘You won’t be allowed to come until tom
orrow night,’ she told her.
Vanessa was totally restrained but not uncomfortably so. To a slave girl this was luxurious bondage and she could sleep in it quite happily. But she could not touch herself. Like Cherry and Jade Chains, who even now were sleeping in similar restraints in the special rest room block just off the High Street, she was unable to satisfy what she had now come to think of as her natural level of sexual desire. A whole day without an orgasm for a lusty Shiller girl was a terrible deprivation. It would make her desperate to please the next person who made use of her – which of course was the whole idea.
It would be a good ten-hour journey to Glen Lothy, so they were woken for breakfast well before six the next morning. Fortunately Shiller girls normally travelled light and there was no last-minute agonising over what clothes to pack. A collar was all that was needed and toothbrushes were provided at the other end. With her hat, camera, notepad and recorder, Vanessa looked positively laden down with possessions by comparison – as she had on previous occasions when she accompanied chains being taken to assignments in Shiller lorries.
In fact this time they did have one item of clothing each. These were loose thin T-shirts that were put on before their hands were cuffed: green for Jade, red for Cherry and white for Vanessa. After nearly two weeks of constant nudity the fabric felt strange on her skin and she was grateful that her bottom half at least was ‘properly’ naked and exposed.
Instead of the normal ball-gags girls wore when being shipped about they had adhesive strips with integral grommet rings taped over their lips. The rings were large enough for a drinking straw to be inserted. From even a few metres away they were almost invisible and yet served as effective gags.
When they were all secure they were marched out of the lift into level B2 in neatly chained columns, with Vanessa being led along by a leash at their heels. They were travelling not in a regular girlflesh lorry but a mini coach, modified to Shiller requirements. It had curtained and tinted windows that virtually hid them from prying eyes while allowing them to see out. All that an outsider might get a faint glimpse of would be their modestly clad top-halves.
The Girlflesh Castle Page 10
