Nightwalkers

by Kirstin South

  "Nnnnmmfff!" she groaned.

  And a burning cigarette was suddenly butted out between her shoulder blades.

  The Hunting Game seemed to go on for hours, with Jackie dodging away from one jabbing weapon only to run into another. And, with only a space of four by four by six in which to move, there was no place to hide.

  Finally, she adopted the only defensive maneuver she could think of in her confused state. She knelt on the floor of her Cage, buried her head in her hands, and tried to make herself into as small a target as possible.

  As soon as she did this, however, the guests with whips had a veritable field day, beating her buttocks and back until she was sure they were nothing but a mass of raw welts, a few of them likely bleeding.

  "She's quit on us," she heard a disgusted woman's voice say. "She's no fun any more."

  "All right," Magda answered. "Part One is over. Now for Part Two."

  "I like it best anyway," the same woman's voice said.

  "To explain it for you, dear," Magda's voice came close to Jackie's cage. "It is called 'How Fast Can You Obey.' For that part you will be let out of the Cage and the gag removed. Then I will lead you around—still blindfolded and on all fours, of course—and, one by one, my guests will tell you to do something. Do it without a moment's pause, and you will be all right. But any pause, even a second, will get you an immediate stroke with your old friend, the strop. You remember him?"

  Jackie nodded numbly. Her back and bottom were burning already; a blow with that thing would kill her.

  "Very well," Magda continued, "the gate is open. Follow me over to…yes, Martin? You wish Jackie's services first, do you? Just a moment, then, while I remove her gag. All right, Jackie follow me."

  Jackie had little choice. It was that or be choked to death. Magda, it appeared, had substituted a choke-collar for her regular one in honour of today's Games.

  "Now, Martin, state your wishes."

  "I want a blow job. And I want her to swallow every drop."

  Jackie groped blindly in front of her until her fingers closed over a hard cock and she quickly brought its head toward her hands. He smelled as if he hadn't bathed in a month and his cock tasted of stale urine, she soon discovered, but Magda drew the strop lightly across Jackie's enflamed rear and she hastily swallowed half its length into her mouth and started to suck.

  She didn't have to suck long, for the man was so excited that he shot his load of cum into her mouth within a minute. However, his ejaculation was so violent that a drop or two squirted around his cock and onto her chin. This she quickly wiped off with a finger and stuffed it in her mouth, hoping Magda hadn't seen it, but her grating voice sneered,

  "Swallow every drop, he said! That means all at once, bitch!"

  And Magda brought the strap down hard on Jackie's tender ass.

  "Aaaahhhhhnnn!" Jackie howled.

  "Next," Magda said indifferently. "Yes, Hilda?"

  She led Jackie several feet to her right.

  "I want her to eat me out and make me come."

  "Go to it, bitch," Magda snapped.

  This one at least was clean, Jackie thought as stuck her tongue between the woman's labia and her lips toyed with her clit. It took longer, sucking and tonguing the woman, but, at last, she bucked her head against Jackie's face and moaned ecstatically.

  "Next," Magda said immediately. "George?"

  "I want to whip her with that strap…"

  "All right. But just three strokes. More and she may pass out."

  "Across her pussy," George finished his sentence.

  "Just one in that case. A light one. Someone might want to fuck her."

  "Yeah, I do!" a voice shouted.

  "All right. One light one, George. Stand up, bitch."

  Jackie struggled to her feet.

  There was a terrible moment of silence that seemed like an hour. Then she heard the hiss of the leather on the air.

  "Aaaaaaaiiieeaaagh!" Jackie screeched as the strap burned across her pussy and she doubled over and sank to her knees.

  If that was a light one, Jackie thought fuzzily, God help her if anyone got to give her a hard one.

  And so it went. Blow job after blow job, eating pussy, being fucked fore and aft and sometimes three at a time in all openings – mouth, rectum and pussy. by cocks, dildos, riding crops and God knows what. Finally, Jackie was so exhausted that she collapsed in a heap somewhere on the floor.

  * * *

  Then, finally, long after she heard the guests leave, Magda said,

  "Get up, bitch. Get up and find your way back to your Cage. That's where you'll sleep tonight. Right where a useless dog should."

  Slowly, Jackie raised herself, with almost every ounce of her remaining strength, to all fours, and crawled blindly around the floor.

  "In your cage, I said!" Magda snapped, smacking her enflamed bottom with her open hand.

  Jackie felt so small, so weak and useless. To begin with she had no idea where her goddam cage was and she didn't want to find it anyway. And she was tired. God was she tired! It was only fear of Magda and that fucking strap that forced one hand, one knee in front of the other.

  Suddenly, her fingers closed around a bar of the Cage and her tears of exhaustion and self-pity flowed.

  Damn Magda for turning her into a snivelling mongrel, she thought. Damn both Magda and Theo!

  She heard the door of the Cage clang behind her,

  "Take your hood off, bitch," Magda snarled. "Take it off and look at the mess you've made of yourself."

  Jackie tugged the hood off and looked down. Her skin was grimy with dirt from the floor and stained with tacky, half-dried cum; red welts criss-crossed her breasts and belly where the strap had kissed her, occasionally drawing blood. Christ, she thought, I'm such a fucking mess!

  And, in that instant, a greater hatred than she'd ever felt for anyone roared over her like an orgasm. A hatred for…the face that was now peering through the bars of her Cage at her.

  "Do you have a name, bitch?" the face was taunting her. "Eh? Do you have a name any more?"

  Jackie didn't know where the courage or the strength came from. It was probably born in rage and tempered in the kiln of hatred. Wherever it came from, she knew what she had to do. Thus, she drew a deep breath and paused. God knows what horrible punishment this would get her, but she might never get that face so close again.

  "My name is Jackie," she said levelly. "Jacqueline Amanda Talbot. Sometimes called Jacynthe."

  She looked Magda straight in the eye.

  And then she spat full in her face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Magda reeled back as if she'd been punched.

  "You goddam fucking bitch!" she gasped. "All right, I've had it with you. I hate falling back on last resorts, but you push me to it. Let's see you survive Ainsley, Miss Jacqueline Amanda Talbot!"

  And she strode out, followed closely by Theo, who turned out the gas jet in the fireplace, leaving her in the cold and dark.

  * * *

  Jackie had to sleep on her side to get any rest at all, but the night seemed endless before the first gray light of dawn woke her to the terrors of a new day.

  And, during that whole long night, she found herself wondering over and over if the horror she was putting herself through was really worth the reward to be gained.

  In fact, she'd almost forgotten what that reward was.

  She seemed to remember something about the name Conor. But whether that name referred to a man or a thing she no longer was certain.

  She seemed to remember something about love, too. But what love had to do with this house of hate and pain she could not fathom.

  And, somewhere, locked deep in her memory, seemed to be the name Jacynthe.

  But who or what a Jacynthe was she had no idea…

  It was peculiar. She supposed at one time not knowing all those things would have bothered her. But now they didn't seem to matter much any more.

  Nothing mattered much
any more…

  * * *

  When she opened her eyes at last, Theo was there and he dragged her out of the Cage and led her, stumbling, down a long hall, lit by gas torches, to the Studio where Magda awaited them

  "Say hello to Ainsley, the Wooden Maiden, Miss Jacqueline Amanda Talbot."

  Ainsley turned out to be a smooth wooden structure, in the shape of a woman, which swung open at the side to allow the victim to enter and then clamped shut, permitting her only an inch or so, if that, in which to move. There were two large holes in the front and back, just below hip level and circular in shape, but apart from these—and two tiny holes drilled under the nose for breathing—the frame was completely enclosed. In all, it was rather like a wooden sarcophagus except standing upright.

  "Good," Magda nodded. "Put the hood back on her and introduce Miss N to the wooden maiden. I trust you two will get along. You'll be spending many hours together."

  Theo pushed Jackie into the wooden sarcophagus and clamped the back closed on her buttocks. That's when Jackie discovered that the design of the box meant that she had to stand on tiptoes to prevent the rough wood of the interior from sticking its splinters into the flesh of her rear. Then she discovered a second reason as Magda pushed something through the hole at the front that pushed her legs apart and pressed against her clitoris and her labia.

  "What you feel," Magda's voice came to her through the wood, "is a dildo, constructed at a right angle. Stand on your tiptoes and it only grazes your clit and does not penetrate your pussy. Stand flat-footed, however, and you drive a wide shaft up your snatch. With this simple instrument, therefore, it is possible to masturbate without using your hands. Simply stand on tiptoe then relax…then repeat and repeat until you come. Now…"

  Jackie suddenly felt a second prod between the cheeks of her rear. "With this rectal dildo in place, it is possible to fuck yourself both fore and aft, at the same time. Just use your feet as before. Tiptoe, flat-footed, up again, until you come. The big difference between Ainsley and M'sieu Le Coq, you see, is that where he fucked you, Ainsley allows you the liberty of fucking yourself. How thoroughly you get screwed, therefore, depends purely on you. Always keep that in mind, Miss N. You alone are controlling what happens to you.

  "Of course, if you should want to avoid any masturbating, you can always try standing on tiptoe all the time. But that will be difficult, I warn you, unless your legs are very strong. You see, we plan to leave you, just like this for…"

  Magda paused.

  "Shall we say three days? Seventy-two hours? Yes, that sounds about right. Goodbye, my love, I'll see what's left of you in three days."

  She heard a door slam.

  And a terrible silence descended on the Studio…a silence that was broken only by the soft, muffled sound of Jackie weeping. Her legs were stronger, though, than even Jackie could have guessed. By her silent count, she remained standing rigidly on tiptoe, with the dildos tantalizing her clitoris and her rectum, for the first four hours. However, soon after that, her feet began to quiver and that caused the two penetrators to move inside her and start to fuck her, quivering with the rhythm of her shaking feet.

  "Nohhhh," she moaned and forced herself up on her tiptoes again. But this time it lasted only a few minutes before she came down hard on her heels, driving the dildos deep up her pussy and rectum.

  "Ahhhhhggghh!" she howled, and, with a terrific force of will, forced herself up again.

  Only to thud down mere seconds later. And then her libido kicked in and she began to find this double penetration of two foreign objects sexually arousing.

  Up and down she went then, gradually increasing the speed and the force of the thrusts—even their depth—by using her feet and bending her knees as much as she could.

  "Oh, God! God! God!" she grunted. "I'm gonna goddam fuckin' come! I'm gonna mother-fuckin' come! Ohhhh…Ohhhhh…sheeeeeiiiiitt!!"

  And she rattled and banged within her coffin until the paroxysm of carnal euphoria had passed.

  * * *

  She did not know how long she dozed, but her sense was that it was only a few minutes. All she knew was that, as she came to, another orgasm was beginning to clutch at her belly.

  "Nohhh…oh, God…nohhh…" she prayed.

  But her legs were too weak now to keep her rectum and pussy separated from the terrible penetrators of her body and mind, and she found herself giving in to the inevitability of another cataclysm of sexual madness.

  And so it went…seemingly forever…until time and place lost all meaning. Until her own identity became a useless bauble of information. Until there was nothing, but her pussy and ass and convulsion after innumerable carnal convulsion.

  "I think," Magda's voice cut through the fog of her derangement. "I think we're almost there. Put her to bed, Theo."

  "Yes, Miz Magda."

  And, as someone with rough hands led her away, she wondered,

  "Who is Theo?"

  "Who is Miz Magda?

  "Who am I?"

  Chapter Sixteen

  In the morning, however, it seemed to have sorted itself out.

  Once she had been under the mistaken impression that her name was Jackie, Jacqueline Talbot, though it might be Jacynthe. That was an illusion that Miz Magda was trying to correct.

  For, though Jackie was just your ordinary garden-variety girl, Jacynthe, the Jacynthe, was something quite different. As the Jacynthe, if she were, she was Conor's mate—Conor whom she loved with an unparalleled passion —and she was a shape-shifting, man-eating killer.

  Suddenly she found herself laughing wildly, hysterically.

  How could anyone in his right mind believe such bullshit?

  How could she?

  In fact, when it came down to that, what did she truly believe any more?

  "Good morning, Miss Nobody," a woman's voice interrupted her thoughts.

  "Is that really my name?" she asked. "Miss Nobody?"

  "But of course. 'Miss Nobody.' You know that," the woman said.

  "It's just that I don't seem to be sure of anything any more." Jackie shook her head as if that would clear it. "But Nobody seems to suit me, don't you think?"

  "I do," the woman actually smiled as if it were her first smile in a long time. "Would you like me to whip you now?"

  "Is that expected?"

  "It is my job, yes."

  "Then it doesn't matter," Miss Nobody said. "Whenever you wish is fine with me."

  "Would you prefer it with the riding crop or the strap?"

  "Whichever you prefer. Pain is just pain, after all."

  "You know, my darling," the woman actually smiled. In fact, she even grinned. "I think we may have actually gotten somewhere at last."

  That day, Miss Nobody ate real food and slept in a real bed for the first time that she could remember.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the morning, she awoke to the sound of voices.

  One was the woman's who had spoken to her yesterday, but the other, a man's, was unfamiliar to her. Except that its tone reminded her of the colour of warm cognac and that seemed to stir some vague shadows in her fog-shrouded past.

  "I've done all I can do," the woman's voice was saying. "She has had all sense of her personal identity destroyed. She says she is Miss Nobody because that's what I've told her. But you could just as easily say she was the Queen of Sheba and she'd accept that."

  "Would she believe it if I called her by her real name, then?" the man asked.

  "By the name you think she owns? Yes, she'd accept it. But as for believing it. There's still a long road to be traveled before you get to that destination. And it's your job. I've done my part, as I say."

  "I guess it's time for me to take her with me, then."

  "It seems to serve no purpose keeping her here."

  "But who shall I say I am?" the man asked.

  "A dear friend of her family, I suppose," the woman replied.

  "Yes, that's true enough. An old friend." And they chuck
led at some private joke.

  "But wait here. I will bring her to you."

  A few minutes later, she was brought into a sitting room that she had never seen before, dressed in a floor-length dress with a low neckline and a tight bodice that pushed her breasts up, emphasizing the cleavage between them. Her dark hair was combed out straight, to frame the ivory skin of her face and highlight the brightness in her dark green eyes.

  The man rose as she entered and smiled appreciatively as the woman left them alone. His face was as handsome as his voice was rich and she felt an instinctive tightening in her belly.

  "You are quite beautiful," he said.

  "Thank you, sir," she blushed. "But we have not been introduced. I should like a name to call you by. Especially, if you are an old family friend."

  "You were eavesdropping," the man with the cognac-coloured voice said, but there was no hint of criticism in his voice, so she offered no apology. "Your may call me Mister Conner. Or just Conner, when you feel it's appropriate. C-O-N-N-E-R."

  "No need to spell it out. It seems a simple enough name," she smiled.

  "Still you wouldn't believe the trouble I've had. Particularly with bank clerks.

  "I don't understand the term 'bank clerks,' she said. "But I suppose I will soon learn. Right now, I seem to have more pressing business. I should like a name, too, as I seem not to have one."

  The man thought for a moment.

  "I think Miss Jacqueline suits you," he said at last.

  "I think I'd like it better if you gave it a French pronunciation. Jacqueline. Seems more romantic."

  "Very well, Jacqueline it will be, for you are romantic. I can see it in your eyes."

  "And leave out the 'Miss,' except on formal occasions."

  "As you wish," Conner nodded.

  "But, when you were talking to that woman, you mentioned taking me with you. Where will we be going?"

  "Many places. You might say 'Everywhere and Nowhere.'"