The Girlspell III

by William Avon

  ‘I wondered how you could afford me and Doreen and your new slave bike, Mistress.’

  ‘It was done with Melanie’s prior agreement. That connection and obtaining slaves for the official school project gives me the excuse to have more to do with them. It may also conceal other unofficial activities should they become necessary. Meanwhile you must live and breathe the part. I want everybody around here to accept you as easily as they have Sally. To them you will simply be one of my maids who I also loan to the school for the boys to use as part of their education. I may send you out on errands down to the village in your chains with a shopping basket strapped to your back. The shopkeepers must recognise you as my servant and treat you accordingly.’

  The thought of such public utility and exposure made Amber shiver. The bike had been bad enough but could she walk down a high street naked and in chains and go into a shop like a trained dog fetching a morning paper? Could she accept such degradation? Back home never, but here the outrageous was perfectly permissible, so she’d better get used to it.

  ‘Will you give me a welcoming screw so I may show how much I want to please you, Mistress?’

  ‘I can see you’re getting the idea,’ Miss Newcombe said, and began to undress.

  When she was naked she took the double ended dildo from its hook and slipped one end inside herself. Amber had never seen her totally naked before. Even though she might be ten years older than Amber she had a nice trim body. But even more telling was her gaze: confident and masterful even when nude. Amber felt lust stirring in her loins even as her willpower seemed to shrink even further. What had begun as a calculated gesture was becoming a disturbingly natural show of submission.

  Miss Newcombe took the spanking padding off the wall and thrust it crosswise between Amber’s teeth. Then she clambered onto the bed between Amber’s spread legs and mounted her.

  Amber groaned as the phallus slid up her passage and their pubic lips kissed. This was not like using the puzzle box phallus. This was pure sex for pleasure and mastery. Their bare hot breasts mashed together. Her Mistress’s breath was warm, sweet and passionate. She began to ride her unhurriedly, sliding the rubber shaft slowly but forcefully in and out of Amber’s hot, wet, willing sheath. Raising herself up on one elbow she took the paddle from Amber’s mouth and slapped it lightly across her breasts. It was a playful smack meant just to sting, but it also served as warning of what she could do if she cared to.

  Amber craned her neck and kissed her Mistress on the lips, assuring her of her complete dedication. ‘Do you enjoy owning slaves, Mistress?’ she asked huskily, nuzzling against her neck.

  ‘Yes I do, girl.’

  ‘I hope you’ll enjoy owning me, Mistress.’

  ‘I think I will.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Testing Time

  Belinda felt sick enough as she walked through the woods with Jemima to their secret rendezvous without having to stop every few minutes while Jemima checked they were not being followed.

  ‘Do you have to keep doing that?’ she eventually asked in exasperation, struggling to control her churning stomach.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Jemima said. ‘Where we’re going must be kept absolutely secret or else they won’t play. I have to be sure there’s nobody else around.’

  Belinda was already lost. Jemima knew the woods around Shaftwell better than she did and had taken them on a complicated route. She did not think she was far from the village but she was not sure exactly where.

  Satisfied they were unobserved Jemima pulled two pairs of tinted sunglasses from her bag. She put one on and held up the other to Belinda. ‘Now you must let me put this on you.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Just do it, please,’ said Jemima.

  ‘All right.’

  As Jemima fitted the glasses Belinda realised that unlike Jemima’s pair they had black card taped over the insides of their tinted lenses. They also had wire extensions that hooked tightly over her ears so they could not slip down. Wearing them she was virtually blind.

  ‘Is this really necessary?’ she asked, as Jemima took her arm and led her off again, stumbling slightly as she went.

  ‘Yes, because they don’t know you yet,’ Jemima explained. ‘Before they can trust you they’ll have to test you to see if you’re a real slave girl. That’ll be so exciting!’

  ‘Oh, yes… fantastic,’ Belinda said, struggling to sound enthusiastic while secretly willing death on Arabella for forcing her to take part in this disgusting charade.

  ‘You do want to do this, don’t you?’ Jemima asked.

  ‘It’s just that I want to pretend to be really scared,’ Belinda added quickly, grateful that Jemima could not see her eyes and read the lie behind them. ‘It makes it more exciting that way. I’ll probably scream and beg for mercy a lot, but…’ she gulped ‘… you’re not to take any notice, understand?’

  ‘I understand.’

  Blindly Belinda allowed Jemima to lead her out into more open air and along what felt like a winding field boundary path. Then she felt firmer ground underfoot and they walked along a lane for a few yards before they turned and passed through a door into some sort of enclosed space with a hard floor and a musty smell. The door clattered shut behind them. Jemima positioned her in the middle of the floor, pulled off her glasses and stepped back.

  Belinda blinked. She was in some sort of large shed-like space with blacked out windows, illuminated by the yellow glow of four oil lamps standing on boxes spaced in a ring with their polished metal reflectors throwing their light on her. Unidentifiable objects covered in dust sheets were stacked about the walls, but she did not have time to take in any more details because her attention was fully occupied by the three sinister figures standing in front of her.

  They were large and lumpen and clothed all in black. Masks of some dark material covered their heads and faces, leaving only slits for their eyes and mouths. The middle one pointed a finger dramatically at her: ‘Belinda Jenkins!’ he said in a grating voice. ‘You have asked to become our slave. Are you ready to be tested to prove you are sincere? To prove you wish to experience the extremes of pain and pleasure?’

  Belinda gulped. ‘Yes…’ she squeaked,

  ‘Then strip yourself naked before us!’

  Biting her lip, Belinda forced her shaking fingers to begin unbuttoning her dress. As her slip followed and cool air began to caress her bare flash she felt numb and dizzy. This could not be happening to her. It was unreal. It must be a dream. Better that it was a dream.

  And then she was trembling and naked except for her shoes. They did not comment so she made no move to take them off. It was a tiny comfort to be insulated from the grimy and terribly real floor of the shed.

  ‘Put your hands behind your neck,’ the voice rapped out. ‘Hold still and hide nothing!’

  She shut her eyes as they closed in about her. She felt their filthy, strange male hands as they stretched and snapped her nipples, squeezed her breasts, pinched her buttocks and cupped and fondled her pussy. They bent her forward and pulled her legs wide and examined her rear, spreading her bottom cheeks to expose her anus. She moaned in revulsion and would have sunk to her knees if they had not been supporting her.

  Finally they pulled her upright again, so that she stood swaying unsteadily before them.

  ‘You are judged to have a pleasing body,’ their spokesman said. ‘Now you will beg to be our slave and to be tied up and beaten. And after that you’ll beg us to fuck you!’

  Belinda whimpered. She knew she could not maintain her pretence much further, so she fell back on a desperate invention that might cover up her true feelings.

  ‘Yes, please tie me up and beat me, Masters,’ she sobbed brokenly. ‘I’ve been a bad girl and I deserve to be hurt. But I’ll scream and beg you to stop so you must tie me up hard and g
ag me. Then you can f… fuck me as much as you like. But you’d better do it now or I’m going to run away…’

  She made a lunge for the door but as she hoped and dreaded they caught hold of her. ‘Let go!’ she shrieked. ‘Get your filthy hands off me you… umphhh!’ One of them had stuffed a wadded ball of cloth into her mouth and tied it in place, stifling her protests. Now she had no choice which came as a terrible twisted relief. The playacting was ended and she could let her fear and revulsion take over….

  She kicked and sobbed and fought with all her strength as two of them held her while the third pulled a small packing crate out from the shadows into the middle of the room. Large nails had been hammered into the corners of the crate about which were tied the ends of lengths of rope. They forced her on to the top of the crate, which was covered by a folded blanket, where there was just room enough for her to kneel on hands and knees. Then they bound the ropes about her wrists and ankles. The ropes cut into her skin as she tried to tear herself free, but soon she was tied down on all fours like a dog. They brought out a length of rope with a broad unbuckled leather strap on one end and an iron hook on the other. They threw the strap end over a beam above the crate. The rope was long enough for the ends to dangle level with her body. The men buckled the strap about her neck like a collar. The hook end they brought round to her out-thrust rear.

  Belinda’s eyes bulged in horror as she realised what they were going to do and she twisted her hips about in a desperate attempt to evade them. But they caught hold of her bobbing haunches and held them steady while they pried apart her frantically clenching buttock cleeks and forced the blunt tip of the hook into her anus. She wailed through her gag as she felt the unyielding beak of iron open her sphincter wide and slide up into her rectum, trapping a bite of her flesh in its embrace and hooking her like a gaffed fish.

  They ran the rope further through the ring of the hook until it was taut. The other end pulled up on her collar so that she lifted her chin and her arms were straight, while the hook dug deeper into her tender entrails. They tied it off when her back was dipped and her head and bottom were painfully raised, drawn up and inward by the tension of the rope slung over the beam above her.

  From out of the shadows the men produced bamboos with flat strips of rubber tied to their ends and held them in front of her eyes so she could see every detail. She moaned and shook her head, rolling her eyes in a mute plea to be spared. But of course it was futile.

  ‘This is how we treat bad girls,’ said their leader.

  They swiped the paddles across her taut buttocks and up between her spread thighs to kiss the pouch of her sex. From either side of her they attacked her freely dangling breasts, smacking into their sides and setting them shivering and jumping, or else swinging their paddles upward to drive her hard nipples deep into their parent flesh bells which flattened against her ribcage and then sprang resiliently back into shape. While the crisp smacks of rubber on flesh rang out Belinda howled as the flesh of her breasts, buttocks and pubes blazed.

  She knew the blows were not as hard as they might have been and did not cut her flesh, but piled upon her fear and shame how they hurt! Tears ran down her cheeks which bulged with the gag stuffed inside them and burned in sympathy. Her hook-stretched bottom swung about on the end of its rope like a fish fighting a fisherman’s line, the jerks transmitting themselves over the beam to tug on her collar, digging its edge deeper under her chin, by now wet with her tears.

  Yet under the pain there was lurking the seeds of arousal because with every smack on her behind her anus clenched by reflex about the hook that impaled her. Soft flesh sucking on hard iron as it worked to and fro within her, which was insidiously sensual and horribly comforting. It was an iron dummy for her rear to chew on even as it violated her. She felt warm slickness seeping between her pubic lips only to be beaten away by a paddle smacking wetly into it.

  Of course it was preparing her for the final degradation. That was the idea of the beating: to make her beg for sex and welcome their disgusting penises inside her. She would have begged for them now if she could have spoken. She just wanted it to come to an end. Yes, please just fuck me and be done! she screamed in her mind

  And then the beating stopped, leaving her swaying from her ropes, her breasts and buttocks hot scarlet and stinging and throbbing. A terrible sense of relief flooded through her as the pain abated and she almost felt grateful for what was to come.

  Hands took hold of her hips and a cock was rammed between her wet stinging sex lips. She gasped as she was plugged to the hilt and he began to pump away inside her, the thrusts making her body swing from its restraining rope, pulling her head up and dipping her haunches down and setting her hot breasts swaying in time. Fortunately the beating had aroused him and he came in a minute, filling her sheath with his hot slimy outpourings.

  She expected another cock immediately he had withdrawn but there was instead a rubber hose that flushed her vagina out, the discharge falling into a bucket. Then another straining flesh shaft was rammed up inside her.

  To her acute shame she came over the third cock. She could not help it and for a few seconds as the bliss of the orgasm rippled through her she felt a surge of raw sensual joy that knew nothing of convention. Distantly she heard stifled laughter as her discharge dripped onto the blanket. Then they got stuck back into her again. How many of them had that been? She was losing count. Like Arabella’s men they must be having her a second time round. Would this never end? Another cock and another… and she came again.

  Belinda realised they were pulling the gag from her mouth. Her raw sex hung open to the cool air, seeping and dripping softly. The heavy tang of semen and her own juices filled the close dark air.

  It was over and she felt shattered and defiled. The brief pleasure her orgasms had given her was nothing compared to depths of her humiliation. One last wretched lie remained and it was all she could do to utter it: ‘Thank you… Masters,’ she choked through her dry lips.

  After Jemima had led Belinda, now respectably dressed and wearing her opaque dark glasses once more, out of the shed, the Cranborough boys pulled off their masks and scratched gratefully.

  ‘That was great having to fight with her like that!’ Gosset exclaimed, amid a general chorus of agreement.

  ‘I’d no idea Belinda had such neat boobies!’ Harris observed.

  ‘And what about that tight cunny?’ Bicks put in.

  ‘Swapping about so she only saw three of us at a time was a good idea,’ said Parsons. ‘You don’t think she counted five different prongs going into her?’

  ‘Shouldn’t think so,’ said Jackson. ‘Right, let’s get changed. We’ve got to get back.’

  In ten minutes they were back into their school uniform and had concealed their belongings amongst the clutter of the shed for future use. Going outside they shut and locked it, leaving the key concealed under a stone for Jemima to collect later.

  ‘Great idea of Jem’s to use this place,’ Bicks said. ‘She’s quite smart really. For a girl, I mean.’

  As they made their way back to the school talking over the finer qualities of their newest sex slave, Harris said thoughtfully: ‘Funny thing though. Some of the time I thought Belinda was really upset about what we were doing to her. She was crying because she was genuinely unhappy, you know.’

  ‘I thought that for a moment when I was having her,’ Parsons admitted.

  ‘That must just be how she wants to play the game,’ Gosset said. ‘It stands to reason. I mean why else would a free woman beg to be spanked and screwed?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Reunited

  Sue’s face lit up with hope as she opened the Hoakham Wood cottage door to Miss Newcombe. ‘This time?’ she asked breathlessly.

  Miss Newcombe smiled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I’m already,’ Sue said, ushering Miss Newcombe in
side. ‘Do I look all right?’

  Sue’s formerly creamy skin was now artfully bronzed, only a few shades lighter than her hair, which had been straightened and cut back to a pageboy bob. Miss Newcombe inspected her critically and then nodded. ‘Yes, you look perfect.’

  ‘How is Amber? And Melanie?’

  ‘They’re both fine. Melanie is safely back in the Hall pack and you’ll be seeing Amber very shortly.’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready… Mistress,’ Sue said. Her heart was thudding with excitement. She had been waiting for what seem like forever to return to where she knew she belonged.

  ‘Then set the alarms, turn everything else off and lock up. Any perishable food we can take with us.’

  Fifteen minutes later they were upstairs in the spare bedroom with a bag of assorted groceries beside them. At Miss Newcombe’s direction Sue was now wearing a demure summer dress, sandals and hat.

  ‘You’ll have to appear dressed in public in it at least once before I can take you as my bondslave and I don’t want to attract any more attention that necessary,’ Miss Newcombe explained. She lifted a corner of the small floor rug laid out beside the bed and placed an ivory disk under it. Sue recognized it from their return home weeks earlier as a phallus box homing beacon. ‘From now on we can come here directly to this exact spot. I’ll be sending you or Amber back here regularly to keep the cottage maintained. It will be useful to have a safe place to cross over to. What about the rent and other services?’

  ‘Amber set up standing orders to take care of all that before she left,’ Sue confirmed.

  ‘Good. Then I think you can drop your pants and go down on the mat on your hands and knees. Keep hold of the groceries.’

  Eagerly Sue obeyed, pushing her smooth soft buttocks and naked split peach of her pudenda out ready for penetration. She could feel her sex already growing slippery with anticipation.