The Girlspell III

by William Avon

  They could not see the hatch from where they were secured, only hear feet advancing along the floor. Then a bright torch shone in their faces.

  ‘That’s the one, in the middle!’ she heard a woman say. ‘Secure the other two so they can’t raise the alarm.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The Ordeal

  Melanie blinked and squinted as the hood was pulled off her. She could at least see now but a ball gag was still plugging her mouth, reducing her growls of protest to indistinct grunts.

  She found herself looking into the pale gagged face of Jane Newcombe. Melanie had known she was not alone when the men had taken her out of the box they had used to carry her here in and strap her in place. She had heard muffled and distressed female voices about her as the men had pushed blobs of lubricating jelly up her rectum with their large rough fingers. But only now did she see who she was sharing that same fate with and realised how bad their situation was. To either side of Jane were Amber, Sue and Jemima, shaking their heads and blinking as their hoods were pulled off in turn. Like Melanie they were also naked, gagged and bound.

  The five of them were confined within a frame of wooden posts and beams roughly nailed together, some seven or eight feet across and about the same high. It had a base of six struts radiating out in a symmetrical star tied together at the ends with flat planks to form a hexagonal ring. From the ends of these struts angled posts sloped inward to a second smaller hexagonal ring of beams, braced by another inner strut star. Nailed to this upper ring and to the lower ends of the posts were lengths of buckled leather belts, to which their wrists and ankles were strapped.

  They stood on the ring of planks with their legs spread wide, hanging from their strapped wrists above their heads and leaning inwards with their backs dipped and haunches outthrust. These strained postures were forced upon them by bulldog clips that had been clamped to their nipples and tied down to the radiating base struts, stretching their breasts downwards and in towards the middle of the frame.

  The frame stood on a floor of old mouldering hay that filled the air with its must. Enclosing them were the dark post and rough plank walls of a barn, hung with hurricane lamps. Beside one of these lamps stood two hulking men, both stripped to the waist with black bandit hoods covering their faces. They carried lengths of bamboo cane and were eyeing the array of helpless female flesh before them with evident lecherous interest.

  ‘I’ll take your gags out in a moment,’ a woman’s voice said from behind Melanie. ‘But don’t bother screaming for help. There’s nobody to hear you at this time of night out here. However do feel free to scream from pain at any time. Or you might like to try begging for mercy. It won’t do you any good, of course, but I’d just like to hear you trying.’

  Melanie knew that voice only too well and it sent a shiver down her spine, even as she twisted round to try to see the speaker.

  Arabella strode into view. She was wearing a long, buttoned, black coat and riding boots and carried a crop. She had a black silk mask tied across her eyes which covered her face from brows to upper lip, but there was no doubt it was her.

  She walked round the ring of her captives, idly stroking their bottoms and tickling their pubic pouches. ‘Five pretty maids all in a ring,’ she said. Then she smiled and patted Jane Newcombe’s bottom. ‘Or should I say four maids and one Matron? You see I know all about your little gang.’

  Jane was shaking her head and trying to speak. Arabella reached round and pulled out her gag, letting the ball hang from its rubber cord about her neck

  ‘Miss Westlake, this is very a foolish and irresponsible act,’ Jane said. ‘You may think kidnapping these bondslaves is just petty theft, but Jemima and I are free women. That’s a serious crime.’

  ‘But I’m not Arabella Westlake,’ said Arabella simply. ‘No, Arabella is staying with friends in the north. Everyone knows that. I’m Nemesis, the masked avenger.’ She laughed. ‘There are so many masked mystery men roaming about Shaftwell right now I thought one more wouldn’t hurt. And you know it’s very liberating wearing a mask. You can do anything you want to people.’ Her voice suddenly became harsh and for a moment her rage showed. ‘Such as stripping them naked and tying them up and shaming them in front of all their friends! Do you know what that does to somebody? It changes them so that they…’ She took a deep breath and continued in a more even tone: ‘So you mustn’t complain, because it was you who started it. Poetic justice, really, that it should end like this, but very necessary.’

  By now Melanie was wondering if Arabella had gone slightly mad. She’d been callous enough before but now she was clearly obsessed with revenge. Her stomach churned in fear at the thought of what she might do.

  ‘Whatever grievance you might believe you have against us you still can’t get away with this,’ Jane persisted, trying to sound reasonable. ‘We’ll be missed.’

  ‘But not for hours at least and maybe not all night,’ Arabella said. ‘That’s how I arranged it, which means there’s plenty of time for justice to be served and revenge to be enjoyed to its full. I considered punishing the boys, but they’re only your tools, aren’t they, Sister? Anyway when they find out what happened to you and realize it was their fault they’ll be punished enough. As should all spies and traitors!’

  By now Jemima was crying and shaking her head. Arabella moved round to her and pulled her gag out. ‘Have you anything to say for yourself?’

  ‘I… I’m so sorry,’ Jemima choked. ‘Don’t blame them for what I did.’

  ‘But I do,’ Arabella assured her. ‘And I used your naïve stupidity to help trap the rest of you.’ She glanced across at Jane. ‘You didn’t know your boys were dressing up in their masks again and playing private slave games outside school with Jemima’s connivance, did you? And they thought Belinda wanted to play as well. You should never have trusted her, although I have to say she appears to be regretting it now. Pity. If she’d been stronger she could have been here now and watched you get what you deserve. But it seems nobody has the stomach to do what they know is right anymore. Anyway, we’d better get on. Judging by the bulges in their trousers my associates are eager to begin. Have any of the rest of you got anything to say first?’

  She went round pulling out Melanie, Sue and Amber’s gags.

  ‘If this is about me beating you in that fight in the kennels then let’s keep it between us two,’ Melanie said, biting her lip against the pain of her clamped nipples.

  ‘Do you think you can beat Arabella again?’ Arabella asked, stroking Melanie’s taut smooth back as though to assess its strength.

  Melanie clenched her fists. ‘Just give me the chance.’

  ‘Perhaps. We’ll see. Anybody else?’

  ‘I put the boys up to it,’ said Amber. ‘Stealing Sue from you, luring you to the playhouse, the lot. Don’t get these people involved.’

  ‘How noble and self-sacrificing,’ Arabella said. ‘But then why do you now belong to our good Sister, and why is she setting up a harem for the boys at the school and bringing Sue, Arabella’s rightful property, back under a false name and pretending she belongs to her? And she’s even custodian of this brown bitch’s reward money. No, I can see now who the real power is here.’

  ‘Then punish me if you must,’ Jane said. ‘If the boys and these girls have been working under my direction, as you seem to believe, then I’m responsible.’

  ‘If you want me back so much, take me and let the others go,’ Sue said. ‘I’ll be your slave. I’ll do anything you want.’

  ‘No, Sue, don’t!’ Amber said.

  Arabella gave a derisive laugh. ‘You’re all so ready to sacrifice yourselves. But that’s not the way it works because you are all guilty one way or another. Now I want you to see each other suffer. That’s the payback for what you did to Arabella! I want to see you all beg for a screwing, so you understand what it’s
like to be humiliated.’ She gestured to the two waiting men. ‘Do it just like I told you…’

  The men came forward, grins showing beneath their masks. They unbuttoned their flies and freed straining erections and heavy ball sacs. They stroked their shafts, showing their girth off to their captives while swiping their bamboos through the air.

  ‘You want a piece of this, bitches, you gotta beg us for it!’ they taunted them in delight. ‘Until you get these up you we’ll tan your arses raw!’

  And they began to swing their bamboos with vicious delight across the circle of five upturned and defenceless bottoms, dodging round the frame and laying their canes about them with wild abandon, sending shockwave ripples through smooth female buttock flesh and leaving burning crimson stripes of skin in their wake. Yelping and gasping in pain the women jerked forward in an automatic response to escape the searing blows. But as they did so they pulling agonisingly on their clamped and tethered nipples, trapping themselves between twin torments. The air became thick with the hiss of canes and the crisp smack of soft yielding flesh. Five sets of buttocks clenched in reflex while heaving breasts were stretched into unnatural shivering cones.

  As Melanie reeled in pain, straining at her straps, she suddenly thought: Why am I being brave? She was a trained Markham packgirl and had no shame or false pride to protect. If a screwing was less painful than a beating then she would beg for it and preserve her body as intact as she could for its rightful owners. Nobody else would suffer if she demeaned herself. Perhaps Arabella didn’t understand the strength being a slave gave her.

  ‘Fuck me, Masters!’ she shouted. ‘I want your cocks up inside me! Please screw me!’

  Rough hands took hold of her hips and she gasped as she felt a hard rod of flesh ram into her vagina with brutal delight. She yelped as she was driven forward by the force of the thrust, stretching her brown breasts. But she was not being beaten which meant it was one source of pain less to cope with.

  She heard Sue and Amber pleading for their abusers’ cocks almost together, and then Jemima began to beg. The swish of the canes was suddenly replaced by the grunt of men pumping into pussy sheathes. Her user pulled out of her, leaving Melanie feeling empty as he moved round to pleasure Jemima. She heard Jane plead: ‘Please screw me!’ and saw the man who had been up Sue shuffle round to her, while the other man pulled quickly out of Jemima and moved on to Amber.

  ‘Say “Thank you”!’ Arabella commanded.

  ‘Thank you, Master!’ they gasped as the men pumped into them.

  A few pokes in each hole and then they move on, spreading the shame around and letting them know they were simply there to be used. They had become a circle of blushing, increasingly raw-edged sex slots, miserably eager to be used. By instinct and self defence their juices were flowing and dripping on the straw. The same juices were being passed around the circle from one hole to the next on the men’s cocks, which by force of will had yet to spurt. They knew the cocks they felt pounding so briefly up inside their vaginas had been in the others but that did not matter. They were all sisters in suffering now and at least their simmering buttocks were being spared. The torment was they were not inside them long enough for them to gain real pleasure. But then this was all about Arabella’s twisted pleasure and not their own.

  ‘Now have them up their bum holes!’ Arabella said. ‘I want to see bruises!’

  The men pulled out of Amber and Sue’s slots that they had been occupying and drove into their tightly crinkled but already greased anuses. The girls squealed as they were violently broached, causing their bottoms to bulge. As the cocks thudded into their tight and unwilling rectums they were thrown against their nipple tethers once again. After a few thrusts into each tender orifice the men pulled their glistening shafts out of the sucking anal mouths and moved round the circle and plunged into the next available bottom.

  Suddenly one of the men groaned: ‘I can’t hold it!’

  ‘Inside the Matron!’ Arabella snapped. ‘Quickly!’

  He stumbled round to Jane, took hold of her hips and rammed his shaft up her rectum. Melanie saw her face contort as he plugged her rear passage to its painful limit and then with a grunt spent himself deep in her entrails. No sooner had he emptied his balls then his partner was pulling him out of the way, his cock coming out of Jane’s greased bottom with an audible sucking sound, and ramming his brimming manhood into Jane’s vagina. In seconds he had also ejaculated and with a sigh of relief pulled out of her, wiping his cockhead clean on her sore bottom. As Jane sagged limply from her bound arms sperm began to drip between her spread legs from her doubly violated orifices.

  Triumphantly grinning, Arabella took hold of Jane by the hair and pulled her head up so she could look into her eyes. ‘I hope you can feel their spunk inside you, and the juices of your fellow sluts. That’s what you get for plotting against Arabella, understand?’

  Jane nodded, too shocked to speak. The other girls could only look on helplessly. By now they were a miserable bunch of captives with their tethered breasts heaving, filmed with sweat, legs trembling, pussies and rectums bruised, bottoms blazing, backs and shoulders aching. And they knew their ordeal had only just begun.

  ‘You sluts liked that, didn’t you?’ Arabella said with contempt. ‘It’s all you’re good for. Even Matron got a bit of a thrill having a common cock or two up her privileged pussy hole. Well now we’ll try something else…’

  At her command the two men began dragging objects out of a shadowy corner and arranging them side by side facing one wall of the barn. They were roughly made chairs set on flat wooden platforms. They had high backs, no proper seats except for narrow ledges down the sides, widely splayed front legs and were well hung with restraining straps. Behind each of the chair backs was a curious mechanical contrivance that Melanie could not make out clearly from her angle of view.

  One by one, all the captives except Melanie were unstrapped from the frame and dragged across to the chairs, whimpering as the circulation painfully returned to their squeezed purple nipples. They now saw close up the devices beneath the empty chair seats and hanging on their sides and began to moan and struggle but they could not prevent themselves being strapped rigidly into place with their legs spread wide. Straps across their foreheads held their heads upright and facing forward.

  It was as she realized that only four chairs had been set up that the men came for Melanie. They unstrapped her and took her instead across to the wall opposite the chairs. Here she saw a long rope had been passed over a pulley block hung high up on the end of a roof beam. On one end of the rope was tied a block of building stone resting on the ground while on the other was a leather harness. The men buckled the harness onto Melanie, strapping her wrists behind her back and binding longer straps over her shoulders and crossing them between her breasts and about her waist, so that she could not slip out of it.

  Melanie examined the rope and pulley arrangement. She could move as far as the rope leash allowed, as long as she could lift the stone counterweight as she did so. At the moment the stone was secured with a short rope and hook to the side of a wall post, but once it was free it looked as though it was long enough to allow her to reach the line of chairs. But why had she been separated from the others like this?

  Meanwhile the two men had gathered up their coats and hats and put them on. Arabella handed over some banknotes to them. ‘Well done,’ she told them. ‘That will be all for now.’

  They touched their caps respectfully and went out of the barn to their cart parked outside. As Arabella dropped the latch bar back into place the women heard the cart clip-clop away into the night. She came back from the door casually unbuttoning her coat and then tossing it aside. She was wearing nothing underneath and stood before them naked from the top of her boots to her mask.

  Arabella’s skin was creamy, her breasts pale and proud, her buttocks strong and smoothly rounded a
nd her pubic curls were as golden as the hair on her head. Even caught up in her fear Melanie thought: God she looks hot!

  ‘There, that’s better,’ Arabella said, smiling brightly, tucking her riding crop down the side of one boot. ‘All girls together now. We’ve nothing to hide, have we? Except for your deceit and treachery, of course. You did your best to hide that but you weren’t clever enough. And now you’ve got to pay for it.’

  Melanie saw Jemima was biting her lip to stop from crying openly. The others said nothing, fighting to control their fear. They knew it was pointless to beg. Arabella was beyond reason.

  ‘I expect you’re wondering how this is going to work,’ Arabella continued, walking round behind them and tapping the mechanisms attached to the backs of the chairs. ‘Well this is my version of an indoor thistle ride. At the top, you see, is a big bucket full of sand with a corked funnel in its base. When opened the sand will pour down and fill and turn the cups on this paddle wheel that works through a ratchet that cranks up these sprung arms on either side of the chair holding these posies of nice spiky thistle which will be smacked against your breasts. To make proper targets of them I’ll just wrap these straps about their roots….’

  She moved between the chairs binding thin leather straps about their breasts until they bulged into trembling pink mushrooms. Then she positioned the thistle bundles so they rested against the fronts of their breast over their nipples.

  Arabella continued as if giving a lecture: ‘Then the sand pours down into this lower bucket with sits on this treadle lever. As it sinks it pushes this rod upwards.’ She indicated a rod sliding through a vertical sleeve that was positioned below the empty seats in line with their buttocks. The rod tip was formed of a series of wooden beads with a hole drilled through their centres on which they were threaded. They were mounted in increasing size from half an inch to two inches across. ‘These will go up your bottom holes, of course. They might feel a bit hot because they’re smeared in mustard. I’ll just line them up…’