by William Avon
She crouched in front of the chairs adjusting screw fittings and winding the rods up until the smallest bead of each stack was jammed into their greased anal mouths. Jemima gasped and whimpered as the stinging bead began to burn in her sore anus.
‘Of course you’ll fight them but the weight of the sand will increase and keep pushing them up inside you one bead at a time. Now as you can see running up in front of the rod is this lighter sprung arm with a nice fat sprig of holly tied to it. The boys introduced Arabella to the joy of having holly stuck up her pussy so I thought I’d return the favour. As each bead goes in there’s a ratchet which will swing the holly back and give you a smack with it. As the rod rises higher there’ll be more prickles to kiss your pussy mouths, which I think should be open wider to get the full effect…’
Arabella pulled pairs of rubber cords with wire hooks on their ends round from the sides of the chairs, drew them over and under their splayed legs and hooked them about the outer lips of the four captive vulvas. The women gasped as their labia were pulled painfully wide, exposing their vulnerable pink sex valleys with the delicate ridges of their inner lips, the mounds of their clitorises and the dark mouths of their vaginal wells, still red and gaping from their recent hard usage. And now just in front of them stood the threatening, needle-spined holly sprigs.
‘I’m sure you’re wondering by now where Melanie fits in,’ Arabella said. ‘Well it will work like this. I’m going to pull the corks and start the sand flowing and then I’ll release the tie holding down the stone she’s roped to. It will take about ten minutes for all the sand to run through into the bottom bucket, by which time I expect you to be quite uncomfortable.’ She pulled her riding crop from her boot and swished it through the air. ‘That’s the time Melanie has got to get past me and save you. She can undo a wrist strap with her teeth or something. I’ll leave the details up to her.’
Melanie gulped. This was a twisted recreation of the fight in the kennel room back at the hall that the boys had forced between them. Except now the odds were heavily stacked in Arabella’s favour and with what was at stake she could not refuse to fight. But it was a mockery of a rematch.
‘You call that a fair fight with her strapped up like that?’ Amber said.
‘No, I call it a fight on my terms because I am master here,’ Arabella replied. ‘Life is not fair! Would you rather I left her tied to the wall so you had no chance at all?’
Amber did not reply. Arabella went round the backs of the chairs and pulled the corks from the bucket funnels. The sand began to hiss softly into the paddle wheel cups. Then she crossed to the wall and undid the rope holding down the counterweight, stepping quickly away from Melanie.
Melanie edged towards Arabella, leaning forward as she pulled the counterweight off the ground, setting the pulley squeaking. How was she supposed to fight her with her arms tied and hauling this weight that upset her balance? But she had to try. She feinted to the left and then lunged right. If she could get side on to Arabella perhaps she could shoulder her to the ground. But she was too slow. Arabella stepped aside and swiped her crop across Melanie’s exposed breasts, sending her staggering backwards gasping in pain.
The chair paddle wheels began to click round. One by one the thistle sprays swung back and smacked the array of bound breasts. The women yelped as the spikes stabbed into their tender flesh. As they pulled back they left a few spines embedded in their nipples.
Melanie tried to kick at Arabella’s shins, but she skipped backwards out of range.
The burning anal rod popped a larger bead up into Amber’s rectum, forcing its way past her anal sphincter. A glossy green holly sprig smacked into her open sex and she gritted her teeth to stifle a shriek of pain.
Back and forth Melanie dodged and dived, trying to get past Arabella, the counterweight pulling her backwards, she straining forwards, dragging the rope over the squeaking pulley.
The captives’ strap-bound breasts were going purple. Where the thistle spines had dug deep there were spots and trickles of blood.
Melanie tried to head-butt Arabella but she ducked aside and swiped the crop across her back.
Jane gasped as two beads slipped past her straining anal sphincter in quick succession and filled her bottom even deeper burning mustard. Her groan of pain was punctuated by sharp yelps as the full spread of her holy sprig smacked twice into her peeled-wide vulva.
Melanie managed to connect with a kick against Arabella’s wrist, knocking her crop from her hand. Melanie tried to barrel past but Arabella tripped her up. By the time she had scrambled to her feet Arabella had recovered her crop.
Tears streaked Sue’s cheeks and dripped onto her full breasts that by now looked like purple melons bristling with thistle spines, bouncing and shivering as she jerked at her straps.
Arabella swiped her crop across Melanie’s stomach, making her double up in pain.
Jemima shrieked as the holly smacked into her stretched pussy mouth, digging its prickles into her elastic pink sex lips. The fear and pain became too much and hot pee hissed from her cleft onto the straw.
Arabella swung her crop up between Melanie’s legs to smack with agonising force into her bare pubes. Melanie yelped, staggered and fell over backwards, pulled over by the counterweight that thudded back down to the ground.
By now Jane, Amber, Sue and Jemima were all writhing in their straps as their rectums were half filled with burning mustard-coated bead rods. Their anal mouths were stretched alarmingly wide while the sand continued to pour into the lower buckets, building up the pressure on their bruised and simmering rears. Their groans and whimpers of pain filled the air of the barn and they gazed helplessly at the fight between Melanie and Arabella through tear-filled eyes.
‘Can’t you do better than this?’ Arabella taunted Melanie as she staggered to her feet with dust and hay stalks in her hair and plastered over her sweaty body. ‘I expected more of you.’
‘Let them go!’ Melanie pleaded.
‘Make me!’ Arabella retorted. ‘Unless you do I’m going to really hurt them. That’ll be on your conscience. Do you want that?’
And then Amber cried out, her voice cracked with pain: ‘You can beat her, Mel. Because she wants to lose!’
Melanie saw a flicker of alarm or perhaps even fear cross Arabella’s face and she half turned to shout something angrily back at Amber. For a moment she was off guard and in that split second Melanie lunged, twisted and kicked with all her strength. Her heel connected cleanly with Arabella’s jaw. She spun round off her feet and thudded to the ground unconscious.
Sobbing with relief Melanie ran toward the chairs and their row of squirming, agonised occupants. Two yards short she was jerked over backwards as her tether rope grew suddenly taut. Dizzily she looked round. A strand of the rope where it passed over the pulley had unravelled, jamming the wheel. She scrambled to her feet and backed up but the rope went slack and the jam would not clear. The stone block dangled too high for her to pull it down from the other side. She lunged forward again, trying force the jam through the wheel, but it would not budge.
She looked despairingly into Amber, Sue, Jemima and Jane’s tear-filled eyes as the holly sprigs smacked harder against their naked sexes, the burning beaded rods forced their way higher inside their rectums and thistle sprays beat across their bulging, purple breasts. She was going to have to watch them suffer. How badly would they be hurt before the sand ran out? ‘I’m sorry!’ she sobbed.
With a thud and crash the barn doors bowed inwards as they were struck heavily from outside and the latch bar burst out of its catches. The doors flew wide and the Major, Platt, Jackson and his friends, all waving cricket bats like clubs, charged into the barn looking ready for a fight.
The bizarre scene brought them up short.
‘Oh, Arabella, what have you done!’ the Major exclaimed in heartfelt dismay.
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Chapter Twenty Three
The Harvest of Revenge
Half an hour later the five women were seated together on the straw bales in a corner of the barn, as comfortably as their sore bottoms allowed, huddled under the Major’s carriage blankets.
They had pulled the worst of the thistle spines from their bodies and water had been brought from a nearby horse trough to douche their mustard-filled rectums. Platt had been sent back to the hall to bring back another carriage to transport them all home. While the boys stood guard over a groggy Arabella, the Major was still apologising profusely to Jemima and Miss Newcombe, while trying like a gentleman not to look at the intimate bare parts of them that the blankets did not quite cover.
‘I blame myself for not taking a firmer hand with her earlier,’ he said. ‘To treat bondslaves like this is bad enough, but to inflict such appalling suffering and indignities on two decent free women is utterly beyond my understanding. How can I ever apologise?’
‘Well I don’t blame you in the slightest, Major,’ Jane Newcombe said. ‘We’re just pleased you arrived like the Seventh Cavalry in the nick of time. How did you find us?’
‘By roundabout means,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Alison Chalmers, my kennel maid, you know, chanced to see a letter on Platt’s desk supposedly sent to Melanie from Mrs Skelton, asking her to come to her house to sort out some matter to do with her post office account. Alison’s a bright girl and she wondered why the postmistress would ask Melanie to go to her house at a time when she would still be at the post office and there would be nobody at home, since she’s a widow. Platt then checked on a call, apparently made from the school saying Melanie had then gone on to your cottage, and found they knew nothing about it. Alerted, Mr Speers went down to School Cottage and discovered signs of a struggle and you and Amber gone. Checking the grounds they also found the old stables unlocked, Elizabeth here missing and Sally Potts and another slave gagged and bound.’
‘Please, Major, are they all right?’ Sue asked anxiously.
‘They’re fine, girl,’ he assured her.
Melanie saw him frown at Sue as he spoke, perhaps wondering if he’d met someone very much like her once before, which of course he had. But the moment passed. Tonight was not the time for further mysteries.
‘It was Sally who said she was sure the voice of the masked woman who seemed to be masterminding the abduction was Arabella’s,’ the Major continued. ‘By that time I had driven over to the school with Platt and heard her statement. I said that was impossible because Arabella was staying with friends in Northumberland but she was adamant. She has spirit that one. The senior boys had been helping in the search and young Jackson over there suggested we question Jemima and Belinda Jenkins, who had been close to Arabella in the past and might know something. These plucky lads insisted on coming along in case we met up with the mystery woman’s henchmen on the way and because they seemed to have a great deal of concern for your safety, Sister, not to mention that of their school slaves. As there was no time to alert the police I agreed. At Jemima’s house we found she was supposed to be staying over with Belinda, but when we checked she was not there. However Belinda was in quite an emotional state and broke down. In confidence she confessed that Arabella had been blackmailing her into finding out who was responsible for her recent humiliation so she could exact revenge. For some reason she had determined it was you, Sister, and Jemima, and that these bondslaves were also somehow implicated. Belinda told us the location of this barn and so we made for Lower Boxley as fast as we could.’
‘You haven’t told Constable Bailey about any of this yet?’ Jane Newcombe asked.
‘There’s been no time. Of course I understand you’ll want to press charges. But first you must have medical attention. I’ll rouse Doctor Gideon as soon as we get back.’
‘I’m sure Mister Platt can take care of us,’ Jane said. ‘I understand he’s had plenty of practice treating injuries that Arabella has inflicted.’
Melanie could see Jane Newcombe’s keen mind calculating the consequences despite what she had just been through. She was certainly a determined woman. She glanced at Melanie, her eyebrow raised slightly. Melanie smiled and nodded.
‘Sometime soon, Major, we must have a long talk about certain matters,’ Jane said. ‘But for now I suspect you would prefer that Arabella’s recent activities were not made public, for the sake of the family name.’
Melanie saw hope flicker in his eyes. ‘Of course, Sister, but this is too serious to ignore.’
‘I don’t mean we ignore it, Major, or that she goes unpunished, only that we adjust the facts slightly.’
‘But too many people know something serious has occurred,’ he pointed out, ‘both at the school and Jemima and Belinda’s homes. They’ll want to know who was behind it all.’
‘We can put it down to one last escapade of the masked slave theft gang, who you and these brave boys have just heroically chased out of the district with sore heads to be seen no more,’ Jane suggested. ‘I’m sure Belinda would go along with such story if she’s made to seem more of a victim than a collaborator.’ She looked across at Jackson. ‘You’d be willing to support such a story, wouldn’t you, Antony?’
The boys suddenly looked unusually contrite for potential heroes. ‘Yes, Sister,’ he said meekly.
‘But what about Miss Moncrief?’ the Major asked, looking sorrowfully at Jemima.
Melanie saw understanding growing in Jemima’s eyes, but she had one reservation. ‘I will as long as Arabella can’t hurt anybody else ever again like she has us,’ she said firmly.
‘But what can I do with her?’ the Major said. ‘I can’t keep her locked up in the Hall without good reason. That would make a nonsense of the whole scheme. Yet she’s clearly not safe to leave unsupervised.’
Melanie said gently: ‘I think Amber knows what we should do with her, Master.’
‘Arabella was deliberately forcing the situation to its limits, Major,’ Amber explained. ‘You know she loves being as close as possible to abject slaves, to experience their pain and fear and submission. Well if you think about it there’s one stage further she could go, except that her upbringing wouldn’t permit it. She kept going on about masks being liberating and talking about herself in the third person, like she was separating herself from her past. I think she was making the transition from master to mastered in the only way her pride would allow, maybe not even admitting it to herself. She wanted to lose so somebody else would make the big decision for her.’
‘Ahh…’ said the Major gravely as he caught her meaning. ‘Yes, I think begin to see now. I have heard of cases like this.’
They all turned to look at Arabella, who was now sitting huddled up in a corner with her face in her hands. Melanie got up and walked stiffly over to her.
‘You know the only way out for you now?’
‘I know,’ Arabella said in an uncharacteristically meek voice.
Melanie extended one foot. Arabella bent over on her hands and knees and kissed it humbly. ‘Thank you for beating me,’ she said.
‘But I still can’t keep her at the Hall,’ the Major said.
‘I can take care of her,’ Jane Newcombe told the Major. ‘If we change her appearance nobody else need know. Just say she’s travelling abroad for a year or two.’ She looked at the Cranborough boys. ‘Don’t worry, they won’t tell.’
Sue asked: ‘Major, does Arabella have a middle name she doesn’t use much...?’
Epilogue
A New Girl
A week after that exciting night Cranborough School was getting back to normal.
Constable Bailey had investigated and taken statements, but admitted there was little likelihood of catching the gang now. However after the shook they’d had they would probably give Shaftwell a wide birth from now on, and, as Bailey said: good riddance to
them! Meanwhile Jackson and his dorm mates were being unusually modest about their part in the affair and seemed to want to put it all behind them. Besides, the senior boys had something else to think about. As Sue and Amber were still recovering from their ordeal, Sister Newcombe had obtained a new girl for them to make up the numbers.
‘Her name is Prudence,’ Sister told them as she led the first group of half a dozen boys along the slave pen room to the end stall. ‘She responds well to a firm hand. You have permission to use spanking paddles on her if she’s slow to obey or displeases in any way.’
The eager boys gathered round the end of the last pen.
Spread out on her back on the mattress was a girl in a slave collar with cool blue eye and short dark hair. She was perhaps a couple of years older than Sue or Doreen, but with an excellent figure and full breasts capped with nipples that stood up brazenly hard with anticipation. Her mouth was held open with a ring gag and her vulva was excitingly smooth-shaven. Standard cuffs were locked about her wrists and ankles. Ropes from their tethering rings ran through a series of large eyebolts that had been screwed into the side boarding to a hand cranked windlass mounted on the post by the front of the pen. Adjusting this gave the girl as much freedom to move about as was desired. Currently Prudence was tautly and very invitingly spread-eagled.
They looked down at her appreciatively, as the growing bulges in their trousers showed.
‘As you can see she has an overactive libido and will require regular attention,’ Sister said. ‘So I thought the whole year can start by having her. You’ll be the first batch.’ She took a spanking paddle from its hook and handed it to the nearest boy. ‘I suggest you warm her up before you start. She enjoys discipline. Remember to clean her out after each spend and…’
