She turned and left to take her own place on the small stage.
I know exactly what to make of it, Vanessa thought as she watched her go.
She didn’t want to witness whatever perverted spectacle they planned, but she had no choice. She might as well cover it as though she was a proper reporter for Zara’s sick little magazine. The evidence would speak for itself later.
Vanessa snapped off several pictures to capture the atmosphere and then began jotting notes. But how could she describe such a bizarre scene? Concentrate on getting the bare … no, the basic facts and gut impressions down first, and put them into context later.
There was a stir among the slave-girls and Vanessa saw Shiller, still wearing the same conservative suit, come in through a side gate and make her way to the podium. Although smaller and slighter than anybody else around her, somehow it was obvious who was in charge. Shiller moved to the front of the podium as though to speak. Vanessa hung her notepad on her belt and held up her recorder to catch her words. More damning evidence, hopefully.
‘We are here today to welcome twelve more special young women who wish to join our company. Bring in the new recruits!’
To waves of enthusiastic applause, twelve naked women were ushered in through a side gate by the black pony-girl driver and marched over to the arc of mats. Their hands were bound behind their backs but they wore no collars. They were blonde, brunette and redhead, large-and small-breasted, pale-skinned, olive and coffee-dark. But all were pretty, blushing, nervous and excited. They knelt down on the mats facing the podium.
Vanessa fumbled with the camera, trying to take pictures of the new girls and record what was said. She tried hooking the recorder on to her collar ring and it rested on her sternum.
The pony-girl driver joined the others on the podium. Shiller smiled benevolently down at the new girls, before addressing the crowd.
‘Many years ago I saw there was a need that was being shamefully served, partly due to long-established prejudice, and partly due to so-called enlightened modern morals. Many people sought sexual services of a nature beyond what society considered normal and reasonable, which were being satisfied often by cruel and criminal means. This led to the degradation of body and spirit of those who had unwillingly to fulfil those desires.
‘Surely, I thought, this can be done both more efficiently and fairly, without the innocent and desperate suffering? Human beings are infinitely variable. Why not seek out those who enjoyed giving themselves for the pleasure of others, free them of guilt about their natures and so satisfy that demand for sexual submissives and masochists in a safe and profitable manner?’
Shiller looked at the twelve new girls.
‘So I began the programme of psychological testing and evaluation that has brought you here today. Now you are ready to submit yourself to strict discipline, eager to experience sex in all its permutations and willing to suffer for the pleasure of others. You are special, never forget that. In the outside world these tendencies might make your lives difficult, since they are seen by some as aberrations. But down here it is the norm.’ She opened her arms to encompass the watching slave-girls. ‘These girls have all undergone the training process you are about to embark upon, and have graduated to the sisterhood of the chain. They are now, as you will be soon, proud to be slaves!’
There was a burst of spontaneous applause. The kneeling girls were smiling wondrously and some looked close to shedding tears of joy. For a moment even Vanessa felt uplifted by the wave of emotion. Hell, she thought, Shiller’s almost got me believing in it.
The Director continued. ‘Soon you will put on the collars that will bind you to the service of this company. They are the badges declaring your special natures. All Shiller girls wear them proudly. Our working unit is a group of twelve girls or “chain”. Chains come in six basic colour bands: red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and pink and purple, with additional divisions within each band, so that no two working chains will ever have the same name. They serve not only as means of identification but as a bond between you.
‘As part of a chain you will live and work together more intimately than you have with any other human beings, forming a companionship and trust that will stay with you for the rest of your lives. You new girls will join the red collar band as “Cherry Chain”. While you work for us you will be identified by your Christian name, your number in the chain chosen alphabetically, and your chain name.
‘Shiller girls are very proud of their own chains, and there’s some friendly rivalry between them, as you will discover. But ultimately every girl here, whatever the colour of the collar she wears, is your sister in slavery. She will have undergone the same training and submitted herself to serving the same purpose. That is a bond stronger than any link of steel.’
There were nods and sighs of understanding from the assembly. Vanessa became aware of a growing closeness in the training compound. Underneath the fleshy warmth of so many bare bodies and the mingling of their perfumes, was a uniquely female scent of mounting excitement and anticipation. Nipples of all hues and sizes were visibly rising and spreading.
‘Shortly you will make your public declarations and accept your collars,’ Shiller continued, ‘and then your training will begin.’ She gestured to the people on the podium with her. ‘These will be your trainers. Do not think it will be easy. For the next month their task is to break down any lingering inhibitions or doubts about your true natures. At times you may well be driven to tears. But it is all part of the process of forging you into self-confident, well-adjusted and above all happy submissives; finding pleasure in pain and humiliation, and eager to perform any sexual service required of you.’
The smell of sexual heat was getting stronger. Vanessa saw a few of the watching girls were quite openly rubbing their fingers through their pussy furrows.
‘Now I will ask you to make your declarations of submission …’
Miss Kyle stepped up, holding a list in her hand. ‘Amber Langford,’ she called out.
Eyes sparkling, the first girl on the left of the line got to her feet and went forwards. She had short red hair and pale, freckled skin. Her large breasts swayed heavily as she moved.
She knelt again before Shiller at the foot of the podium and said in a tremulous but clear voice: ‘I wish to become a slave. I surrender myself to the service of the Shiller Company to make whatever use of me they wish.’ Then she bent forwards and kissed Shiller’s shoes.
Miss Kyle handed Shiller a collar from the table.
‘You shall now be known as Amber 1 Cherry,’ Shiller said, closing the collar round the girl’s neck.
Amber stood, turned to face the audience, spread her legs and bent forwards so that she presented her backside to Shiller. Miss Kyle handed Shiller the cane from the table, who used it to deliver three quick cuts across Amber’s rear, making her yip in pain and sending ripples through her soft flesh.
‘Thank you, Mistress,’ Amber said huskily through her tears. She went back to her mat and knelt again, showing her now striped and glowing buttocks to the watchers.
More of the slave-girls were rubbing themselves now. Vanessa could see a pair of girls standing hip to hip, each fingering the other.
‘Charlotte Powell,’ Miss Kyle called out.
Charlotte was a slender blonde with small pointed breasts. She accepted her collar and became Charlotte 2 Cherry. The stripes from Shiller’s cane showed lividly on her golden skin.
Almost all the watching slave-girls were masturbating now, filling the yard with the perfume of their arousal: the natural exudation of four-score exposed pudenda belonging to healthy young women trained to express pleasure without inhibition. They seemed almost unconscious of their actions as their eyes were locked on the scene before them.
Unsure where to look, Vanessa felt herself unwillingly caught up in the horrible fascination of it all. There was a deep perverted thrill in seeing each girl in turn voluntarily giving up her freedom, accepting bondage, r
eceiving her first punishment, and then being grateful for it!
By the time a striking Indian girl with coffee-dark skin and a mane of honey-blonde wavy hair became Kashika 5 Cherry, Vanessa was having trouble concentrating on her job. Her own nipples were up and there was moistness in her pubes that, while squirming, she tried to ignore. Were all the female pheromones being sprayed around her turning her on? The mass enjoyment of such a degrading spectacle had to be wrong, but at that moment it did not feel so.
When Yvonne Jerrard finally became Cherry Chain girl 12, girls in the crowd were coming with little gasps and sighs. The air was saturated with their lustful aroma, and Vanessa was biting her lip as she tried to resist its allure, sliding her wrists and knuckles nervously about her crotch in a foolish attempt to pretend she was not actually toying with herself.
Shiller raised her hands and the crowd stilled. Fingers dipped in sticky holes ceased to rub and twirl. Even through her confusion Vanessa thought: she has some presence, I’ll give her that.
‘Cherry Chain is now complete,’ Shiller declared.
There was a fresh round of applause.
‘Now they begin their training.’ She glanced at Vanessa. ‘In one month I hope we shall gather again to celebrate their graduation, but for now please leave the yard …’
Obediently, the girls turned and began filing out of the yard, laughing and chattering, rubbing provocatively against each other, leaving the new recruits still kneeling on their mats. Vanessa followed after the rest. Looking back, she saw the masters descending from the podium to stand over the new girls, who looked up at them with excited, fearful eyes …
Then the yard gates were closed.
What would they go through now, Vanessa wondered?
Happy girls were milling about the High Street. Some in twos and threes were hurrying away hand-in-hand, with the air of having urgent business to be concluded. A few could not wait that long and were pressing each other up against walls and kissing passionately with an utter lack of inhibition or concern as to who was watching.
Vanessa still felt a little light-headed. Could being close to so much passion make you drunk? She knew it was both one of the most erotic and the most disgusting things she had ever witnessed, but at that moment she could not tell which prevailed. She was acutely aware of her still wet labia, and hoped nobody else would notice. Then she realised that at that moment none of them could care less.
It was gone five-thirty when Vanessa got back to the magazine office. Zara had left and the main room was half empty.
Vanessa spent a few minutes downloading the camera, notepad and audio files to her computer. She did not mind the delay, preferring the building to be as empty as possible before leaving to avoid having to share a lift.
She put her report data on to a CD to work on at home. Her computer station did not support any less bulky data transfer system, presumably as a security precaution. Even naked she might be able to smuggle out a data key, but it was not physically possible to do the same with a CD. As she worked, she thought about the trick that had been played earlier down in level B3, not just on her but on all those present.
Yes, there had to be a deception somewhere, of that she was certain. Shiller and her cronies seemed to have persuaded at least a hundred girls into accepting a life of slavery, but that was crazy. You didn’t do such a thing in this day and age in the middle of London. Shiller had made a fine speech, making it all sound so reasonable, but at the heart of it all there had to be a flaw. And she would surely seek it out.
Vanessa collected the disk and turned off her computer. Now she’d have to go all the way back down to the B3 locker room and get her phallic spywear put back on. Well, she’d better get it over with. She got up to leave, looking automatically around her, then sat down again guiltily.
She’d left a shamefully dark wet patch on the chair where her pussy had leaked.
She fumbled about in the desk drawers but there were no tissues, or anything she could use to mop up the tell-tale mark. Her own travel pack of tissues was in her bag down in the locker room. Why hadn’t she thought to bring some essentials with her? Too late now. She knew it was ridiculous, but at that moment she could not bear the thought of leaving behind such an intimate sign for anybody to find. She had at least to preserve one scrap of dignity.
There were only a couple of women left in the office now. Dare she wait until they’d gone and risk searching other desks? What time did the cleaners come round? Oh, hell! She sniffed loudly a few times, then got up and made her way over to the nearest woman.
‘Excuse me, Madam,’ she asked meekly, keeping her eyes lowered, but do you have a tissue, please?’
The woman, who had frizzy black hair and olive skin, looked her up and down calculatingly. She wore a necklace with the filigree name charm of ‘Rona’ dangling from it. Vanessa bit her lip but endured the scrutiny.
‘So, Zara’s toygirl wants a tissue?’ Rona said with a thin smile.
‘Please, Madam.’
‘If I give you one, does that mean you won’t mention my name when you turn us all in?’
Vanessa now knew she’d made a mistake. ‘Sorry to bother you, Madam. I’ll go …’
‘No!’ Rona said commandingly. ‘Tell me why we should be nice to you?’
‘You’ve no reason at all, Madam,’ Vanessa admitted.
Rona looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a handful of tissues. Dangling them in front of Vanessa she asked: ‘OK. Here they are. What have you got to give in exchange?’
Vanessa realised as they’d been talking that the other woman, a blonde with her hair tied in a long single plait, had come up behind her. It was too late to back away. With a terrible inevitability she knew what was coming. All she could do was choose to co-operate or make a futile show of resistance.
‘I can give you the same as Zara got,’ she said.
The woman grinned.
‘Share her?’ the blonde-plaited woman asked, putting her arms round Vanessa and squeezing her breasts experimentally.
‘OK, Pru, but I go first.’
Pru pulled Vanessa’s arms behind her and clipped her wrists to her belt, even as Rona sat back in her chair and hitched up her skirt. Like Zara, she wore no knickers. Her vulva was plump and pouting, the crinkled tongue of her inner labia showing between her outer lips. As Vanessa was forced down on to her knees before her, she pulled her sex-mouth wide. Also like Zara, she was pierced by three gold rings.
Pru pushed Vanessa’s head forwards, ramming her face into Rona’s ready pubes. Almost smothered by warm, wet clinging flesh, Vanessa began to lick and nuzzle. At least she could get it over with quickly. Pru knelt between her spread knees, reached down and cupped her dangling breasts, pinching and squeezing.
‘Come on girl, you can do better than that!’ she shouted, thrusting her hips up against Vanessa’s bottom to force her deeper into Rona’s vagina.
‘Maybe she needs some more attention at your end?’ Rona suggested, grasping a handful of Vanessa’s hair to control the bobbing of her head.
‘Pass me that ruler …’ Pru said.
The flat length of plastic smacked hard across Vanessa’s buttocks. Her yelp of pain, half-smothered by Rona’s vagina, made the woman laugh. Desperately, Vanessa redoubled her efforts.
‘That’s better,’ Rona said. ‘Ohooo … yes! She’s using her tongue properly now. All she needed was a little encouragement …’
The ruler swished down and delivered a second blow …
By the time Rona came, Vanessa’s bottom was a stinging blaze of scarlet. Hardly giving her a chance to catch her breath, the women switched places, and Vanessa’s face was rammed into Pru’s smooth-shorn pubes, urged on by a fresh round of swipes from the ruler.
And then the pain, disgust and shame became something else. It was as if all the arousal she had received that day had been stored up inside, and now it was about to burst out of her as punishment and temptation weak
ened her resolve. She could not help it, only surrender to its demands. As the wonderful immense wave of pleasure built in her loins, she slurped and licked her way round the sweet folds of flesh in which her face was buried with desperate new vigour.
‘Oh … shit! She’s getting good!’ Pru exclaimed.
Vanessa was now glorying in every stinging, smarting blow of the ruler, which highlighted and intensified her pleasure. She was going to come and it would be huge …
Then Pru gasped, lathering Vanessa’s face with her juices. Her hips jerked a few times, then she settled with a contented sigh. The ruler ceased its blows. Pru pushed Vanessa aside and she toppled to the floor.
She lay there squirming and flopping about like a fish out of water, her face shiny with sweat and female discharge, hair wild and straggling, her bottom bright-red from spanking. Her eyes were hollow and desperate, while her blushing pudendum, swollen with unfulfilled need, dripped on the carpet.
‘Please … I want to come as well!’ she begged.
The two women smiled down at her as they smoothed their skirts and tidied their hair.
‘Underneath she’s quite a slut, isn’t she?’ Rona said.
‘She gives good tongue,’ Pru added.
‘But could she take it from a man?’
Pru grinned. ‘Let’s see if she’s deep enough …’
They grabbed Vanessa’s ankles and pulled her legs wide. Prising open her hungry vagina, they took the ruler and slipped it up inside her. Vanessa’s eyes bulged. The ruler’s edge and ends were rounded, but it still pierced her like a blade. Two-thirds of its length disappeared before it came to a stop somewhere around her cervix.
‘Well, that should give them room to enjoy themselves,’ Rona declared.
Vanessa groaned, her agony unabated. The unnatural intrusion of the ruler had almost brought her off, leaving her teetering on the edge – fearful of the hurt she might suffer if her vaginal tunnel went into orgasmic spasm.
‘Look at the mess she’s making on the floor,’ Pru said. ‘She’s hot for it.’
The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) Page 10
