Chapter 21
Her ‘tutors’, the gruesome twosome, had decided to hold what they called ‘a little farewell party’ on the penultimate night of their ‘educational’ stay for some of their ‘lovely’ friends? No doubt it would prove to be a nightmarish affair if the attendees were anything like her two tormentors or others of similar ilk she’d encountered in recent months. Given the horrendous world she now inhabited, she had few illusions about the type of guests likely to attend. None of them, she knew, would have the slightest sympathy for her plight or be inclined to lift even a little finger toward helping her escape from this horrendous existence.
The unexpected announcement had given her no hope but rather a sense of grim foreboding. Given her circumstances, such visitors, whatever age, sex or anything else they might be, would be sure to all have one thing in common. A sadistic perverse temperament and a complete disregard for the well being of those innocents, such as herself, unlucky enough or foolish enough to have fallen into their evil clutches. They certainly wouldn't be at all, lovely!
Gertrude, her new name, was on door duty. Gertrude, what a horrendous name! Not that she had any say in the matter, for they had so named her that first day. At least a dozen times a day since one or other of them would look at her, snap their fat fingers and shout, “Name, girl, name?” Her response was to immediately stop whatever she was doing, stand straight with her hands on top of her head and respond. “Gertrude, my name is Gertrude Madam!” Sometimes the younger horror would come closer, too close and snigger, “What do I call you when you make me happy doing your homework, girl?” She would swallow her nausea and answer, “Gertie, Miss Alice, you call me your sexy Gertie girl”.
Still, door duty was a touch of light relief after an arduous week of heavy scrubbing, endless cleaning, cooking, baking and ten-fold other duties under the ever-present threat of savage physical punishment. Nor had she been spared her revolting nightly ‘homework’ sessions with one or both of the two disgusting women. At least she hadn’t been alone in her endeavours. The emancipated cowed man known simply as Wanker had worked assiduously alongside her by day and night, and even her two oppressors had deigned to lend a hand here and there in the kitchen occasionally!
There had been some initial debate between mother and daughter about respective party roles, but gruesome senior had settled that. Wanker had been assigned the barman's job under the direst of threats should he be caught sampling anything. Likewise, in his other capacity as buffet attendant while she was allocated to cloakroom attendant and the initial ‘meet and greet’ role and then, “Well, we will see after that once the dear guests have arrived how she can make herself useful”. Mama had decreed ominously. “We don’t want to overtask her somewhat limited domestic capabilities do we!”
”Yeth, I’ll make thure the thlut behaveth properly, mother”, Miss Agnes had chortled. “Leth thave her fat botty for thith party tho thee better behave herthelf or elth!”
Gertrude had already decided that being on her very best behaviour, as they so put it, was a no brainer. Given her awful circumstances, it would be highly foolish to behave in any other fashion. What was new anyway? Her whole life for months and months now had been one long attempt to provide perfect satisfaction! Perfection rarely achieved in the eyes of her tormentors. Still, earnest endeavours sometimes reduced the inevitable physical chastisement that was now as much a part of her daily life as was getting up in the morning!
Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried to please, these sadistic bastards would never be satisfied. They enjoyed wielding cane, whip and paddle far too much to expect avoiding such punishment altogether. All she could do was strive to see that her efforts had a mitigating effect on the severity!
Tonight she found herself kneeling on the cold polished chequerboard tiles of the hall near the partially open inner door of the front entrance porch. Tiles that she had scrubbed and then polished till she could see herself reflected in the surface of the gleaming black ones. Head bowed, eyes submissively downcast, awaiting the imperious click of Miss Agnes’s fingers or her shrill lisping, spittle spraying call to action.
That smooth, shiny surface showed an attractive woman's anxious, frightened face in her early forties. An ageing face vastly enhanced by the ever-present obligatory thick layer of cosmetics. It remained a surprise that the severe acne that plagued her teens resulting in more than one scar had not erupted anew. Her pores must be clogged to hell, for her face had rarely been free of powder and paint, not since that first time a few weeks or so after her capture and capitulation.
That horrendous evening remained in her mind much as she would have preferred to banish the awful memory. It was seared into her brain like a brand, the first true major humiliation she had suffered, the first of hundreds and hundreds and no doubt countless more to come, but she’d reached a point now whereby they hardly registered.
No, that was not true. No, she could not kid herself. Every humiliation, no matter how minor still festered, still caused her hackles to rise and yet she was helpless to prevent such and dare not reveal her true feelings for a moment. If only that latter action were correct, she had failed time after time to do just that and suffered the consequences of her truculent impudence on many occasions! She had learned to debase herself though much to her disgust and self-loathing!
Gertrude blinked franticly as her eyes began to prickle. No, no way, not now. She dare not allow her eyes to water, dare not give in to tears. It wasn’t fear of being seen as weak that prompted her desperate desire to remain dry-eyed, for she’d cried often enough in the past at the pain and humiliations heaped upon her. No, it was more a case of self-preservation for the present. Runny mascara and eyeliner would not be tolerated, and the intolerant had excruciating ways of registering their displeasure!
They had demanded that she make herself look ‘especially’ beautiful for the wretched party. Show everyone what a sexy whore she was even if she was ‘a patht her thell-by date fucked out old thlut’, in Miss Agnes’s opinion. However, her mother had ordered, and the ugly old harridan must be obeyed. ‘Make yourself an extra pretty girl for everyone to admire. The guests do so enjoy looking at pretty sexy girls, so make it lovely slut, make us all happy and horny if you know what’s good for you. Pretty girls might even get treats, whereas ugly old fat slags could find themselves entertaining people in other ways, might they girl?
The evil old toad had smirked at her while her foul daughter giggled gleefully, sucking noisily on a pudgy thumb as her mother flexed that wicked a long rattan cane in her bony white hands to emphasise her cruel remarks. That evil length of bamboo that rarely strayed out of her reach!
‘Ugly old fat slag!’ that had rankled. Not so much as an insult because she was well used to them, but what a classic case of the ‘pot calling the kettle black’ taking her two hideous obese tormentors into account!
Make herself look pretty! It was one of the many demeaning daily acts that she’d regularly performed during her captivity and felt just as appalled and ashamed now as upon that first occasion. That humiliating evening when she’d busied herself applying numerous cosmetics before the dressing table mirror in that She-Devil Patricia’s bedroom a few weeks after that fateful breakdown had condemned them all to what already felt like an eternity in Hades! Making herself pretty, papering over the cracks, touching up the aged paintwork and other hateful terms frequently addressed to her before being touched up herself by her beautiful owner and so on! It was yet one more humiliation that she’d come to loathe yet dared not disobey.
Gertrude, Gertie, as they laughingly called her, stared at herself, blinking furiously to keep the dam wall from breaking and release those tears. Alone and inactive, her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to that first hideously embarrassing experience, one that had probably scarred her far more than those she now carried on her body! An unseen mental scar of the mind destined to remain long after those first physical ones would have faded from her flesh along with the others that would inevitably replace them many times over.
Those first marks and the searing pain that had accompanied them had ultimately resulted in her mortifying surrender to the woman whose remorseless hand had so effectively imprinted them upon her helpless body. The same handsome woman who had lounged naked and at ease on that vast bed seemingly absorbed in a fashion magazine. The spider queen relaxing in the very centre of her monstrous web seeming indifferent while the newest entrapped fly applied sauce to titillate the monster's appetite before she devoured it.
There had been no need to turn her head, for she could see her tormentor in the big dressing table mirror. See her turning the glossy pages as she idly flicked through the magazine. See her occasionally glance at her watch and then over at her victim with that impassionate cruel yet lustful gaze. The hungry she-cat preparing to snack on the canary, and she was that hapless little bird who’d already felt those terrible claws too many times!
Somehow it had seemed different down in that terrible cellar, that modern equivalent to a medieval dungeon torture chamber. A hideous place wherein she’d journeyed from anger, shock and disbelief, via pain and humiliation, to abject grovelling submission before that same implacable woman. Dignity, self-respect and personal pride pitilessly flogged out of her till broken in body and crushed in spirit; she’d finally whispered words of compliance and then performed the loathsome act that confirmed her absolute surrender to that evil bitch.
That memory never failed to produce a shudder at the recollection of her cowardice. Her utter failure and yet what alternative had there been beyond pain and yet more pain! Now, head bowed to the floor as ordered by Miss Agnes, that image staring back out of the black tile reminded her of that first time, of another reflection. Her face in the big dressing table mirror. Her hand, shaking a little as it carefully applied that awful shade of red lip gloss chosen by the woman on the bed behind her. Her mascara caked eyes widening as she looked at the terrible woman who claimed ownership of her—watched in horrid fascination her free hand lightly massage that tangle of dark wiry hair that covered her vulva. The slender fingers were gently stroking the very spot that marked her absolute submission and surrender to the cruel tyrant!
She’d watched, knowing that the ultimate humiliation was soon to begin again. Down in that dimly lit cellar surrounded by its various frames and benches, frightening implements of pain and degrading sex toys, it had seemed different somehow the first time she’d capitulated and crawled up that bed toward an impatient beckoning finger. A spate of sobs as she’d hesitated before committing that revolting final act of surrender, that hideous, awful, demeaning task that would acknowledge her absolute submission to the evil woman’s complete authority.
A pause quickly cut short by the agony of a savage stroke from a long whippy cane to her tortured bottom. She’d performed the odious task with tears streaming down her face to join and mingle with the excited musky wetness that leaked from the woman who pushed her face deeper into that tangle of dark pubic hair. Hair that provided a degree of modesty now denied her own pubic area courtesy of wax strips and razor by the same hand that held the cane.
That same evening she was taken upstairs and seated in front of a big mirror, her eyes again smarting with tears she dare not shed. The foul bitch had been impatient, and any delay would result in swift punishment. The punishment she no longer had the courage or inclination to challenge or fight. Those tendencies had been ruthlessly beaten out of her! She lived in constant dread of feeling those instruments of torture upon her poor bruised body again.
Beaten in body and beaten in spirit and worn down worrying about her family. Not a single restraint upon her, not a single restriction, technically free and yet she sat in fear slavishly applying makeup to enhance her face. Striving to make herself as attractive as possible, like a virgin teen embarking on her first date or attending her first dance. But, unlike that fondly remembered occasion, she was not wearing her best outfit, her newly purchased shoes, the subtle enhancing makeup she’d copied from her favourite teen magazine. No, she was doing her best to turn herself into a centrefold model, all powder and paint plus glossy stiletto heels, stockings and suspenders but no pants or bra, of course. No, not allowed her ‘Mistress’ had decreed; all her sexy slut bits had to be on view at all times from now on!
However, she was neither a teen nor a virgin nor in any way innocent. No, she was a married woman in her forties under orders to pretty herself up, to look sexy, to look like a classy whore for her Mistress. To betray her sexuality, her dignity, her pride to flaunt and display herself for the sexual titillation of another woman! Subsequently and far worse to submissively crawl to that woman’s crotch and sate her unnatural sexual desires with her tongue.
Her instinct was to rebel, to refuse, to fight back and for a brief moment that felt like an eternity, she had paused, lipstick to lips as shame and a cold fury pulsated through her body. The figure reclining on the bed turned a page, the rustle and movement catching her eye so that her gaze moved from pursed lips to something else and then the spark of rebellion died within her. Extinguished as her gaze fell on that same long whippy bamboo cane laying on the bed so conveniently near the hands of her self proclaimed Mistress and owner.
The chill under her knees returned her to the present. There was no heating in the hall, and It was cold kneeling in the hallway; she shivered, but her tremor wasn’t entirely from the chilly floor tiles. Her body shuddered at the recollection as it always did whenever her mind drifted back. It hadn’t been the first time her tongue had to perform that loathsome task, but it was the first outside of that hideous dungeon. Upstairs in the everyday normality of an ordinary bedroom, unfettered, unrestrained, it had seemed tenfold worse. Why should she still shudder at the memory she wondered? God, how many times had her tongue been used similarly since that first time!
*****
Escape was impossible, she’d finally decided, and futile attempts to attract attention from the world outside had merely exhausted her. Tired, discouraged and feeling nauseous from the constant rolling and bouncing, Jenny had attempted to relax and sleep several times but found it impossible. Would it be a good idea anyway, she wondered. Sleep would bring only short-term relief from the horrendous journey, but it would also, in its way, hasten her arrival at the destination, wherever that was. The unknown end, although she had her suspicions. An arrival she regarded with increasing apprehension and with few illusions as to what it would entail. Sleep would not banish the ongoing nightmare, would it? A living nightmare beginning every morning when her eyes opened rather than when they finally closed for the night, surrendering to blissful, carefree slumber!
She glanced sideways in the dim light that filtered through two dirty fibreglass skylights towards Jezebel, her travelling companion, now snoring softly again as she swayed in her restraints. Was that to be her future, she wondered? To passively accept her fate, to fall so readily into innocent oblivion regardless of the known and unknown horrors that lay in wait. Perhaps to have become so accustomed to such atrocities that they were simply an accepted part of her wretched life?
No fucking way! Not her, no! No, no, no, and a hundred times NO! Not a chance; she was forged from far sterner stuff. No, these evil perverted bastards would not succeed with her. She was a woman, a human being, a person, an independent free spirit with aspirations, goals and interests. She had a brain, a university degree, a life of her own to lead. She was fit, healthy, attractive, sensual with an athletes body and a high IQ. A marathon runner, Uni and county track champion at the 10,000 meters. A vibrant free spirit on the threshold of the most critical period of her life. Jobs, prospects, relationships, family, future, ambitions, everything that was important!
She had a name, Jenny, the one on her birth certificate, driving licence and passport. Not, repeat NOT, Patootie’, that ridiculous one given her by that precocious little brat sitting somewhere upfront. She was not, repeat, NOT an animal and these crazies would all fail in their ridiculous ambitions with her. They would not turn her into one despite all their whips, their restraints and their abhorrent obscene mindless cruelty!
That cruelty, though, was not mindless, was it? There was a purpose behind it, a hideous perverted unbelievable purpose, and she had seen its end results and felt their evil means of achieving such an absurdity upon her body and wanted no part of it. That other little bitch upfront, the redheaded one, had spent, what, three, four weeks torturing her daily. The bitch who’d dressed her in the inescapable harness and horrid boots.
The way that evil little wretch who’d done such horrible things and done so in such a calm, casual yet calculated manner. That was the most frightening thing of all she’d decided. What to her was a horrific experience that shook her very sanity. Yet to her tormentor's such acts as she experienced or witnessed seemed the daily norm in their twisted, insane world!
Her anger flared hotly, and her eyes flashed with a fiery resolution unseen in the dim wobbling aluminium enclosure. Her rage in that instant seemed uncontainable to the point of exploding out of her. At one and the same time, she was Supergirl, Wonder Woman, Black Widow and a host of others. Her powers were limitless, she had only to flex her muscles a trifle, and with one bound, she would be free and in another wreaking terrible revenge upon her foolish captors!
Poor timing for the trailer suddenly bounced as the off-side wheel hit a rare pothole throwing her violently from side to side, but she did not fall, nor did she cast off her bonds, leaping exultantly towards freedom. The straps restraining her position allowed her to sway but not to fall yet did nothing to subdue the travel sickness in her belly or the crushing realisation in her head.
The watery vomit that surged up her throat and exploded out of her mouth held open by that uncomfortable ring-gag effectively dampened her declaration of freedom and independence. That jubilant surge stillborn, immediately extinguished by the thin foul liquid that left a burning taste in her mouth and splattered down upon her naked breasts, leather corseted belly, then dripped upon sturdy thighs and hoof booted feet.
She would have sagged in her bonds had those restraints allowed it, but they did their impartial job and allowed no leeway. Bonds that were as much for her captors benefit as hers ensuring that their valuable cargo would arrive at its destination undamaged, unbruised, if somewhat shaken! What did a little vomit down her front matter when those long legs were soiled with her stinking body waste? The straps also ensured one other important thing; they rendered escape impossible!
As that brief burst of euphoria died within her, killed off by a few inches of missing tarmac and a surge of vomit, the returning realisation of her helpless plight overwhelmed Jenny anew. Her limbs did relax, and tears began to flow down her cheeks and dilute the vomit staining her prominent young breasts.
She sobbed loudly, unaware that her youthful owner was watching an enhanced low-light image on her cell phone a few yards away in the front of the towing vehicle. Eva couldn’t see the tears, but the sobs were audible, which made her giggle as she flashed the screen at Heather, who’d just looked at her watch then asked her to check on the two animals in the trailer behind.
Heather smiled, then removed one hand from the steering wheel, and her index finger pointed to the info section on the sizeable dashboard satnav. Refreshments three miles ahead. Eva nodded approvingly. “Gotcha, I’m famished, you check our passengers when we stop, and I’ll go flash the cash and do the honours. I am starving; I could eat a fucking horse!”
The two girls looked at each other, instinctively glanced up at the rear-view mirror and then, given the trailers ‘equine’ content, simultaneously burst into silly girlish giggling laughter!
*****
Each time the front doorbell chimed her cue to stiffen to attention as she knelt if such a minor increase to her already rigid deportment was possible. Miss Agnes had already cuffed her twice for ‘thlacking off, for her lack of adopting a pleathing thubmithive pothture’, and she had no desire to feel that gross pudgy hand a third time.
Her ears were still ringing from the second blow when the overloud chimes announced the first of the ‘Honoured guests’ arrival on the doorstep. Guests? It was, she later thought, more like witnessing a parade of posturing freaks along with the miserable occupants of some bizarre Victorian sideshow booths!
She’d had her suspicions ever since the horrible event to mark the departure of the gruesome pair had been announced a few days ago by the mother monster. The return of her foul owner was seemingly imminent, and she’d been surprised to find herself actually perking up at that news. Hell, had she sunk so low as to prefer serving that filthy smelly bitch to the two monsters that currently held sway over her?
The answer after only the briefest of reflections was a resounding yes. A life of hell under one domineering bitch was profoundly better than such a life under two. One pair of hands to apply paddle and cane, not two. Only one moist greedy stinking vagina for her to energetically tongue to satisfaction, plus her latest owner was a thoroughly lazy individual, and that reflected on the demands she made upon her slave, often to the latter's benefit!
Her life, miserable and humiliating as it had been before the horrible mother/daughter duo had arrived, hadn’t been overly demanding. The ‘smelly bitch’ as she called her, had made relatively few demands upon her other than enjoying exercising her dominion over another woman. Yes, her tongue had been utilised frequently to perform endless sessions of cunnilingus upon that foul unwashed area between the bitches legs, and she’d felt the cane across her bottom regularly. However, the main downside had probably been all the crawling on the end of a leash like a dog, denied the luxury of standing upright.
The thought of returning to her hands and knees was not something she cared to contemplate, but then she asked herself, would that happen? Indeed the whole point of the last few weeks gruelling ‘education in domestic science’ at the hands of her present oppressors was to make her more useful about the house. That’s what they had told her innumerable times!
Was that to be her future now, a domestic skivvy by day and the dutiful tamed submissive crawling obediently onto the bed of a smelly lesbian dominatrix every night? Promotion perhaps, but was all the cooking and endless scrubbing worth it? Life as a sort of pet at the end of a leash had not been that demanding after all! The bitch had seemed to exit on snacks, takeaways and microwaved meals previously and domestic chores mostly went ignored.
Questions she’d pondered as she spooned her morning gruel into her mouth as mother and daughter excitedly chatted about a party they’d decided to hold for their friends in the big city. Gruel that she had prepared being the first of a long day of domestic tasks under the tutorage of those two fiends now gorging themselves on the full fried breakfasts she’d also prepared.
As Miss Agnes rushed past her to open the front door, she wondered if she would get the opportunity to taste, perhaps steal, a few of the many savoury or sweet treats she’d been forced to prepare for the buffet. Of course, cooking was hell, and she wasn’t even allowed to taste anything. Her job was to blindly follow the instructions either given verbally or written word to the letter, and if a ‘taste’ was required, it was to be performed by one of her ‘educators’.
There were exceptions, of course, porridge or gruel, as they termed it. Boiled greens such as sprouts and cabbage and revolting lumps of stewed fatty meat and the like plus as much boiled or mashed potato as she could stomach. The difference between the food she and the weedy man they called Wanker ate and that which they prepared individually or together for their tormentors was immense. Not quite a diet of bread and water, but it might as well have been! Indeed, stale bread would have made a change from that awful gruel!
Once and only once, she’d stolen a small piece of crispy bacon and quickly consumed it. How that bitch Agnes had known about it she knew not, but that aged parody of a schoolgirl had uttered a shriek part indignation, part rage and pounced immediately and dragged her before her mother. Consequently, she’d suffered one of the worst floggings she’d ever received, even going back to the early days of her capture at the hands of Patricia, her current smelly owners handsome younger sister.
The front door opened to be immediately followed by a chorus of shrill girlish shrieks and squeals of glee and lots of ‘lovey dovey’ greetings, hugs and kisses. Then she was summoned to action crawling toward a pair of tiny booted feet at the snap of Miss Agness’s fat fingers, the index finger of the same hand pointed down. Her signal to pay her respects to the guests with her tongue upon highly polished leather. That symbolic gesture required only a couple of token licks before she stood erect, curtsied as they’d rehearsed and helped divest the two women of their outer garments.
Try as she might, she couldn’t help being conscious of elderly beady eyes upon her as she performed her task, and hands reached out to touch and to squeeze appraisingly. Evil eyes, she thought in that brief interval as they shrugged out of their coats. Horrible greedy eyes and cruel bony hands upon her as she took their coats.
“This overripe bitch is darling Mabel’s new girl, one presumes, Agness dear. The one I heard that you and your dear mummy have been training for her while she is away?”
“Yeth, thee ith, Mith Dorothy. “But theeth a total thlut!” Miss Agness Chortled, patting her on the bottom. “Thee just loveth licking my puthy all night long inthtead of hard work!”
Both new arrivals were on the small side; dainty, one might say, sporting those elaborately made-up faces significantly older women indulge themselves in to make themselves look much younger - and fail miserably! The white faces, thick caked makeup and ridiculous dyed thinning hair, one bright pink the other mauve, could not disguise the many wrinkles, runny eyes and slight hunching of the shoulders. How old, hard to tell, though the eyes were watery, they were also bright and alive with gleeful anticipation.
Indeed, they’d both long qualified for their pensions, she decided with but a glance. The woman with the awful mauve hair held a long leather leash in her bony hand and tugged hard, bringing the third figure stumbling from the shadows into the hall before Agness closed the door.
The last arrival caused Gertrude to give an involuntary but audible gasp, for she was just a child—a near-naked child displaying evidence of cruel usage and numerous brutal punishments on her thin waif-like body. No, not a child, she realised as she turned away and hurried into the next room to dispose of the coats in her arms carefully. She was a girl but very young with an exotic oriental look about her, probably why she had that long straight, glossy jet black hair almost down to her tiny waist. She was barefooted and clad in nothing more than a ragged white cotton slip that revealed far more than it covered.
The squat obese figure of gruesome senior had joined them when she hastened back from depositing their coats and quickly resumed her subordinate kneeling position momentarily ignored by all of them. Agness and her mother being far too interested in that poor young girl than her for the moment.
“Theeth tho pretty”, Agness chortled, running her hands all over the diminutive figure who stood passively, head down and showing no resistance whatsoever to the fat greedy inquisitive hands that pawed her all over.
“Quite delightful”, her horrible mother agreed. “How long have you had her now, Toni? It must be nearly two years since that time I visited, and you’d only just snatched her, an absolutely wild little thing as I recall! Didn’t I hear that she bit you rather severely once?”
“The ungrateful little bitch sank her teeth into both of us and more than once. Poor Dorothy even had to have stitches one time. It’s a wonder she didn’t get rabies from the slut. You know how slack these foreign types can be about basic hygiene, my dear!”
“Oh my, positively wallow in filth some of them, I’d imagine. Come along in both of you, go through into the parlour and make yourselves comfortable. Lots of tasty nibbles for us to bite into while we indulge ourselves in some long-overdue girl-girl chat!” that hated voice laughed.
“We soon taught her that biting is not something good little girls do!” Mauve hair said and jerked the leash so that the girl stumbled forward as they followed the others into the main room. “Tell me, does Mabel still keep her Creature down below?”
“Oh yes, Agnes has been feeding it every day and sometimes plays with him as well! Come now, ladies; it's cold out here!”
“Thuch thmall titith!” Agnes observed with a note of disappointment evident as she brought up the rear, still fondling the poor girls whip scarred skinny buttocks.
A moment later, the sound of a heavy slap on bare skin followed by a loud girlish yelp sounded, followed by two more slaps and an angry voice. “Don’t you dare show us up, you naughty little savage? I warned you before we came out, did I not!”
There was another loud squeal, and then the door was pushed closed, muffling out both noise and conversation. Once again, she waited on her knees by the internal porch door, momentarily forgetting to adopt that respectful head down attitude as ordered. Her curious gaze flicking between the parlour and front door, wondering when and, perhaps more importantly, who or what the next pervert to arrive would be like? How many grotesque and evil sadists were there in this city, the country or even the world? How could they possibly survive in any ordered lawful society? Given her horrendous experiences to date, it was clear that they not only survived but evidently flourished. Even more surprising was their ready access to a seemingly endless supply of victims like herself.
Her head had was still turned thoughtfully toward the parlour door when Miss Agness bounded out and immediately jumped forward, rapping her knuckles hard on the top of her head, screaming, “Eyeth down thilly dithobedient girl!”.
Then luckily, before there was time for Miss Agnes to deliver further chastisement for her minor lapse, those musical chimes announced another arrival. Saved by the bell or perhaps not given the sadistic nature of these awful perverts, another more chilling thought occurred. Was there anything else scheduled for the evening's entertainment beyond girl-girl chat and tasty nibbles?
*****
Neither asleep nor fully awake, worn out with worry, fatigued and lulled by the dull monotony of the journey, Jenny’s mind had drifted into a state of semi-conscious limbo. She swung helplessly, eyes closed in her harness, hoof booted feet just touching the floor, yet her brain remained sub-consciously active, aware, turning over a jumbled collection of thoughts and recollections. Perhaps due to those half dreams unpleasant nature, she remained nearer to full awakenings rather than total blissful oblivion.
Her thoughts were random with no particular order but had she been more aware, then perhaps they could have been so placed, possibly even categorised to some extent from beginning to end. Freedom to capture to awakening, imprisonment, transportation to bizarre horrors perpetrated in a world light-years away from sanity and normality. All leading to an unbelievable future that was almost beyond rational comprehension or would have been had she not already experienced aspects of that future to an unpleasant degree!
A high ceiling, a blurry white ceiling, a bedroom with flowery wallpaper, heavy old fashioned wooden furniture and one hell of a headache. Vague recollections of being bumped around and of hands and voices. Hands that had touched and squeezed her in places where strange hands had no right to trespass! Water, liquid filling her dry mouth, drinking greedily, choking, coughing and then drinking again.
Voices. Female voices, one calm, firmly decisive, the other young, shriller, petulant, angry, argumentative. “No, not now, no, trust me”. Then the other. “Why not? She’s mine, isn’t she! Don’t be such a contrary bitch, Alice!”
Alice, that name was familiar. Why? Alice? The ceiling suddenly became clearer as her eyes narrowed and focused. The uneven textured paint finish, old stains, the bright dangling pendent light in a cheap oval-shaped paper shade. Alice? Oh, why did her head throb so? Her eyes swivelled downwards, and for a second, she stared uncomprehendingly. Then, the fog clouding both vision and mind snapped into clarity so suddenly that she cried out as the dull throbbing pain in her head changed gear and promptly stabbed deep into her addled brain. Pain that abruptly kick-started her mind into almost complete conscious awakening.
A tarnished old fashioned brass bedstead the colour of sand, or rather the bottom end of one and beyond it, a sturdy varnished wooden door with a white handle. A cheap plastic handle she absently noted at odds with the heavy door and stared at it for some moments as though it were important. Then, shaking off her lethargy, Jenny tried to sit up but found she couldn’t, which puzzled her and her mouth; what! What the hell and her arms and her legs, what! That name, Alice?
“Eyes now open, pony, so it's wakey wakey time!”
They were standing next to her; she recognised both of them. Alice and her younger sister, what was her name. Edith, no, Eve, Eva? They were both looking down at her, and it was the young one who’d spoken. She tried to say something but found she couldn’t. Her mouth was already open; she realised as she uttered several frantic garbled words with difficulty plus a certain amount of spittle!
What was wrong with her? Why could she not move? Oh god, had she been in an accident, paralysed, oh hell no, not that? No, her mind and body simultaneously rejected that theory immediately, for there was feeling in her limbs. She could partially move arms and legs, wriggle her toes and fingers as she started to writhe and struggle against the forces that rendered her body immobile and her voice?
“A new beginning pony, bye-bye, happy, dreamy dreamland, and welcome to your new life in nightmare land!” Eva spoke again, and Jenny noted a distinct tone to her voice that she didn’t like. A sort of sneering, mocking yet also an exultant tone that registered, and for the first time since her eyes opened, she sensed danger. Sensed trouble of a nature as yet unknown, that feeling stronger by far than the barely understood words. A feeling strong enough to set off an involuntary shiver the length of her statuesque frame. The fog speedily evaporated, and clarity returned.
What the fuck! Straps, cuffs, her mouth, that was a gag, a large leather ring behind her teeth, the tight straps painfully cutting into her head on either side. Her tongue was frantically poking through the opening, exploring the leather-textured covering of the uncomfortable device. Lifting her head as far as she could, which wasn’t very far, she instantly took in her unbelievable predicament. Tightly gagged, her arms outstretched and cuffed to the brass headboard, her long legs secured similarly with straps that stretched around the substantial-end posts of the brass bed end.
Jenny took everything on board with just a couple of glances as she squirmed in her tight bonds, subconsciously testing their grip upon her body. It took longer, or so it seemed, far longer for her addled unbelieving brain striving to connect her strange predicament with the two girls standing beside the bed calmly looking down upon her anxious struggles. Calm, not helping her!
In reality, it was a mere matter of seconds, but to her, it felt like an eternity, and it wasn’t till Alice spoke that she made the connection, and worse still, a moment later took that growing realisation to its finite conclusion. A conclusion that hit her as though she’d stepped off the pavement straight in front of a double-decker bus. Had she finally discovered what had happened to her family? NO!
“Was I right or was I right, eh, little Miss impatience?” Alice asked her younger sister. “Much more fun for you waiting till our package was fully awake before your hot over-eager little hands started unwrapping it and exploring all her goodies!”
“My goodies now, sis. All mine, don’t forget,” Eva reminded her with a wicked giggle. “Can’t wait to see those proud udders bouncing about when she trots for me!”
Udders? What the fuck? Jenny turned her head to look up at the two girls smirking down at her. Smirking, her idling mind noted rather than sympathising! She didn’t understand, nor did she like the look on their faces, self-satisfied, impersonal, lacking warmth and something else as she looked up at the younger one. A cruel eagerness that frightened her. The girl's hands were even part raised, her dainty pink painted fingers twitching as she greedily starred down at Jenny, and it wasn’t her face that she was looking at either. Udders, god, no! What the hell?
“I’ll go get the big scissors and a box knife,” Alice said, “Try to contain yourself for another minute or two and then we’ll see what we're dealing with here. Remember what mum said about patience when training these wild creatures, so don’t go getting ahead of yourself. Does look damn promising though, from this angle, I must say!” she laughed and added. “Now you remember as well, kiddo. You do owe me big time for this one, baby sis, and I fully intend to collect and enjoy!”
“Okay, okay, I know! You’ll get your pound of fucking flesh to hump soon enough! Jeez, but do get a move on, and I get to do all the cutting and unwrapping. You can have seconds once I’ve had a good feel all over!”
Alice had laughed and vanished out of the room while her young sister had drawn close, and her hands began to fumble at the straps that must hold the horrible object in her mouth.
“Okay, pony, I want to hear you make some noise for me; perhaps it will be that last time I ever let you make proper girl type noise? So have your silly say and give us both a good laugh! One last chance before your bitted forever!” Then as her sister returned, she’d popped that gag out of Jenny’s mouth, giggling with crazy demonic mirth!
*****
“She’s far too old for my taste speaking personally.” The beautiful young Indian girl said derisively, running one hand over Gertrude's buttocks as she bent to offer a tray of canapés. A slim beringed hand hovered over the tray before selecting a chicken vol au vent as the other suddenly slapped one cheek hard. “Stand up straight and turn around, girl, face me; I want to see your love hole!”
Gertrude gritted her teeth and willed her body stop shaking to stop shaking. Just for once, it wasn’t fear but instead rage that had abruptly taken control, overriding every other rational thought process with a purely emotional reaction. Her knuckles were turning white as her fingers clamped hard upon the tray as she subconsciously used that action to stifle the rebellious urge that surged within her.
She knew and feared the retribution that would immediately result from such a foolhardy outward show of emotion! The response would be swift and exceedingly painful and almost certainly delivered by the young bitch whose hands had just roamed all over her. That tall, hard-faced blonde, ‘darling Sonia’, had been swift enough to deliver a face slap to Wanker when he mixed her drink wrongly!
Poor fellow, they might have assigned him to the bar, but he’d clearly no idea as to what she wanted. He’d done his best when she spat out the list of ingredients at breakneck speed, haranguing and deriding him for his gross ineptitude as he endeavoured to mix the simple cocktail to her satisfaction. The hovering presence of gruesome senior couldn’t have helped. Despite living cheek to cheek for three weeks, she still knew absolutely nothing about the poor man other than he lived in constant terror of the two women who’d brought him to the house. One thing was sure; he’d never worked in a bar!
Perhaps, face slap was putting it mildly, for she’d knocked the scrawny fellow to the floor such was the force of her blow. A right hook in all but name delivered with a flat palm as opposed to a clenched fist!
Much to her relief, only five guests were attending, which was probably just as well. Although the old house was far more extensive than its modern suburban successors and given that each guest brought along their personal equivalent of Wanker, space in the room they were using was at a premium. Fortunately, all five together probably occupied less cubic space than the obese figures of gruesome senior and junior. The four unfortunates who’d accompanied them far less! Small and undernourished seemed to be the order of the day!
The first arrivals being the two elderly sisters and that tiny waif-like oriental girl on the end of a leash. Indeed, leashes seemed to be de rigueur, the number one accessory among these evil people. No, make that number two. Some form of quirt, cane or whip invariably took the top spot as might have been expected from these sadists!
The General had been the second arrival. A haughty looking, rigidly erect, beanpole of a man with a trim little moustache retaining a full head of silver-grey hair but severely cropped into a stubble more suited to someone thirty or forty years his junior. The two simpering fat hags bobbed, and curtseyed and obsequiously fawned all over him while he bowed and kissed their hands, displaying courtly old-world manners a century and more out of date.
The faceless wretch who accompanied him was a good foot shorter with a physique akin to that of the wretched Wanker. Neither of them would have looked out of place wearing baggy striped pyjamas and standing behind the barbed wire as long term inmates of a concentration camp.
There was nothing baggy about the rubber outfit that enclosed the skinny figure; the general steered into the hall, gripping him firmly by the upper arm—introducing him to the simpering duo somewhat disdainfully as “ Young Roddy, my latest boy”.
Roddy was encased head to foot in tight clinging latex of the most vivid shade of shocking pink imaginable! No part of him was visible bar his captive caged penis above his beringed purple testicles and oversized red nipples poking through holes where the material stretched over his skeletal like upper torso.
There were no eye holes in the thin latex hood that moulded to his head, just two tiny holes for his nostrils and an opening for his mouth, although that was occupied by a giant pink ball gag that must have pushed the poor wretches jaw near to the point of dislocation. Even if he could see, his vision would have been limited to the ceiling or sky by the high posture collar that tilted his head rigidly upwards.
Like wanker his owner clearly kept him on a minimum diet for that all-enveloping tight cat-suit revealed every contour of his emaciated body. The boy must have been even shorter than he appeared, for he shuffled along taking small steps, his legs hobbled together by a short chain affixed between the tops of his pink stiletto knee boots. A wide waist cincher of matching pink leather circled his waist to which his wrists were attached either side. Even his hands were encased in pink rubber balls.
“Not quite so new now, eh what? the General had told them. “Nor anything like as rebellious”, he added, releasing the youths arm and patting a prominent rubber buttock cheek. A sore spot for the boy instantly made an agonised sound behind his gag and jumped immediately at that touch of his master's hand. “Come, boy, let us join the merry throng!”
The youth was now standing, squirming slightly next to the General chair as the older man absently fondled his buttocks while chatting amicably to darling Sonia, the sour blonde who’d knocked Wanker off his feet. The woman had one of these faces that made you shiver just looking at her. Not unattractive but severe with a face that you instantly assumed rarely smiled. The sort of face that if it did smile, you wouldn’t want to be the recipient! The kind of face that radiated authority and a complete lack of tolerance. A face that would have looked entirely at home prowling the concentration camp she’d thought of earlier!
Darling Sonia hadn't arrived empty-handed either. Her contribution to the evening's collection of misery was outside in the back garden being ‘walked’ to do its business by a delighted Miss Agnes. Another victim of this unseen, unknown cartel of sadistic perverts.
Life had already been horribly unfair to the man the foul daughter had gleefully dragged outside on the end of a leash. The tiny man had scurried on hand and knees behind her, naked save for the scuffed leather knee pad bindings that held his bent legs captive and the dog collar that separated his oversized head from his diminutive body. Even the head was outdone proportionally by the dwarf's unencumbered genitals, the giant penis and large ball sac swinging free below the short rubber tail replica protruding from his anus.
“So well trained!” Gruesome senior had exclaimed delightedly as she watched the man scurry along behind her daughter toward the kitchen and back door. Well trained! It was hardly surprising since there wasn’t so much as a single square inch of the little man's body that didn’t display a scarred legacy of savage punishment, not all of it old!
Gertrude shuddered as several long slim fingers probed deep into her vagina. ‘Lovely Ahana’ was eating with one hand while exploring with the other. Despite expressing her disdain for Gertrude’s age, the beautiful Indian girl had been eyeing her from the moment she’s arrived along with her ‘companion’ as she carelessly introduced the pretty young blond girl who accompanied her.
Unlike the other guests, the lovely Ahana had responded somewhat coolly to the gushing greetings from mother and daughter, merely smiling regally and acknowledging such with a little nod of the head. She’d said nothing other than that brief introduction of the nameless girl who’d accompanied her.
At first glance, Gertrude had thought they were both guests, for they were immaculately made up and identically dressed, the same expensive flouncy off one shoulder black cocktail dresses, dark nylons and heeled court shoes. A second glance showed a significant difference. Ahana carried a cell phone in one hand and had a small gold bag slung from one shoulder. The blonde pretty blonde companion, although seemingly unencumbered, had her hands cuffed together behind her back. That pink lipped open mouth slightly awed look on her young face was due to a small ring gag behind her gleaming white teeth, retained by transparent straps that blended in with her face and were hard to see the gloomy hall lighting.
“Maybe I should consider adding an older model to my collection,” Ahana laughed as she explored. “Just for a change!”
*****
In the darkness, Jenny continued to reflect on her predicament. This wasn’t the first horrible journey she’d endured. The first was when they had, transported her to that other terrible place, the one now being left behind, the one that confirmed that ‘hell on earth’ earth’ was no mere meaningless expression. It existed in at least one place, as she had soon found out and from what her incredulous ears learned while incarcerated there, in other areas as well!
By her simple reckoning, keeping track of day and night it had been on the third morning, another journey began. A long journey because it had been mid-morning, perhaps later when they released her from the bed and walked her down to the car and strapped her into the front seat. She was unable to protest her mouth gagged with that horrible ball as it had been almost continuously—either that or the equally foul leather ring.
An uncomfortable position with her hands and arms secured behind her back, and she’d shivered from the cold wind as she was marched entirely naked to the waiting car by Eva on the one side and her mother on the other. Alice had been waiting and wrapped her in a heavy dark coat before fastening the seat belt, then covered her face with a dark veil and her head with a wide-brimmed floppy black hat pulled down at the front.
They had given her no breakfast as such, not that she’d had a decent meal since first opening her eyes to realise her predicament in full. First, the shock and incredulous growing realisation that she’d been kidnapped followed almost immediately by the hideous indignity of being stripped naked by that giggling young demon teen wielding knife and scissors.
Never, never in her entire life had she suffered such hideous embarrassment as when those eager hot little hands explored every inch of her body. Nothing, absolutely nothing spared, either by her or by her older sister. The bitch that she now held responsible for this absurd ongoing bizarre farce.
Likewise, the beautiful but hard-faced woman who was their mother who’d also examined her in similar humiliating fashion! Humiliating? Shit, that word couldn’t even begin to cover her feelings, could it? Outrage, anger and indignation at being stripped and then handled in such an intimate manner by the three women—greedy hands and inquisitive fingers that left nothing untouched or unprobed no matter how personal. Almost as bad was listening to their casual discussion of her body like farmers assessing a prize cow as she writhed and squirmed in helpless frustration beneath those possessive hands!
Farce she now recognised as being far too mild a term for a terrifying situation that grew worse with every hour that passed, for she no longer needs wonder what had happened to the other members of her family. Undoubtedly they had been kidnapped by the same crazies that now held her captive, and in any case, she’d heard them make oblique references to ‘auntie and cousins’.
She did not fully understand the references, yet it was clear that they existed and were probably somehow held captive by the mad mother and her crazy lesbian daughters! Perverts all of then the way all three had pawed at her helpless body, violated her most intimate places, and so casually discussed her as though she was no more than dead meat on a butchers marble slab.
She had felt disgusted, humiliated beyond belief laying there dumb and helpless listening to the three of them so casually discussing the fact that she was not a virgin, at least not at the front opening, the size of her breasts although they called them udders as though she was a fucking cow of all crazy things! They talked about her as though she was a possession and not an individual, a free human being.
That, of course, was the thing that terrified her. She was no longer a free human being was she, and by the sound of it, neither were the five members of her family she’d been seeking. That chain of thought and the months that they had been missing frightened the hell out of her. If they hadn’t managed to escape the crazies, five of them, then what chance had she solo?
Those strange animal references they’d made also scared her. Udders, why udders and her fine mane and what had Alce said, something about her hind legs being well suited to the hoof? Perhaps there had been other things said, but she’d spent so much time struggling and screaming her outrage into that gag that she must have missed them. Had she even heard right anyway, for her mind was still in that drug confused fog half the time!
Two-thirds of the time, she’d been asleep anyway. Awaking to find her naked body had soiled the rubber sheet they had placed under her. Then would come the embarrassment of being sponged clean of the foul stinking mess, washed and patted dry like a newborn baby, then fed and watered in like fashion. A baby cup held to her mouth, water and a thickish cold soup. Protests ignored and fingers nipping her nose until she drank!
Sometimes, it felt as though her brain had ceased working when she began to feel funny shortly after driving away from that café with Alice. Nothing had made sense since that time. She felt as though she’d been caught up in some weird dream, a surreal patchwork of images, sensations, sounds and yet nothing made any sense. Curiouser and curiouser as though she was Alice in a strange but very frightening wonderland.
She had slept on that journey, for it was dusk when they arrived at their destination, and once again, her head hurt, plus she had that horrible sick feeling once more. They must have drugged her again as they had most days to keep her quiet, stop her from doing herself mischief, the mother had remarked. They’d given her lukewarm coffee rather than water, perhaps to disguise a more potent dose of whatever substance they used.
It looked like they’d arrived at some sort of farm, parked not far from an old looking house built of huge grey stone and newer looking red bricks. A vast barn or warehouse loomed upwards in the growing darkness, a rusty old Landrover, a couple of horse trailers, the small ones affluent parents used to transport their daughter’s pony to a local gymkhana. A few smaller outbuildings and some startled chickens were running about loose, briefly caught in the headlights.
Nothing else around that she could see as she twisted her head from side to side. The bumpy ride had woken her up. How long they had been on that track before she awakened, she didn’t know, but the lurching and bumping ride must have continued for a good ten minutes or more till the moment Alice switched off the engine and got out.
There were four figures, women, girls to her left, three small and one taller hugging, kissing and talking animatedly. Alice detached herself, moving to the rear of the vehicle to open the rear hatch. A loud grunt followed by a slithering sound and a slam, then the girl passed by carrying a large suitcase and a smaller bag which she deposited on the porch of the house before returning to her car and yanking the passenger door open and leaned over her to depress the seat belt release button.
A minute later, she realised immediately that her initial assessment had been wrong, could not have been more wrong, could never have imagined nor foreseen for one moment! It wasn’t a barn; it was a stable, a stable filled with horrors such as she could not have possibly envisioned in her wildest nightmares. Thoughts of kidnap, ransom, rape, white slavery, en-forced lesbianism, even sadomasochistic activities that had constantly troubled her waking moments, but not for the merest fraction of a single second would this bizarre perversion have occurred to her!
The smell assailed her as soon as they walked her through that big green door, Alice holding one arm and a new smaller red-haired girl firmly grasping the other. A foul reek of stale human body odour, vomit, straw, sawdust. The pleasanter smells of leather, polish and a whiff of some fragrant air freshener ineffectually competing against the stink of faeces and urine, all overlaid with the whiff of a strong disinfectant liberally applied.
Worse still, she could hear screams coming from somewhere above. A man was screaming and shouting; although his desperate words were garbled and incomprehensible to her ears, the screams sounded so pitiful, so pleading. She stopped dead or would have done, but the arms holding her would have none of it and moved her onwards.
“New boy”, the small older woman walking behind her remarked. “Belongs to Lady Isabella, brought him down herself last week to be broken and trained. Heather’s been working on him for the last few days, but she told the girls that they could have him for the night. First time for him,” the woman chuckled and added as another shocking shriek made her cringe. “Probably in more ways than one! There will be no problems fitting his tail plug come morning, I expect after a night with those two and their toys! That stall, Alice, that one there, number eight, is ready for this fine looking filly to enjoy. Not that I expect your animal will appreciate our efforts to be hospitable! Put her in there; Heather will see to her while we all go and have a nice cup of tea”.