A Tale Of Two Families

Chapter 10 Ballet and baby

Alice paused to wipe a bead of sweat from her face with the back of her hand. It was always hot work mucking out the stable and stalls even this late in the day. To her mind, the wretched, filthy task only needed doing every other day, but her mother disagreed. It wasn't so much about cleaning but more a necessary part of the conditioning she had explained on many occasions. Repetitive activity is a daily fact of life for our unique dumb domesticated animals. Day after day the same routine, they adapt eventually to their new existence. Albeit to a certain extent anyway. Either that or go mad!

The only problem with that line of thinking was that it also meant a tedious and repetitive workload for those that owned the animals as well. Usually, Alice didn't mind, most days she brushed and shovelled quite happily revelling in her freedom which was so different compared to the dismal and monotonous existence of the captive 'animals. The thrill of ownership generally made up for the physical downside of constantly looking after them. However, occasionally the 'delight' of shovelling, sawdust, shit and piss-soaked straw into a wheelbarrow and dumping it outside wore a trifle thin. It was supposed to be a 50/50 split with her mother, 60/40 she'd have accepted. However, of late a 70/30 (ish) ratio of labour division was probably more accurate, and Alice was just a touch resentful that she was invariably the one drawing the higher odds regarding the workload and the number was rising!

They had discussed in the past adding a general 'work slave' to the household, specifically to deal with those same necessary daily chores in kennels and stable as well as other mundane tasks in the house and grounds. She was in total favour of the idea as was her step-father, not that she was surprised by that, he was inclined to be lazy and had frequently paid a painful price for neglecting duties assigned by her mother.

The useless bastard had made a right 'pigs-ear' of painting the stable doors the other week, for instance. Said he'd had to rush it because the weather looked threatening, looked like rain, nothing to do with the football he'd wanted to rush off and watch on TV! Her mother had not been happy, and neither had she. He got all the fun of rubbing it down and redoing it the next day while she was under strict orders to encourage the 'great lazy lump' with a riding crop at regular intervals.

Eva had always sided with her mother whenever the subject cropped up or had at least ever since she was old enough to appreciate the ongoing discussions fully. Her mother was concerned about security as always. Alice was not stupid, given the somewhat unusual not to say highly illegal nature of her family's perverse activities, security was bound to be a significant concern. However, of late Eva had begun to side with her sister and father. Alice was under no illusions as to why. Since she had acquired 'Baby, the little demon had fully discovered the delights of regularly applying the rod to helpless flesh! She also had to come to terms with the limits on such activities, particularly within the role she'd chosen for her particular toy. People don't normally thrash babies, do they! Alice had a suspicion that Baby's days might be numbered, at least in that role. Once assigned to stable or kennel there was no going back, but Baby was not as yet in either was, she? Babies tend to grow up, so maybe the nursery would lose its inhabitant once Eva lost interest or decided on a new role for her pet project.

Her mother, while never entirely against the idea of acquiring a general duties slave, was concerned as usual with all the relevant practicalities. Her bedroom bitch and her father's little bitch boy sissy were always safely confined within the main house, the animals equally confined within the stable or kennels other than occasional and strictly supervised outings. A slave used outdoors would need constant supervision, that was her primary argument, plus a casual observer might see him or her. Could they rely 100% on the shock collars, no and did they have the time for such constant supervision? Well, at least it was a start. Her mother was no longer entirely dismissing the idea.

Alice grinned to herself as she recollected her mothers' objections from a year or so ago. At one point she'd even started going on about 'it maybe using a lawnmower to cut big letters in the grass and send messages to helicopters'! Her father had found that highly hilarious and paid for his reckless impudence later at the end of a paddle! You'd have thought he would have learnt to judge his wife's moods and petulant temper by now?

Maybe, just maybe she thought there was a way around it. They could keep the creature in one of the dog pens, turn it into a cell. Put a shock collar on it along with a heavy pair of leg irons to restrict immobility.  Take him (or her) out to work under supervision where and when needed. There were plenty of other things she and her mother could be doing in the kennel and stable weren't there? The animals required grooming and exercising didn't they to keep them fit and healthy. They also needed intensive training and additional training when they forgot or occasionally rebelled against their assigned status plus there was always the breaking in of brand-new stock. That could be very time-consuming. Fun, but invariably time-consuming.

"Signalling to helicopters" she muttered to herself, "we'll don't let it use a lawnmower then, anyway step daddy usually enjoys riding around on the big motor mower cutting the lawns and verges pretending it was hard work!".

She scooped up the last couple of smelly shovel loads from her wheelbarrow and dumped them on top of the big manure pile. You could always attach an extended length of chain as well to the creature's leg irons and then set it to work while you got on with the more critical (and pleasurable) aspects of human-animal ownership. Hobbled and chained it wouldn't be going anywhere fast, would it? Maybe even a big iron ball like they always had in the cartoons - not chance of it doing a runner with something like that attached. The weight and size would have to be substantial enough to be a handicap yet not heavy enough to hamper its work rate she mused. The casual observer her mother worried about would have to get very close probably to notice that it wouldn't they? It could wear some type of uniform if you didn't want it naked, like an old-fashioned convict to go with the chain, baggy top and trousers that could be quickly shed for the inevitable daily punishments.

She wheeled the barrow back into the stable and lent it against one wall. Alternatively, you could fix secure points around the buildings to attach the chain to, and you could have some big concrete blocks with an eye bolt set in scattered around the grounds near the house as well. That would probably work quite effectively. She banged the brush and shovel she'd been using hard against the stable wall to shake some of the crusted muck off. She'd mention it during dinner later, get some feedback. Ways and mean, ways and means she thought. 

No, she reflected. She'd have a quiet word with Eva first. Eva would almost certainly be an enthusiastic alley now. Little sis had reached the stage where she wanted to play frequently with her more 'painful' toys and needed someone to play with. Mumsie, Girlie and the animals were generally off-limits bar a casual swipe or two when merited as to a certain extent was Baby unless her role changed. The idea of supervising and 'encouraging' a sweaty naked and chained work slave would undoubtedly appeal to the budding young sadist.

Alice cast a thoughtful glance over towards the stalls. True all of the animals were off-limits in a sense bar the two; she owned Moonglow and Midnight. They were her personal property, and she could do what she liked with them and often did. Moonglow due to her condition was in was in no shape to play with Eva right now, but Midnight? That big brute had been pissing her off recently, and she'd promised it a thrashing it would never forget. You would think that after nearly two years the stupid dumb animal would have learned its place, but no, it continued to cause her problems and try her patience. Up to now, she'd jealously guarded her two ponies, but maybe, maybe Eva might like to assist her? Only last week at breakfast when she's been discussing him with her mother Eva had interrupted. "Let me have a go at him; I bet I can improve his bad pony attitude a bit".

Neither of them had taken her seriously but then again why not? The beast was always well restrained. If nothing else the sheer humiliation of being handled and brutally whipped by the young girl might just tend to curb his arrogant attitude a bit more plus if she allowed it, she'd earn plenty of 'brownie points' with her little sister. She closed the stable door and strolled slowly over to the big house in a contemplative mood.

*****

He could damn hear the music from his den. It wasn't all that loud, Patricia disapproved of loud music, but its notes relentlessly filtered down to him and was annoyingly repetitive. That sheer repetition was why he couldn't seem to shut it out or concentrate on anything else. It was annoyingly invasive. Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty, Nutcracker? He wasn't sure - one of those 'posh tunes' anyway. He'd had to accompany his wife to the ballet on a few occasions in the past. Boring, mega boring! He grinned to himself, that last time after a meal and few drinks when she'd been in an amiable mood he'd conned her into a pact. If she dragged him to the ballet again, she had to go to a football match with him. 

A clever ploy on his part that one glass of wine too many had obtained her thoughtless agreement.  A pact so far honoured so he'd not had to partner her to a performance for quite a while. Eva had drawn the short straw instead although no more enthusiastic than him. Long may that run continue.

There was a loud shriek followed by a second one that briefly drowned out the music. The shrieks and screams had not been quite as continuous as the music, but it almost felt like it. Girlie was getting it again. He frowned, he might have to have a quiet word with his wife about that. A diplomatic word, one always had to be suitably prudent when querying Patricia on matters of discipline, especially when she was the one dispensing it!

Nevertheless, she was far too impatient and enthusiastic for his liking at the moment. Girlie's bottom and thighs had been in a right mess when he fucked her last night. The little bitch had squealed continuously when he gave her the usual prolonged shafting, and it wasn't his rampant manhood that she was screeching about, we'll not entirely. 

He'd taken her in the missionary position which meant that her black and blue blistered and bleeding bottom had rubbed hard against the pillows that helped make her 'bitch cunt' more accessible to him. His vigorous thrusts repeatedly shook her slim frame and rubbed her sore and inflamed bottom up and down the material beneath her. He didn't mind her squealing so long as it was his rampant cock, making her do it and not the lingering aftermath of his wife's cane. He felt a little cheated in a way. It made a right mess of the bedding as well; she'd had to change all that after he'd rolled off her and she'd licked him clean. Damn nuisance when he was tired having to wait while the little bitch scurried about making up the bed with clean linen!

A couple more shrieks sounded, and his wife's voice raised but indistinct shouting something followed by another scream. He sighed heavily and put the game controller down and switched the big monitor off. He hadn't been in the mood anyway, and he could feel a potential migraine lurking in the background. Better go and get aspirin or something to try and head it off at the pass. Another shriek rang out, the shrillest yet. He put a hand to his head. Perhaps have a quiet word and then go vamoose somewhere else.

They did not use the topmost floor of the house very much. In the past, some if not all of it was probably used as servants' quarters. One room he'd converted into his den, his man cave, his little bit of privacy, his personal retreat in what was a one hundred per cent matriarchal household. Most of the small rooms were empty or used to store various odds and ends. One exception was the huge room that took up about a third of the available space. Quite why the room was so large and what its original purpose had been for was long forgotten. Maybe a big servant dormitory for seasonal staff or perhaps a recreational space for the normal ones? Unlikely, unless they had exceptionally generous employers!

Patricia had recently converted it into the 'ballet' room or to be more accurate, had told him to convert it. That had been two weeks plus of extra damn hard work. He'd had to remove a filthy aeons old carpet, emulsion the walls, sand down the floorboards and stain them and a whole lot more. He'd mounted a batch of mirrors side by side down two walls and affixed a long straight length of old bannister rail to use as a ballet bar.

Ballet! He shook his head. Bloody ballet was that going to be the next phase!. They already had a stable and a kennel, what now, their own fucking captive dance troop? That was probably a bit of an exaggeration. Patricia had been a dance student in her youth and attended ballet lessons as a child. His wife maintained both her leotard and an interest hence the odd visit to a performance now and again.

Patricia's enthusiasm for dance had been rekindled of late for a more practical reason. Ballet she had declared was a perfect way of learning to be graceful, to move with an unobtrusive flow of elegance, to have a fluidity and coordination of limbs that was both pleasing to the observer's eye and also to banish any tendency toward clumsiness forever. Unfortunately, in Girlie's case, it was likely to take forever to get to that stage. Another shriek sounded. Grace and the flow of elegance didn't seem to be progressing terribly well and hadn't since the lessons had started.

He opened the door a couple of inches to peer into the room. Girlie was standing over the other side by the mirrored wall. Patricia had her in a still pose, head tilted slightly to the side, arms arched above her head, pink painted fingernails just touching and her feet, heels touching together, and toes pointed out at a forty-five-degree angle. She caught sight of her Master looking in, and the red blush that spread over her cheeks was not solely due to the light rose blusher she wore.

Although by now long accustomed to wearing female attire, Girlie found the latest costume even more humiliating than usual, especially given the reason he was wearing it. A pale embroidered pink satin and cream delicate ballerina costume, the top had a deep frilly low-cut square neckline that left his little flat 'bitch tits' fully exposed. Below that the tightly fitting bodice decorated with imitation pearls and frilly pink and cream lace roses. From the waist, the skirt flared almost straight out stiffened by the numerous layers of frothy white lace that formed his tutu. His legs clad in white satin tights but unlike those worn by regular dancers his, of course, had been modified with a few strategic cuts. His welted arse cheeks bulged out of two large holes and at the front, another DIY opening revealed his shrivelled cock in its plastic straight-jacket - everything on view as always to please his merciless owners.

His gaze quickly switched back from his leering master to the long slender cane; his Mistress was casually flexing. Both his buttock cheeks were blistered and bleeding after the many swipes they had received recently. She was merciless, entirely without compassion or pity in her relentless quest for perfection as he learned and performed the required movements and held the positions, she demanded of him. Not once since these horrible lessons had started had she shown an ounce of sympathy to him or cut him any slack because of his total inexperience and lack of coordination. He couldn't help it, he'd never had the sort of coordination that she was demanding, and his wretched footwear only added to his problems.

Ballerinas wore cute silk lightweight dancing shoes or slippers didn't they and tied with long ribbons around their ankles. He was sure they did he'd seen pictures. Yes, they could get right up in their toes but only briefly as they danced specific steps he assumed. He had no choice the latest footwear the bitch had strapped to his feet forced him to perch on toes and teetering heels. Semi-ballet boots she'd called them as she fastened the straps around his ankles. The damn things were all heel and toes there literally was no middle to them.

"Don't think you are escaping your sexy heels for a nice pair of flat dancing slippers. You will never wear flats at my house! These are special, and..." she added after a pause "Highly expensive so you'd better treat them as if they were made of gold, bitch. The toes are bigger and much flatter than normal ballet boots because these are designed for practical wear, so you get the chance to learn to move properly and gracefully at all times in them. Later on, we might even get you wearing proper ballet boots and shoes with very fine toes. Normally they are used for short-term fetish use, but perhaps you will wear them long term making your nice dainty dance moves for me."

He must have looked horrified because she'd laughed and added: "Eva thinks we should make you do all your chores in them...would not that look oh so sexy for all of us seeing you teetering around in them?"

Her husband watching from the door felt himself go hard immediately. A huge stiffie stretching against the tight confines of his pants. Oh, gawd, he needed to plunge his big hungry boner into that delightful little bitch but of course, he couldn't. Not yet, not till his wife had finished with his little fuck toy and not till the tasty little minx had got changed. That costume, one of several in assorted but very similar styles and colours had been specially tailored and bought for her lessons. It was not a cheap 'fuck' costume; his wife had impressed that on him. Girlie already had a couple of tutus' in her wardrobe along with all the other erotic outfits for bedroom fun and games.

Girlie wore her hair in the new and obligatory style that Patricia also insisted on for her daily lessons. The developing blonde tresses wound into a tight bun, pinned and bound with a pink ribbon just above the nape of her neck. Like any performer on the stage, her makeup was heavier and less subtle than usual. A light foundation, vivid purple eyeshadow with a dusting of a glittery material, black eyeliner and mascara to enhance the eyes. Dark pink lip pencil was used to draw out her full lips, coated with a light candy pink lip gloss. A makeup brush had lightly dusted her cheeks to outline the cheekbones slightly plus the usual long false eyelashes.

He made a mental note. Last night she'd been fucked while wearing one of her many sexy babydoll nighties, but tonight he'd have her in one of the cheap ballerina costumes plus those heels of course. He would make her pose and pirouette so sexily first for him, yes. He coughed to alert Patricia to his presence.

The music ceased as she pressed the pause button. "Yes? I haven't finished with her, yet you know." His wife said tartly. 

"I know dear, I have a headache coming on, so I thought I'd go for a stroll. Please don't damage her too much, will you? When you've finished with her, see that she keeps the same makeup and hairstyle for me, will you?"

"She has chores to do after this if you want any supper that is".

"I know, I can wait till later this evening."

Patricia gave him a sly smile. "Well you'll have to won't you darling." She turned back to her reluctant pupil. "You heard that bitch, make sure you are presentable later". The cane swished through empty air to emphasise her command making Girlie flinch. Then the music came back on. "Position four" She snapped, releasing the pause button. "Begin again, one and two and one and two..."

Girlie had quickly assumed the appropriate pose as fast and as gracefully as he could. His eyes flickered from the ever-threatening cane to the hated leering figure in the doorway. The figure grinned, held up his left hand making a circle between thumb and forefinger and then thrust the forefinger of his right hand through the circle several times in an obscene gesture before winking and withdrawing closing the door quietly as he did so.

Girlie almost sobbed aloud it wasn't fair so unfair. He was already in agony from the relentless strokes of the cane and the agonising posture his new boots forced upon him. There was probably at least another thirty minutes of the present torment to endure and then domestic servitude in the kitchen and dining room. Then he would have to service that monster yet again. That bastard had sodomised him almost every day of his captivity bar a couple of nights when he and the queen bitch were elsewhere. 

That was no relief even then because the randy bastard would invariably rape him on his return and probably more than once. Five times, five times in one day and night was the record so far, and that wasn't even counting the number of times he'd fellated that monster cock with its never-ending spurts of foul sticky white slime. He suddenly shrieked aloud in pain and again and again as the cane swished and bit, swished and bit. He'd mucked up his steps through being distracted. Concentrate, he must concentrate, get it right, please let him get it right, please.

*****

Strange how still and quiet it all seemed now. How quickly it had all died away like water running out of a bottle, the last grains of sand dropping to the bottom of the hourglass. One moment there was a full-on flow and the next just the odd couple of drops. Even in his present traumatised state, he was aware of the sudden onset of tranquillity. Rationality once again penetrated his conscious awareness with the ability to think, to adjust, to be more than just a wailing mindless mouthpiece in a sea of agony. 

He had become quieter as he paused for breath bar the ongoing subdued sobbing and gasping, his lungs heaving to extract more oxygen from the air making the only audible sounds. The lack of noise now was hardly surprising given that he had been responsible for making almost all of it. No, correction, no not responsible for it. True he had made most of the sound with his screams and shrieks and the pleas which increasingly fell on deaf ears, but the responsibility belonged to the menacing petite figure standing quietly and so unconcernedly behind him.

He hadn't meant to be naughty; he really hadn't. He had more sense. It wasn't even his fault. He couldn't help it could he, not after all this time! It hadn't been deliberate, not intentional, but he was sure she had done it to him on purpose. No, he knew she had deliberately done it to him. It wasn't fair, not fair at all. But then nothing in this madhouse was ever fair, was it?

It was weird how the sound of your own screams seemed to deafen you, maybe it was the acoustics in the room or some other audible effect or perhaps even just a trick of the mind. His mind, maybe he was beginning to lose it now after all these months of constant humiliation and captivity. At any rate, it was the eye of the hurricane. The brief period of the calm before the storm began again. It would start again; he knew it would, it was as inevitable as night following day, no let off, no mercy, not till the little bitch was satisfied or got bored with him.

He wasn't sure if the second option would be a good idea? His instincts told him that if that scenario occurred too regularly, then his life, miserable as it was, would probably get a whole lot worse. Given his experiences to date and what he knew or guessed about this terrible household, he suspected the worst! He hated the room he was confined in with its stupid over the top juvenile pink décor, adult-sized baby furnishings and the endless stink of talcum powder, baby lotion, rubber pants and shitty diapers. Yet that same room where he'd suffered so much and was still suffering was also his sanctuary, and he feared that which might await him in the world immediately beyond the princesses, fairies' and unicorns that decorated the garish walls of his prison.

He glanced sideways fearfully into the big mirror. He could see her standing behind him just a few paces to his rear. She was watching him quite calmly, prettily innocent as if in no way had she been responsible for the trauma of the past half hour or more. He had no way of knowing; there was no clock, he'd not seen a clock since he'd been there. Once, just once he had tried to get a glimpse of the chunky man-sized wristwatch with the bright pink strap she frequently wore. All he'd wanted was to see a date, just the date if it had one. A simple thing, an everyday thing in the ordinary world, harmless, but not here.

He'd been immediately punished for that infraction. Punished severely, that had been the first bad beating his young 'mummy' had inflicted on him solo. "Bad Baby, bad, bad baby...babies don't need to know the time; babies can't tell the time, bad baby."

That was the first time she'd made him howl. He'd had the odd smack or spanking from her but nothing he couldn't handle. Before that, the initial terrible 'pain sessions had been in tandem with her mother, that foul older bitch delivering most of the beatings. He'd still retained quite a lot of his strength back then, she couldn't handle him on her own, but her mother and sister had helped. The little bitch had been so enraged with his breach of her rules that she hadn't bothered with any of the usual restraints she'd customarily used to control him but just called her family in. They'd dragged him kicking but not screaming over to the big nappy changing table. He couldn't scream, not with the big oversized babies dummy strapped into his mouth. The trio of vixens had laid him face down on the table but not before sliding a cushion under his belly to elevate him slightly and secured him face down and entirely helpless.

"Give us a shout if you need help, afterwards...." Her sister had laughed emphasising the last word.

"I won't need it; I'll handle her myself, baby won't be wanting to be naughty any more after she's had her first big spanking from me!" Eva stated emphatically as she unhooked her two implements of pain down from the nursery wall.

The bitches had laughed and left her to it. They left the room casually talking about shoes, buying new shoes for some cousins forthcoming wedding as if this bizarre situation were the most normal thing ever. Here he was, an adult male in his late forties, restrained, helpless and ridiculously dressed like a two-month-old baby girl in a bright pink shorty dress, nappy and tight pink plastic pants and about to be savagely beaten by a petite blonde teenager almost young enough to be his granddaughter!

The sheer humiliation of it. The little bitch then had deliberately placed two evil-looking implements of correction down on the table, not three inches from his horrified gaze after first introducing the wretched things by name. 

"This one" she had said holding up the wide pink leather paddle, "I think perhaps I shall call it Mrs Beater. I bet this pretty princess sticker on it won't last long once it starts bouncing up and down hard on someone's naughty bottom to warm it up!"  

She'd given him a sweet but somehow sinister smile, then placed it down and picked up a long thin length of flexible bamboo with a pink ribbon tied to the leather handle. "And this one" she paused to swish it through the air a couple of times. "is called Ms Biter, she likes to bite deep into hot red bottoms once Mrs Beater has finished, I don't think you are going to like them very much once you get formally introduced". She had giggled in a silly girlish way. "I think you are going to get to know them both very well, though."

A hand lifted the hem of his embroidered dress and folded it back, then two small hands hooked into the elasticated waistband of his plastic pants, stretched it and pulled them down to his thighs before releasing them with a painful snap that stung. His nappy, still mostly dry was unpinned and removed, releasing the usual waft of sweat mingled with baby powder and lotion overlaid with a faint odour of urine.

He'd trembled as a small hand gently stroked and kneaded his naked buttock cheeks and heard her giggle. The hand tenderly continued to caress before straying lower pushing down between his thighs. One finger and then a second stroked his scrotum; the pressure increased as one finger pushed harder against the soft, sensitive skin to massage his left testicle. He felt himself stiffen. A finger explored further to find and then gently rub around the tip of his captive cock. He braced himself in his bonds, trying to control his reactions. Despite his anticipatory terror, he had no control. His penis tried its best to respond to the cruel erotic stimulation but was defeated as usual by the unyielding plastic prison that confined it. He groaned as he sucked hard on his dummy gag and shivered in his bonds, causing her to giggle again.

Then she was by his head, bending over, whispering in his ear using that oh so deceptive tender reassuring tone she adopted, so sweet and so, so wholly insincere! 

Eva's nimble fingers released the straps that held his oversized babies dummy firmly in his mouth.  Small fingers, he'd noted almost like a child's, but she was no child! It was gently withdrawn, a tissue catching and carefully wiping the usual saliva that drooled from his mouth and lightly padding at his chin. He made his mind up; he'd risk it. He had or rather was allowed to have, a limited, minimal vocabulary at his disposal; he opened his mouth.

"No, babykins, no talking". The tissue pressed firmly against his mouth. "Mummy will be cross if Baby talks. Pretty mummy is already very, very cross with her baby. Baby does not want to make her nice pretty young mummy even crosser, does she?"

Baby hadn't answered. He'd contemplated saying, 'pleeth mummy or niith mummy' or similar but knew it would make no difference whatsoever and might even increase her apparent ire. He'd sensed that this situation or similar was inevitable, that she'd have jumped on something no matter how trivial. He was already in trouble, and there would be no escape. What was about to happen would happen, no escape, no relief, get it over with, don't make it any worse.

She stood up, and he heard her voice from above. "Baby has been here long enough now. Baby knows the rules; baby does what she is told and nothing else. Baby does not think for herself, does she? Mummy thinks for her big baby and so keeps baby always nice and warm and so so safe from the nasty grown-up world out there.".

A small hand reached down and grasped the handle of the long cane. He flinched, and she giggled again before transferring her grip to the punishment paddle. "Later baby, later, Mrs Beater so wants to meet babies bum bums first to make it nice and hot, then Ms Biter will begin to play....and remind her that watches and clocks and telling the time are for grown-ups and not for silly girlie babykins."

Then she suddenly thrust her watch directly in front of his face and tapped on it. "Look, Baby, see the big hand here, when it gets all the way over to there mummy will stop the nasty botty botty bam bams, mummy promises."

Her perfume and fingernails, pretty pink painted fingernails, she'd begun to varnish her fingernails for the first time he absently noted. His last clear thought before the first vicious implement began to do its worst was that not only did the big hand have quite a way to go, but there had been no bloody date window on the damn watch anyway!

That was then, and this was now, and once more, the smell of her perfume reached him. A sweet smell but mingled with something else, something unidentifiable yet he recognised the evil aroma that was somehow present at every savage beating. He sensed her presence behind him and caught sight of her hand out of the corner of one eye and trembled with fear.  A small hand that had discarded Mrs Beater and now would wield the slim dreaded length of Ms Biter!

 *****

More shrieks. God the place was noisy this afternoon, he thought as he moodily crossed the hall heading for the front door. He'd descended to the comparative quiet of the ground floor only to find that suddenly shattered by renewed agonised shrieks emanating from the big nursery. Patricia upstairs laying into Girlie and now young Eva doing something similar to her big baby girl. No wonder he was rapidly developing a headache.

The front door opened, and Alice entered pausing for a moment to wipe the muck off her boots on the mat. "Noisy" she commentated cheerfully nodding in the direction of the nursery.

"Very" her step-father replied, "both down here and upstairs, Girlies having another one of her ballet lessons...." he trailed off.

Alice laughed. "Ah, well that clumsy little bitch certainly needs to improve a lot in the deportment department, I'm hungry, so I'm going to start on dinner, how long is mum likely to be with her 'cultural tutoring'?"

"Ten years I expect!" he observed sarcastically.

Alice laughed. "Really, she going to learn that that quick?"

"No idea, at least another half hour I suspect. All this blasted yowling everywhere has given me a terrible headache, going for a stroll, mind if I look in on the animals?"

"Poor dear" Alice replied without much sympathy. "Be my guest; I've just finished cleaning...both my share as usual and..." she paused and looked upwards.

Her step-father nodded. "I know, maybe we should have that little talk again re increasing the hired, or should we say un-hired staff!"

His step-daughter grinned at him. "My thoughts exactly father dear, I was on that very same wavelength not ten minutes ago. There are some paracetamol tablets in the medicine cupboard if you need something?"

"Nah, I'll be okay once I've got a bit of fresh air and..." he winced as another agonised despairing shriek filtered down the staircase from above almost immediately followed by a similar one from the nursery. "and found somewhere a little bit more peaceful. Back in an hour or so".

"Getting soft in your old age" Alice laughed and headed off towards the kitchen as he went outside and made initially for the stable block humming quietly to himself. He hadn't been in there for a while and as he told himself if you're feeling a bit rough, go cheer yourself up by visiting those whose daily lives are infinitely more wretched and miserable. Better than half a dozen pills and at least it will be peaceful in there. All the cruel witches are busy in the house, and nothing in the stables is in any position to make very much noise, not with those bits in their mouths!

Halfway there, he changed his mind and decided to walk partway down the access track towards the narrow country lane that was the nearest public highway. He felt better already and suspected that ten minutes or so of fresh air would indeed persuade his lurking migraine to abandon any attempt to have its evil way with the inside of his head.

Evil way. He grinned as he felt the familiar stirring in his pants. Yes, he was definitely feeling a lot better - a bite of dinner and then a nice early evening with Girlie for company. Maybe he'd borrow his wife's cane; the little bitch hadn't seemed quite as enthusiastic of late. A short private dance session just for him might rekindle her enthusiasm! Yes, indeed, he had a feeling it was going to be a long and pleasurable evening, we'll pleasurable for him as he had his evil way with her a few times.

He walked as far as the entrance gate to their property, stopping en route to check the various discreetly installed security devices. Everything seemed A-OK, batteries charged up, and all the right little LED's showing green and the like - no problems that he could see. Just as well, he did not want a repeat of the last security lapse, be a shame if he lost Girlie, she was the best yet and with a lot of mileage left in her. Barely run in even.

Half an hour or so later, he stopped at the top of their driveway to consider the house and the stable building. He made his mind up and headed for the stables. His provisional headache was gone but their evening meal probably wouldn't be ready yet, and he had a suspicion that some of that screaming, and shrieking would still be going on. It wasn't that he was 'soft, as Alice had put it. There were times when he enjoyed watching and listening, and there were times when he'd did not. Today was one of the latter times, anyway if tonight were anything like last night Girlie would probably get quite noisy again once he got going and he'd prefer not to start with a headache.

He slid the heavy bolt across on one of the stable doors and pushed it open, making a mental note to oil the creaking hinges soon and flicked on a nearby light switch wrinkling his nose at the smell as he did so. He always forgot how bad this place smelled. Funny, he thought, it did have a decidedly animal stink even though the occupants were not real animals. He frowned, or were they? At what point did they make that transition between human and animal or was it more of a partial half and half change.

He'd never thought overmuch about it as it wasn't his thing. He'd have to have a long talk with his wife one night in bed perhaps. Maybe it was more about the hideous conditions the wretches were kept in? He frowned, unlike the three females of the household he could never quite see the occupants in the same way they did. To him, they were merely unfortunates forever doomed to a miserable, abject existence in one extended permanent roleplay scenario. Whereas to the rest of his family, the unwilling occupants of kennels and stable were nothing but animals in their eyes and treated accordingly. Be interesting to try and get into Girlies mind maybe, was she similar, how did she feel in her enforced role? Then again, they'd hardly got started on her, had they? Four, five or so months only, maybe in another six years!