Chapter 14
This sunshine was lovely; she thought, tilting her head upwards. How long had it been since she had last felt its light golden warmth caress her face? Too long, far too long and the accompanying gentle breeze was equally welcome after so many long weeks in the foul fug of that equally foul stable building. Fresh air and sunshine, what more could she want...freedom?
Sally looked sadly around her. Freedom that was a forlorn hope. Nothing had really changed had it, she was still a captive, just as helpless out here as she was back in her wretched stall. That cramped, stinking hovel to which she would undoubtedly be returned once her vile owner had finished whatever new devilry she had planned.
She shivered a little as a stronger gust of wind caught her. That was one problem of being kept permanently naked, she thought. The pink leather harness she wore didn't count as any sort of apparel, its principal purpose was to restrict and demean her, and if anything, it enhanced her most intimate areas no doubt to the delight of those who had bound her in its tight embrace. Not to provide either covering or warmth for the one wearing it!
Quite why she had been brought outside was a question running through her mind. Lovely as it was to have this unexpected change, she feared that there would have to be some sinister reason for it and dreaded what it might be. Acts of kindness were an exceptional rarity in this awful place as she well knew.
Alice had brought her out a little earlier, and as was usual, her Mistress and owner had not deemed it necessary to say anything to her captive two-legged 'animal'. That's all she was in that bitch's eyes, just an animal and she wouldn't waste words explaining anything to a dumb creature like her!
The morning feeding and grooming had taken place earlier, at least in this clockless world it had seemed earlier so when Alice had returned to the stable not long after that...? Naturally, she and all the other ponies had feared the worst. Some horrible activity was probably going to take place, one of their nasty training sessions or similar. Whatever it made little difference, they all knew it would be demeaning, almost certainly painful and for those chosen participants, completely unavoidable!
As was her wont, Alice had stalked into her stall, delivered a painful flick to her left thigh as she quickly assumed the required pose when one of the 'owners' entered. Alice had paid no attention, quickly attached a short set of reins to her bridle and promptly led her out of the stall and thence through the old wooden doors and down the gravelled path towards a large grassy paddock surrounded by leafy trees.
Although it was only a very short distance it had been a couple of months since she'd last had to walk further than a few yards and, in the meantime, she'd almost lost the knack of moving quickly in those horrible heavy hoof boots. Not that Alice bothered to take that into account. She strode quickly forward part leading, part dragging her 'pony' and frequently using a long supple riding crop to encourage her to move faster as she staggered along trying to keep up.
Sally was glad when they stopped. Her bottom was on fire from the merciless crop. It hadn't smarted that bad for months she reflected as she sobbed with pain, fear and anger into her bit. She'd had worse far worse and knew that those vicious strokes delivered so indifferently had been given to encourage not punish her. That almost made it worse; the cruel bitch had simply done that because she was in a hurry, a hurry, so she had to suffer for that. It was not fair, so damn unfair...
Again, without word or ceremony, Alice looped her reins over the top of the low wooden hurdle that presumably had been erected by the nearest trees for just such a purpose, tied a quick half hitch and then spun around and strode purposely back towards the stable building without even sparing her a glance.
The cool breeze returned for a few seconds, and above her, the branches and light leafy canopy shook gently. She stared up at the greenery with delight, amazed at how something so simple and basic could thrill her. She remembered one of the favourite books of her childhood, Treasure Island, and she now understood old Ben Gunn's craving for a piece of cheese.
To be out of that hellish stable building, away from that stinking animal stall was like.... well like something she couldn't even put a name too. It was a change a blessed change, and she hadn't realised how badly she had craved for a change and something new to stimulate her, a reprieve from the mindless tedium of her existence.
It would probably come at a price of course. So far thankfully, not a painful one compared to what she'd experienced in the past at Alice's hands. She shuddered at the memory of her first few weeks. No, her bottom might be smarting but the latest kiss of the crop she'd received that morning was as nothing compared to those terrible early days!
Nevertheless, it was so demeaning to be left standing there this. She was an adult woman, an intelligent articulate.... well she had been articulate till they'd strapped a hard rubber bit into her mouth and ruthlessly whipped the desire to communicate out of her! Now she stood patiently beneath a tree on the edge of a grassy paddock. Stood like the captive animal they had turned her into tethered by the short reins tied to a low branch. Dumb and helpless still able to think but to continually fear such lest she show any degree of human understanding. Ponies don't think, don't talk, don't need to understand! Obey, ponies only need to obey and react instantly when commanded, nothing else. Fail to adapt to the mantra and the whip would soon ensure otherwise!
Alice returned this time walking the pair, no need for her to use the crop tucked under her belt for they had long since succumbed to their assigned role. Cowboy and Gypsy, or the pair as she always thought of them. They stepped out briskly alongside their youthful handler, she between them her arms bent upwards as she held the short reins from their respective bridles one in each gloved hand. Owner and owned. The supreme and the subdued. The whip hand and the whipped!
The pair were a familiar sight to Sally, yet she knew almost nothing about her fellow prisoners for such they all were. Male and female somehow connected, married, partners, brother and sister she didn't know? They were perhaps a dozen or more years older than she was or so she thought. Maybe not, god this hideous place would put years on your life, wouldn't it? Each month was like a year, and it was bound to have an effect, wouldn't it?
She knew nothing about them other than what her eyes told her. She could not recollect either of them ever talking when she was present or near enough to hear anything. She'd heard them scream of course but not that often, mostly they endured the harsh discipline of the stable with abject stoic acceptance. Not that they received such all that frequently and usually only when they failed to perform as expected during the interminable training sessions with their demanding owners.
They were both tall and blonde with pale white skins. Nordic perhaps Sally wondered. Impossible to see their faces properly behind bits and bridle straps, was there a family resemblance? No way to tell. Their height was artificially enhanced by the hoof boots and again by their respective hairstyles. The woman had a semi Mohican shaved scalp, but the top of her bridle held a stiff cone of shaped leather, and her remaining hair rose through it in a high ponytail that cascaded down her back almost to her waist. Paradoxically it almost reached the blonde tail that protruded for her anus, and there was no doubting where that blonde tail had originated! Her male partner also had the Mohican cut, but his was arranged in the traditional way, a tall spikey blonde crest running north/south across his otherwise bald scalp.
They dwarfed Alice as she walked so unconcernedly between them. Alice was striding along and her captives performing that ridiculous 'high-stepping' walk they'd all been ruthlessly trained to do. Legs raised high, thighs perfectly parallel to the ground and step, step and step. Then the whip would crack if you failed to get it right the training whip always cracked a lot nor would it be cracking in empty air just for effect!
Alice was striding out, so the pair were virtually trotting beside her their legs rising and falling in perfect uniformity almost as though they were one unit. Two large pale breasts bobbed, and a long flaccid plastic-sheathed penis shook as they passed in front of Sally. Her eyes followed them, noting the bouncing heavily whip-scarred buttocks and livid brand that bore mute testimony as to how they had acquired their docility.
They stood in stiff attentive poses as Alice looped their reins to the rail and headed back towards the stable. Neither showed the slightest inclination to move or displayed the same curiosity that Sally was indulging in. They stood like two golden and white giant statues, stiff, mute and clad in their gleaming black leather harness, a silent, obedient testimony to the efficiency of their owner's whip and crop!
Sally watched till Alice was out of sight then jumped up and down, shook herself from side to side and even hopped up and down, throwing out first one leg then the other. Nothing. The pair took no notice of her whatsoever. They ignored her as though she weren't there although they'd surely seen her. She stamped one hoofed foot in frustrated anger. Here was the first opportunity she'd had to attempt some form of communication with fellow captives without being overseen or heard, and she could elicit no response.
"Please, please," she mumbled into her bit. "just look this way, please, just a look, an acknowledgement, a sympathetic glance, anything, please it would mean so much". Neither moved but just stood impassively the tall Mohican cut waving slightly in the breeze. Sally sighed well at least her head had been spared the razor as hers was always pulled into a similar high ponytail. Pulled was putting it mildly, that bitch Alice always tugged it so hard through the band she thought one day she'd pull the whole lot out by the roots.
The rare moment passed as she heard from behind the clip-clop of more steel-shod hoof boots on the gravel and broken tarmac outside the old stable as Alice emerged with another pair. Two more of her mother's captive 'ponies. They were both relatively young Australians; she did know that because she'd heard their strong accents on several occasions. Not that she'd ever had an opportunity to talk with them either and probably never would. She couldn't help hearing them though in between bout of swearing and screaming when one or both were being disciplined. A scream of pain sounds the same whoever is making it, but occasionally there were words as well, angry words as they forgot or ignored the cardinal rule. They had dared to speak and then in the resultant agony and despair often begged and pleaded vainly with whoever was wielding the whip. In their case that was usually the Queen Bitch as both belonged to her and she liked to remove her animals' bits before chastising them presumably she relished the noise, they made for her.
Sally had noticed that of late, the angry swearing had diminished considerably as the harsh routine of the stable began to have the inevitable subduing effect on Spider and Butterfly. They were both young and tough, but you could only resist the unrelenting degradation and savage punishments for so long, then, inevitably you began acquiescing, and their practised captors knew that only too well.
Neither adopted the ridged upright, elegant high stepping gait of the previous pair. If anything, they slouched, resisted and shuffled uncomfortably along in front of Alice. The latter this time walking with measured tread behind the couple holding their long reins in one hand and frequently administering a painful slash from the extra-long thin whippy crop she now held in the other. Each blow drawing a muffled squeal from behind a bit gagged mouth as the recipient was cruelly encouraged to keep moving.
Sally watched the trio approach; she felt a greater bond of sympathy with this pair that didn't extend quite as much to the two older Nordic types. She knew from the titbits of information she'd gleaned that both pairs belonged to the older witch who ruled this crazy world she'd had the misfortune to fall into. Ruled it with a rod of iron, no a ruthless rod of leather or bamboo and displayed a lack of mercy that would have impressed the inquisition.
The one saving grace was that the Queen Bitch related to them purely as animals, dumb mindless beasts to be whipped into total abject submission, to perform to her every command and for her amusement in whatever animalistic way she desired but never for one moment to be granted even the minutest recognition of their humanity!
The bottom line and the biggest humiliation for all of them was the sex element. These filthy perverts got sexual kicks from all their evil deviant practices. That was the prime reason they were here held in such appalling conditions, held captive as nothing more than sophisticated sex toys to pander to the depraved erotic hobbies of their captors. Sally knew that as all of them did. They'd seen and heard that bitch Patricia have orgasms as she whipped and trained them. Their pain and humiliation for her entertainment and pleasure - a very unfair and horrible exchange!
Alice was a little different, but she didn't go without her share. Whereas to her mother, they were animals a hundred per cent of the time without exception. That perverted bitch actively inflicted her particular sexual predilections on every occupant of the stable regardless of sex, age or anything else. Every one of them was regularly treated to a 'taste of her stallion' as she so callously termed the obscene acts of rape and sodomy, she inflicted upon their helpless bodies. In the case of the Aussie pair, she tended to treat them as just that a pair of helpless playthings for her wicked satisfaction the only difference being which of the unfortunates she choose to defile first! Not that it mattered to Butterfly and Spider as neither would be spared.
They seemed to be the exception. Usually when she was 'in the stallion mood' as she put it only one of them would draw the short straw, although there would be nothing 'short' about what followed once she'd chosen her victim neither in time nor in the size of her 'stallion'. Sally had been the favourite for a while, but her present condition had spared her for a while now, but she knew that in the future the rapes would resume with a vengeance. How many times recently had that bitch smiled sweetly at her, patted her swelling belly then maliciously wiggled one of her nearby dildos as an unspoken reminder of times past and times still to come!
Sally was temporarily off-limits, and the sadistic bitch also seemed to ration herself when it came to Midnight. Sally suspected she knew why. Midnight was exceptional; the relationship she had with that huge man seemed different. The bitch obviously delighted in her mastery over the huge man, relished her cruel and absolute control of him and seemed to savour every moment she had with him especially. That was Sally's perception anyway, and she would not even let her mother near him. She herself yes, many times she'd been groomed by the top bitch, but she'd never yet seen her handle Midnight. Maybe if Alice was away but even then, she suspected that the big man might be 'out of bounds' until his owner returned.
Yes, she thought, Midnight was special. They all knew that when the bitch chose him, it would be a very long evening, and the whip and cane would be hard at work as well as her wretched rubber phallus's. Her own condition thus had meant bad news for Spider and Butterfly. They shared a double stall and at the moment Alice's 'mounting frame now the third permanent resident of that enclosure. The blonde Nordic pair, one or other were occasionally chosen but not very often recently. Maybe their acquiescent acceptance bored the bitch. That just left the poor Aussie pair to 'enjoy' the regular visits from Alice's stallion. Male or female it didn't seem to matter as both squealed and screamed alike on the mounting frame as whip and rubber cock ensured her total mastery over them!
Eva approached the ponies slowly pushing an oversized pink baby buggy; a pink mini backpack slung over one shoulder and a 'dog' padding along beside the buggy its leash stretching from collar to one of the push handles. The large occupant of the carriage was almost hidden behind the lounger and folding table balanced across his lap and casually held in place with a frayed elastic bungee.
"Where do you want me?" Eva asked her sister.
Alice pointed down the field. "About where that last tree is. You bring the cord?"
"Yep" Eva jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the backpack.
"OK, tie one end to the tree somewhere and park your butt about, oh about twenty yards away. You can time them with your phone".
"K sis", Eva smiled wickedly. "Should be fun. Wanna bet on it" she asked coyly.
Alice laughed and shook her head. "Not if you're going to choose Midnight!"
"Spoilsport" Eva shook her head sadly. "No sporting instinct".
"You seem to be getting very attached to that one" Alice noted changing the subject and nodding at Fido who was squatting patiently beside his young mistress.
Eva reached out and ruffled the top of his head. "He's a good boy," she said then giggled and lifted the crook handled bamboo cane that dangled from the other buggy handle. "Does as he's told almost without needing a touch of my stick."
Alice surveyed the shivering youth at her feet "Looks like you still gave his rump a couple of hard touches" she noted clinically.
"Just a couple of quick stripes to get him going that's all, you know how lazy these animals can be. Come on Fido boy, let's go down to the nice tree and you can go pee-pee for me before we settle down and maybe you can do a bit of special licking for me as well later on".
She is growing up, Alice thought as she watched her amble off pushing her big baby in his buggy with Fido padding along to heel beside her. Well, it happens to all of us she glanced around at the ponies. Although for some their development abruptly changes track at a certain point! She frowned; her sister was spot-on. Lazy animals was too damn right she thought, Time to give these dumb idle fuckers a bit of good hard exercise and burn some surplus fat off. Also, it would serve to remind them all of their animal statuses. Her mother was too reserved, too focused on only keeping them stabled and docile in that enclosed environment. Alice had other ideas; she'd seen how other people used their ponies and intended to apply it here.
Her mother might enjoy the pure thrill of ownership, of training and breaking the beasts as did she but there was far more to ownership than that, and unlike her mother, she had no yearning for 'mature bits of fluff' in her bed to continually distract her. She whipped them, trained them, fucked them, and now she would use them as they should be used, as beasts of burden to perform whatever demanding and demeaning physical tasks, she put them too.
True, once outside there was always the security aspect to consider but the cameras and alarms, they had were excellent, plus there were more improved and more discrete devices on the market now. They could easily add to and enhance the existing systems and extend their boundaries to quickly alert them to possible intruders and prying eyes, not that there would be many in this remote location. Too far out for casual visitors and not the most popular area for the woolly bobble hat and hiking boots brigade who liked to wander in the wilds. There would be some significant changes in the offing when her mother returned, and she knew both Eva and that randy jerk of a stepfather would back her up. She surveyed her sullen charges for a moment and then went back towards the stable so that she could collect Midnight and add the final animal to her tethered little herd.
*****
Sally wasn't the only one enjoying the sunshine on her face. Eva shook her shoulder-length tousled mane of blonde hair back as she slowly made her way down the cinder path towards the spot her sister had indicated. She wasn't in a hurry; she never was; she wasn't that sort of person. Time her mother frequently complained, meant nothing to her. 'The lazy little bitch would be late for her own funeral!' A pretty stupid remark, Eva always thought. Who the hell would want to be early for their own funeral anyway?
She gave a sharp jerk on the leash. "Faster mutt" she snapped, "unless you want to feel my stick again?" It wasn't so much that the collared youth beside her down on all fours was holding her up, more a case of habit and she wasn't walking all that fast anyway as per her fundamental nature. In any case, the big buggy handicapped her a bit, although even with its sizeable heavy occupant, the design meant that it was not overly difficult to push even on the rough path. The occupant was silent of course with that large baby pacifier she'd strapped into his mouth.
His eyes still worked though, and like his daughter, they'd just passed even if she hadn't seen or recognised him, he was also enjoying this unexpected outing after so long being cooped up in that grotesque oversized parody of a baby's nursery. The greenery, the wind, the sunshine, blue skies, white clouds and fresh smells of the countryside.
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a ring tone quickly answered, followed by a gleeful whoop. It was one of her friends he surmised. He listened to the conversation; we'll he could hardly avoid listening could he unless he put his captive mitten covered hands over his ears. That probably wouldn't shut anything out anyway, and worse she might not like it. Why so, he'd didn't know? Who the hell could predict how these crazy females would react? Sometimes the most trivial things would produce a reaction out of all proportion, a reaction that would inevitably also result in a flogging!
He continued to brood as the outsize buggy lurched and bumped along the uneven path. The little bitch was cheerfully wittering on about everything and nothing. In the space of a couple of minutes she'd gone from makeup, a new air style via a proposed shopping trip, some boy call Josh to a band where all the guys were just so dreamy cutey cute!
It was so, so, all so dammed fucking surreal! A word that after all these months, he fully understood and one that was never far from his waking consciousness. The whole situation was unbelievable, incredible, a wide-awake nightmare that nothing could banish. No goodnights sleep followed by a wide-eyed re-energised morning awakening could dispel this hideous hell nor the attendant female demons who infested it and inflicted perpetual torment upon their helpless unwilling victims.
Bump, bump, bump, the tree her sister had mentioned grew ever nearer. A couple of times they veered briefly off the path such as it was and onto the rough grass, even bigger bumps! Too engrossed on the damn phone to be paying attention. Girlish squeals of delight about someone called Penny, a right uppity bitch who'd split with her boyfriend and had she been fucking him? Yes, no? More bloody silly squeals and bouts of giggling!
Surreal it truly was. His mind shut her out to drift down a familiar route; a journey travelled many times before and each new trip with that same helpless feeling of total mind-boggling incredulity that never seemed to leave him. Here he was, a fully-grown mature man and what would an independent viewer make of him and his present predicament...not that such a person was likely to appear he knew they wouldn't all be outside their customary secure residences if there was the remotest possibility of that happening.
What would they make of the enormous oversized pink baby buggy? Pink! Always bloody pink. He was laid back at an uncomfortable angle in the wretched contraption; knees bent uncomfortably over the edge rail with his pink booteed feet dangling freely a few inches above the ground as was his bum in the deep nylon seat. Who the fuck made all this oversized horror stuff he wondered? A safety strap around his waist pinned him down probably more as an essential safety precaution rather than a restraint. He no longer had the strength to struggle out and attempt to escape, and he was also beginning to wonder if he even still dared to try? One thing he did know and that was that these people terrified him!
He remembered his first few days when he was still...still a strong, healthy man albeit one that was frequently strapped helpless across that damn whipping bench in the basement. The little bitch who was now pushing him had been flogging him under the direction of her fucking sadistic bitch of a mother. He'd been mouthing off at the pair of them in between bouts of screaming in pain and rage! The mother had suddenly bent down and grabbed both his ears to hold his head steady. "If you continue to use all those nasty words and name-calling girl, I'll castrate you. Eva here wants a baby girl, and that's exactly what you are going to be from now on but piss me off much more and...."
She had left the sentence unfinished but released her hold as she stood erect and called to her daughter. "You sure you don't want me to turn him into a real girl for you sweetie?" He still shivered at the memory. The precise unemotional way she'd said it, and he knew she meant it - equally her daughter's nonchalant response. "Nah, not yet, maybe later if she gives me too much trouble, we'll see". So casual, so indifferent and she didn't even pause in the beating, her cane didn't even break rhythm as it blistered his bottom. Christ, yes, no wonder they terrified him!
Another bump. Shit, he hoped she wouldn't hit a big pothole. He knew his bottom in the low-slung seat wouldn't be that far from the ground, and that particular part of his anatomy still smarted very painfully from yesterday's 'behavioural reminders' the sadistic little brat had given him. He did not want it bouncing up and down on that rough gravelled track!
There was a jerk a bump, a pause followed by another jerk as she corrected the buggy and brought it back on track with a couple of muttered oaths. He then heard her say "Gotta go, so see ya", and the pace speeded up a little. Phone call presumably over. He'd lost sight of their destination his view blocked by the pieces of folded garden furniture she'd dumped on top of him, and that threatened to go overboard with every jerk and bump despite their tatty elastic securing strap. He wouldn't miss them as they continually dug into him, adding to his discomfort on this unexpected outing.
He caught sight of a tree trunk on his left-hand side, and the buggy abruptly wheeled around and bumped for a few moments over the grass. He winced, he'd been right, his arse did 'kiss the ground a few times not that she would give a damn about that. Probably just amuse the little devil if she even noticed. She hadn't, and she reached down to pull the brake lever. He felt her pat the top of his head through that ridiculous baby bonnet he wore.
"There there babykins, here we all are safe and sound. Mummy needs to get things set up and then baby can enjoy the sun, can't she. Mummy will rub some nice cream on so baby won't get her delicate skin burnt, we don't want that do we" she cooed sweetly, kissed two fingers and tapped him gently on the nose.
Skin burnt, he exclaimed silently to himself! Skin burnt? What the fuck had she done yesterday to the skin on his arse? Burnt, she'd fucking well-roasted that with her damned cane and paddle!
He felt her unhook the bungee strap and then his vision was fully restored as she lifted the lounger and table off him. She looked around and then unfolded them, setting them up nearby making sure the table was nice and low and conveniently to hand by the side of the extended lounger. "Move" she yelled at the cowering youth on the other end of the leather leash and lashed out at him with a pink trainer catching him hard in the ribs. He gave a whining yelp.
"Over there" she snapped her fingers and pointed towards the base of the nearby tree and untying her end of the leash from a buggy handle tossed it at him. "Fetch dog, get your teeth into that, then walk yourself over there and do your business on that tree and be quick about it, now!" she snapped her fingers once more impatiently and made as if to kick him again before turning her back on him. She didn't bother to check if he was doing as instructed; she knew the dumb hound would do precisely as ordered her mother's obedience training was very comprehensive.
Tears formed in his eyes making him repeatedly blink First his daughter standing there virtually naked apart from the bright pink leather harness and those horrible boots on her feet and her head almost hidden behind all those straps. Standing tied to a rail just as helpless in her cruel 'costume as he was in his frilly baby one. He hadn't been able to see her face, but he knew instinctively that it was her and then her belly. Oh god her belly, what had they done to her? They really had hadn't they. He'd heard the little bitch and her mother once or twice talking about 'a pregnant filly'. Filly was that how they saw her. Life was bad enough for him but to be treated like an animal...like his eldest son just a few yards away? His son crawling in grovelling acquiescent fear in response to a mere finger snap from the little teenage tyrant and he could fully understand why. A couple of tears now did run down his cheek. He shook his head. He didn't understand, just did not understand any of it...and where in this crazy version of hell was his poor wife?
*****
Her nightmare also continued, and it wasn't so much a question of where but more one of why? Why and for how long she wondered as she stared at the old blackboard perched a little lopsided on its easel and occasionally wincing as the chalk screeched against its chipped black painted wooden surface. Where was.... well this awful house for both a start and a finish? The location didn't matter much to her at the moment and geography was the last thing she was likely to be interested in.
The why was undoubtedly going to be a much more crucial question not that she dared to let her mind linger for too long on it. Maintaining concentration on what was going on before her was the most important thing for the present. Concentration and participation in this, this absurd charade the latest cruel step in the increasingly bizarre path her life was being channeled along. No, that was not right. Channelled would seem to indicate a degree of active cooperation, even enthusiasm on her part. No, she was being ruthlessly forced along a path she had no desire to tread!
She threw a quick glance left and then right to her two classmates. Classmates! To the left, the small bespectacled figure of 'Wanker' sat rigidly erect on the tall three-legged stool his short, thin legs swinging free below the tall school desk. His eyes behind the horn-rimmed spectacles never left the blackboard his head moving slightly as it followed the rapid movements of that squeaking piece of chalk.
Wanker! Obviously not his real name but the only one he had now and probably she surmised for a long time to come. Despite the lesson, she could not help her mind wandering and wondering about other things. Not a good idea she knew as she shifted a little on the hard stoop to ease the pressure on her sore bottom, but she could not help herself. She froze as the chalk paused its screeching momentum.
"Still girl! Sit still as you have been told" the booming dry voice snapped ominously. "You sit, you sit still, absolutely still and pay attention girl unless you want to come out here and feel my bamboo bouncing on your posterior again! Do you understand wretched girl?"
She nodded rapidly, but that wasn't enough. A piece of chalk flew through the air, caught her on the forehead, bounced off and fell to the floor, breaking into several fragments. "I didn't hear your answer, girl!"
"Yes Miss, yes Miss Primrose, I understand" she hastily assured the frightening woman who glared angrily at her. "I'm sorry, really sorry...my bottom was hurting..." she finished in a whisper trailing off as she wilted under the intimidating stare that woman was giving her.
Miss Primrose sneered as she slowly selected another length of chalk from the box on her desk. "Your bottom is supposed to hurt girl, and it will hurt a lot more I expect before dorm time." She gestured to the bits of chalk on the floor. "The moment the bell goes to end this lesson, I want to see you immediately on the floor clearing that mess up with your naughty mouth unless you want to bend over and kiss my desk again! Do you understand girl?"
"Ye...., yes, Miss Primrose". She nodded frantically and added. I understand".
The nerve-jarring squeaks resumed, and she heard a nasty chuckle from her right. "My turn later to giff you thum bampoo Gertie gal" Miss Agnes hissed maliciously and easily loud enough for her mother at the blackboard to hear not that she took the slightest notice.
Gertrude, recently known as Mumsie shivered but ignored the threatening interruption and tried her best too concentrate on what that booming monotonous voice at the front was saying. It wasn't easy. Gertrude? What a name she thought, why had they suddenly started calling her that and what did it imply and why all this....?
The long thin cane caught her eye and immediately arrested any other thoughts but then she relaxed; it was not threatening her merely being used to tap on the blackboard as various features of the female anatomy on the crudely chalked figure were pointed out by that droning voice. Her attention began to wander again, even though she knew it shouldn't. Shit, it really was like being back at school.
They were at the back of the house in a big old dining room. At least she assumed it had initially functioned in that capacity as there was a small two-door serving hatch set into one wall. It was cold, damp with an unpleasant musty unused aroma. She had not been into it until this new 'crazy' gang had arrived and what few pieces of furniture it had contained had been piled up down one end by the garden window, a table, some chairs and a sideboard. They served to block out most of the natural illumination, and the single low wattage naked bulb in the ceiling rose seemed to add to rather than diminish the gloomy ambience.
They had, it appeared, turned it into a parody of a Victorian classroom. A big teacher's desk dominated the front while three smaller antique wooden pupil desks complete with inkwells and decorated with a century and more of inked and carved graffiti from generations of bored students were arranged in a row before it. Behind the teacher's low desk there was a more modern padded comfortable swivel chair while the three students had to make do with uncomfortable wooden stools although Miss Agnes was perched comfortably on hers courtesy of a thick foam rubber cushion that bulged beneath her weight. Nevertheless, a luxury denied to Gertrude and Wanker.
The black-clad figure to her front had drawn a picture of the female torso on the blackboard and was explaining in great technical detail about the various erogenous zones a woman possessed. Heck, it might even have been interesting under other circumstances and if the lecturer had been a more entertaining speaker. The only advantage toward them paying attention that this one possessed as her dull, monotonous voice continued was the presence of the bamboo cane she was using as a pointer.
No, she didn't want to feel that cane again. That scary woman had already given her a vicious taster of it not long after she and her daughter plus the subservient man they called Wanker had arrived. She had been left tethered like a dog by her leash to an old radiator in another room crouched low on hands and knees. She'd heard them arrive, her present owner's enthusiastic greeting, then mutated voices followed by numerous bang bumps and the screech of furniture being moved on a wooden floor. A couple of times, female voices had been raised in anger, shrieking almost at one point. There had also been several screams in a male voice. Ominously the latter had been immediately after the former.
Then the smelly bitch who owned this house had come for her and dragged her down the long hall and into this room and introduced her to the dear friend who was to be her new teacher for a few weeks. Teacher? The lovely Miss Primrose and her equally lovely daughter Agnes. The weedy looking man kneeling in the corner with his nose pressed to the wall wasn't worthy of an introduction apparently.
Her owner had kissed the gruesome pair, told them she'd wait outside for the taxi so's they could get straight on with things and left them. Lovely was undoubtedly not an adjective she would have assigned to either of them, if anything the 'lovely Agnes was even uglier than her mother, the poorly applied make up detracting rather than adding to her appearance!
The front door had hardly closed before the latest round of insanity had commenced. Miss Primrose had handed her leash over to the daughter then taken a couple of steps backwards to stand hands on her very wide hips examining her. Judging by the look on her cruel face, the impression she made was not favourable!
The woman scared her, all these evil women scared her, but this one she sensed would be the worst of the lot and a shiver of fear rippled through her. She wasn't very tall and almost as broad as she was in height. Black-clad in a severe high ruffed necked black dress and sensible but very scuffed low-heeled black shoes. Her ankles and lower legs under the dress were very fat, swollen almost with pale white flesh bulging out of several runs in her tights or stockings.
How old, how to tell? Could be anything between sixty and eighty, old, wrinkled and ugly with a thin-lipped mouth that revealed horrible yellow and black teeth when she smiled coldly down at her. It wasn't the smile though that chilled her so much as the eyes. Black glittering eyes. Not the rummy watery eyes normal in the old, these were the bright but expressionless black eyes of snake or scorpion. No, not expressionless, there was cruelty in those eyes and something else, cruelty and lust..... The bitch had flogged her of course. She knew that was going to happen from the moment she first stared up into those evil black eyes.
"Why are you not wearing your uniform girl? The others are ready for the lesson, why are you not dressed?
Uniform? What does she mean? The voice was cold, and without emotion, almost robotic-like the one voice no one ever uses in a cheap satnav - no inflexion or variety just a flat measured monotone. A pudgy hand flashed, and a hard palm slapped the side of her face rocking her head sideways.
"Dumb insolence eh girl? Well, I have the means at hand to cure that. Kindly put this wayward girl over my desk, Agnes, it would seem that before we can all begin the first lesson, I must deliver a suitable preface!"
The big woman called Agnes used the leash to haul her across to a low desk, pushed her down on it and grabbed both her wrists spreading her arms and holding her firmly as she squirmed on the hard wooden surface. She was wise enough by now to know not to waste energy anymore and to accept the inevitable so after a couple of futile legs kick against empty air she calmed down to await what was to come and hoped that in this case, first impressions were going to be wrong!
Agnes chortled at her struggles and squeezed her wrists even harder, making her squeal as she leaned her face very close to her captives. "Muffer will make you scweam bad girl". Her foul breath stank as she whispered. "Later when we are in the dormy together you can lick my nith hot puthy good or else I'll make you scweam more!"
The sound of a couple of swishes came to her ears, and she knew from experience, unpleasant experiences what they portended. Her wrists were being held in an iron grip that was already becoming painful as she raised her head a little to look around. To the right was a window with old faded red velvet curtains drawn partly across and to the left....to the left comprehension began to dawn as she saw the three old fashioned school desks and hard wooden stools. Uniform, lesson, desks, girl! Oh God, she groaned silently to herself, another game, yet another crazy game.... the nightmare continued!
A little later while outwardly maintaining her façade of rapt attention on that damn blackboard her head moved almost imperceptibly a few degrees a little first one way and then the other, her eyes squinting sideways as she assessed her two fellow pupils.
Wanker was a rather small man who looked older than her but on closer inspection was perhaps younger, maybe only early thirties. The studious thick horn-rimmed spectacles coupled with advanced premature baldness, an unhealthy pale yellowish complexion plus his nervous haggard demeanour added ten perhaps even fifteen to twenty years at first glance. He sat bolt upright on his stool, arms bent, palms flat on the desk about eighteen inches apart.
She studied him curiously wondering who he was and how he came to be here. Presumably, he was a captive just as she was and belonged to the ugly old bitch whose monotonous droning voice she was managing to shut out. He must have arrived with her unless there were more hidden prison cells in this hell house other than the one in the cellar that contained Creature. She doubted that she'd probably have found out about them by now and it wasn't all that big a building. Huge by modern three bedroomed semi-detached 'little box' standards but not for its age and the era it had been built in. Then again, when she thought about it, she'd never been in this makeshift classroom before either, and there were other unexplored rooms upstairs plus a narrow staircase that must lead to a third floor or attic.
Her eyes detected movement, slight movement. He was presumably as uncomfortable as she was but much more practised at shifting his posterior ever so slightly on the hard-wooden seat than she was to ease his discomfort. His eyes never seemed to move fixed as they were on that damn screeching chalk, but he blinked, blinked frequently sometimes quite rapidly for a moment like a young girl fluttering her eyes at a prospective beau. Nerves more likely in his case she decided.
Unlike herself who had to sit there squirming in total nudity bar a leather collar around her neck with a dog leash dangling from it to the floor, he was fully dressed. His clothing, the classroom, blackboard, yes, she now had a pretty good idea of what the next chapter in this evermore bizarre saga was going to involve.
Wanker was of course dressed as the archetypal nineteen fifties ten-year-old schoolboy. A thin maroon sleeveless sweater with a name badge proclaiming his humiliating name to all and sundry. Grey flannel shirt, maroon tie, grey above the knee shorts, calf-length grey woollen socks complete with what looked like elastic garters to hold them up. The tops of his socks were folded over, but she could see a sliver of white elastic and some green triangular cloth tufts poking down. The only items at odds with the traditional nineteen fifties schoolboy look were his shoes. Instead of boy's regulation black lace-up shoes, he wore a pair of patent glossy black Mary Jane girlie flats with a wide buckled strap! The inevitable peaked, cloth button topped schoolboy cap sat neatly on his desk on the opposite side to the Inkwell.
Why was she not wearing her uniform? Because she damn well didn't have one that was why, Miss fucking oh so ugly white powder-faced fucking hag, Primrose! Just a fucking dog collar and long leather leash! Oh, how she wanted to squirm around on that solid wooden stool to see if it helped ease the pain from the six hard cuts of the cane she'd been given. Not fair, not fair at all.
Ever so slowly, she shifted her gaze over to Miss Agnes on her other side. She was the exact opposite of Wanker being very obviously in her late forties or possibly, early fifties, an age that the long dirty blonde pigtails, heavily applied makeup and lisping childlike voice she assumed could not disguise.
She was taller and built on considerably more robust lines than the weedy emaciated looking man to her left nor did she have the same 'hang-dog' furtive attitude and fearful demeanour. On the contrary, she displayed a confident if bored approach to the whole business, nor was she in any way, keeping still. She yawned, stretched and shifted position at will, her head twisting and turning as she showed not the slightest interest in the lecture and examined different aspects of her surroundings with a vacant childlike curiosity. Unlike herself or the stiffly rigid figure of Wanker, no admonishments came her way no matter what she was doing.
She also wore a traditional school uniform - a neat pleated grey sixties style gymslip, white blouse and maroon tie. The later in her case only very loosely knotted about the unbuttoned collar and not even straight being somewhat skewed to one side - knee-high white cotton socks and the same style Mary Jane shoes. A maroon cardigan lay crumpled on her desk with a large round white badge showing face up - the badge read HEAD PREFECT in big black capital letters. There was more writing underneath, smaller, harder to read; it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. 'Authorised to beat naughty pupils.
Also, on the desk next to the ink well was a tarnished handbell and a wristwatch laid out lengthways with the strap undone. A timer, a lesson timer, hadn't that bitch in front said something about a bell? So how long would the lesson las.....
"Ough...." She jumped and winced in pain on her stool as the wooden blackboard duster bounced off her head and clattered noisily onto the floor leaving her clutching at the side of her head and coughing in a small cloud of white dust.
"Agnes" screamed the harsh enraged voice, "bring that naughty little girl out here this very instant. I'll show the new girl what happens to students that would rather daydream instead of paying proper attention to their lessons!"
She opened her mouth in horror to protest her innocence but squeaked aloud instead as a hand grabbed and held her right ear in a vice-like grip. She heard a whooping giggle of delight as she was painfully dragged off her stool and propelled toward that frightening black-clad figure by the blackboard, her bony white hands now flexing the cane in a very anticipatory way.
She twisted her head around, ignoring the pain from her ear, but one frightened glance at those eager cold black reptilian eyes told her that any attempt to plead or beg would be futile. Of God, why her?
*****
Why her, why them, where were they all? What had happened to them? To five people? Questions she had been asking herself for months now, continued to ask and asked silently again while she waited. At least he was taking his time; most people just glanced at the photos and promptly handed them back with a negative shake of the head.
His head shook, and hope died as it had on so many occasions but then...he put the photos down on the bar top next to her untouched diet coke and tapped them with a finger. "It's that family ain't it?" he asked thoughtfully. "that one that disappeared up in the Midlands, leastways that's where they found the car, the ones in all the papers".
She was disappointed, just for one brief second there had been a flicker, but it died with his words. Given the publicity, at the time it wasn't surprising. Her aunt's family had been on the front pages of all the papers for a few days, then the inside pages, then the occasionally paragraph and within a fortnight sadly forgotten about doomed to be one of those mystery stories that flared back into public awareness from time to time to then fade away again just as quickly.
"Ethel, Ethel come'ere a minute" the landlord shouted toward the door at the end of the bar from which the smell of food frying in rather old burnt oil emerged.
"Wot?"
"Come here have a look at these will ya. Girl here looking for her family, them as was in the papers n'on the telly news a bit back you recall?"
Ethel appeared wiping her fat sweaty face on her forearm and looking harassed in a plastic apron covered in images of lobsters, crabs, shrimps and other assorted sea creatures. She looked at her husband enquiringly and then down at the photographs on the bar top he was pointing at. She picked one up and then another frowning as she did so, she was about to do the usual head shake as well but stopped and picked up the first photo again.
Jenny held her breath surely not but maybe, maybe finally, maybe? They'd found the families car parked a hundred and fifty-odd miles plus from here in a quiet suburban street. All the belongings were still in it, suitcases with a mixture of worn and clean clothing, all the detritus that usually accumulates in a family vehicle present, but no people. No people, no phones, no wallets, no small bags or purses.
The police said it looked like the exterior had been cleaned quite recently probably in one of those coin-opp jet power car washes. That was odd for a start she'd thought. Her aunt was always complaining that while her uncle assiduously cleaned his computer keyboard, monitors and other bits of tech kit, dusted his small collection of antique leather-bound books, model ships and railway locomotives regularly, everything else, his shoes, man-den and the family car received a disgraceful token 'once a year wipe over' at best.
The media had dubbed the disappearance as the 'Mary Celeste of Manor House Avenue mystery', the disappearing family? That being the name of the road where the car was discovered. All the holiday luggage still in the car, the open bag of boiled sweets, even half-eaten sandwiches and a near empty thermos flask of coffee, but not a single sign of the occupants nor clue to their disappearance. Forensic examination subsequently turned up nothing, no sign of foul play, no blood stains, nothing at all out of the ordinary and only the fingerprints of the various family members. The vehicle itself was mechanically sound although it did appear to have had a brand-new alternator fitted recently. The garage that occasionally serviced the vehicle hadn't done it according to their records. The missing occupants were her family members, and she was determined to find answers where the police and attendant media interest had so far failed.
Failed and failed miserably in her opinion. She knew that was probably being very unfair given the police's ever decreasing manpower situation; they couldn't keep officers on the case forever not with the growing crisis everywhere involving knife crime and other social problems. However, she did feel that they could have been a bit more active. True for a week and more there had been lots of activity both around the area where the car had been found and along their presumed route from their last known sighting, checking out after breakfast at a small country hotel. The general public and helicopters had been used to assist in the search, but no trace of them had been found. Now for the second time, she was taking a week's holiday from her job at the gym and spending it looking for those she'd lost.
Ethel stared blankly at the photographs and was about to resume the head shake when her husband suddenly spoke. "Sammy's pictures remember".
Recollection dawned she could see it in the woman's eyes. She turned and pointed to some framed pictures on the pub wall. The misses, she was interested in our Sam's paintings, our second youngest, Samantha, she's up in London at art college. She were quite taken with them, asked if any were for sale".
"That's right, her husband confirmed eagerly. We had to say no a bit reluctant like because our Sam could probably have used a few extra quid, but she'd given em to us for the pub wall. Fact she gave me hell next time she was down for not flogging a few, s'why they got tickets on em now."
"And we have sold a few too, Good prices n'all" Ethel added with a hint of pride. "Thought she'd be wasting her time doing art, not much money in that we told her, but she would go so's maybe she was right and me an her dad was dead wrong."
Bingo! A lead, finally a lead. "I don't suppose you can remember when that was or where they were going when they left?" It was a question that had to be asked, but she knew it would be futile to expect much of an answer. Her fears were immediately confirmed.
They both looked at each other then shook their heads. "No idea miss," the husband said regretfully. His wife looked thoughtful and added. "Must have been a weekday and earlyish, I remember him here calling through that we'd got a food order and to light the stove up. Then I was out to answer questions about the pictures afore I got going. Weekends and Friday afternoon n'evenings thems our busy times, so it weren't then."
"Bob Trotter" the husband suddenly blurted out and then added excitedly "South I saw them go, down thataway" he gestured. He saw their puzzled looks. "I remember. After they'd et the guy asked me which was the best way to the coast road on the way out. I was over by the door telling em when Bob Trotter tried to bring that mangy flea ridden old hound of his in n'had to break off to tell him to fasten it up outside where it belongs. Time I was through arguing with Bob they were off driving down that aways, but I'd give em the gist of it."
He looked pleased with himself for a moment and then worried. "I heard the coppers were looking for em down here but never give it a thought till just now. Didn't even connect till you showed those pictures. The relief couple told us about it all when we got back" his eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers again. Ethel had already disappeared and was back in a moment with a big black well-used diary.
"We was away six weeks; brewery let us save holiday from last year to add to this years, went out to Australia, Melbourne to see my sister." She quickly leafed through and gave her their departure date. "We flew out Sunday night late but a good day to drive all that way to the airport so they must have been here sometime Monday to Friday on them dates".
A few minutes later, Jenny was seated in her car with the engine running. She didn't drive off straight away but took the time to write up some notes in a small red notebook. Useful, very useful this moved the ball a touch nearer the unseen goalposts. It was a new 'last sighting' and she also now knew which direction they had driven off in. She debated whether or not to phone up her police contact on the case and pass on this new piece of information.
The landlord had asked her that very same question a little hesitantly as though he wasn't overly happy with the idea of having a police visit. Indeed, he'd immediately confirmed that suspicion when he admitted that he wasn't too keen on the idea at all having had, as he put it, 'a couple of misunderstandings with coppers in the past like when he was younger' still if it helped, they'd be willing to tell them the same.
She reached for her cell phone, then paused and changed her mind. It could wait. She'd do it later on maybe after she'd found somewhere to say for the night or tomorrow. Yes, she'd do that, she was feeling impatient now and could use all the afternoon for hunting up more information. She thrust the phone back into her bag, looked around, released the handbrake and pulled out into the empty road heading south.
Yes, she had a good feeling, luck was definitely with her, she felt she was getting positive vibes, getting closer, getting warmer. She was quite correct; only she wasn't to know that not phoning her contact immediately would prove to be a huge mistake. Far better had she done so there and then. However, sitting there excitedly in the quiet of the isolated pub's near empty carpark, how could she know that the comfortable feeling of getting warm would very soon turn absolutely Red Hot! Unfortunately, it would quickly prove not to be so comfortable, in fact, quite the reverse for her. If luck could be contained in a bucket, then hers had just developed a large hole in the bottom, and it was fast running out on her!