Captives of Cheyner Close (15 page)

They were allowed to rest in the garden before lunch, but with their gags in place. They could only stare mutely at each other and their matted pubic hair and the drying streaks of discharge that smeared their thighs and wonder what they were becoming. Hazel, Gail and Daniela looked quite relaxed in the bonds, Tara thought, as though content with what they had done. She could almost believe there were smiles hidden behind their gags.

After lunch Gerald Spooner came round to Number 2 in his wheelchair. Two lengths of rope were tied to the chair frame just above the front wheels. The ropes had then been tied round the ends of three wooden rods, rather like the rungs of a rope ladder. There was space between each rod for two girls to kneel side by side. The rods were pushed into their mouths and held in place by strips of tape bound around the backs of their heads. By this means they were both gagged and simply but effectively harnessed to the wheelchair in three tandem pairs.

Spooner had the long holly cane Narinda had used on them the previous day, and this he flicked across their backs and buttocks to control them. They made several circuits of the lawn, scrabbling along on their hands and knees as they drew him after them. Neck straining and drool dribbling round the rod clamped between her teeth, Tara was acutely aware of the spectacle they were giving Spooner as they shuffled along. He could look right up their backsides and see the split peaches of their sexes peek-a-booing between their rolling thighs. Well, he was an old man, she conceded. Looking was all he could do now. He couldn’t have many more thrills as good as this to come. If he enjoyed it then …

God! Was she beginning to feel sorry for him?

Then Spooner swished his holly cane across her bottom and the pain put everything back into context. It didn’t matter who was doing what to her, she would simply concentrate on getting her own perverse pleasure out of being used like a sledge dog. A sledge bitch, she corrected herself.

They were locked into their bed frames to rest earlier than usual, as they were to be alert for when the
workers
returned. Tara gathered they would then feature in some activity at Gerald Spooner’s house for the whole Close to enjoy before being separated for the night. As soon as they were alone Hazel, Gail and Daniela once again began talking excitedly about their experiences of the previous night, which they had been unable to share until now. Unexpectedly Cassie cut through their chatter.

‘Isn’t anybody wondering how I got on with Hilary and Rachel?’ she asked brightly.

‘How was it?’ Hazel asked tentatively.

‘They finger-fucked and fisted me, then I had to lick their cunts out while they took turns buggering me with an extra-long dildo,’ Cassie said lightly. ‘But I just pretended it was all a crazy sex-dream and I even came a couple of times. No problem.’

To Tara’s ears that last remark sounded forced. But Gail seemed to take it at face value.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ she said sincerely. ‘I’m sure that’s the best way to get through this.’

‘They used that snakey-dildo on me on Saturday night,’ Daniela admitted. ‘I was frightened at first, with it going in so far I mean, but after a bit it –’

‘So don’t you worry when it’s your turn with them, Sian,’ Cassie continued loudly, silencing Daniela. ‘Just let them play with you and come when you can.’ She gave an evil chuckle. ‘But I told them it was Tara who wrote all those anonymous letters about them, so I think they’re going to give her a real hard time when they get their hands on her!’

After tea they were readied to be taken across to Number 9. Their gags were reinserted, their hands were cuffed behind them and their collars linked by chains. In a coffle they were marched out into the side alley of Number 2, with Tom Fanning leading them
and
Louisa Jessop bringing up the rear, ready if necessary to urge them on with her holy cane.

Because of the time of day and being in a single group they could do without barrows or wheelie-bins. Warwick went to the end of the Close and signalled the main road was clear. Tara felt a renewed thrill of exposure as they were marched briskly across to Number 9 in the still-bright sunlight. Narinda Khan evidently thought the scene was special as well. She was standing in the road and took a picture of them as they crossed, framing their column of naked and chained bodies against the backdrop of mundane houses: proof they really were the captives of Cheyner Close.

It was almost a relief to have the garden gate of Number 9 close behind them and be back in its comfortable enclosure. But the sensation was Short-lived. As Tara took in the devices laid out on Gerald Spooner’s now well rolled lawn and the grinning faces of the other residents, she once again revised upwards their capacity for perverse invention.

The golf ball plopped into Tara’s gaping vagina.

‘Hole in one!’ Stan Jessop cried cheerfully.

Those residents not in the process of swinging golf clubs themselves at that moment applauded his efforts. Tara clenched her inner muscles and with an effort popped the ball out of her so that it rolled back onto the grass.

It was clock golf with a difference.

They had staked out the girls in a neat ring on the lawn. Tara, like Hazel opposite her, was lying spread-eagled flat on her back with her open legs facing the centre of the ring. A shallow V-shaped wooden ramp, painted green, was wedged between her thighs, its apex pressed against the undercurve of the pouch of
her
vulva. Projecting horizontally from the narrow lip of the wedge were two lengths of wooden dowel. These had been forced into the mouth of her vaginal passage so as to hold it stretched wide in a mocking rictus of a smile. This grimace had been turned into an ‘O’ of surprise by a hook curling round the upper rim of her passage and held under tension by a chain running up between her sex lips to a belt buckled about her waist. It left her lovemouth wide open to the air, to inquisitive flies, to anybody who cared to look up into her secret depths … and of course to golf balls.

It was a new low (or did she mean high?) on the scale of degradation to which they had so far been subjected. So why did her hard clitoris bulge against the hook chain as it cut through her cleft, and her juices seep down the cleft of her buttocks? Could she get aroused no matter what they did to her?

On her left, Sian was staked out in a different fashion.

Her slender body was doubled over so that her knees almost touched her shoulders, while her arms were folded and cuffed under her bent back. Ropes crossing between two stakes on either side of her neck ensured she held her head steady, while her ankles were tied to two more widely spaced stakes, which helped to brace her in position so she could not squirm about. This left her smooth tight buttocks and groin exposed to the sky. A large translucent plastic funnel had been plugged into her vagina, held in place by garden wire running from holes drilled through its rim to encircle her doubled-back thighs. An accurate chip shot would land a ball into the funnel where it would bounce around until it finally dropped into her warm moist living cup. A simple mask made of aluminium mesh of the kind used in car bodywork
repairs
protected her face from balls that overshot their intended target.

Sian flinched each time a ball was directed at her and an occasional throaty whine escaped her gag. But the tangle of dark hair ringing the neck of the implanted funnel glistened wetly and her small nipples rose up in hard points. Tara wished she could see her face properly to judge how well she was coping with this latest humiliation.

It was easier to tell with Daniela, who was positioned on Tara’s right. She was bent over on her spread knees so that her chest rested on the ground, and her face was turned towards Tara. Her arms were drawn out straight back down between her knees and tied to the middle pair of a row of four stakes, the outer ones of which secured her ankles. Another large plastic funnel had been slipped between the flawless tan hemispheres of her buttocks and into her anus, forcing it wide enough for a golf ball to enter her. The funnel projected bizarrely from her rear like a strange sort of tail, held at the desired angle by a wire running back down from its rim to her collar.

Tara could see Daniela’s face was alive with anticipation, flinching as a ball struck her bottom or thighs, but seeming as though she was willing the player to succeed; to feel a ball roll into her open rectum. It was a tricky shot and most missed altogether or rebounded from the sides of the funnel. But as the players got their eye in a few began to land in the dark pit between her haunches. And when they did Daniela gave a little moan and briefly closed her eyes, though not, Tara thought, in shame.

After all the residents had played a round, Major Warwick said: ‘Right, let’s swap them over and give them a taste of the other positions …’

Half an hour later Tara was squatting down straining to expel the last golf ball from her rectum. They had all been hosed out and greased before the game had started, so the balls came out quite cleanly. I’m being made to shit golf balls, she thought dizzily. Who’d have thought it?

With a disturbingly exciting sensation the last ball finally popped out into the bowl placed under her for the purpose, which was then removed. With a leash clipped to her collar, Tara was led over to where the other girls knelt in a line, waiting for Warwick to announce who would have the use of them that night.

Gail was assigned to Jim Curry, while Hazel, eyes wide with nervous anticipation, was given to Tom Fanning. Then Warwick said: ‘And Tara Ashwell goes with Hilary and Roberta …’

As the women took hold of Tara’s leash, she saw Cassie’s face light up with malicious delight. Nerving herself to show no apprehension, Tara simply smiled back at Cassie, then stood proudly and allowed herself to be led away.

Gail dangled from a beam in Jim Curry’s workshop.

A pulley chain was hooked through a heavy ringbolt set in the middle of a horizontal tubular metal bar. Gail’s ankles were enclosed in broad leather cuffs and clipped to the ends of the bar, pulling her legs out and up into a broad V. Her arms were drawn straight up from her shoulders and similarly cuffed to the bar on either side of its central mount. This posture left her groin totally exposed. The centre of gravity of her body caused her hips to swing forward slightly, as though offering the open maw of her lovemouth to his gaze. Her anus was a little crinkled starburst ring below the swell of her pubes.

A touch on the bar made Gail turn slowly, allowing him to examine every detail of her lovely form. He drank in her girlishly innocent face, her wide round eyes nervously meeting his gaze and her wonderfully ripe body. A few days ago he would never have imagined he could have possessed such a beautiful creature, and yet now she was his alone for the night to do with virtually as he wished. He picked up his camera and snapped away, wanting to record the moment forever. He felt his manhood stirring in anticipation. Steady, he told himself. No need to rush.

Gail was making plaintive noises from behind her gag while her eyes pleaded for attention.

‘You want to say something?’ he asked.

Gail nodded.

‘You know it’s no good begging for mercy or anything, because you aren’t going to get it. You deserve all that’s coming to you, along with the rest of your gang.’

Gail was still nodding. Intrigued, Jim pulled the rubber ball from her mouth.

‘I know I deserve to be punished, Master,’ she said meekly, her voice low and tremulous. ‘I just wanted you to know I’m so sorry for everything I did. I never imagined how it was hurting you. It all seemed like a big game at the time …’ She trailed off, chewing her lip mournfully. ‘Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say.’ And she opened her mouth again ready for the gag to be reinserted.

Jim’s eyes narrowed. She seemed too good to be true. ‘Do you think this’ll make me go easier on you?’

Her round eyes appeared completely guileless. ‘No, Master.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You do whatever you want to me. That was the agreement. And I should be punished for being so nasty to you. As long as my parents never find out.’

She seemed utterly candid, but could it be an act? He took her melon-breasts in his hands, feeling their warmth and weight and resilience, rolling and squeezing them together. Her hardening nipples pressed into his palms. She trembled and her eyelids fluttered.

‘Do you like that?’ he asked.

She gulped. ‘Yes, Master.’

‘You’ve got lovely big tits.’

A shy fleeting smile crossed Gail’s lips. ‘Thank you, Master. Boys always want to play with them.’

‘But what if I did more than play with them?’ He caught hold of the thick cones of her nipples and gave them a warning tweak.

Gail gave a little shiver and licked her lips. ‘I understand if you want to – to torture them. It’s probably a good way to punish me because they’re quite sensitive … especially my nipples.’

‘Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?’

Gail looked genuinely puzzled. ‘I – I’ll probably make a lot of noise when you punish me, Master. You might want to put my gag back in.’

‘You really are ready to let me do anything I want with you?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Don’t you want to escape if you could?’

Briefly her fists clenched as she tugged on her cuffs as though by reflex, but then she relaxed again: looking utterly helpless and perfectly passive once more. A troubled expression crossed her face as she sought for the right words. ‘I suppose I do in a way, but at the same time I know I shouldn’t. I deserve to be here.’

‘Even tied up like this?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘But you can’t be comfortable.’

‘I’m not, Master … but it feels right.’

Jim dropped his hands from her breasts down to her gaping vulva. He ran a finger though the slippery cleft, its lips already engorged with blood, feeling its wet warmth and smelling her arousal.

Gail gasped at his touch. The tendons on the backs of her splayed legs contracted in response, setting her swaying in her bonds.

‘The truth is all this excites you, isn’t that it?’ he said.