Captives of Cheyner Close (4 page)

‘Do you really mean that?’ Warwick asked, his voice grave, as he ran his eye over the huddle of miserable girls. ‘Will you all say it here and now? Publicly beg to accept whatever punishment or restraints we inflict and any use we make of you for the next week?’

There was a shameful chorus of mumbled assents.

‘We want each of you say it loud and clear for the record,’ Warwick snapped, in tones that would not have been out of place on a parade ground. ‘I warn you, if anyone doesn’t sound convincing you all go back to your camp and wait for the police to call. Well?’

Fanning moved closer with his camera, focusing on their distraught faces. Gail said suddenly: ‘I do!’

‘Do what?’ Warwick demanded. ‘Speak up, girl.’

‘I – I beg to accept any punishment or restraints or – or use you make of me for the next week,’ Gail said, her eyes glistening with tears.

‘Who’s next?’ Warwick asked. ‘We haven’t got all night.’

Daniela and Hazel spoke together, their trembling voices tumbling over each other: ‘I beg to accept … any punishment or restraint … or use you make of me … for the next week.’

Through gritted teeth, Sian and then Cassie made the same pledge. Then there was only Tara left. As the hateful unreal words flowed from her lips she realised they had been manoeuvred into this declaration on camera. Resentment at being so comprehensively trapped burned hotly within Tara, together with, surprisingly, an echo of the arousal she felt every time she had perpetrated a raid on the Close. But how could something so degrading get her excited?

They stood there fearful and uncertain.

‘Strip,’ the Major commanded. ‘Take everything off: watches and jewellery included.’

There was a moan of dismay from the others but Tara understood. Of course they would do this. The first obvious humiliation to which they could be subjected. It was what she would have had done in their place.

As trembling fingers began to undo buttons and zips, the camera’s began to flash again.

‘You’ll get your clothes and other possessions back when we release you at midnight next Friday,’ Warwick continued. ‘Until then you’ll be nothing but naked slaves.’

Tops and jeans and trainers were cast down onto the grass, with many a miserable sniff and choked-back whimper of shame, which became louder as flimsy pieces of underwear joined the pile. When they were totally naked, Roberta Pemberton gathered up their discarded clothes and put them in the bin bags. The other girls clenched their thighs together and tried to hide their breasts and pubes from the gaze of their captors, but Tara fought the shameful impulse and stood proud and defiant with her arms by her sides. She was beautiful and she knew it. There was nothing they could do to change that, or what she was inside.

‘Hands behind backs, wrists crossed,’ the Major ordered, and reluctantly they obeyed. Curry and Jessop went around behind them with the reels of tape and began binding their wrists together.

‘You don’t have to tie us up,’ Tara protested. ‘We’ve promised to do what you want.’

‘Think of it as insurance,’ Warwick said. ‘We can’t risk any of you losing your nerve and running off. You’re all going to see this through to the end, so get used to it.’

Tara’s heart was thudding as her own wrists were bound. To her horror she felt her nipples begin to rise.

‘We don’t have time for anything elaborate right now,’ Warwick explained with a smile. ‘But you should have a taste of what’s to come.’ He pointed at Tara and swished the bamboo meaningfully though the air. ‘You first …’

Two

THE UNLOCKING OF
the sitting room door roused the girls from their uneasy slumber. They peered about blearily as the lights came on.

Warwick, Khan, Roberta Pemberton and Hilary Beck entered. They were each carrying bulging plastic bags together with short lengths of cane. As they blinked the sleep from their eyes, the girls saw the canes had sprigs of holly taped to their tips. Khan put down his bags, took out a knife and cut the tape binding the girls’ ankles. Assisted by the others he hauled them upright, ignoring their groans as their stiff limbs were forced to bear them.

‘Stand straight,’ Warwick barked, and clumsily they obeyed. He flicked his spine-tipped cane across their bare bodies, bringing forth gasps and yelps of pain. ‘Form a proper line … that’s better … eyes front, chests out … don’t be coy, girl, you’ve nothing to hide from us.’

Tara wanted to scream at the wretched man that nobody talked to her like that. But either her mind was still too cold and sluggish to assemble the suitable invective or else the force of his personality was temporarily too overwhelming. She could only stand mute with the others in a naked trembling line, feeling unkempt and miserable.

‘We’ve let you sleep late this morning because we had preparations to make,’ Warwick said. ‘But that is the last concession you will receive for the next week. From this moment on you these are the rules you will live by.

‘You will address us respectfully at all times, either as “Sir”, “Ma’am”, “Master” or “Mistress”, depending on how you are instructed. You will remain naked at all times unless directed otherwise. You will perform any sexual act required of you by whoever you are serving at that moment …’ He paused while the plaintive whimpers died away. ‘That is what you agreed to, remember. You are here to pay for your crimes in whatever manner we see fit and suffer whatever punishments we choose to inflict upon you. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ they said miserably.

Warwick reached out and caught Tara’s left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, digging his nail in until her eyes watered. With her arms bound she could not pull away, only grit her teeth and try not to cry aloud.

‘Do you understand, Tara Ashwell?’ he asked, looking her full in the face.

He read her defiance and she saw his determination. For one fleeting moment, in a twisted way, they understood each other perfectly. The corner of his mouth twitched in a faint smile.

‘Yes … Sir,’ she said.

He released her. ‘Good. Now before we proceed further, Miss Pemberton has a job for you.’

Roberta had taken a phone and a small notepad from her pocket. ‘You’ve got a couple of calls to make,’ she told Tara. ‘We’ve written down what you’re to say. Be convincing or else you’ll get another six of the best with the bamboo.’

Five minutes later Tara had spoken to Simon, telling him there had been a change of plan and he was to mind the camp until further notice, and also to Katy in Cornwall, giving her a new number to ring if she had any calls from their parents that had to be relayed.

‘Now to get you freshened up,’ Roberta said.

Leaving the Major in the sitting room unpacking bags, the girls were prodded upstairs, Khan coming last.

‘What a pretty sight such a fine row of rumps makes,’ he observed heartily, watching their bottoms proceed him. ‘I’m glad to see the Major left room for more stripes. A good caning will make them more ready to please.’

Tara pinched her lips while Hazel and Gail whimpered.

‘Don’t worry, girls,’ Khan continued. ‘I’ve already told the others I do not care to soil myself with you. My wife is the only woman I wish to know intimately. But I will still enjoy seeing you humiliated in every way possible. Perhaps it will teach you to be better people in future.’

They lined the girls up in a row on the landing, with their backs to the wall. Hilary and Roberta drew Tara into the small bathroom, lifted the lid of the toilet and sat her down on the bowl.

‘Please … Ma’am,’ Tara asked, hating herself for sounding so servile. ‘Aren’t you going to undo my hands?’

‘No, girl. And I think I’d like you to address me as: “Mistress.”.’

‘But … Mistress, how do I clean myself?’

‘You don’t, we use one of these.’ Roberta was uncoiling a short length of garden hose from her bag. One end was fitted with a tap adaptor while the other
held
an adjustable spray nozzle. She fitted the adaptor to the bath tap. ‘By tonight everybody in the Close will have something like this in their bathrooms, if they haven’t got bidets. We’ll make sure you’re clean and fresh as required. In between you won’t be needing your hands free because there’s to be no playing with yourselves for any reason, unless you’re ordered to for our amusement, of course.’ Groans of despair could be heard from the landing at these words.

Tara gulped, then looked through the open bathroom door to where Khan stood on the landing grinning at her. ‘Please, Mistress, will you close the door?’

‘No privacy for the next week,’ Roberta grinned. ‘That’s part of the punishment. You’re going to spend the rest of your life knowing we’ve seen you perform all your most intimate functions. Now get on with it, girl; you’re holding everybody up. No, keep your legs wide. You’ve nothing to hide from us …’

‘Bloody-well do it, Tara,’ Sian called out from the landing, ‘we’re bursting out here!’

Blushing furiously, Tara closed her eyes and managed to release her sphincters, emptying her wastes into the toilet bowl.

Hardly had she finished before Roberta made her squeal by directing a jet of cold water from the hose up into her pudenda and the pit of her anus. Her pubes bulged as the stream flushed it out, bubbling like a fountain as Tara squirmed and gasped in surprise.

‘Get used to it,’ Roberta told her. ‘There’s plenty more of the same to come.’

Hilary had taken soap, flannel, a comb and towels from her bag. After leading Tara over to the washbasin, she gave her a quick wash and brush up while
Cassie
took her place on the toilet. After the combing, Hilary snapped elastic bands round their hair to make ponytails, ensuring it was held clear of their faces.

Fifteen minutes later the girls were led back down to the sitting room. Warwick had spread a plastic tablecloth on the floor and laid it with six brand new pet bowls. Their names had been written on the side of each one in bold black felt-tip. They were made to kneel before their respective bowls.

‘Luckily Pet Village over in Felgate opens early,’ Roberta said. ‘We picked up several useful bits and pieces from there.’

The bowls were filled with muesli, fresh banana and a little milk, mashed together so that it formed a thick paste.

‘Eat,’ Roberta commanded, ‘like the animals you are …’

Miserably they spread their knees wide and bent forward, pushing out their bottoms to maintain their balance as they dipped their mouths into their respective bowls and ate as best they could. The posture stretched their buttock clefts wide, exposing their anuses and mounds of Venus even more blatantly than during their canings the night before. While they ate, their captors walked round behind them, encouraging to them to lick their bowls clean with flicks of the holly switches across their unwillingly offered hindquarters.

Tara silently cursed the residents. They were proving to be far more inventive than she had imagined.

Eating had left their cheeks smeared with cereal, so they were paired and ordered to lick each other’s faces clean. Tara and Cassie could hardly look each other in the eye as they grimly obeyed. Gail gave Sian a helpless smile as they went about the task, while
Hazel
and Daniela broke into nervous giggles as they lapped each other’s cheeks and lips.

When they were done, Warwick looked at his watch. ‘We have a little time in hand. Perhaps, as I won’t have any of them to myself this morning, I could give them a little drill practice in the back garden until Jim arrives. Some ideas for suitably slavish postures and responses occurred to me last night. They might help break them in and make them easier to control.’

The others nodded in approval. Khan said: ‘Don’t break them all at once, Major. We want to do our bit as well.’

Warwick smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I think there’ll be plenty left for you to do, Raj. I won’t be able to whip this sorry bunch into order that easily, but it might make them a little more malleable.’ He turned back to the girls with a stern eye, swishing his holly cane. ‘While other preparations are being finalised, I’m going to give you some exercises appropriate to your new circumstances. You will learn to obey orders promptly and without question, respond in the proper manner and to present yourselves respectfully. I wish I had a month to teach you some real discipline, but we must do the best in what time we have. Now stand straight.’

The command was so perfectly pitched and their natural resistance so weakened that they obeyed without thinking.

‘I think you can free their wrists now, Raj,’ Warwick said. ‘The back garden is secure enough.’

The tape binding their wrists was cut away, but their arms were so stiff they could hardly lift them. Warwick gave them no time to rub the life back into their limbs.

‘Form up in a line, Ashwell at the front!’ he bellowed. ‘Hands folded neatly in the small of your
backs!
To the back door … march! Left, right, left right …’

Roberta ran ahead and opened the back door and they marched out in single file into the back garden, where a crumbling crazy paving patio opened onto a strip of rough lawn with overgrown flowerbeds on either side. Suddenly emerging naked into the open air in daylight rekindled their sense of shameful exposure. But the back gardens of the Close were only overlooked by their immediate neighbours. The only people who might see them were more of their captors.

‘Halt. About face!’ Warwick called. ‘Look to your right … form a line from Tara … straighter than that! Feet spread so they are further apart than your shoulders, toes touching your companions’ on either side. Keep your hands behind your back, bow your heads meekly and look at the ground. We shall call that position: “Standing at Submission”. Remember how you got there. Now, bring your right foot to your left smartly and stand straight, heads up, eyes front, shoulders back, clasp your hands to the back of your necks with your fingers interlocked, and chests out.’

They obeyed, acutely aware of Hilary, Roberta and Khan watching with interest from the patio. Warwick strode down the line of girls with their clenched thighs and trembling breasts, looking them critically up and down as though inspecting soldiers on parade.