Captives of Cheyner Close (6 page)

‘Are they ready?’ he asked, blinking at the line of naked, cuffed and gagged girls. ‘Which one do I get?’

Warwick unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and then pointed at Hazel. ‘Remember to have her back at Number 9 by one o’clock.’

Looking eager, if rather self-conscious, Fanning took Hazel by the arm and led her out the back of the house. A minute later the bin could be heard rumbling back up the side alley.

Shortly afterwards Stan Jessop appeared. ‘I’ve got my wheelbarrow and a blanket. Will that do?’

‘Just a precaution during the daytime,’ the Major said. ‘In case somebody comes up the road while we’re moving them between houses.’

Jessop was allocated Cassie. As he led her away she flashed Tara a mute look of fear and anger.

‘If you don’t need me here anymore I’ll take mine now,’ Curry said.

‘You’ll be entertaining Sian this morning, Jim,’ Warwick said.

Curry grinned at Sian who seemed to shrivel under his gaze. ‘Well, I don’t need wheels to carry that slip of a thing,’ he said, unpacking a large sack from his bag. He bundled Sian into it and with a grunt and a heave, slung her over his broad shoulders and walked out.

She might as well have been a sack of potatoes, Tara thought with a shudder. That was what they had been reduced to: commodities on a list.

Roberta Pemberton came with a bin and took away Daniela. Rachel Villiers arrived with a wheelbarrow and she and Hilary departed with Gail, leaving Tara alone. She looked uncertainly between the Major and Khan.

‘I absented myself from this list to simplify the allocation process,’ Warwick explained, then added with a smile: ‘but I’ll have you all to myself tonight, Tara.’

More wheels sounded outside. Warwick motioned to Tara and Khan led her out the back door, where his wife was waiting with another wheelie bin laid on its side with its lid open. Khan forced Tara onto her knees and she crawled inside. The lid was closed, the bin was was lifted upright, rolling Tara ignominiously about, and then she felt it trundle off back the way it had come.

Three

TOM FANNING EXAMINED
Hazel closely as she knelt on the rug in the middle of his cluttered study.

She was the youngest of the gang and there was a certain elfin sharpness to the line of her chin, heightened by her eyes which were slightly uptilted at the ends, counterpointing the broadness of her cheeks. Her nose and mouth were neat enough, her shoulder-length hair was a very dark blonde and her skin was clear. From the set of her face Tom suspected she often contrived a look of petulant self-assurance, perhaps to make herself seem older. If that was the case then the facade had certainly slipped, as her present woebegone expression showed.

Hazel had not quite shed her puppy fat, which gave a little extra weight to the curve of her stomach, an appealing swell to her soft white buttocks and fullness to her breasts. These stood out in plump rotund cones, capped by large pale areolae, from the centre of which rose the domes of small pink nipples. A dark triangle of hair sprouted from the junction of her nervously spread thighs.

Every few seconds her eyes flicked up to meet his own, then shied away again, as though she was fearful of giving offence yet desperate to know what he planned for her.

The unreality of the whole thing suddenly assailed Tom. He was contemplating the intimate humiliation of a young woman he had never even seen up close before last night! True, she had submitted herself to his will. But was that under duress? No, he reminded himself, it was to escape what she felt was a worse punishment. It had been her choice. But he had already seen this girl humiliatingly wet herself in public and receive six strokes of the cane, apart from whatever trials the Major had been putting them through in the back garden of Number 2 earlier. Wasn’t that punishment enough?

He recalled the expressions on the other residents’ faces, the day after his house had been vandalised, when they explained the war of terror the girls of Fernleigh Rise had been waging on the Close for so long. It was only then that he had learned how miserable Tara’s gang had made their lives. And if nothing was done their suffering would continue. The law could not help so he had enabled them to gain the upper hand, never dreaming it would lead to a bound and naked girl kneeling on his carpet at his mercy. It was the stuff of fantasy and, he couldn’t deny it, very arousing. But was it right?

Something Jim Curry had said last night, as they debated Tara’s startling offer in a huddled group, came back to him.

‘“There’s no rule that says we shouldn’t enjoy punishing them. Unless the rest of you think we should put ourselves through another week of misery finding ways to punish them that we don’t enjoy either? Now that would be crazy.”’

The so-called ‘Elite’ had made the process of punishment uniquely personal by rejecting conventional justice. Now they should be left in no doubt that they were unwillingly giving pleasure to their
former
victims through their degradation and suffering. This was no time for misplaced guilt.

‘Stand up,’ he told Hazel.

She struggled awkwardly to her feet, her eyes wide and pleading about her gag-stretched mouth.

He held up a short-handled duster with a flexible section of shaft, topped by a spray of thick floppy yellow bristles. ‘This is an anti-static brush,’ he told her. ‘I use it to keep all my equipment clean.’ he indicated the worktops that ringed three sides of the room, on which were arrayed two computers, a scanner, three screens, a couple of printers, several keyboards and a few other devices with more obscure functions. ‘Today I want you to give them a really good dusting.’

Immediately she twisted round, trying to take the brush with her cuffed hands.

‘No, I don’t want you to hold it like that,’ he told her. ‘Come closer. Spread your legs …’

He saw her eyes widen as she understood. Trembling, she shuffled forward to where he sat in his swivel chair. He reached out and cupped the pouch at the apex of her thighs, running his fingers through her tight, dark curls. She shuddered at his touch and closed her eyes, but did not pull away. He toyed with her cleft, his fingertips brushing the crinkled tongue of her inner labia which protruded shyly from its depths. It was already coated with a moist sheen which emanated an intimate aroma. With growing confidence he probed deeper, finding the mouth of her vagina and twirling his fingers around it encouragingly. After a few seconds he felt a fresh warm slickness begin to ooze forth from the hidden passage. Was Hazel becoming aroused so easily? He saw a scarlet blush colouring her cheeks while her areolae were darkening and spreading into pink helmets that
swelled
before his eyes. Wonderingly he stroked the taut, blood-suffused domes, aware that he himself was now erect as the bulge in his trousers testified. Hazel shuddered, her eyes rolling, and she made an indistinct throaty sound.

The intensity of her response to his touch so surprised Tom that he asked: ‘You’re not a virgin, are you?’

She shook her head.

‘But you’re getting very wet. Does being tied up, being naked and helpless like this, excite you?’

She looked at him in mute despair, her blush deepening. Then her head dropped and she gave a tiny shameful nod.

He felt a pang of sympathy for Hazel. Added to her understandable fear and apprehension she was now in a state of sexual confusion as well. On the other hand, perhaps it would make what followed easier for her.

‘You know you’ve got to be punished for what you did?’ he said, stroking her cheek.

Hazel nodded, a look of tragic resignation in her eyes.

‘But if you’re a very good girl and do everything I tell you, then I’ll only give you a light spanking, say three little slaps on your bottom just for show. But only if you’ve very good, mind. Will you do that?’

Looking slightly more hopeful she nodded, trying to smile round her gag.

‘Then let’s get this inside you …’

Holding the duster by its bristles he rubbed its chunky black foam handle up and down her furrow until it glistened with her secretions, and then slid it up inside her. Hazel gave a little squeak, lifting herself momentarily up onto tiptoe, then sank slowly back down as the handle impaled her to its fullest extent, leaving only a short length of shaft and the spray of
bristles
dangling between her thighs. Tom laughed at the sight and bent the flexible section of handle until its end thrust outwards.

‘That’s better. Now, use that chair to stand on when you need it, and I want to see everything spotless …’

Tom watched Hazel as she worked her way diligently round the room, nudging the chair along with her feet and climbing up it so that her duster was level with screens and keyboards. Picking up his camera he took a few pictures. Some caught her head half-turned to the lens, blushing shyly. He grew transfixed by the motion of her bottom, with its slight excess of fleshy padding, as she oscillated her hips to work the duster into every nook and cranny. When she had to bend forward and spread her legs he could see her swollen pudendal pouch plugged by the duster shaft. There was a notable glisten on her inner thighs. He had never seen anything so vulnerable.

When Hazel was done she stood trembling nervously as Tom inspected her work.

‘Very good’, he pronounced at last, sitting back on his chair. ‘Just three small spanks for you.’

Hazel’s face lit up and she came almost eagerly over as he patted his knee and bent her plaint body across his lap. The brush was still inside her and it pressed against the side of his thigh. Tom felt a moment’s heady rush of blood as he realised she hadn’t tried to get him to take it out. More than that, she even appeared grateful to him for being told he would only spank her three times. He’d never had that sort of power over any woman.

He rubbed her bottom encouragingly, delighting in fullness of her fleshy cheeks and their perfect smoothness, all the time aware of the humid warmth emanating from their deep inrolling cleft and the
valley
of her upper thighs. His cock was like a tentpole under his trousers.

‘I’ll just spank you hard enough to put a blush on your cheeks,’ her told her. ‘The others will probably be getting much worse. But you don’t have to tell them how many you got.’

He drew back his hand and delivered the first slap. Her buttocks shivered and she gave a tiny muffled yip as the soft heavy clap of flesh rang out.

‘There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he asked, rubbing her bottom to massage in the blushing heat the blow had raised. ‘Nothing you can’t take …’

He delivered the second spank slightly harder than the first. She made no sound but squirmed in his lap. The brush head rubbed against his thigh. Was she deliberately working the shaft of the brush about inside her? He felt the warm slickness of her lubrication dripping from her vulva onto his trousers.

Tom rubbed her bottom once more, noting the pink blush spreading across the pale hemispheres. ‘You’ve very wet. I can smell your juices. Do you want to come?’ He delivered the final smack as he spoke, making a firm, meaty sound as it landed.

She jerked and whimpered, then nodded, twisting her head round as she did so. He saw a tear sparkling in the corner of her eyes that were full of need.

‘Let’s do it together,’ he said.

He slid his fingers into her hot wet groin, gathering up her slippery exudation and rubbing it into the pucker of her anus. For a moment the ring of muscle clenched at his touch, then slowly relaxed; either in welcome or surrender to the inevitable he did not know and, at that moment, was beyond caring.

Lifting Hazel to her feet he twisted her round so that her bottom faced him and tore open his flies, releasing his straining erection. Clasping her by the
hips
he pulled her backwards so that she straddled his lap and then sat down. His cockhead found her tight little hole and forced its way inside. She let out a muffled wail as she was impaled by the length of his shaft, while he gloried in the hot, tight closeness of her rectum.

‘Now you can come,’ he said.

She began to jiggle up and down in his lap, her head thrown back, drool running down her cheeks from about her gag as the anti-static brush slapped and bobbed up and down between her thighs, its deeply buried handle stirring away within her vagina.

He clasped and squeezed her heavily bouncing breasts, controlling her increasingly wild gyrations as she desperately pumped up and down his shaft.

She came with a medley of throaty incoherent grunts and whimpers just a few seconds before his seed spurted hotly into her entrails.

As they sat together still coupled, letting the emotion slowly seep away, he whispered in her ear: ‘Good girl …’

Stan and Louisa Jessop walked round Cassie, looking her up and down with calculated interest as she stood in the middle of their living room. Cassie glared back with nervous defiance. They both carried holly-tipped canes. She had assumed they would use her for sex as soon as they’d got her into the privacy of their own home, but they seemed in no hurry. Were they playing games with her?

‘Nice tits,’ Stan said. ‘Bit small, maybe, but they stand out well.’

‘I wonder how much punishment her bum can take?’ Louisa speculated. ‘Looks hard to me.’

Louisa Jessop was a bosomy dyed-blonde. Cassie thought her jaw was too heavy and her brilliant curls looked cheap. She hated everything about her and her
husband;
more than anything the fact that at that moment she was their helpless plaything.

‘She’ll take what we give her and be grateful for it, won’t you, girl?’ Stan said with a mischievous grin.

Cassie fought back a shiver, chewing at her gag and trying not to show her fear. She knew what they were trying to do by discussing her looks like she was a dumb animal, but she refused to be humbled. She was beautiful and she knew it.

She had blue eyes topped by fine brows and straight blonde hair. Her lips, when not stretched wide by a gag, formed classic butterfly bows. She had good high cheekbones and a neat nose with pinched nostrils. Her body was slim with shapely legs, firm round buttocks and a pop-up navel. Her breasts were small and neatly rounded, with brown, strongly marked and distinctly uptilted nipples. Her pubic delta was dark blonde, thick and fluffy.