Thyme II Thyme (6 page)

'I... I had to go,' I stammered, trying to get back to my feet even as the last dribbles pattered down into the straw.

Meg's grin widened. 'Of course you did,' she agreed 'and like all bitches, you went on the spot. That's very good, bitch, and you'll learn a few more things before I'm through with you. I've had a word with the master and he likes my idea. Even now his man is preparing your new skin for you. It should be ready this very evening and I shall take the greatest delight in displaying you in it. Meanwhile, I have given Erik some strict instructions for the rest of your day and he will be back as soon as he has eaten and bathed. The great oaf smells of you, you whore,' she hissed, but I could see the fact pleased rather than angered her. 'Bitch in heat, that's all you are now, sweet little Angelina.' She paused and stroked the side of her jaw for a moment, considering. 'And that name simply won't do,' she concluded. 'Such a ladylike name for a doggie girl just simply won't do, so we shall have to find a more suitable one for you.' She snorted something between a laugh and a cough and spun on her heels. 'I shall spend the afternoon considering it,' she called back as she swept out into the open air. 'Yes, we must find a proper name for a proper bitch.'

In the right era and in the right circumstances, mad Meg could have earned herself a fortune. She seemed to have a perfect grasp of what was needed in order to humiliate and control people, and there are always plenty of men and women who are prepared to pay fortunes to suffer such treatment in such imaginative clutches. I, however, do not count myself among their numbers, but then I wasn't being given any choice in the matter. Nor was I given any choice by Erik when he eventually returned.

He carried with him two slats of wood and for a moment I thought he might be intending to use them to paddle my backside, but no, for he also had with him two lengths of some sort of canvas strapping. These two pieces of timber were, as I quickly discovered, intended for a far more devious purpose.

Grasping my right arm first, he extended it horizontally and lifted the first piece of wood up against my forearm, winding the strap about it with his other hand until he had established it enough to employ both hands to continue winding the binding down as far as my wrist and up, until my gloved hand was also held immovably against the splint with some twelve to fourteen inches of the wood still projecting beyond it.

My left arm and hand were quickly treated in identical fashion whilst I stood like a statue trying to work out what he was doing and what the planks were for. Of course, when the answer came it was obvious for all the clues had been there previously, but it still came as a horrible shock when he ordered me down onto all fours, legs straight, the tips of the splints acting now as extensions to make my arms approximately the same length.

'Doggie girl,' he said, chuckling, and indeed I now must have resembled a greyhound in many ways although I moved, when instructed, with considerably less grace, of that I am sure. For several minutes, Erik made me walk back and forth so I could coordinate my legs and arms, until he was apparently satisfied with the result. 'Walk now outside we shall,' he announced, and produced a leash he snapped onto my collar before he stooped down and peered into my face, hot and red with shame behind the mask. '
Woof
you will say,' he instructed.

I swallowed and blinked, but there was nothing much else for it. 'Woof,' I repeated dutifully.

He patted my head. 'Good doggie,' he said, looking pleased. 'Later a bone you shall be getting if good girl you are.' He shook the leash and gave it a short tug. 'And now walking we shall be, for sunny it is and fresh the air, too.'

Outside, as I made my clumsy and undignified way, I could see no sign of Meg, but I was almost certain she had to be somewhere close by watching me with glee. Part of me wanted to stand upright again and shout out that they could do whatever they wanted to me without ever succeeding in turning me into an animal, but the sensible part told me to hold back, to bide my time and wait. For if they continued to think they were breaking my spirit, then perhaps they would relax their vigilance and present me with a chance to escape, though how, when and where was another question altogether.

Our progress through the trees was slow and I wanted to shout that we could go a damned sight faster if only he would let me stand upright, but I knew the answer that would bring. Meg had decreed that I was to be treated like a dog and dogs walk on four legs, not two. I sighed mentally wondering just how far that woman was capable of going, but I already knew the answer. Hers was the sort of mentality that was able to justify mass murder, genocide, and the extreme tortures employed by gangsters and corrupt governments all over the world and all throughout the ages. Every terrorist regime, whatever its size, depends upon dumb followers and semi-passive supporters, but there have to be those capable of leading them, and in events like the French Revolution, the Megs of this world would not be sitting at home knitting while the heads rolled; they would be the ones working the guillotines.

It wasn't long before the two pints of water I had drunk began to make their presence felt and I knew I would have to stop to relieve myself. Tentatively, I tried to draw Erik's attention. 'Master?' I made an effort to sound
suitably humble and compliant.

He turned back and pointed a finger down at me. 'Woof!' he said, almost barking himself. 'Dog say woof.'

'Woof,' I muttered.

He smiled in a watery sort of way, as if his mind wasn't really on this new game at all.

'Woof, woof,' I repeated. He chuckled and nodded, but I could see he had no idea what I was trying to communicate, and why should he? I gave up trying and instead simply shuffled my legs further apart and let it flow, trying to ignore the fact that the ground being hard and, there being no layer of absorbent straw beneath me, my leather-covered limbs would be splashed.

'Aha!' he exclaimed. 'Peeing is what the doggie girl wanted. Better feeling will you be now, I think.'

Better feeling I was, at least in as much as the emptying of a protesting bladder is a universal feeling of relief we all need no description of, but having to pee in front of a man was not something likely to enhance my spiritual well-being.

We walked on again and all the time I was having trouble keeping my mind off one particular prospect. Peeing like a dog was one thing and certainly bad enough, but when it came to needing to empty my bowels, could I face having to squat down and do that in public as well, for that was surely the only option I would be allowed.

After a while, we came to a high wooden paling fence set atop a brick wall which I presumed marked the boundary of the Hacklebury grounds at this point. It stood more than ten feet high and my heart sank as I gazed up at it. Even with the use of my hands and with no other sort of bondage restrictions I would have found such an obstacle nearly impossible to breach, for although Teena in the seventies would have little enough trouble reaching up and grasping the timber section to pull herself up, Angelina would struggle and her fingers, even without gloves and strapped to stiff timbers, had not been designed with fence scaling activities in mind.

We turned right and followed a cleared pathway along the boundary wall for a good ways. I estimated we must have covered nearly a mile and still there was no sign of a break in the wall or even a gateway. It looked as if the perimeter was well protected around most, if not all, of its length, yet there had to be at least one entrance somewhere.

At last, after what was beginning to feel like half a lifetime, Erik halted and turned to jab a finger at me. 'Sit!' he ordered.

For a moment I was at a loss what to do, but then I realised what was expected of me. I sank down and back onto my haunches, my arms extended in front of me, the picture of obedience, not to mention stupidity. I looked up at him and saw the pleasure on his face. At any moment I expected him to produce a biscuit and have me beg for it. But no, he had a better doggie treat in mind.

Slowly, he unlaced the front of his breeches and took out his flaccid but still impressive organ, stepping towards me and planting his feet between my wooden paws. 'Good girl,' he said, pointing it towards my lips, and yes, like a good girl I parted them and accepted the offering, flicking away at it with my tongue so that it quickly began to rise and thicken. 'Good girl,' he repeated several times as I closed my eyes to try to shut out the reality of what I was doing.

But then what else could I have done? Erik carried a short crop at his belt and I knew he would not hesitate to use it if he thought I was trying to be rebellious. And even without the whip, those big hands across my bottom would have been painful enough. Besides, there was also Meg waiting back there for me somewhere, her devious mind no doubt full of all manner of spiteful tortures to inflict upon her rival, as I now knew she saw me.

It certainly took less time to bring Erik to full preparedness than on the previous occasion in my little straw-filled cell, but this time I was not permitted the luxury of taking the initiative. Instead, he tugged on my lead and ordered me up, not onto my two legs but back up onto the four. I groaned slightly, yet there was an uncontrollable tremor running along my spine and through each of my limbs as I realised he was going to take me from behind, doggie style. I just prayed he would use the right orifice and not get carried away, for his girth would be more than I could hope to deal with in my back passage.

Fortunately, my Viking knew what he liked and wanted and was not one to try new paths, at least for the moment. Grasping my hips, he allowed his shaft freedom to find its own way unguided, and that it did as he stooped to place it beneath my lower belly and then drew it slowly back until its engorged tip found my already wet little slot.
Damn this body
, I thought as he began to enter me. The brain was thinking one thing but the fanny was thinking something else entirely.

But then again, was the brain really thinking so differently? I had to ask myself that for despite the ignominy of my position was not the feel of a thick cock probing into me, and me not in any position to resist, proving to be something of a turn-on? I pushed that thought aside before it should make me disgusted with myself and gave myself over instead to the inevitable surrender of my flesh, yet again, to my giant master. And he did not disappoint me.

'He fucked you like a dog?' Anne-Marie exclaimed, her eyes wide, though not entirely, I suspected, from horror. She shook her head in a dramatic gesture that was supposed to signify revulsion but which failed to do so. 'Oh, how awful!'

'Actually, it was pretty good,' I confessed. 'After all, we've all done it that way even if it's been on our hands and knees, and once I was able to forget that I'd been made to walk there all the way in that position, well, it was as good as the time before that. And doing it that way adds
so
much extra penetration! I felt as if he was going to come up my throat!'

'Yuk, Teenie, you're disgusting!' Anne-Marie cried, but then she began to laugh and Andrea joined in.

'Well, if you don't laugh, you cry, or so my dad likes to keep telling me,' I retorted. 'I must have looked quite a sight, I suppose, but I was soon past caring about how I looked.'

'You reckon Meg was watching?' Andrea asked.

I shrugged. 'Maybe. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had suddenly come out of the woods, but then she probably had other things to do. Greg had this guy who made all manner of things, from leather corsets to that awful bodysuit, and it was him Meg was getting to sort out my new outfit to her specifications.'

'A dog suit?' Andrea asked almost eagerly.

'Don't get ahead,' I said, 'all in good time. I could do with a cup of tea first, if nobody minds.'

'There's still plenty of brandy left.' She nodded towards the bottle.

I shook my head. 'There may be, but unless you want me crashing out before I've finished, I'll give it a miss for now. I feel exhausted and we've had several already.'

'True,' my friend agreed, turning to Andrea. 'Go put the kettle on, sweetie,' she said, 'and bring in that big box of chocolate biscuits I've been saving since Christmas. I brought them with me in my pink-and-white carrier bag but I think it's still in the car.'

Actually, even if mad Meg
had
suddenly stepped out from between the trees, I doubt I could have cared less for I was resolved I would bear whatever indignities she cooked up for me and allow her to think she could beat my spirit down without recourse to any real physical punishment. Besides, all the while Erik was giving me a good old servicing trying to focus my brain on anything else was well beyond my capabilities.

Little exploding lights again... and then big exploding lights... I should probably have fallen despite the supposed advantage of having four legs for balancing instead of just two had he not kept such a tight hold on me throughout. And then I was pushing backwards to meet his thrusts with as much vigour as he was displaying, if not as much strength. I could hear the wet slushy sounds we were making, seemingly amplified through the
son-et-lumiere
that had invaded my head, but far from making me feel ashamed the sound excited me even more and I heard a weird howling sound I knew could only be coming from my own throat.

I heard Erik, too, though what he was saying I had no idea for most of it was in his native tongue and only the odd 'bitch' and 'dog' made any sense to me at all. Again, I should have been mortified to be called such names, but I wasn't, not at that moment, at any rate. He could call me whatever he wanted to all the time he was doing what he was doing to me, and as you and I both know, all the time in Erik's case was quite a long time...