Bound for Glory (6 page)

The judge had descended from the bench and was talking to Mercy.

“Bring the prisoner here, constable. I want to see if she has been badly treated.”

Anna tottered after Mercy, down from the dock and only protested feebly when pushed hard in the back so that she collapsed, face down onto a table. She felt hands working at the hem of her skirt at the back and suddenly regained some of her senses. She kicked out and tried to rear up off the table but Mercy or someone was putting their weight on her and she couldn’t move.

“No!..Uh, no!” she sobbed as she felt remorseless fingers tearing her knickers down again. Then she felt cool air on her buttocks and once again she was on display to everyone standing behind her. She sobbed brokenly this time, unable to fight any more; humiliated, in despair and beaten in all ways, Anna Chatham allowed her world-famous bottom to be admired and fondled by total strangers.

“Constable Fallon,” the inspector said, running his hands along the bruised lines left by the cane. “What have I told you about caning prisoners?”

“Always do it neatly and hard, Sir.”

“Right! These lines...here....here....and here are sloppily laid on and crooked. The poor girl has a right to feel abused! Marie, tend to Miss Chatham’s bruises.”

“Huh?” Anna could only make a disbelieving grunt at the conversation. But then she jerked in shock as she felt something soft and wet applied to her left cheek and realised it was Marie’s mouth and then her tongue was gently licking at a bruise, and her hands were stroking her thighs, running up the inner sides and then curving off but following the line of the buttocks, coming so close to her cunt but just not touching. Anna squealed in horror, she had never wanted to be touched by another woman. They had never appealed to her sexually and here she was being licked and stroked by one – in public. Desperately she threw herself about, getting her hands under her at last and pushing herself up. But then the inspector’s strong hands grasped hers and easily pinned them behind her back, where she felt the cold steel of cuffs snap onto her wrists. Once again she was helpless. It had happened to her more in the past twenty-four hours than ever before in her life. Desperately she clenched her thighs together, determined at least not to show anything more than she had to. But after a few moments she felt Marie’s tongue begin to quest at the slit that divided her lips and she even felt the girl’s breath from her nose tickling her anus. She grimaced in disgust and began struggling again, but with her hands now secured, the weight on her back had decreased and with a painful tug on her hair, Mercy dragged her face up by it.

“Relax, hun,” she said. “Marie’s got one of the best tongues in the Caribbean. Let her in and you can watch me get mine for messing up caning such a class ass as yours!” She was grinning from ear to ear and was stripped down to her corset again. Anna managed to keep her head up long enough after the woman released her grip to see the inspector, stripped of his shirt and holding a cane.

The man was seriously well muscled and the lights shone on the dark curves of his pectorals and the hard plates of his abs. Marie’s tongue stabbed at the same time as Anna got a sudden feeling of heat in her belly at the sight of the semi-naked inspector holding the cane. It was all so unexpected that before she knew it, Marie’s tongue was deeper into her cleft and she had shuffled her feet farther apart and the tongue was even deeper inside her, lapping and rolling and rasping so seductively that Anna completely forgot she was being pleasured by a woman and just got on with being pleasured while she watched Mercy bend over in front of her and hold her ankles, feet braced well apart, it was a position that displayed her full figure to its best advantage and she and the inspector made a handsome couple as he laid the cane across the fabulous sweeping curve of dark, buttock flesh, raised the rod and sent it slashing down. Anna jumped at the crack it made on landing and Marie took a firmer hold on her hips and drove into her harder. Despite herself, Anna groaned in pleasure, even as she realised how amazingly Mercy’s flesh had rippled under the cane. Had hers done that, she wondered. And rather than scream as Anna knew she had, Mercy just let out her breath in a hissing rush and fidgeted her feet.

“This is how I expect you to cane my prisoners, Constable Fallon!” the inspector called and struck again. He was raising the stick high above his head and it was really whooshing down onto Mercy’s wobbling buttocks.

“Yes, Sir!” the constable managed and took another two in quick succession before the inspector turned around.

“Mr Cutts, this wretch screwed you, did she not?” he said, using the cane to point at Anna.”Well, may I suggest you return the compliment?”

“Yes, Inspector. It’ll be a pleasure!” Mr Cutts replied, going round to stand behind her. Anna immediately began to struggle again. Not him! Not a bloody tradesman!

“I’m....sure.....it.....will!” the inspector replied, punctuating his words with resounding cane strikes onto the massive hinds on which shock waves ran while Mercy finally gave way to yelps. “Nice.....neat.....ladders........constable! Understand?”

“Yes, Sir! I’ll do better! I’ll practise on Marie every day!”

Anna suddenly felt Marie’s tongue vanish from inside her and instead she heard Mr Cutts’ voice.

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about! It’s just a white ass.”

Despite the appalling circumstances, Anna bridled at this. She had been voted Rear of the Year two years earlier and knew that the sight of her bottom swaying down the catwalk wearing a tight designer outfit could seriously improve a range’s chances of success.

The inspector just laughed and to Anna’s amazement pulled out a sizeable length of cock from his trousers and approached Mercy who had stayed in position. With no difficulty at all he thrust it straight between the big woman’s thighs and she gurgled in response to the thick length ramming into her. But then she herself reared up in shock as she felt Mr Cutts’ cock suddenly arrive at her own entrance and to her shame, it was able to slide in almost as easily. Marie had done her work well.

Thankfully it was a brief rutting. Whether it was the sight of Mercy being so savagely caned, or maybe it was because he found himself shagging such a famous piece of ass, Mr Cutts didn’t last long. He made no more than a score of stabbing thrusts into her then held still before withdrawing.

“Marie, clean her out,” he said and to her further humiliation she felt the girl’s tongue begin to forage around again, taking Mr Cutts’ emissions from her, even as she watched the inspector come, clinging onto Mercy’s hips, then he too withdrew and zipped himself up.

“Do Mercy as well, Marie,” he said and then casually sauntered out.

In a few short minutes, Anna had experienced more depravity than in the whole of her life to date. Sure, she had had plenty of sex, but it all been pretty conventional compared to what she had experienced that day. However, she had no time to reflect further as Mr Cutts yanked her cuffed hands upwards and she suctioned her sweating torso off the desk. He fumbled her knickers back up to her groin and then pulled her out of the room and back to the inspector’s office, who was back behind his desk and there were sheets of paper in front of him. Mr Cutts released her cuffs and she rubbed some feeling back into her wrists, standing tousled and dishevelled in front of him, feeling in need of a shower to clean herself out properly.

“Sign these and you’ll be out of here within the hour,” the inspector told her. It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. She just had to get out of this hell hole. She scribbled her signature on papers that attested to her good treatment whilst in custody, waived her right to legal representation, agreed to extradition, she even signed away the villa to Mr Cutts in reparation. It was good riddance as far as she was concerned.

The inspector took a brief look through everything when it was all done and smiled.

“I’ve also signed the extradition papers. Apparently your government is very keen to have you home – they think you’re guilty of anti-social behaviour.”

Anna’s jaw dropped in horror. Everyone knew what that meant. Mr Cutts moved back up behind her and snapped the cuffs back on before she could react and she was totally trapped. She was going to be a slave prisoner in England. Everything was signed. A part of her shell-shocked mind registered the fact that the Treasury must be rubbing its hands at the prospect of what Anna Chatham would fetch on the block.

Mercy walked in zipping up her skirt and smirking.

“Ah!” she said when she caught sight of Anna’s expression. “She just found out she’s out of the frying pan and well on her way to the fire!”

She came over to Anna and unclipped one cuff which she then clipped closed on her own.

“Come on, we got a plane to catch, hun!”

Anna was dragged out unceremoniously into the bright sun, her mind reeling at the enormity of what had happened to her. She was penniless and a criminal. Her thighs were sticky with the emissions of a tradesman she had somehow come to owe money to, and what wasn’t his fluid belonged to a serving girl who had licked her out while others watched, her knickers weren’t back on straight and she was going back home to be enslaved. As falls from grace went, hers had been farther and more precipitous than any she could think of; she had to admit.

Chapter
Five

Clive watched the countryside glide past as the limo made its way through the lush English countryside towards Berkshire and The Lodge. It was going to be a special weekend and there was much business to be done, as well as pleasure to be had. In the boot the two new slaves were safely wrapped up in clingfilm. They were still as insatiable as they had been the first day they had been chipped and keeping them chained up in their stalls until they could be enjoyed in the house, had proved a popular highlight of dinner parties with friends.

Their stable names were simply Six and Nine; as Melissa had said, it pretty well defined them as it was what they immediately did on the rare occasions when they were set free. Nine was the black girl whose prodigious talents under the whip had entertained many gatherings. Six seemed to love nothing more than to hear her lover beaten and gave some of the best blow jobs ever while his guests watched the show. The doctors had been to see them – and fuck them – regularly and checked the arena chips were still functioning correctly, so the experiment was looking extremely good. Now they were going to be shown off properly for the first time.

At the gates of The Lodge there were a few paparazzi, held well back by police, but all from foreign papers, the British proprietors saw to it that no one disturbed them. Clive knew that the walls of the estate had all been fitted with signal jammers to stop nanodrones overflying. The remote cameras, not much bigger than a wasp were the press’s weapons of choice these days but they wouldn’t be able to intrude here. The car swept through the gates and onto the tree-lined avenue that led up to the house and Clive relaxed. Within the estate a man could truly fulfil his destiny, as could the women who served him.

Even as the limo glided along the tree-lined drive, an airship droned overhead and began to drop down onto the helipad behind the great house itself. The car park at the front was crammed with limos and Humphries had some trouble finding a suitable place. But at last Clive was able to climb out and was greeted by a delicious brunette in a full length, green, satin dress with a low cut bodice that scarcely hid the areola of her creamy breasts. It was the uniform of a Housegirl at The Lodge. Beneath it they all wore corsets and hold up stockings. The skirt of the dress was attached to the bodice in such a way that it could easily be detached or simply lifted and parted at front or back.

The girl bobbed him a curtsy and offered to show him to his room. As soon as his career had allowed it, Clive had become a member here and now was able to take a room whenever his other duties permitted it. Membership also meant that any and all of the Housegirls were at his disposal and this slight girl had a cupid’s bow mouth that tempted him to have her drop to her knees and suck him off then and there but he caught sight of Dandy by the steps up to the main door and pulled his thoughts back to business.

He left the girl and Humphries to unload the slaves and install them in the stables while he went to meet the Prime Minister. Dandy was standing with John Carpenter, the man who had created The Lodge and who had run it until today. Today he was retiring, having finally decided to sell his beloved creation and the ceremonial handover was what had caused the gathering of the membership.

There were handshakes all round before the three men went inside to meet the new owner; Peter Lang. Completion and the passing across of the deeds was scheduled to take place later that afternoon and after that the fun would begin.

Patti Campbell was a nervous wreck. Ever since she had been appointed as Trainer to the new girls and Matron to all of them when Madame Stalevsky had eventually retired, she had run an orderly house, but now it was bulging at the seams with members and their own slaves and there was already a full complement of Lodge-owned girls who lived there full time, the domestic arrangements were being tested to destruction. Some of the beds in the girls’ rooms were having to sleep two – if they weren’t sleeping elsewhere of course, but Patti had felt it best to plan for all eventualities. As if that were not enough, the CSL stable which still occupied part of the grounds had brought in guests too. She looked at her beloved clipboard one more time and checked on her e mails that all the activities were on schedule and that all the guests had finally arrived. To make matters worse, Chrissie Sands, the doctor to the girls at The Lodge itself and the vet to the CSL stable, was sitting opposite her smiling at her incipient panic. The two women always had an edge to their relationship, although when it came to keeping their girls in order, they were an incomparable team.

“Relax, Patti,” the doctor said. “You’ve drilled everyone a million times! And anyway, if there is a glitch anywhere, the members are quite capable of entertaining themselves for a bit. There’re enough girls to sink a battleship here, let alone keep a few men calm!”

Patti had to smile. It was true of course. If a full complement of Housegirls and arena slaves couldn’t entertain the men....

“It’s just having the PM and the Prince of Bakhtar and all the nobs here...”

Chrissie smiled again. “You mean the girls aren’t used to nobs?”

Patti laughed.

“You’re right. But anyway I’ve got to go over to CSL and check they’re ready for the afternoon. They’re going to need some extra drivers too.”

“Okay.” Chrissie stood up. “I’m going to get changed for the ceremony. I’ll see you later.”

Patti breathed deeply as she descended the great steps at the front of the house, the fresh, warm air calmed her down a little, and the sight of some of The Lodge girls already tacked up, harnessed and tethered to the hitching rail, would do anyone’s heart good, she decided.

She passed through the house’s stableyard where the girls assigned to groom duty were still tacking up the girls who had been assigned to pony duty. The grooms paused long enough to curtsy and wish her a good afternoon Ma’am. She walked into the woods through the arch that led out into the parkland behind the house and passed around the steel equestrian stadium that was used for drilling the arena slaves and eventually made her way to the CSL stable. Much extended, it now held twenty-five slaves at a time, some of them were only lodged for training and they would be sent back to their owners once they were fully ready for the arenas but there was a core of fifteen that were bought and owned by CSL. The trainer in chief, Brian Holden was in the main yard as she arrived, running a girl on the lunge rein. He was flicking at her ankles with a driving whip to encourage her to high step as she trotted.

It was typical of him that even when a day off had been declared, he would find a job that needed doing. One of the guests was leaning against a wall and watching with professional interest. It was Amelia Johnson, the trainer of the Girl Squad, owned by Sadia de Groncourt. She had once been Brian’s own submissive before leaving to find her destiny in the big wide world, but they were still friends.

For her part, Patti was glad to see her, but she and some other arena guests had stretched the capacity of CSL severely in catering for them.

The grooms were having to bed down in some of the stalls, the slaves were being kept two to a stall and the grooms’ rooms were allocated to visiting luminaries from the world of the arenas. The CSL stable was the only one that specialised in hiring out its slaves to strengthen the squads of the other stables. Nowadays they also ‘broke in’ and trained up recruits that other stables didn’t have the time to.

From inside the actual stable itself came the sounds of much activity. Ponies were the order of the day and all the CSL ones were required for duty. John Carpenter had had a special four-in-hand carriage built for the occasion and CSL were to have the honour of providing the slaves to pull it. It was alright for Chrissie to belittle her fears but if just one slave were unruly, it could ruin the spectacle.

Brian reined in the slave and let her breathe for a moment.

“This one’s got a bit too much spirit so I’m just working it out of her. I think she’s got wind of something special going off. I might have Tony drive her, wouldn’t want her making a scene if she got a newbie who didn’t know how to lay on the whip.”

Patti gave him a grateful smile. At least someone else was determined to get things right. She waved at Amelia and went into the stable. Raika, the head groom was scolding and encouraging her team to get every slave bridled and tacked up exactly the same so that their plumes would be as level as possible and the silver plates on the girths would be as level as the varying heights of the slaves allowed. The grooms were combing and polishing frantically and as Patti entered the bells were just being attached.

While the grooms worked their way along the front of the line of twenty-four tacked up slaves, Raika went down the line behind, smacking her riding crop across the thighs of any slave who pranced or cavilled when the pins were pushed through their nipples to hang the bells from. It was the finishing touch. The ponies’ collars, girths and crupper straps were festooned with small silver bells, the pairs that swung prettily from the nipples were the icing on the cake. Raika looked up and gave Patti one of her brilliant smiles when she entered and began to pass along the line behind Raika, admiring the tails sweeping out from the anuses and up before being allowed to hang gracefully behind thighs. The whole stable was filled with the soft jingling of the bells as they were fitted or if a slave moved even slightly.

There was a brief ruction when one slave reared as her nipple was pierced, her steel shod sandals scraping harshly on the floor, her bells jangling madly.

“Hold still!” Raika snapped at her and smacked the crop across her thighs while a groom hurriedly caught hold of her bridle and held her while her colleague finished the piercing.

Eventually all was done and the twenty-fifth slave, the one Brian had been calming down was brought in and prepared. Patti and Brian inspected the parade carefully. They checked that the bits were polished and the thick tongue rings they passed through had also been polished especially for the occasion. They checked the bridles were buckled snugly and the slaves’ pony tails had been well brushed and burnished. They checked that the tits were strapped tightly enough to steady them without being so tight that they would need to be released every half hour or so. They checked that the girths, which widened out as they crossed the stomach so they could have a silver oval with the arms of The Lodge and CSL on them, were properly polished and tightly enough buckled. They checked the cruppers, which dropped down between the legs from the girth, were buckled on so that they wouldn’t shift and chafe the genitals. The strap needed to be tightly embedded between the labia to this end, and this enabled the dildo in each vagina to penetrate to its maximum length – and the same went for the butt plug, which helped the upward curving prong from which the tails hung to stay steady.

Arena slaves were always run in studded tack as well. The sharp little tines lining the insides of every strap helped the slaves concentrate, it was felt. It certainly made them wide-eyed and increased their attractiveness. Patti looked at the eyes last, checking they were bright but docile, staring straight ahead and shining in the slight darkness caused by the blinkers. All in all they made a very pretty picture and she was well pleased.

“Well done, Raika. They’re a credit to you,” she said.

Brian concurred and the petite, pretty Indian woman beamed with pride and relief. A groom who put out a shoddily presented slave on a day like this would soon find herself at the whipping post and would find nothing erotic in the anger and disappointment of her betters as they lashed her.

Brian’s assistant, Tony, and Amelia had meanwhile dragged out the new four-in-hand and all the traps that they had had made or had borrowed from other stables for the day so that all twenty-five slaves were harnessed. Apart from the four-in-hand, there were five to be pulled by pairs and for a while the yard was very crowded until at last the rigs began to be driven away. They needed a few girls from the house stable to come over and drive before the yard could be finally emptied. Brian drove the four and Patti drove a pair. They were a black haired matching outfit, bought at auction only a few months earlier, but they had shaped up well and were regularly hired out for dressage.

As the weather was fine, the ceremonial handing across of the deeds in one direction and a cheque for a truly eye-watering amount in the other was to take place downhill from the big house, beside the large ornamental lake which was partly lined with trees. Tables and chairs had been set up, the kitchens had gone into
al fresco
mode and a long afternoon and evening of pleasure was envisaged for the guests.

The first part of the day was the procession of slave-drawn traps going from the front of the house down to the lake, and so the CSL party made directly for there, Patti checking her phone for texts from around the grounds and from the house as she drove. So far, all was looking set fair and the guests were waiting for their transport, chatting genially and enjoying the company of the Housegirls.

Brian found the four-in-hand a tough proposition to handle, with its wide cross bar, length and weight. It was too cumbersome to take back to the house by the usual short cut round the training arena. Instead they had to head out onto the road that led to the home farm – where the real horses were kept – and from there take a wide grassy track through the woods until it joined the main drive. Once there, and back on tarmac, the rig bowled along well enough with the application of a reasonable amount of whip to the bouncing buttocks and straining shoulders ahead of him. And as they progressed he increased the lashes and urged them on vocally, knowing that the drive went up a short, sharp incline just before it came out onto the front of the house. He hadn’t had a chance to practise and was relying on achieving a good turn of speed by the time he reached it.

As it turned out, the rig was rattling and jangling, the wheels were thundering on the tarmac and the whipcord of the driving whip was leaving pretty lattice works of welts across the ponies’ backs as the slope approached. Brian had chosen four of his steadiest slaves – not the sometimes flighty dressage or racing ponies – but the more solid types he might put in for log pulling and whip duelling and his choice stood him in good stead. As the gradient kicked in, the ponies’ backs all flexed and their shoulders strained. Their body positions altered as they leaned into their task and before he had had to apply any really heavy whip, they were at the top and maintaining a respectable trot. He relaxed and eased the team to a halt exactly at the foot of the steps that led up to the front door. Behind him he heard the rest of the traps pull up and as he looked around at the rigs the house’s stables had contributed he saw Carlo and Blondie.