On A Short Leash (5 page)

Chrissie knew Andy would be watching through the railings.

She kissed the man, forcing her tongue into his stinking mouth and his hands reached up to claw at her breasts.

He swore under his breath as if angry that the drink should play such cruel tricks, convinced she would melt away any second or return to the bottle like a genie.

She fumbled with his flies and with the twine that acted as a belt round his trousers. When she opened them, his cock was limp but she pulled it and squeezed his slack balls.

His hands dropped from feeling her breasts to search for her pussy.

Other men became aware of her presence.

She felt someone was behind her on his knees trying to lick between her legs and she parted her thighs a little. He grabbed her bottom cheeks and forced them apart so his tongue could reach both orifices with long licks like a dog licking the length of a juicy bone before applying its teeth.

The man who was fingering her called her
a fucking bitch.

Chrissie felt his anger more than his desire, or the two were indistinguishable.

She was forgetting the situation. Forgetting she had come amongst them just like a bitch in heat, invading the companionship of the male pack, intent on upsetting them with her female body.

It was as though she was taunting them. She was not only female, but young and healthy and fresh. She reminded them how far they had fallen.

And what kind of woman offers her body to men like they knew themselves to be? For anyone remotely respectable they were untouchables.

Mob-handed now, they forced Chrissie onto her knees and one of them mounted her whilst others got down and slapped her face with their cocks, searching for her mouth. Finally one of this group prevailed and, pushing his rivals away, grabbed Chrissie’s hair to lift her face so that, kneeling down, he could push his prick between her lips.

They took turns using her until Andy stepped in, kicking some of the scrabbling figures away, thrust her coat into her arms and propelled her towards the car.

Housework might be routine but not the way Andy made her do it.

Chrissie was introduced to many items of clothing and restraint. For housework she wore a sleek skin-tight rubber mask something like that worn by underwater swimmers with their wet suits but no snorkel. Instead Chrissie’s teeth were clamped round a gag like a horse’s bit. The way her shiny rubber suit clung to her body seemed to reduce her to a dummy with exaggerated female curves and the perfect hour-glass shape. At the back there was an opening for her bare bottom to protrude so that he could punish her there whenever he pleased.

Then he locked her ankles in fetters so that she could only shuffle along to do her dusting and cleaning.

She did his flat twice a week. He came back from college twice or three times to inspect progress. Her work was never good enough for her to escape punishment. As she made the toilet bowl shine she remembered the way the place had looked before she became his slave.

His slave. He acknowledged her as such and she called him
M
aster
or
Si
r
as she had wanted to.

He made her take risks. There was a park near his flat where pub teams played football matches on Sunday mornings. He told her she was going to streak for them. Run round the area where there were three pitches.

‘The whole area but…’

‘Round all three pitches.’ He slapped her hard across her face. ‘You still question me!’

‘But I’ll get caught! Everyone’s got a mobile phone!’

He fetched a cane, put her over the arm of the leather sofa and gave her a sound thrashing.

‘Now they’ll have something to look at if they chase you,’ he said.

He told her to change into one of his old tracksuits and he took her to the car park the footballers used. The matches were in progress, watched by little knots of supporters, men and boys mainly, a sprinkling of women.

She threw his grey tracksuit into the back of his car and emerged naked, with bare feet, and began to run round the first pitch.

Every man on the pitch stopped as though turned to stone and the ball trickled away over the touchline.

Chrissie, who was more conscious of her tits bouncing painfully than anything else, heard the shouts and whistles of appreciation and derision in roughly equal measures. Kids and dogs began a pursuit and she knew they’d catch up with her eventually. The grass was damp and embarrassingly she slipped twice and had to get up with mud on her legs and bottom.

When she got to the second pitch the game was already suspended and whoops and whistles greeted her. The kids caught up with her and ran alongside, some of the boys asking if she wanted a fuck and plenty of other crude remarks. She tried to ignore them by looking straight ahead but it wasn’t easy.

Then some movement did catch her eye. Andy was driving on the grass so that the car would be in place to pick her up at the end of her run. Then a player cut her off and rugby tackled her perfectly and a huge cheer went up. He said, ‘sorry love,’ when he saw she’d fallen heavily, then, ‘God, you’re beautiful!’ and let her up.

Chrissie saw Andy bring the car close with the passenger door already open. She got in while it was still in motion and Andy sped away, the fast spinning tires churning up some of the grass.

The tests he set for her seemed graded, gradually increasing in degree of challenge, pushing the limits further each time.

Not long after making her streak on the football fields he explained he was going to take her to a place where people met for group sex, using the Internet to fix different times and places, in an effort to stay ahead of the police.

In England public sex had become a fashion called ‘dogging.’

It catered for exhibitionists who liked to have alfresco sex and voyeurs who liked to watch and masturbate.

One evening Andy handed her a short white tennis dress and flesh-revealing top to match, and told her to wear them without bra and pants; white trainers completed the sporty look.

‘You are available to anyone, male or female; however they wish to use you. Understand?’

‘However disgusting and gross? I get no choice?’

‘None. You play their bitch in heat. The more disgusting they are, the more you strive to please them. Make it a night to remember for each and every one there. Remember you’re the lowest life form and just be grateful they want your body.’

‘Will you be there to look after me, Sir?’

‘I’ll be there to make sure you do as you’re told, but I won’t be involved in the fun.’

‘Will you get pleasure watching me being abused, Sir?’

‘Possibly.’

‘If it gives you pleasure, I don’t mind doing it.’

‘You don’t have a choice, young lady. But you know how to please me, don’t you?’

‘By showing perfect obedience, Master.’

‘Precisely.’

Andy drove the few miles to the disused parking lot; his car bounced over the potholed and cratered surface to find a level area of tarmac alongside the vehicles already parked up.

When Andy switched on the interior light in the car, people converged like moths attracted to a candle’s flame, most walking, some manoeuvring their cars closer. Andy instructed Chrissie to open her passenger side door, lift the short tennis skirt and display her naked pussy. He undid the fastenings on her flimsy top and bared her breasts.

One man threw himself on the ground immediately, not caring if he grazed himself painfully, his tongue licking Chrissie’s exposed pussy, others pushed up against the side of the car, already unzipping their flies and taking out their cocks, jostling each other roughly for the best positions.

Chrissie took a cock in each hand and a third in her mouth.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Andy undid the side fastening of the tennis skirt and released her to them naked, shutting the car door behind her, leaving her to their mercy.

In a few seconds he saw the men stretch her over the car hood.

A big man who probably intimidated the others had his trousers round his ankles and Andy could see the stiffness of his erection before he buried his cock in Chrissie, covering her with his flabby body. The onlookers continued to squabble; another climbed onto the hood from the other side, lifted Chrissie’s head, and shoved his cock into her mouth.

Those who were weaker or less assertive stood back masturbating.

Some of those pressing against the car spurted their semen onto the windows and Andy watched it run slowly down the glass like slime.

A different group of men arrived and wrestled with the man who was shagging Chrissie; he put up strong resistance when they tried to pull him off the hood but eventually sheer numbers overcame him.

The newcomers dragged Chrissie towards a parked vehicle some distance away.

Andy started his car and got as close as he could.

A girl wearing only stockings round her ankles was lying over the passenger seat with her legs wide open. Chrissie could see her hair was matted with cum and there was spunk round her lips and in her ears, more glistened on her breasts. Her lipstick was smudged and her face looked puffy. Chrissie was surprised a see a seraphic smile on her face and wondered if she was on drugs or just grateful that so many men had used her to deposit their semen.

Andy had explained that the women were normally willing participants; glad to be public spectacles, the centre of interest.

The men wanted the women to have sex together and Chrissie was pushed on top of the other girl who immediately kissed her with her sticky lips.

Unable to see the girls’ intimate parts, let alone join in easily, a couple of men dragged a mattress out of the back of a white van and half pulled and half pushed the women until they lay across it.

As they finger fucked each other, various men knelt round them feeling their bodies, pushing fingers into their anuses, some trying to cram their cocks into their mouths before they rolled over. One man pushed his cock between Chrissie’s breasts and used them to masturbate.

Some of the standing figures leaned over the girls and Chrissie felt their warm spunk splash over her body and her hair.

Suddenly a car’s headlights flashed across the scene like searchlights stabbing the darkness – from a distance but close enough.

Someone shouted, ‘police’ and people panicked, running in all directions, dragging on clothes, piling into vehicles.

Once he got Chrissie inside, Andy drove over to an old man who looked bewildered, standing there with his trousers round his ankles.

‘Have you got a car?’ asked Andy.

‘No, I er…’

‘Hop in,’ said Andy. ‘Get in the back seat, Chrissie, and be quick about it.’

There was no sign of a police car as they drove away, probably a false alarm.

Andy drove the old man back to the house.

‘I saw you standing at the back of the crowd. I don’t suppose you get much of a look in back there?’

‘I can’t get near enough. I don’t have the strength to fight people for the best places these days.’

‘Would you like to spend some time with his one?’ indicating Chrissie with a jerk of his thumb.

‘Would I!’ He answered. ‘To do anything I like?’

‘Yours for an hour. No holds barred. Nothing off limits.’

‘What’s in it for you?’

‘I’m breaking her in. It’s all part of her training. You’d be doing me a favour.’

‘I’m your man.’

Chrissie was looking him over as he finally adjusted his clothing. She would have put his age at about seventy; frail looking with bent back and bony limbs. She fancied he’d never been a handsome man and the years had not been kind to him. His features put her in mind of a gargoyle, long nose, slightly twisted mouth, some teeth decayed. His papery skin was covered in freckles and kidney spots; there were a few wispy strands of grey hair above his ears, his eyes were rheumy, and there was stubble covering most of his lower face.

She shuddered at the thought of being pawed about and drooled over by such a doddery specimen.

A vigorous fucking by a lusty young man was one thing, but to have to surrender her young body to this old man with his filthy fingernails was quite another, though there was a good chance he’d be impotent.

And she knew she would have to act as if enraptured whatever he chose to do with her naked body.

Andy took Chrissie into his bedroom and gave instructions that she was to treat the old man like an ardent lover. If he ran out of puff, she was to take the initiative and keep him going. She was to talk dirty from the start and make him think he was Don Juan, Bluebeard and Casanova reincarnated as one man.

Andy set out fetters and handcuffs, the horse’s harness and bit, and the cane with the curved handle.

When Andy left Chrissie waiting on the bed and returned to the old man, he found himself taken by the arm and led to the leather sofa. The bedroom door had been left slightly open and Chrissie went to eavesdrop.

‘Can I really do what I like to her?’ the old man asked as they sat down side by side.

‘She’s all yours. Anything you ever wanted to do to a girl, this is your chance.’

‘You don’t mind? Nothing is out of bounds?’

‘Nothing. Use any and every orifice. For the next hour or so she’s your very own sex toy. Forget dirty magazines and porn on the Internet. You’ve got the real thing. You’ll find one or two pieces of equipment in there but just shout if you need anything else. Afterwards I want your honest assessment, a score out of ten. Don’t give her an easy time. Be as demanding as you like. It has to be a sharp learning curve for this one; she can be a wilful little slut.’

When the old man entered the bedroom, Chrissie was wearing the tennis dress and the top she had worn before.

He came to her and put his hands on her breasts over her clothes and fondled them greedily while Chrissie put her hands on his belt to unfasten it and pull down his zipper. His old-fashioned long johns had yellow stains at the front where he’d dribbled after urinating. Chrissie pulled them down with his trousers to reveal his matchstick legs and knobbly knees. His little cock hung limp and looked very white; his balls slack and corrugated covered in tiny red thread veins. His pubic hair looked like wire wool.

She took his trousers right off and folded them carefully.

When she took off his shirt she saw he wore a vest underneath made of the same material as his pants (it looked like wool) and she saw it had a few holes, was grubby and sweat-stained.

He was pigeon-chested and there was no muscle definition anywhere on his body; his wrinkled skin hung loose on his old bones.

He pulled her towards him, put his hand up Chrissie’s skirt to poke a finger into her pussy, at the same time he clamped his mouth over hers in a gummy kiss; he tasted foul.

‘Do you like my juicy cunt, Sir?’ she asked when she could breathe. Andy had ordered her to talk dirty.

‘I saw you flashing it at all those men in the car park, but I only got a fleeting glimpse.’

‘Take a proper look, Sir,’ she said and hitched her skirt up higher than her waist. ‘Have your own private viewing.’

He stumbled onto his knees in front of her, his face level with her naked pussy, so he could sniff at it whilst he fingered her.

‘Lovely twat,’ he breathed. ‘Juicy fuck-hole.’

‘It’s yours, Sir. Does it smell nice?’

‘Like fish and piss,’ he said. ‘The stink of a slut.’

‘I am a slut Sir,’ Chrissie said. ‘I only ever think of being fingered or fucked by handsome men like you.’

‘That’s all you’re fit for, whore.’

He jabbed his fingers into her excitedly and she saw sweat bead on his forehead.

‘Get those fucking clothes off,’ he told her.

When she was naked he pushed her face down on the bed. She raised her ass and he leaned over to lick first her pussy and then the little pink rosebud of her anus, snuffling like a pig searching for truffles.

‘Let me suck you, Master,’ she said.

She turned over onto her back and grasped his pendulous balls, slid her mouth over the soft little head of his flaccid member, gathered spit in her mouth and let it dribble down his cock which looked more like a cow’s udder but whiter. She used a milking action as though it was a teat but it was so crestfallen and wizened there was hardly a shaft to grasp. Neither her fingers nor her mouth could bring life to it.

‘Useless cunt!’ he snarled. ‘Get me that cane.’

She slid off the duvet and brought the cane to him.

He made her kneel on the bed with her mouth over his cock while he stood close to the bed.

‘Get me a fucking hard on,’ he ordered and whacked the cane over her back.

Chrissie gently squeezed his balls, stroked the insides of his thighs, tried a little pressure with her teeth but his cock was still soft in her mouth.

Clearly frustrated, the old man continued to flay her back and bottom, his anger compensating for his physical frailty so that the strokes were very painful.

Chrissie had been soundly thrashed by the time she felt the first stirrings of life in her mouth; his cock hardened the more she teased the head with her teeth, perhaps it took a little pain to stimulate him. She lifted her head from his cock and applied her sharp nails to the shaft, digging in quite deeply, testing how much he liked. She wondered if he’d come prematurely, another potential problem for such an old man but the stiffness remained.

Then she realised the explanation for his arousal might be the fact that he was looking down at her naked back which by this time would be covered in welts.

Suddenly the memory of an old picture flitted into her mind.

It was a picture of a slave from the plantations in the antebellum south and showed the extent of the scarring on the back of a female slave. Wound upon wound had healed over, leaving what looked like a carapace of scar tissue. She’d read the account that went with the sickening picture. The slave was unfortunate enough to have a master who whipped her whenever he got drunk, which was a frequent occurrence; his method was to hang her from a tree in his orchard. Chrissie imagined the young woman’s breasts and buttocks would look the same but for reasons of delicacy any pictures of those areas had been omitted from the book.

Now the old man had an erection, Chrissie wondered if he would want her to suck him off and swallow his semen or try to penetrate one or both of her other orifices as Andy had kindly proposed. She wasn’t very keen to swallow what she expected would be a thin dribble of spunk so she asked him, ‘Are you going to shag me, Sir? I need a good fuck.’

‘Up your ass,’ he said. ‘It’s nice and tight.’

Chrissie had never been penetrated there and immediately anticipated problems. He was far from being ramrod stiff and what rigidity he had achieved looked precarious as though his cock could soften and wilt at any moment.

‘How do you want me, Sir?’

‘Doggie style,’ he told her.

She got on all fours and offered her ass again.

When he squatted behind her, Chrissie spat into her hands and used the saliva to make it easier for him to enter her,

She wondered why he preferred her back passage,

Was it just that it was tighter there or was it because so many men like to visit humiliation and degradation on a woman, and, by ignoring the female part, taking them as a man would take another man, they were scorning the essence of her sexuality. Was it not a way of establishing a power relationship where the man was dominant and the woman subservient?