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Authors: Sara Rawlings

Tags: #strict discipline, #cane and restraints, #nubile daughters

Ruled by the Rod (22 page)

BOOK: Ruled by the Rod
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There was,
however, a hidden refinement to this form of harness.

While the rope
gave the appearance of merely circling our waists it did, in fact,
pass under the waistband in front and pass between our legs before
traversing the divide of our buttocks to actually circle our
middles from behind. This was no great matter so long as we were
fresh enough, and our arms retained enough strength to pull on the
rope directly. But any slipping in that endeavour and the pull was
transferred to our tender cunnies and fundaments, with salutary
results in terms of incentive to try harder.

The three of
us were harnessed in a troika of femininity; Marion at the 'point',
Charlotte and I to either side. Our rubicund taskmaster cracked his
whip menacingly above our heads and growled, 'Giddup,' and we leant
against the ropes and strove to set the heavy barge in motion.

Little by
little it began to move as we strained at our ropes. It will
readily be seen that, if all three were to make equal effort the
pull on the three corners of the iron-plate would be in balance,
and the plate stay square to the towrope. But if one of us were to
do less than her share, the plate would tilt in one direction or
another and the culprit be revealed. Our driver, for what else
might one call him, utilised this simple device to accord us cuts
of his whip in accordance with our effort. The lash was not heavy,
but stung exceedingly, cutting the flesh if he became urgent in his
message, or angry with our failings, and we soon learned to dread
its bite.

We flung
ourselves into the task and were soon rewarded by the slow
acceleration of the craft from where it had been moored, out into
the channel. We were off, but still we were urged on by bite of
tongue and lash. We reached a walking pace, then a marching gait.
The day was already hot and perspiration had started almost with
our first efforts, and now we streamed.

Still our
driver would not let us relax, and drove us on until we were
stepping out in a smart jog. Only then did he cease to pressure us
with growls and the crack of his cutting lash on our tender bare
shoulders and breasts. We hurt so much already, and had gained such
an instant dislike of that biting lash, that we did not for an
instant let our pace drop but, once the barge had reached a sought
for speed it was surprisingly easy to maintain it.

We jogged
along much more easily now, our motion making the bells in our
teats ring out merrily, warning any around of our coming, and
drawing their attention to our shameful nudity and demeaning
employment.

Our pace
established, our driver moved to where the three ropes came
together at the triangle and called on Marion to easy, while
warning Charlotte and I not to let the pace drop. He then unhooked
her rope from the plate, which had turned on its side, with only
two of us attached and pulling and sent her to board the boat.

The bishop
who, it turned out, was a man of more practicality than the
spiritual nature of his calling might suggest, was at the tiller,
and brought the sleek craft close enough to the bank that she could
jump aboard. With only two of us now to share the work, Charlotte
and I found ourselves sweating freely once more as we took up the
load. It was not long before our backs were aching with the strain,
and our tender bare feet cut and sore from the dustier and
gravel-strewn parts of the path, muddied and fouled from the wetter
patches and the dung dropped by those four-legged draught animals
that had preceded us. We did not dare slacken, however, for even
the slightest diminution of our pace and our driver sought out our
most tender parts for the attention of that whipcord lash that so
tormented our soft flesh. An easement of my effort to favour my
sore shoulder, and it cut into my back like a knife, a hesitation
or stumble, and the thong wrapped itself around my chest and bit up
into the tenderness of my teats, wrenching an involuntary squeal
from my panting lungs.

For over half
an hour we proceeded in this manner until, truly distressed, we
were called on to walk then halt as the boat slowly lost way and
slid into the bank. We dropped to our knees and rested in the mud,
regardless of our skirts, only thankful to be spared the labour and
the lash, if only temporarily, for we were under no illusions that
this was just a short halt.

In our
distress we had forgotten Marion, but now she reappeared to aid us
in getting the heavy craft in motion again. With a little
experience now, the three of us soon had it moving and worked it up
to the jog trot that had been set as our cruising speed. We dare
not think of what would be implied by the need for more swift
progress, then Marion left us again to return to her duties aboard
the floating home.

As time passed
we found that the pattern of our lives of this outing involved the
harnessing of all three to get the boat underway, then the release
of she who had the 'point' at departure, to serve the gentlemen's
needs aboard. When my turn came I was made to put my attire and my
person into what order I could, then provide the gentlemen with
drinks against the heat - we trailed both wine and beer in bottles
over the stern where the water kept them cool - and to prepare
sufficient meals to keep their pangs of hunger at bay, besides
putting up bread and water for the 'dray horses' for their midday
break.

Such culinary
duty in the galley was interrupted from time to time when I had to
strip again and take my turn on the rope, when it became time to
restart the journey. Besides all this, there were calls throughout
the day from one or other of our guardians who felt the influence
of such strong female exertions, and their resultant secretions, so
unsettling that nothing would serve but to have his bodily fluids
drained. Several times that day I was made to fall to my knees and
take a turgid member into my mouth, using those skills we had all
three acquired by now to coax from the rigid shafts the pernicious
effusions occasioned by our sinful presence. With tutored
feathering by tongue and teeth, and graduated suckling of the
purple glans, we were now able to guarantee to bring even the most
reluctant and spent organ to ejaculate its evil load into our
mouths, where we would swallow it wholly and immediately to ensure
it could do no further harm.

Sometimes one
of the guardians would feel he would need to participate more
actively in this drainage of his system and call upon us to expose
our buttocks and part the cheeks to present access to our anal
buds. With the limited size and layout of our floating home, this
was usually most convenient to him if we knelt on the steps, or
companionway as we later learnt was the correct term, that led down
into the saloon, bring our rear passage to optimum height for our
guardian's comfort, and leaving him in the privacy of the cabin. Of
course, this meant that I was quite exposed to public gaze during
the procedure and it added to my embarrassment more than somewhat
that, during those moments when, perforce, a girl must pant and
howl as the spasm mounts within her, I was subject to the gaze of
those on passing boats, girls taking the air along the towpath with
their swains, or rude and licentious bragees. It was the females of
the latter class that brought the hottest blushes to my cheek. It
is certain they had no doubts whatever as to what was passing and
would call out loudly, encouraging me to, 'Go to it, girl. Milk
that pole. Grip it with your guts, Missy. Suck him dry and try
another.' Such coarse behaviour, so inappropriate to the nobility
of the service we were rendering, was especially galling.

It may be
remarked however that we were not the only females to be used in
this manner while kneeling on the companionway. We observed in our
travels that many a man might use his woman so when the need came
upon him, the female continuing the pilotage of the boat, which
glided forward under the patient pull of the horse on the bank, the
woman steering by reaching out for the tiller from her bent
position, and guiding the craft by watching its wake behind.
Another example of the triumph of the human will over the demands
of our animal nature.

Nor was our service to our guardians the only kind we were
called upon to make. At each lock, and they were many after the
first stretch of waterway, for they did at least allow for a break
in the intolerable towing, we were set to put our sore backs
against the great timber beams to close and open the gates, and to
bend and crank to raise and lower the paddles that controlled the
flow of water into the basin, to raise the boat to a new level. In
doing so we relieved the lock keeper of much of his duty, but he
still seemed to expect a tip or
pour
boire
.

On the first
occasion the judge called out, 'I've no small change, my man, but
you may take your dues from one of those pretty arses if you will.
Bum only, mind. Touch their cunts and I'll see you hanged.'

We were most
touched that he should take such trouble to preserve our
virginities, but it was still somewhat of a trial to have to submit
our fundaments to strangers. With our own guardians we were used to
the practice, understood the need for it and, moreover, while in no
way guilty of undue indulgence of us, their familiarity with our
bodies, and we with theirs, led to a certain easiness in the
congress, which was totally lacking in the rude and brutal way in
which we were taken on these casual conjoinings.

The first time
I was selected for this service, the lock keeper, a huge and brutal
fellow in a sweat-stained shirt and rough woollen trousers, hauled
me unceremoniously into the tiny hut that served him on the
lock-side, only a flimsy plank door separating us from the curious
onlookers outside. There he forced me over until I was bent almost
touching my toes, and flipped my petticoats over my head, exposing
my pale round buttocks. He slapped them familiarly with a broad
coarse palm, callused by his trade, and grunted that it was nice
meat and worth a poke. His great thumbs plunged into the gully
between my nether cheeks and brutally tore them asunder, so roughly
that I grunted loud enough to be heard outside, and I heard
answering jeers and calls from those who waited without. Then I
screamed in earnest for, without the slightest preparation, not
even an application of his foul saliva, distasteful as that might
have been, he thrust himself deep into me in one furious heave. The
man was immense. Our guardians, though a trifle too well-endowed
about the belly and thighs perhaps, were well-set-up men with
considerable members, of which they might not be ashamed in any
company, but this brute put them all to shade.

He was ramming
me in furious assault, my howls echoed by the ribald mirth of the
crowd outside. It was as well perhaps that my nether orifice was
regularly put to the prick, for I am sure matters would have gone
very badly for me else. Even so, sick and nauseous as I was, I
could still feel that rising tide of sensation that seemed to
accompany the approach of the male discharge. The only saving grace
I could find in the monster was that he was quick. As suddenly as
he had started, he erupted in great gouts of fluid which I could
distinctly feel as they impinged on my intestinal walls. And then
he was gone, wiping his dripping member on my petticoat and
unceremoniously throwing open the door of the hut, leaving me bent
bare-buttocked, the spent juices dribbling from my anus.

I hastily
gathered myself together and sought to flee the public gaze, but it
was not to be. Our driver called out that it was time to move and
to take up our places for the tow, and for the next ten minutes or
so, until we had moved away from the lock area, I had to endure the
derision and coarse advice of the crowd.

As we became
used to the hard work, and the shameful indignity of our near
nudity, we began to observe that we were not the only human draught
animals on the 'cut', as the canal was universally known. It would
appear that quite a number of bargees were either so poor, or so
mean, that they had no horse and employed their spouses for the
task. We came across many such, often aided by their daughters when
of age enough, and often but little better covered than ourselves,
though it would appear by reason of want rather than a conscious
act, although it may be that they preferred to keep their only gown
in good repair and suffer exposure to lewd gazes and inclement
weather as we did.

Nor was
maternity any bar to such employment, and there were several
swollen bellies amongst those set to tow the barges.

As I have
remarked, we became accustomed to the work, though it never became
easy, and our high stepping trot was much faster than the steady
trudge expected from the women working on their own. Nor did the
humiliation of our jingling bells soften with time, and a day came
which brought a further trial.

We had reached
the mouth of the notorious Sitrim tunnel; three miles of dark, dank
oppressive rock hewn passage, where no path was provided for
towers, whether of the four or two-legged variety. The boats were
propelled through by 'legging', that is by lying on our backs on
planks set either side of the bow, and pressing our feet against
the tunnel lining. By walking in mid-air, so to speak, the boat was
made to move. Once the planks were in place we were ordered to
remove our remaining clothing, and to undertake the duty stark
naked, it being pointed out that the drips from the slimy roof
would ruin our garb and that, in any case, in the confines of the
tunnel there would be none to see us.

Accordingly,
we found ourselves lying on our backs on hard planking, walking on
a rock face in our bare feet, the surface carrying numerous sharp
projections left over from its cutting, which plagued our tender
soles, partly covered with a loathsome layer of stinking slime.
This slime extended over the entire roof and, loosened by the water
that seeped through the canopy, fell in large and frequent gobs
onto the boat and we who lay on it, the gentlemen very properly not
exposing their valuable selves and raiment, and sheltering in the
saloon. Since we were quite naked and lying on our backs, many of
these unpleasant droppings fell directly on us and even found the
aperture of our opening thighs and assaulted our most intimate
parts.

BOOK: Ruled by the Rod
5.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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