Damsels in Distress (24 page)

At last Mr Manfry starts to growl expletives. Cherry feels his climax building as he ploughs his cock inside her. She is delirious now, desperate to touch herself, but still she does not dare to.

Then a hand moves from her hip and reaches beneath her tensed tummy, and Cherry sobs with gratitude as it locates and stimulates her clitoris and immediately she starts to spasm, triggering Mr Manfry’s climax. With a great bellow he erupts and spouts hot spunk deep inside her rear passage, and she cries as her whole being is engulfed by wave after wave of utter ecstasy.

Mr Porrit reappears with Bunty, and she has a strange, glazed expression in her blue eyes. Cherry watches the blonde girl come down the stairs, carrying a tray with a decanter and two sherry glasses upon it, feeling a little dazed herself.

There are a couple of plush armchairs in the cellar and the gentlemen make themselves comfortable in them. Then obeying a word from Mr Porrit, Cherry pours the sherry and gives both men a glass.

‘I don’t know about you, Peter, but I could do with a footstool. All that gym and drill has tired me out.’

‘Oh yes, absolutely. Bunty, put the tray down and make yourself useful.’

‘Cherry,’ Mr Porrit says, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor in front of Mr Manfry.

Cherry feels the blood rise to her cheeks again, but of course she does not protest. She drops to her knees in front of Mr Manfry, gets on all fours and dutifully dips her back.

Mr Manfry puts his feet up on her naked back and sips his sherry. ‘This is not a bad amontillado,’ he says appreciatively, ‘and the footstool is very comfortable.’

‘Mine isn’t bad, either. Just dip your back a little more, Bunty, that’s it. Now stay absolutely still if you don’t want some more of the cane.’

‘Any plans for the weekend, Peter?’

‘Yes, actually, I was going to take Bunty up to Suffolk, to see old Archie Baxter. He’s finally got that pony-carting track sorted. Why don’t you come? I’m sure Archie would jump at the chance to get Cherry in harness.’

‘Another time, maybe. Persephone Harcourt-Jones has a new girl – a proper little madam, apparently. Promised I would go over and lend a hand.’

‘Difficult, is she?’

‘Quite a little spitfire, apparently. Especially skittish when it comes to men, it seems.’

‘So Percy needs a chap to help with the training?’ Mr Manfry mused. ‘Oh well, you’ll have to bring Cherry up to Suffolk in the not too distant, though; the pony-carting season will soon be in full swing.’

‘That’s a point, actually. It is high time I introduced Cherry to the bit and harness. She is far from trained, but she is becoming reasonably biddable.’

Mr Manfry snorted derisively. ‘God, Norman, you are such a perfectionist. Reasonably biddable indeed! She is more obedient and better at drill than that lazy trollop of mine, and you’ve only had her for two weeks! She is as ready for the bit as any filly in Archie Baxter’s stables. I bet you’ll be dressage training her by next week!’

Cherry listens to this conversation with mounting alarm. She tries to keep her breathing steady and stay quite still. Mr Manfry’s feet are heavy and the heels of his shoes dig into her bare back, but it is more the sheer humiliation of her situation that makes her tremble as she listens to the men. They are discussing her as if she’s an animal, and all this talk of ‘bits’ and ‘harnesses’ is seriously alarming. What new indignities does Mr Porrit plan for her?

The memory of her strapping is still horribly fresh in her mind, however, and the skin of her bottom is still raw, so she just nibbles her lip and tries to stop the tears of helpless humiliation from running down her cheeks. It could be worse, she tells herself; being the naked footstool of a fat old man is not so bad. It could be much worse. She could be beaten again. It could be so much worse. A glistening tear runs down her nose and drops off the tip to splash on the concrete cellar floor.

‘Well now, what about a little show? Would you like to do a little show for us, girls?’

The men have finished their sherry and thoughts have turned back to their erstwhile footstools. Cherry and Bunty stand facing the gentlemen, their hands behind their heads.

At that moment Cherry can think of very few things she would like to do less. ‘Yes, Mr Porrit, erm, sir,’ she says, a little confused how to address him as she’s in a drill position.

‘Yes, Mr Porrit,’ Bunty echoes, sounding even less enthusiastic than Cherry, if that was possible.

‘Well then, what do you say?’ Mr Porrit plays with the cane, eyes twinkling through old-fashioned glasses.

‘Please,’ the naked girls say in a ragged chorus.

‘Please, what?’

Cherry swallows, blushes deeper and blinks. ‘Please, may we do a little show for you, sirs,’ she manages at last, hoping desperately this is what he wants to hear.

‘Bunty?’

Cherry gives a quiet sigh of relief.

‘Please, sir, may we give, um, a show for you, sir… I mean, sirs.’

‘Oh for goodness sake, girl, stop burbling!’ Mr Manfry snaps.

‘That’s settled, then,’ says Mr Porrit. ‘So the next question is, what sort of a show shall it be?’

Cherry is astonished when she understands what she is going to have to do. The harness is a thing of black leather straps and gleaming buckles. Mr Porrit fastens her into it, pulling every strap a bit too tight. There is one around her waist and straps about each thigh. But it’s the broad one that goes from the front of the belt to the back, passing between her legs, that makes her wince.

She is staring down at the thing that curves up from her loins. It is a great black rubber dildo that extends from the front of the harness, rearing up to the height of the waist belt. The huge bulbous head bobs slightly as she moves, eight inches or so from her flat tummy.

A hand on her bottom draws her attention away from her astonishing new appendage. Cherry tries to bite back a gasp as cold lubricating jelly is applied. The broad band that holds the dildo ends before her rose hole, two thin chains linking this to the back of the belt. These chains are now pushed apart and something is being inserted into her bottom. Cherry can guess what it is because she’s watching Mr Porrit do the same to Bunty.

The blonde girl gives a moan – of what? Terror, pain, or pleasure? Cherry cannot be sure. A latex plug is pushed into her bottom, anchoring a little pink latex spiral, and once inserted it looks as if Bunty has a little piggy’s tail.

Next the men produce latex snouts with elastic attached. Cherry’s is slipped on, and Mr Manfry’s hands drop to her breasts and begin playing with her nipples. Trying to ignore the fact that they’re stiffening in response, she sees Mr Porrit patting Bunty’s striped flank fondly. The welts must still be sore because Bunty’s forehead creases in pain.

‘Now girls, hop onto the stage again,’ he orders, ‘on all fours. Remember that piggies cannot stand up and piggies cannot speak.’

The men have arranged their chairs in front of the stage, and as the two naked girls blink uncertainly in the glare of the arc lights they take their seats.

‘Right, Bunty, you are the sow, and you are not too sure about this.’ Mr Porrit seems to be relishing the role of stage director. The fact that Bunty really is not too sure about it all is written clearly on the visible part of her face. In particular she keeps darting worried glances at Cherry’s imposing strap-on.

‘So,’ Mr Porrit continues, ‘you start moving away from the boar in circles. Cherry, this excites you so you follow.’

It is bizarre more than humiliating; it feels almost surreal. Cherry crawls across the little stage in pursuit of Bunty, the blonde’s bottom filling her field of vision. Cherry can see Bunty’s glistening sex and almost licks the livid weals. So close she can see the purpling tramlines stand proud on Bunty’s pale skin.

‘Quickly, Bunty, or the boar will have you,’ Mr Porrit goads.

Bunty gives a little whimper and crawls faster.

At first Cherry thought the pursuit would be a short formality, but as she pursues Bunty round the little stage in circles she realises the men intend it to be more. Her knees get sore as she scurries over the wooden stage and she’s panting and getting hot again.

The good thing, she sees with satisfaction, is that her quarry is flagging. Beads of perspiration drip down Bunty’s flanks and bottom, and her body heaves as she gasps for air.

‘Go on, Bunty, you can get away,’ Mr Porrit urges, conveniently ignoring the obvious fact that there’s nowhere for her to get away to, and the men will never allow her to escape in any case.

‘Go on, Cherry, you can catch that fat sow!’ Mr Manfry shouts, just as conveniently ignoring the fact that the ‘sow’ in question is a lot less fat than him.

‘Yes, get her, Cherry,’ Mr Porrit bellows gleefully.

This is the signal he’d previously whispered to her. ‘If she gets away I will thrash you,’ he warned. ‘When I shout “get her” you have five minutes to mount her. Any longer and I’m afraid it will be the whip for you.’

Fortunately for Cherry, Bunty is run out. Cherry jumps forward and grabs the girl’s ankles. Bunty collapses in a gasping pile, giving Cherry the chance to get astride her prey.

‘Get up, Bunty, no good lying doggo,’ Mr Manfry orders, but Bunty does not comply at once. Obviously shattered from the chase she lays gasping oxygen into her lungs between broken sobs, then she looks around with a panic, as if realising her situation. She squeals and tries to crawl away again.

But Cherry is ready for this. As Bunty gets up she grabs the blonde by both pigtails and pulls her head back. Bunty rears up with a shriek, but undaunted and putting both pigtails into one hand, Cherry moves her other to guide the artificial cock.

‘The boar has got you, Bunty, stop waggling your bottom like that,’ Mr Porrit orders, and Bunty gives a defeated sob but stops moving enough for Cherry to guide the dildo between her sex lips.

‘Ream her, piggy!’ Mr Manfry eagerly bawls, and the immense rubber phallus forges in like a well-oiled piston. Bunty moans as Cherry pushes deeper. The base of the rubber cock is pressed against Cherry’s swollen mons as she thrusts deep into the blonde girl, and the pressure on her clitoris makes her groan in turn.

Releasing her grip on Bunty’s pigtails, Cherry then reaches under the blonde and grabs her swaying breasts. Bunty moans again as Cherry fucks her and roughly mauls her tits. Cherry feels the nipples hardening in her palms as she squeezes. Something dark and atavistic seems to take Cherry over. She rams her strap-on hard and deep into Bunty’s wet cunt, ignoring the strange squealing sounds her efforts are wringing from the blonde’s lips.

And the pulsing pressure on her own clit is, slowly but surely, building to a climax. For a moment she’s aware only of herself, her growing need, her powerful strap-on dildo and Bunty’s bucking, sweat-soaked body, but then there’s an explosive splat and her right buttock is suddenly ablaze with pain.

‘That’s it, ream the sow, there’s a good porker!’ Mr Porrit encourages manically.

Splat
!
Cherry’s left buttock bursts into incandescent fire.

‘Ride her! Give it to her, Cherry! Fuck the nice plump piggy!’

With the small part of Cherry’s mind that’s still aware, she realises the men have the sorority paddles and are taking turns to swat her bottom, standing on either side of the desperately rutting piggy girls on the little stage, and she fucks the blonde with desperate gusto. Every time her bottom pulls back it gets another agonising paddle smack. Bunty wriggles and her moans turn to strange, desperate gurgling. Cherry yelps and gasps in pain with every wicked kiss of the hard wooden paddles, and it is getting more intense by the second.

Cherry cannot cope with this treatment for long. Already aroused to a point of near delirium, the pleasure each thrust provides with pressure on her clit mingles with the pain in her bottom to produce an explosive cocktail.

After a dozen or so scalding smacks she fucks Bunty one more time and is then shrieking with ecstasy instead of agony. Bunty starts convulsing too, and both sweat-slicked girls begin to shudder as they groan with delight. Cherry sinks her teeth into Bunty’s shoulder and squeezes the blonde’s tits even harder, and Bunty collapses on the stage again, writhing and mumbling incoherently.

‘Not a particularly dignified display,’ Mr Porrit says, shaking his head disappointedly.

‘It is actually very shocking, the sheer sluttish behaviour of young women today,’ Mr Manfry agrees.

The warm glow suffusing Cherry’s body does not dissipate at once. Her bottom is still throbbing but it has subsided to a bearable glow. She has collapsed on Bunty, her dildo still buried deep inside the prone girl’s cunt, and the two exhausted girls have slumped over onto their sides. Cherry has her arms around her panting companion.

The men tower over them; sinister dark silhouettes against the arc lights, the shape of the awful sorority paddles in their hands. For a few seconds the orgasm wiped away all awareness of the cellar and the men’s menacing presence, but awareness of her situation comes back slowly, little by little.

‘We try to train them to be good, but give them half a chance…’

Cherry listens dreamily, still simmering with pleasure. What Mr Porrit is talking about she has no idea. Exactly why does she need to be trained to wear a piggy tail and snout and fuck Bunty with a strap-on? Why does she need to do that stupid drill and learn all those positions? Why does she need to be ‘trained’ and ‘worked’ until obedience is absolutely automatic? Mr Porrit says it’s ‘for her own good’, but for the life of her she cannot see what earthly good it does her.