Captives of Cheyner Close (12 page)

As she followed at his heel out through the back door she realised that with the bone in her mouth she was both demeaning and gagging herself at the same time. She could spit it out … but she didn’t.

The misty air was cool and opalescent as Warwick led Tara up the side path and opened the front gate. Only when they had passed through did Tara suddenly become aware of her exposure. She was crouched naked on a pubic pavement. At least the junction with the main road at bottom of the Close was hidden by mist, though Tara could hear a car going by. It
was
Sunday morning and papers had already been delivered, so any other callers were unlikely at this hour. But there was just a chance somebody might unexpectedly turn into the Close. And what would they see at that moment? A man leading a naked girl on a leash like a dog.

Tara realised her nipples were erect. She would have liked to believe it was the cool air, but she knew otherwise. The fear of being discovered and her humiliating position were insidiously thrilling.

Warwick sauntered unhurriedly across the road with Tara shuffling nervously along at his heel, crouched down on all fours as low as she could. Only when they had passed through the gate of Number 2 did she breathe a sigh of relief. Once inside the house Warwick held out his hand and Tara carefully dropped the bone into it.

‘Good girl,’ he said, patting her head once more.

Again she was being subjected to praise and humiliation. She didn’t underestimate Warwick now. Had it been a test of obedience or subtle indoctrination? Perhaps it was both.

Over the next ten minutes the other girls arrived. They also had their hands bound with tape.

Tara began to appreciate how well organised and coordinated the residents were. How many messages were being passed between them and how many decisions were being taken about the fate of herself and the others, that they knew nothing about? What had they planned for them next?

As they crouched on all fours in a row as ordered, Tara glanced sidelong at her companions, wondering if their nights had been as eventful as hers. She glimpsed a few telltale blushes on breasts and buttocks, binding marks on wrist and ankles, the awkward way they squatted that hinted at aching groins
and
above all eyes lowered in shyness or shame. Briefly she met the gaze of Daniela, who smiled uncertainly then turned her attention back to the floor once more. Sian shook her head as though in weary resignation. Tara had no means of learning any more, for though they were all ungagged, they had been told not to speak and none of them seemed inclined to disobey.

Once again Warwick took them through drill in the back garden, assisted by Tom Fanning and Rachel Villiers. They went over the postures they had learned the previous day, then Warwick added some vigorous exercises such as star-jumps, touching toes and push-ups. Those with fuller breasts had no advantage.

‘They don’t count unless you touch the ground with your chests,’ Warwick informed them curtly, walking up and down the line of prostrate and straining girls while swishing his holly cane menacingly. ‘Just brushing the grass with your teats will not do, Gail. I want to see those big tits of yours properly squashed against it, do you understand?’

Then, unexpectedly, came a game.

Six cards marked with coloured spots were shuffled and dealt out in front of them. The colours matched those of what were revealed to be half a dozen assorted rubber bones that Warwick had brought in his bag. These he tossed into the air all at once so that they scattered about the garden. The girls had to find and retrieve the bone matching their assigned colour, picking it up in their teeth. A small chocolate drop was awarded as a prize for the first girl back with the right bone. The cards were re-dealt and they had to chase bones of different colours.

After a few rounds they had almost forgotten where they were. It was almost as though they were
children
again, playing about innocently naked. Even Sian and Cassie seemed to lose themselves in the game, laughing when they tumbled over each other as they chased after their respective bones. It took an effort for Tara to recall that they were naked collared slaves, playing the game only because their masters wished it.

They were allowed a brief drink and rest after the bone game, then they were sent back into the living room on all fours. The bed-frames had been stacked in one corner, leaving the floor clear. Gerald Spooner and Narinda and Raj Khan were waiting for them. Spooner sat by Narinda who had a CD player set up on a chair, while Raj was standing by a slightly battered-looking male shop window dummy, posed with his hands on his hips and legs spread. But where a normal dummy had only a suggestive bulge, this one had been fitted with a startlingly lifelike flesh-coloured rubber dildo, complete with false testicles.

‘I am here to give you a lesson in how to dance provocatively,’ Narinda said, beaming at them as they knelt in a semi-circle facing her, thighs obediently spread in their display postures. ‘Of course India is famous for its exotic dancing, with its sensuous rhythms and highly symbolic movements and gestures.’ She grinned even wider. ‘But as those take years to learn properly, they have nothing to do with what you’re going to do today.’

Hazel stifled a nervous laugh.

‘Today you will behave like the little sluts you are,’ Narinda continued. ‘You cannot use your hands so you must use your bodies. You will be dancing for Fred, here …’ Raj bobbed the dummy forward in a mock bow. ‘You will bump and grind yourself shamelessly for his pleasure, just as though he was your master and you were a slave girl trying to please
him.
You will make love to him with your dance, and you will finish by giving him the best screw ever.’

The girls gaped at the well-endowed dummy doubtfully. Over his shoulder Raj grinned back at them. ‘And I’ll be watching to make sure you do it properly,’ he said cheerfully.

‘Now, just to make it a little bit authentic, we have some things for you to wear …’ Narinda began to pull out an assortment of jingling metallic items from her bag. ‘We have bell bracelets and ankle bands and, oh yes, clip-on bells for your nipples and pussy tongues. These, you see, have little rings of carpet tacks taped to them. Very small and sharp, just to make sure you don’t get bored.’

There was a moment of dead silence in the room as the girls unhappily contemplated the deceptively innocent-looking ornaments.

‘I suggest you remember as much as you can from this lesson,’ Narinda said mysteriously, ‘because it may come in very useful at the end of your week with us. Anybody I don’t think is trying hard enough will get a taste of my cane …’

She picked up a long bamboo which had been lying against the wall and swished it through the air. Taped to the last third of its length was a spiral of holly-leaves. Bells dangled from its handle which tinkled merrily as she waved it in front of them.

‘Oh, yes,’ Narinda added. ‘As a further incentive you will be marked on your efforts –’ a smiling Gerald Spooner held up a set of numbered cards for them to see ‘– for style, passion and originality. The girl who scores the least points will be suitably punished. Now up on your feet, spread your legs and put your hands behind your necks.’

Narinda and Raj went along the line tying the strings of bells about their wrists and ankles, then
clipping
the single bells onto their nipples and one of their labia. ‘We don’t want anything to get in the way of you pleasing Fred, do we?’ Narinda said cheerfully. Tara had no idea where they had obtained the small spring clips from which the bells hung, but they pinched tightly enough to make her eyes water. The labial bell dangled between her spread legs so that for the moment its ring of tacks was not touching her, but the pin-like spikes on her nipple bells were already making themselves felt as they rested against the undercurve of her breasts. How much more uncomfortable would they be when she had to move?

‘How you dance is up to you, but the more excited you make yourselves the easier it will be,’ Narinda advised them when they were fully decked out. ‘Licking Fred’s big rubber dick first will also help. Remember where it’s got to go in the end and make it part of your performance.’ She went over to the CD player. ‘Now, who shall go first? Any volunteers?’

Tara hesitated, unsure if it would be an advantage to go first or not. Then to her surprise she saw Daniela nervously hold up a taped hand. ‘I’ll go first, Mistress …’

‘Very well. On your feet … ready … begin.’ The sound of drums and sitars issued from the speakers, filling the room with a swirling exotic rhythm.

Daniela was very good. She swayed and twirled sensuously, bells jangling as she circled Fred and Raj, making them the focus of her dance. At first her face contorted as the spikes on her bobbing nipple and labial bells pricked her, but she seemed to ride the pain and turn it into passion. She began rolling her shoulders like a burlesque dancer, setting the nipple bells spinning round like tiny propellers on the bosses of her firm pointed breasts. Hazel, Gail, Rachel
Villiers
and Tom Fanning spontaneously applauded this feat of mammarial dexterity.

Daniela swayed closer to Fred, wiggling her hips and thrusting out her pubes provocatively. She went down on her hands and knees and began licking the dildo from base to tip, looking up at the impassive face above her as though hoping for some response. Getting none, she tried harder. She took the head of the rubber cock into her mouth, sucking on its plum while slowly shaking her lovely bottom at her audience, her labial bell chiming as it swung from under the cleft peach of her pudenda, its spikes pricking the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

Still Fred seemed to ignore her efforts. Daniela turned about, resting her taped palms on the floor, splaying her legs and thrusting out her mound of Venus so that it made its own damp furry hillock between the taut rises of her buttocks; offering herself totally. Peering over the dummy’s shoulder, Raj’s eyes bulged in delight at the sight before him.

Weaving her hips, Daniela shuffled and swayed backwards, her nipple-bells hanging free. The tip of the dildo pressed against her cleft. With a moan Daniela pushed with her hips, impaling herself on the dildo. Her eyes went wide as she began to ride the rubber shaft, setting her bells jingling as she worked her hips steadily faster. Raj jerked Fred back and forth to meet her thrusts, plunging the dildo deeper into her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Suddenly Daniela gasped aloud, her legs straining, and then she sank to the floor. The dildo came out of her with a soft pop and sprung back upright, its shaft gleaming with her juices.

Everybody broke into applause, which she greeted with a blushing smile as she slowly recovered her senses.

Spooner awarded her 25 out of a possible 30.

Having had a chance to think it over, Tara quickly put her hand up. ‘May I go next, Mistress?’

Going now meant she would only have to lick Daniela’s juices off the dildo. Also she reasoned that her dance would seem fresher if Spooner had seen fewer girls before her, and that meant more points. Apart from the risk of punishment, Tara Ashwell never came last in anything.

Tara knew she was no great dancer, but she could at least show plenty of uninhibited enthusiasm. After all, it wasn’t as though she was coupling with a real man. If she pretended it was her own vibrator she was going to shaft herself with for her own pleasure, she could give Fred the dummy a good time. She was actually going to be marked on how well she performed, which was gross but also exciting.

So as the music played she bumped and ground her heart out, proudly showing off her body. She rubbed her taped hands through her crotch, glorying in her brazenness, until they came away wet. She cupped and jiggled her breasts to set her bells bouncing wildly, heedless of the stinging pricks they delivered in return. Steeling herself she moved right up close to Fred, ignoring Raj Khan’s hungry eyes, and bent to lick the dildo, splaying her legs so the audience all got a good view up her backside. As she did so she caught the lingering scent of Daniela’s juices; musky, raw and exciting. Don’t pull back, use it, she told herself. Lovingly she licked the shaft, marvelling at her own responses, savouring its flavour, slobbering over it until it was lubricated afresh.

Then she twisted round to face her audience, arching her back to thrust out her breasts while pushing her hips back against the wet rubber penis. Reaching behind her she hooked her taped hands
through
the dummy’s crooked arms and pulled herself hard back onto the dildo. She grunted as it filled her, rotating her hips, grinding into her synthetic lover. Raj Khan was rocking Fred to and fro by the shoulders, enjoying driving the dildo into her, but she didn’t care. She was shaking her shoulders and tossing her breasts about wildly, drawing rings of tiny smarting pinpoints about her nipples as the spiked bells pricked her. Her loins were full to the brim with liquid sex …

She orgasmed lustily and sank to the floor, panting for breath, to the sound of applause. Later she might cringe at the thought of what she had done before so many eyes, but at that moment it simply felt like her just reward.

Spooner gave her 23 points.

Gail went next, blushing and hesitant, but looking curiously determined. She didn’t try any fancy steps but undulated gracefully in time with the music, the flexing of her supple waist contrasting with the sway of her full hips. The spikes on her jingling nipple-bells were making their mark on her tautly-domed breasts, but she bore it nobly. As though being drawn helplessly forward to her fate, the look on her sweetly suffering face was captivating.

Going down on her knees before Fred she looked up at the dummy as though he really were her master. She licked its dildo, then cupping her breasts as though offering up her most precious gift, she rubbed the length of it along the deep fleshy valley between them. It was intensely sensuous. As she rose to take the dildo inside her she kissed Fred’s chest. With a little groan she stood on tiptoe, peeling back her labia with her taped hands and sliding the fake penis up into the pink-rimmed hole they framed between them.