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The Trials of Pauline Ch. 01

By: sarahloveitt



1. The dream

Polly was perspiring with apprehension and fear. She looked round the well-kept lawn and shrubbery basking in warm summer sunshine. All was hushed. No bird sang. No wind sighed. In the middle of the lawn was a large oak tree.

Hanging spread-eagled from the branches of the large tree, was a naked woman, her ankles tethered to stakes driven in the lawn. She had a tall, if slight figure, breasts lifted high with her arms stretched above her, emphasising their fullness, bathed in the warm sunshine. A slim waist led to ample hips with graceful, round cheeks to her bottom. They hung slightly over her upper thighs. Blonde hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, shimmering in the rays of the sun.

Polly realised that it was herself! She was watchful, with an increasing anticipation of excitement, fear in her eyes. A large ugly brute of a man was approaching her, a whip in one hand, casually tapping it in the palm of the other. She recognised him - it was her grandfather! He too was naked except for a sweat band round the head, a wide studded belt round his waist and open sandals laced up his calves. A giant of a man with bulging, muscular arms and shoulders, a mass of black, matted hair covering his chest.

In his eyes was an evil glint as they studied her frail body. He approached nearer and nearer to her. She stared hypnotically at the enormous half-filled penis, swinging lazily from its nest of coarse, black hair encompassing his fat, sagging belly. The phallus was huge and misshapen! Grotesque! Polly couldn't take her eyes off it.

He came up to her, laughing in her face, his foul breath abusing her nose, as he tweaked her rubbery nipples between the thumb and forefinger of his sweaty hands, ingrained with dirt. Her young breasts were firm and rounded, her nipples chunky. There was a stab of pain as he twisted them hard, one after the other. Then, he walked back a few paces and turned, lifting his whip arm, ready to strike.

'Please, grandad! Don't, please!' she croaked.

There was a faint gasp; an intake of breath. It was then that Polly noticed a ring of people watching. All were naked in the warm sunshine, their bodies glowing with health. Already aroused and stiff, the men amongst them were gaping lewdly at her soft defenceless curves, trying to catch a glimpse of the secret patch of flesh between her thighs before the punishment began.

Without knowing why, she was aware that her secret feminine folds of flesh were extraordinarily beautiful by common consent. All who saw her vulva worshipped it, over-awed by its perfection. The perfectly shaped labia framed with short golden curls, the clitoris pouting proudly from its hood. The distended vaginal opening, dilated between the inner pink lips.

Polly knew she'd been wicked, deserving punishment, but didn't know why or how. Perhaps she'd been discovered pleasuring herself with a candle, or spying on her parents fornicating. Whatever the misdemeanour, she was to be punished in front of these people. It was humiliating. To her dismay, she realised that the spectators were all members of her family.

There was her father, smiling grimly, hiding his erection tightly in his fist. Her mother standing beside him, pert breasts rising and falling in the excitement of seeing her daughter about to be flogged by this big brute. Uncles, aunts and cousins stood in silence, holding their breath, some stroking their genitals obscenely, eyes glued to Polly's body, to her pronounced genitals. Polly was dismayed to find that they were magnified for everyone to see them clearly, every detail, watching as the folds became moist with her juices, the throbbing opening.

It was then she noticed her husband. Smiling at her humiliation, gently stoking his stiff cock. The cock she was so familiar with. The cock that pleasured her frequently.

A sudden cry.

'Punish her!'

It was her mother across the lawn, her distant voice floating away in the air. Polly looked with surprise at her mother's angry face.

'She's very wicked, punish her!'

The call was taken up by others. Her husband cried out, others joining in. 'Punish her! Whip her!'

There came a chorus of distant shouts.

A swish!

Everything was in slow motion. Polly watched the whip snake towards her. Then it stung her with a sickening crack! It lashed round her plump, pale buttocks, biting into the flesh. Her body jolted with the shock of pain, her breasts rocked wildly. Polly cried out! The end of the leather thong curled round her groin flicking painfully, raising a red weal.

'Again,' came a screech from her mother.

Polly hated her mother.

'Again,' came in chorus from the others.

The heavy frame of her grandfather twisted away from her, the muscles in his arm taught with effort, preparing to administer another lash. A brutal smile split his hairy face. His black eyes gleamed cruelly. Polly watched his monstrous manhood jerk larger, swaying lewdly in front of him. He paused to concentrate on the target. Then he swung his arm.

The whip snaked through the air once again, lashing her buttocks, stinging with brutal pain. She yelped again! The spreading heat filled her loins. Her clitoris throbbed. Polly knew that she was beginning to lubricate freely.

'No, please! Enough!' Polly cried, squirming, twisting her body around violently, tugging on the bonds round her wrists and ankles, in a vain attempt to escape. Her hips and breasts swung frenziedly in her effort to escape. She didn't want her family and friends to see the juices dripping from her vagina.

She looked round the spectators with appealing eyes. But they were watching the contorting body with salacious interest, licking their lips. The branch of the sturdy tree swayed and the leaves swished against each other, but in vain. The movement, at least, served to detract from the stinging pain in and around her shapely buttocks.

Pretending to faint, she collapsed as though in despair, hanging exhausted, perspiring freely with the effort. The perspiration turned to trickles of sperm, sticky and warm.

Her grandfather merely laughed at her useless tussle. His arm was relaxed, the whip resting in front of him on the grass. The spectators were equally unwilling to forgo the sight of watching her being punished. They were almost drooling at the sight. Their jeers reached Polly's ears. She still didn't know why she was being punished. If only they would tell her!

Taking a deep breath, tensing his body for the swing, the brute twisted his body again, taking aim. When it came, the third stroke, the heaviest so far, lashed her soft cheeks brutally. Polly screamed, acutely aware of the swelling of the flesh where the lash had bit into it like wasp stings. She swore revenge to herself as, through her tears of torment, she saw the brute's huge erection, now at full stretch, swaying insolently.

It was mocking her futile attempts to free herself. Standing facing her, open legged and fat bellied, his phallus thrusting arrogantly, the enormous head was only half hidden in its stretched foreskin. Thick white stuff, like starch paste, seeped from its eye, dribbling down the thick deformed shaft. He scooped up the sticky mess onto stubby, dirty fingers as he approached Polly.

With a loud guffaw in front of her face, he smeared the loathsome curd over her lips and teeth with a rough wipe across her face. Polly jerked her head from side to side, but couldn't avoid the vile slime. Its stench was putrid; disgusting! Her whole body was now streaming with sperm, trickling down her breasts and thighs.

Still laughing, the brute gripped her labia between thumb and second finger, squeezing hard. The pain in the tender folds stung through her. Then, he took four steps back and lashed her again and again with the full weight of his body behind the strokes, sweat trickling down his ugly face and through the matted hair on his expansive chest. The spectators cheered him on.

His belly shuddered, his shoulders shook and his penis swayed wildly as he twisted and lunged at her helpless body time after time. He didn't care where the strokes landed so long as they reached their target on the plump curves of her torso. Polly squirmed and twisted weakly, groaning. Tears of sperm streamed down her cheeks. Tears of anguish and shame.

When the brute finally stopped, and she had emerged from her all-enveloping pain, she became aware of people standing behind her, rubbing cool cream onto her painful stripes. She winced at the touch. One hand roamed between the cleft of her smarting cheeks, gently rubbing the rear opening before seeking out her own fully aroused vulva, groping at it lewdly, feeling its slippery secretion.

Polly winced at the thought of her labia being squeezed hard again. But the groper would be very privileged to have fondled that secret beauty, feeling it flex and flutter at the touch.

With rearing erections, her father and uncle came to either side of her with wide leather straps. Her father gave her a pitiful look. He stared at the lips of her sex, aroused and swollen. On an impulse, he bent quickly, to kiss it tenderly. Then, in unison with each other, they began to thrash at her inner thighs with the belts. Her recoiling body was sent back into pain-racked oblivion, moaning and wailing, an orgasm welling up in her loins. Suddenly, the beating stopped. Polly was hanging, almost unconscious, her whole body racked with suffering, aflame with the burning pain radiating from her buttocks and thighs. Not a square inch of white flesh remained.

Her loins burned and throbbed with desire. The once smooth cheeks were swollen roughly, pitted with red, blue and purple, a mass of bruises and stripes. She glanced down with dull tearful eyes to see her battered thighs, similarly coloured. Then her ankles were untied by her father and uncle, lifting them up waist high. Her thighs were drawn as far apart as they would go, and held steady to fully expose her secret wet passage, lips pulled wide open.

Both men gazed lecherously at her gaping sex, perfectly proportioned; peeping lips, beautiful, pale and helpless surrounded by a contrasting discoloured flesh. It was obvious that both men were eager to ravish it with their iron-hard protrusions. Polly looked at her father searchingly. She loved his handsome, beautiful penis. Strong, straight and hard.

She wanted him to comfort her in his arms, his hazel eyes full of sympathy, to penetrate her tender lips gently with his hard cock, and soothe her mind and body with long regular strokes. But it was, in fact, the hideous giant she saw appear between her father and uncle, now holding his grotesque, dribbling phallus in one hand.

'Take her! Fuck her!' her mother cried. 'The bitch wants her father but she'll not get him. You take her. Teach her a lesson!'

'Fuck her!' came the chorus.

Lifting her head with a great effort, horrified by his triumphant grin, Polly stared dully at him. Everyone was staring avidly at that massive stake of male flesh, swimming before her vision, wondering how Polly could possibly encompass the monster inside the perfect vulva. It would be despoiled forever!

Rough hair scoured against her sore thighs as loins met hers and the huge head of the filthy misshapen shaft nudged at the entrance of her chaste vulva. He pushed hard!

There was a loud cheer as the misshapen phallus forced its passage into her vagina. Thrusting in and out with rough strokes. Polly felt the orgasm, already simmering inside her, rise deep inside her belly. The tingling in her loins. The erect clitoris trembling with excitement. As she screamed out her release, the cock withdrew to splatter her breasts with a succession of streams of thick white sperm.

Her uncle immediately took over, sinking his hard long cock into the sperm-soaked vagina. To her left, her brother was masturbating lewdly, whilst her husband was fiercely fucking her mother, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree, moaning with ecstacy. 

It was then Polly woke up, screaming, perspiring. The scream was a cry of orgastic release, her hips jerking as the sensation rippled through her. A thick cock was thudding in and out of her from behind, testicles slapping against her bottom. A thumb was pressed against the bloated clitoris. The puffed lips were hot and wet, having discharged the slippery offering of her vagina.

As she looked over her shoulder, she saw her smiling brother roll away, having filled her with his discharge, and close his eyes. She knew her husband would be in her mother's bed.

She lay there exhausted, thinking of her father, wondering where he was. Polly often dreamed about him. Ever since he mysteriously disappeared in Greece he had frequented her dreams, usually naked and aroused with sexual desire for her. She loved him. She wanted him. Her hand cupped the hot wet vulva in its palm, stiffened fingers rotating against her clitoris.

Ripples of pleasure were beginning to surge through her loins as her clitoris responded to the ministration of her expert fingers. In her mind's eye, she could still see that ugly, gnarled cock of her dreams penetrating the opening of her soft defenceless flesh. It sent a shiver of excitement through her loins.

Her orgasm was complete and satisfying.

The Trials of Pauline Ch. 02



2. College of Correction

When younger, her father had often spanked Polly's bottom playfully if she had been naughty. It never really hurt, but she pretended it did. The spread of warmth from the slapping had filtered into her groin, giving Polly a curious thrill. She began to look forward to these little spanking sessions. It was a game, really. A sort of love-game they both enjoyed.

If her mother was the instigator of the beating, her father would be expected to beat her more heavily whilst her mother watched, spurring him on. The sexual excitement this created in her fluttering belly pleased Polly. She came to associate the delicious thrill in her groin with the spanking. It was some form of revenge on her mother.

As Polly grew older, her father would bend her over, pressed down on the table, face turned towards him. Her skirt was lifted to reveal her satin knickers trimmed with lace, with a loose gusset. Standing at her side he would spank her swelling cheeks with a slipper. The flesh of her vulva could just be seen in the open leg of her knickers, tufts of her fine blonde curls glittering with her moisture.

Her face was on a level with his hips which pressed against the edge of the table, and she placed her face against the flies of his coarse trousers. The sight of her genitals aroused him; she felt it swelling up against her face. His secret - the ultimate forbidden fruit - was hidden behind the front of those trousers. It was only a game. But Polly could feel it. She longed to touch it, to fondle it.

Half asleep, first thing in a morning, Polly would often fantasise about those times, whilst quietly rubbing herself. Her father was away from home such a lot, but summer time was best, when her father would be wearing thin cotton shorts. His legs heavily tanned. She remembered the musky smell of him, feeling the excitement stirring in his shorts as he spanked the knicker-clad cheeks of her bottom. He stole furtive glances at her half-concealed vulva, protected by a downy blonde nest of curls. The heaviness of his breathing confirmed his arousal, and the shaft throbbing against her face.

If, as sometimes happened, she couldn't contain herself and wet her knickers during the spanking, he ordered her to remove the soaking garment and gave her five smacks on the bare skin of her cheeks as punishment. When she got older Polly deliberately wet herself during the spanking, so that he would smack the bare skin with the slipper. During it, she would press her face hard against his groin, pushing her pursed lips against the heavy stiffness hidden there, inhaling the special fragrance of his sex. Sweet ripples of joy filled her belly.

A combination of the smacks, the jerking phallus, its special smell, would be enough to spark off minor orgasms in her. Sometimes, in her room, Polly would use a candle, kept specially for the purpose, to release the heightened excitement of her loins started by her father. 

Polly had enjoyed masturbation ever since she had explored her body following a spanking. She had found the seat of her thrill. It became a regular pastime for her, particularly in the early morning, with sunlight streaming through the net curtains. She would half close her eyes and recall a fantasy, whilst concentrating on that feeling of sheer delight she got from manipulating her little pearl. Whilst one hand continued to arouse her vulva, the other stroked her firm, round breasts, teasing the stiff thimble-like brown nipple, surrounded by a large circle of lightly puckered areola.

With eyes closed, her head thrown back, she licked her dry lips. Her thoughts moved swiftly into her next fantasy. She was watching her father's penis thrusting regularly into her mother's private passage. She had actually seen this happen when secretly spying on them having sex. When her father was home from his travels, she would sometimes creep into their bedroom. If they were still asleep, she would hide in their huge wardrobe to spy on them through the partly open doors.

Her father would wake and sit up flaunting a stiff penis in front of her mother. She would take it into her mouth and suck it like a lollipop, or at other times he might just throw the covers back and push it between her widely spread legs and pump it in and out. Polly was jealous of her mother. Herself wanted to be the one to put her father's penis in her mouth and give him pleasure. She would surely do it better than her mother. But she never had the chance!

Once, after being caught by them, she was punished. Remembering that occasion always increased Polly's exhilaration. Her mother was very angry, she recalled. She made Polly lay face down on the side of the bed. Shaking with rage, making her full breasts wobble obscenely beneath her thin nightdress, her mother gave her father one of his slippers.

'Punish her hard! Give no mercy. The filthy hussy! The bitch!'

And her father swung the slipper ferociously. It was painful, but pride forbade her to cry out. Then she noticed through the dressing mirror, her father's thick, heavy penis, now horizontal, swinging from side to side with each stoke. The forbidden fruit! It looked beautiful with its half retracted foreskin. She gazed at it with desire, desperate to eat it.

'Don't stop,' Polly thought. 'Let me watch that fascinating tube of flesh.' As an act of defiance of her mother, she jutted her bottom out and parted her thighs slightly. This gave her father a better view of her soft, blonde covered vulva, challenging him to penetrate it. With satisfaction she watched the beautiful penis throb and fill. She knew he was aroused. Whilst he punished her with his slipper she imagined his shaft sliding effortlessly in and out of her, feeding her desire, kindling the orgasm growing inside her.

She couldn't remember when the realisation dawned on her that, in spite of her being the one to be punished, she was the real master of the situation. Hers was the body to be lusted after, admired and desired by all who saw it. She enjoyed being punished for the feeling of supremacy it gave her over her master. Punishment became a fascination to take control her life. That experience was the reason for her mother insisted on Polly being sent to a house of correction for young ladies; a finishing school, to beat discipline and respect into her.

On this morning, the candle wasn't necessary to bring about her breath-taking orgasm. Her loins stirred and tensed. She focussed her mind on the growing turmoil throughout her nervous system. Weak muscular spasms jolted her limbs. Tension mounted in her legs and thighs. He breathing became unsteady. Polly was now gasping and squirming with the tautness growing in her muscles. The whole of her loins were shaking, desperate for relief. Her trembling legs were straining to reach that ecstatic moment when the tension snaps. It was blissful agony. She desperately wanted her orgasm, yet hoping that the sensation torturing her body would go on forever. It was sheer bliss.

At the height of the orgastic moment fleeting images of the young men in the barn at her school, the spankings and the sex games they all indulged in. With all the sexual adventures Polly had gone through, it was remarkable that she was still a virgin. In the technical sense! It gave her a certain satisfaction to know that no man had yet penetrated her soft mystery. Only the dumb candle and Miss Armitage's dildos knew her inner secrets.

'Oh, God! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!!'

And her morning orgasm slammed into the pit of her stomach, washing over her in an enormous wave of agony. The need to cry out loud in her orgasms was stifled in her youth to avoid discovery. Restraining the need increased the thrill as her whole body jerked and jolted until the frustration was all gone and sweet peace overcame her body.

Polly relaxed. Where was he now, she wondered?

'Please come back to me daddy!' she whispered to herself with a long sigh.

Although Polly had been christened Pauline, she had always been called Polly, except by her father. She thought that curious; he always called her Pauline. Her college days were the first time she had been away from home for any length of time and the newness of college life had unsettled her.

She was put in a small dormitory of six girls supervised by Miss Armitage, the drama teacher in the college who had a small study-bedroom at the end of the dormitory. It was a strict religious college with a Principal who ran a severe regime, aided by Father Emmanuel, the visiting preacher and religious instructor to the girls. It was made clear to parents at the first interview that firm discipline was imposed on the girls with corporal punishment for the smallest infringement of the rules of the college.

Indeed, that was the main reason for the majority of the young ladies being there. Slippering or strapping on the covered bottom was administered by the dormitory mistress. More serious offenses were penalised by the Principal and the visiting clergy. Birching and caning on the bare female buttocks was their usual punishment. Sister Angelica and Father Emmanuel had the reputation for cruel punishment.

All the parents agreed to such behaviour and signed forms to accept the terms. For four terms, there would be no escape for unruly girls. During that time, they would be taught deportment and style; sophistication and social graces. They would be finished in every way, giving them the ability to mix in the best of company, to handle all situations with aplomb and social skills. Polly would soon learn that all was not that they would be taught. The college was not what it appeared to be on the surface.

The college buildings were secluded in their own extensive grounds. The accommodation was comfortable, if a bit spartan. A well furnished gymnasium and swimming pool were available as well as the usual hockey pitch. In summer, the place was quiet and warm. Insects could be heard amongst the shrubs and plants. There were two gardeners whose job was to keep the grounds trim and free of weeds. Being young men, they were the object of much giggling speculation among the boarders. This was particularly so in summer when the men worked without shirts, showing off tanned chests, muscles rippling as they worked. The young ladies' imaginations worked overtime, wetting their panties I the process.

Polly's dormitory mistress was kind and helpful. Miss Armitage was a short, dumpy figure, though smartly dressed in two piece tweed, with a white blouse under. A quiet woman in her late twenties, with intense brown eyes hidden behind unflattering horn-rimmed spectacles, she stood erect, head held high. She cut a proud figure. Under severe provocation, though, Miss Armitage could turn from a mild mannered, softly spoken lady to a disciplinarian with brutal strength. Polly had already been made aware of Miss Armitage's volatile reputation by other girls.

'My rules are simple,' Miss Armitage told the newcomers on their first evening in college. 'If you break the rules of the school I shall punish you according to the seriousness of the offence. On the other hand, if I break the rules myself, you can punish me. Punishment means the use of a slipper or ruler from me. But the cane or whip on your bottom from the Principal. Which instrument is used will depend on the offence being punished. And my own mood at the time.'

'Thank you Miss Armitage,' came the chorus. Polly's insides melted at the thought of such punishment. It was with a mixture of fear and excitement that Polly faced her first term at the college.

Most of the young ladies, having been brought up in strict religious households, even at eighteen were ignorant about sexual matters other than their own personal secrets. Matters of sex were discouraged in them. They were taught that such thoughts were wicked. Any sign of them emerging would be ruthlessly thrashed away. Their minds, however, young and eager for knowledge, were teaming with curiosity about the male anatomy.

In spite of the taboo, sex was the topic most frequently discussed, usually in delirious whispers to avoid discovery by the teachers. None of the girls thought the subject wicked enough for them to confess them to the Principal after daily prayers, or to ask for punishment!

On her first day, Polly befriended a small ginger haired girl called Rita who occupied the next bed. Although of slight build, with narrow hips, she was very pretty, pale skinned with hazel eyes. Rita was a quiet, reserved young lady, the epitome of innocence. Polly found her to be shy and quietly spoken, but was soon to discover that appearances can be misleading.

They soon began exchanging confidences about sex. The shy Rita showed a remarkable gift for sexual fantasy, surprising Polly by her crudeness. They often speculated, in breathless giggles, about the male genitals, using furtively drawn sketches to illustrate them. Rita confided to Polly that she had seen a penis, but not close up. Her first sighting was seeing, through a crack in the door, her sister put her boyfriend's penis into her mouth.

In her innocence, she thought at first that her sister was blowing it up until it was all swollen hard, like a sausage. Then he let the air out by pushing it between her sister's thighs and pumping it, because when he took it out again all the air had gone out of it. When women are having babies, Rita believed, it was the air pumped into them that made their bellies swollen. Polly smiled to herself at such youthful innocence!

She whispered to Rita that she had watched her father and mother having sex. Rita was shocked! She never thought parents did that sort of thing! With a sense of disbelief, Rita listened as Polly detailed their activities.

It came out that both young women had grown up to experience the feel of slipper and cane on their bottoms as punishment for wrong doings.

The second Saturday morning gave the two girls a chance of their first encounter with the gardeners. Strolling side by side through the grounds, giggling, whispering carnal thoughts to each other, they heard the sound of a motor mower beyond the shrubs. It was a hot day. Even so, they were dressed in the school uniform with black stockings, pleated slip, white blouse or shirt with black tie, and a dark jacket. Sensible shoes covered their feet and straw hats, circled with broad blue ribbon, were pinned to their hair. It made them look younger than their eighteen years.

'It's the gardeners,' whispered Rita. 'Let's take a look.'

Creeping into the bushes, they peered into the secluded glade beyond which was the croquet lawn. Sure enough, one of the young men, stripped to the waist, wearing only flimsy shorts, was guiding a motor mower over the turf. His tanned body flexed as he steered the machine round the end of the lawn, returning towards the watching girls. Their eyes were glued to the bulge in his tight shorts, fantasising on what lay beneath that flimsy barrier.

'What do you think it's like?' Rita whispered. 'I'll bet it hard and huge.'

Suddenly, Polly heard a twig crack behind them. Before she could turn, without any warning, the two girls were gripped from behind.

'Gotcha!'

Polly gave a short scream before a hand was pushed roughly over her mouth. They were man-handled into the clearing, struggling to escape.

'Look what we have here.' The voice was deep and coarse. The grass cutting machine stopped as the youth looked across at the helpless young women.

'Spying, they were,' another voice explained. The gardener put his mower into idle, wiped his hands down his shorts looking at them keenly.

'What were you spying for?'

'Nothing!' Polly stammered.

'They were interested in your cock,' the other laughed.

The tall youth smiled pleasantly. He had short blonde hair and blue eyes. His face was smooth and tanned.

'Would you like to see it?'

Polly and Rita exchanged blushing glances. They said nothing. Then, to their surprise, the youth unbuttoned his shorts, allowing them to fall to the ground. Wearing nothing under them, Polly and Rita stared at the large, pale cock, entranced by the sudden disclosure of the youth's hidden charms. Any thought of embarrassment was swamped by their fascination.

They watched, spellbound with disbelief and awe, dry-mouthed, as the half filled tube stiffened up, swaying from side to side like a cobra, waiting to strike. It heaved itself out of the light patch of blonde curly hair at its base with a succession of jerks, until it stood upright, thick and rigid, quivering with pride, and pressing stiffly against the youth's belly.

'Take a good look, ladies,' the youth taunted, wrapping his fist round it. Drawing back the foreskin. 'One day you'll feel it stuck inside you.'

'Why not today? Now?' It was the hoarse voice.

'Nah! If Fagin finds out, he'll murder you.'

Polly and Rita were trembling with apprehension. A tingling excitement spread in Polly's groin in spite of her fear. Or perhaps because of it. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the handsome rod of stiff flesh. She wanted to handle it, but was too scared. It looked so powerful - so demanding.

The man with the hoarse voice opened his shorts to display his own hard cock. It had an sharp bend, reaching upwards, as though searching for a willing female to dip in - or even not so willing. Taking it in his hand, he gave it several jerks, pulling the foreskin back and forth to the astonishment of the ladies.

'Pin them down on the grass,' the gardener ordered, moving away to the side.

Polly felt a kick in the crook of her knees, forcing her to stumble forward onto the grass. Her head was pushed hard onto the turf. The feel of cold metal on both sides of her neck made Polly's heart stop! A two pronged hoop was driven into the grass on either side of her neck, pinning her head to the ground. She couldn't move!

Her ankles were grasped, legs pulled straight and parted. These, too, were pinned to the turf with croquet hoops. Managing to turn her head to one side, she was face to face with Rita, who was similarly pinned down.

Their task complete, the three youths stood over the powerless ladies, breathing hard with the exertion. Polly could not see any of them. Only the sounds gave a clue as to their actions.

'Now what?'

'We're going to beat them. Teach them a lesson they don't get in school.'

'Let's fuck 'em first.'

'No! You heard Bill. We need to tell Fagin, first.'

Polly wondered who could possibly be called by that strange name. But the young man's next words worried her.

'There's a besom brush in the cart. Let's beat them to teach them a lesson.'

Polly's heart sank. Then she felt her slip being pulled up to her waist to reveal her bottom, clad in navy-blue knickers. Hands grasped the elastic of her knickers, the gusset already damp with anticipation, dragging them down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rita being subjected to the same indignity. They tried to prevent it by wriggling and twisting their bodies, but it was no use. The smooth flesh of their youthful buttocks were revealed in all their pale glory.

'Gosh!' came a hoarse whisper above them.

'Hey! There's two brushes here.' The call came from a little distance away.

'Bring them both.' It was the gardener's voice.

'Hey! Let's have a feel of 'em first.' It was the one with the hoarse voice who spoke, his words filled with eagerness. Polly imagined she could feel his eyes boring into the beautiful hillocks of female flesh. He could, she knew, see their youthful genitals between the crack, sprinkled with hair.

They could not see the young man playing with his own stiff prick, slowly jerking it, standing between Polly's splayed legs.

'Control yourself.'

'That's not easy with two helpless young bums staring you in the face.' his jerking got brisker.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 02



'Not yet. That comes later. Stand back.'

Polly tried to scream, but only a grunt escaped from her stretched throat. Wriggling her hips only served to excite the young men even more, displaying her genitals to them. She could just see the gardener kneel at the far side of Rita, holding the besom brush by the handle. He had put his shorts back on, but the sight of the helpless young women had obviously roused him. His shorts bulged with the stiffness inside them. Polly guessed that his friend was knelt at her own side, probably equally aroused with lust.

There came the sound of a swish! The willow twigs, in unison, thwacked each pair of glowing buttocks, sending shards of stings rippling through the women's groins. They gasped at the shock of the impact. A glow of heat rushed into Polly's groin. The immediate effect was to stimulate her vagina. To her shame, it began to lubricate. A second swish gave a split second warning of the crack to follow. Her hips jerked. A grunt of pain escaped her lips. The warmth spread throughout her loins, filling her with an eager desire to be stimulated.

It was humiliating to be beaten by three strange young men, two of whom she hadn't even seen. On the other hand, she couldn't explain why she should feel embarrassed with complete strangers she would hardly recognise again. A third swish of air, and the bundle of twigs sank into the soft flesh of her upper thighs. Her loins recoiled in response.

'No!' she managed to cry in a stifled moan.

There was a pause.

'Now!' It was almost a grunt.

The eager young man knelt between the two young women. He stroked his hands lightly over the mounds of reddening flesh, feeling Polly's muscles tense at his touch. He allowed his fingers to roam onto the inner upper thighs, enjoying the vain efforts of both women to close their thighs. With a sudden push, he jabbed the middle finger of each hand into the warm slippery folds. Twist and groan as they might, the women were powerless to stop him from groping their soaking vulvas with delight, worming his finger deep into their vaginas.

'Hey! They're both soaking wet,' he cried. 'Absolutely sopping.'

'Yea! Well, let 'em stay that way. All they're wanting is cock! What they're gonna get is stick.'

'Let's give 'em some cock, then.'

'Nah! Not worth it if they split on us. Fagin first.'

And as the young man knelt back, arms pushed between their thighs, he explored the two sets of labia, bringing Polly and her friend to wanting more, and deeper. Both were visualising the penis they had just seen, imagining its thrust into their waiting vaginas.

Thwack! Thwack!

The twigs cracked down again on the two pairs of buttocks, the sting joining the pain of the labia being squeezed hard, their young clitorises pinched. Polly heard Rita beside her, grunting with each stroke. The man was laughing with glee, jabbing his fingers into their wetness. The twigs thwacked their buttocks.

Polly had her eyes shut tight, tensing herself against the smart. Her body was aglow. She could feel the spring tightening inside her. Her mind gave itself over to the feeling, the thrill of a growing excitement. A sound of waves started to rush in her ears. She was gasping for air. Her whole body was on fire. Blazing! The beat of the willow, with the jabbing of her clitoris adding to the flames. White heat! She was coming! It was stupendous! A finger unexpectedly jabbed deep into her anus.

With a crash, a gasping shriek, her orgasm burst into her mind, filling it with the sense of great release. Her noisy squeals took some time to subside.

There was a long pause whilst Polly slowly returned to the present. As she came to, she realised that the thrashing has stopped. The groping fingers were no longer dabbling in her vulva. She lay exhausted, the heat of the recent thrashing still permeating her groin and belly. The sound of the motor mower, engine ticking over, drowned out any other sound.

Polly turned her head. Rita had her eyes closed, her body lightly heaving. There was a look of contentment on her face. It was then that Polly realised that the metal hoop which had pinned down her neck was no longer there. It had been removed during the diversion of her orgastic delirium.

'Rita!' she whispered loudly. Her friend opened here eyes. 'Let's go!'

They twisted themselves round, prising out the hoops holding down their ankles. Scrambling to their feet, they pulled up their knickers and adjusted their clothes. Polly wondered why they had not been forcibly fucked. That would have been great! She didn't know that, in the shrubbery, the three young men were watching them. Their eyes were ablaze with excitement. The short one was smelling at the feminine aroma on his fingers, whilst the other two fondled his naked groin.

'I'm gonna make you come a mile,' one of the others whispered in his ear as his hand curled round the hard, eager shaft, whilst the other cupped his testicles and stroked his bare buttocks.

The youth sighed. 'Next time, I'm gonna whip 'em till they scream for mercy. Then I'll fuck 'em both, I will.' But his thoughts turned to the sensations developing in his groin, encouraged by the ministrations of his two friends. The addition of a flat palm spanking his buttocks hard brought about a loud grunt, as his body tensed from his toes, surging upwards to his belly, until several sprays of sperm shot from his jerking penis.

The two girl friends kept a wary watch for the gardeners after that, but saw them only in the distance. The experience had whetted their sexual appetite for a repeat performance, but it would have to appear by chance, and the opportunity didn't arise. From time to time, they sought out secluded parts of the grounds where they could be private, to spank each other with a shoe and satisfy their eager urges.

It was during one such episode that Polly and Rita were caught by Miss Armitage. Most of the young ladies were engaged in a game of hockey, allowing her time to take a gentle stroll through the grounds of the college. Hearing the faint sound of slapping from behind some bushes, Miss Armitage stopped in her tracks to try to decide what it was.

When she had gauged the direction the noise came from, she stole quietly round the side of the bushes to the edge of a small glade. Her eyebrows rose high at the sight of one of her pupils bending over, supporting herself by leaning against a tree trunk with one arm, slip draped over her waist, her knickers round her ankles. The unexpected sight of a pair of bare buttocks thrust out gave Miss Armitage a soft kick in the groin. The thighs facing her were parted sufficient for the young lady's genitals to be on show.

The sight of the woman's other arm reaching through the fork of her thighs, fingers dabbling in the wet folds, brought a gleam of excitement to the mistress's eyes. Whilst the young woman was busily masturbating, grunting as she clawed at her clitoris, hips twitching, Miss Armitage recognised Polly as the one wielding a shoe, slapping it hard onto the cheeks of the buttocks in front of her, cheeks that had already turned a deep pink.

Miss Armitage stood watching for a few seconds, enjoying the voyeuristic delight of young rounded cheeks being beaten and genitals roused. Her own juices were ready to swamp her gusset. She cupped her vulva in the palm of one hand without thinking, gripping tight to allay the tingling sensation. Then, with a deep breath, she took over.

'Polly! Rita! What in heaven's name are you doing?'

Polly looked up in alarm. Rita stood quickly, pulling up her knickers before smoothing her slip over her slender thighs. The colour drained from their faces as they glanced at each other, unable to speak.

'I think you had better accompany me to my room,' the mistress said in a stern voice.

Back in the quiet dormitory, Miss Armitage led them into her room. There, she gave the two a lecture about what happens to wanton young ladies. She explained that she had decided not to report them to the Principal, but that she would punish them herself. As she spoke, she removed her tweed jacket. Polly noticed the beefy arms beneath the sleeves of the blouse.

'It is clear to me from your behaviour, that you find being punished some form of pleasure, though painful, perhaps. As for getting some kind of sexual satisfaction from it, I can understand that.' Polly and Rita exchanged looks of surprise. Miss Armitage went on, 'I myself am not immune to the delights to be got from the mild stimulation of a leather strap, or slipper. So, in return for my leniency and secrecy, you will be allowed to punish me. And you will keep our little activities as secret as the grave.'

Polly realised that this was the opening she had been looking for. To gain some power and authority in the dormitory.

'You will come to this room for private instruction twice weekly, though it may be necessary at times to increase the frequency from time to time.' 

First she insisted that Rita stand perfectly upright. After placing a dictionary on Rita's head, Polly was told to remove her friend's skirt. Instructing Rita to maintain the book balanced on her head, no matter what happened, Miss Armitage opened a locker. Inside was a range of corrective weapons included several canes of varying thicknesses and length; a wide leather strap; a multi-thonged switch of knotted gut string; a wooden lath, and other similar objects.

With them was a range of nipple clamps, artificial penises, dildoes of many shapes and sizes, including two of the double variety, complete with strap fastenings, for penetrating two women at the same time. Selecting a wide leather strap, Miss Armitage turned back to the bed wielding the strap immediately on Rita's knicker clad buttocks.

A soft yelp accompanied the reflex jerk. The dictionary wobbled, but Rita managed to keep it in position. Polly looked on as the strap was struck several more times on the cheeks. Rita had to withstand the full blows, since trying to ride them would dislodge the dictionary. 

'Take her knickers down,' the mistress ordered. Polly did as she asked, to reveal the pink blotched bottom. 'Open her thighs!' Miss Armitage licked her lips slowly, eyes narrowing as the tender folds of Rita's vulva came into view.

'Humph! A young vagina.' Her forefingers jabbed between the labia. 'Wet! Here! Two strokes.' And she handed the strap to Polly. As Polly carried out the punishment, lashing the fullest part of the buttocks, Miss Armitage selected a special dildo for the young woman. It was a thin straight shaft, with a collar of rubber nodules in the form of a hand guard.

Armed with the dildo in one hand and a short cane in the other, she turned to the victim. With a flick of her wrist, Miss Armitage struck the cane over the left cheek. Rita yelped and jerked. A second strike sank into the flesh of the right cheek, once again convulsing the loins with its sting. Rita was moaning and whimpering, desperately trying to keep the book on her head. Whether the moans were from delight or anguish wasn't clear.

When Miss Armitage nudged the dildo between the lips of the thin labia, Rita's body stiffened. A thwack of the cane on the top of her thigh, made Rita jerk her bottom onto the dildo which slid easily into the willing orifice. Another swipe had the woman writhing and groaning. Soon, Rita was desperate to bounce eagerly on the stiff shaft as its rubber nodules stimulating her little clitoris, but the need to keep the dictionary in place frustrated her. Her jerks became wilder as the tension within her rose.

She hardly noticed the caning oh her thighs as her sensations centred on the delicious feeling in the pit of her groin. Her orgasm came in an uncontrollable spasm as the dictionary toppled to the floor with a crash, Rita collapsing exhausted and burning onto the bed.

'Now, you!' Miss Armitage turned to Polly.

Having witnessed the savage punishment of Rita, Polly wasn't prepared for it. 'No, please,' she begged.

'Then I shall have to report you to the Principal. Her punishment is far more cruel, I assure you.'

Polly hesitated before slowly hoisting up her slip to face the inevitable.

'Remove your knickers, then bend over the dressing table.' Polly did as she was bid, presenting her plump vulva to the aroused mistress.

Using the back of a hair brush, Miss Armitage rained blows on Polly's bottom until it turned a deep blotchy pink. Polly winced with each blow, feeling the flames spread through her bowels. Her groin was aflame. Her desire increased. The juices of her shrine seeped onto the fleshy, full labia. Miss Armitage watched as the punishment took effect. Polly couldn't stop her loins from lurching and twisting in their excitement.

The coil inside her belly was tightening. Her breathing get spasmodic and harsh. Suddenly, the beating stopped. Polly felt a breath fan against her vulva. Then, the soft wet lips of Miss Armitage found Polly's oozing labia. A hard tongue shot out to jab at the clitoris. Polly had no previous experience of cunnilingus. The effect was shattering. Her loins thrust back hard into the face of her mistress, rubbing the wet lips against it. Her orgasm swallowed her in a sea of swirling ecstasy.

Sat on the bed, Rita had watched with awe at the intensity of her friend's orgasm, quietly fingering her clitoris in the process. Her own climax was still fresh in her body. Miss Armitage's face showed that she had clearly enjoyed the experience. Now, the older woman smiled and slowly undressed, her eyes never leaving Rita as she removed her blouse and skirt.

She was a well rounded lady, with bulging breasts crushed in a substantial bra. Her waist and hips were kept in shape by an old-fashioned corset, the ample thighs encased in satin French knickers. Polly was recovering, leaning backwards on the dressing table, the hot cheeks of her bottom against the cool glass top. She stared in amazement at Miss Armitage. The first impression was that of hair. Thick tufts sprouted from her arm pits and, as she removed her knickers, the mass of black growth could be seen through the panel of her corset.

'Now it's my turn.' She handed the strap to Polly before selecting a large black artificial penis from her collection. Polly's jaw dropped at the size of it. Leaning over the bottom of the bed, her face between Rita's slender crossed legs, Miss Armitage ogled the pouting vulva before her.

Whilst Polly strapped the protruding cheeks of her ample bottom, cheeks sagging, the mistress inserted the dildo deep into her vagina. The thickets of curls spread wide round her genitals, covering the crack between the cheeks around the anus. The wrinkled lips parted to engulf the thick object with ease. It was a sight indeed! As the orgasm began to build, Rita gasped when Miss Armitage thrust her tongue into her vulva. The dildo was rammed in and out with increasing speed and vigour, Polly swishing the strap over the bouncing rear, until a squeal of anguish announced the arrival of her climax.

During the weeks following their initiation with Miss Armitage, Polly and Rita were started on instruction of how to improve their enjoyment of each other's body; how to kiss and lick a woman's sensitive secret folds; how to press a stiff pointed tongue under the hood of the clitoris, teasing it; how to push the pointed tongue deep into the woman's passage.

They were introduced to a double dildo and shown how to use it. All this action to the accompaniment of punishment by a chosen instrument. They were also introduced to the art of fellatio with the dildoes, how to achieve deep throat without choking.

They enjoyed paying close attention to the school mistress's warm, mushy vulva, covered with its vast forest of dark curls; its bloated lips generously coated with her honey; it's clitoris hard and proud. In turn, they would each lap at her wide splayed lips, dribbling with juices, before inserting the dildo. Whilst one slapped her with an array of instruments, the other would tease her nipples, hard and rubbery, kneading her mounds of pliant flesh sagging over either side of her chest.

They learned how to attach nipple clamps, and fix labia rings. After each noisy orgasm, the mistress would beat each of them in turn, nibbling their little buttons until they too writhed in ecstasy.

And in this way many pleasant afternoons were spent in learning the many tricks of sex. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 03



Chapter Three: Janine tells of her humiliation and punishment.

It was several weeks later that another pupil, called Janine, joined their dormitory. She showed an interest in Polly and Rita. She was a tall, slim, dark girl with long spindly legs in black stockings. As they became more friendly, their confidence in each other grew and they were soon exchanging thoughts on sex.

Polly and Rita kept their assignations with Miss Armitage a secret from Janine. When told that neither Rita nor Polly had actually examined a penis at close quarters, let alone handle one, Janine suggested that they should meet her brother. He would be only too willing for them to examine his penis for themselves.

'I meet him most Saturday afternoons in the old stable behind the swimming baths. He won't mind' she assured them. 'He's as horny as hell! And proud of his equipment.'

'Have you seen his cock, then, at close quarters?' Rita asked agog at the thought of such a forbidden sight.

'Sure!' she bragged, 'plenty of times. And felt it inside.' Rita gasped, partly in the idea of feeling a penis inside, and partly from embarrassment. 

'Have you ... you know ... done it?'

Janine chuckled. 'Sure! Haven't you?'

'Certainly not!'

'Will you come with me?'

The young ladies were uncertain, looking at each other to seek some assurance and confidence.

'I'll go if you go, Polly.'

'Right! You're on.'

'First, shall I tell you about him, and how we came to share sex?

'Yes, yes!'

So, Janine told the two friends her experience of lust and flogging.

Janine's father was well built, always wore dark suits with a white shirt, collar and tie. He reminded Janine of the strict Mr Murdstone, David Copperfield's father they had read about in English class. Her slightest misdemeanour would result in her being heavily slippered or caned. The same applied to her mother! Both were bullied and humiliated by her stern father.

It had been with disbelief that Janine first heard her mother's cries as the sound of leather cracked over her bottom whilst her father kept up a stream of verbal admonishment. She was very apprehensive about him!

Janine's twin brother James was just as nervous of his harsh father, telling Janine that he really didn't mind being strapped but, sometimes, it could be more painful that he cared to admit. They did their homework together in the evenings each testing the other. Wrong answers resulted in mild punishment with a wooden ruler on their covered bottoms.

Questioned by James about her responses, Janine admitted to feeling aroused by the spanking. The two began exchanging confidences about their private thoughts. This naturally led them to doctors and nurses, with full examinations of male and female genitals. Spanking was the punishment for becoming aroused. When confidence in each other was complete, masturbation in front of each other followed.

They took up experimenting with the strap, spanking each other in punishment for their sexual thoughts, realising that it helped the intensity of their enjoyment during masturbation itself. James developed a liking for sadism particularly centred on Janine's nipples and labia. He would nip them and twist them painfully in between beating her buttocks with the strap or slipper.

He would pinch her sensitive flesh until she gasped and begged for mercy. Janine developed a liking for slavery, wanting to be mastered, so that she could blame her misdeeds on others, particularly if she wore her old school uniform.

It was after Janine had reached her eighteenth birthday, one evening when their parents were out, that they became careless. Preoccupied with the preliminaries of their private games, they didn't hear their parents return earlier than expected. Normally, they would not have come into the front parlour but, on this occasion, they were accompanied by two other couples. Guests were always shown into the front parlour.

That is where Janine and James were caught. She was draped over an arm of the settee, whilst James, trousers round his ankles, had just begun slapping her bottom with a leather strap. At the same time, both were in the very act of masturbating. When the mother and father recovered from the shock they were extremely angry. Janine stood quickly, whilst James dropped the strap. Both were red faced with embarrassment, scrambling to replace their clothes to cover their aroused genitals.

'Stand over there, where I can see you both,' barked James's father.

They were made to stand facing the settee. Their parents and four friends, all stern looking people in their early forties, sitting on upright chairs leaving the settee empty. The three couples were dressed formally. The men in dark suits, white shirts and sober ties. The women wore dark tweed suits, keeping their hats on. Sitting erect, hands on laps, they looked formidable, lips squeezed tight, staring at the young people. Janine and James stood with bowed heads. Neither dare look up at the accusing faces, cheekbones flushed.

'So, this is what you two get up to when we're out, is it?' father cried. 'How long as this been going on?'

'That is wicked and sinful! Dirty!' Janine's mother screamed without waiting for them to reply. 

'You must be severely punished.'

'I shall whip the wickedness out of you if it's the last thing I do,' James's father ranted. 

'I should think so!' commented the stouter of the other women. James' father stepped over to the tall bureau, took a cane from the drawer, then sitting down again in front of his son. The weapon was almost a metre long, thin and flexible. He tapped it in the palm of his other hand.

'You, James. Drop your trousers!'

James was already pale at the thought of submitting to the severe punishment. But he knew there was no escape. The only thing to do was to comply and get the beating over as soon as possible. With much apprehension, James let go the waist band of his slacks. There hadn't been time to properly fasten his slacks again after he had been caught with them open. They shuttered to the carpet.

The three women's eyes were glued to the contents of his underwear. They tried to pretend disinterest, but nothing could disguise the gleam of lust in their eyes, moist and shining. Heaving breasts added to the evidence of their carnal thoughts.

'Now your pants.' So, full of shame, James hooked his thumbs into the elasticated waist band and pushed them slowly down to his ankles. As he stood again, the women's jaws fell open. Their eyes feasted on the young shaft of flesh, thick and half filled, lolling between his thighs. His young belly was flat and his brown curly hair, short and sparse, showed the penis to advantage. No one noticed that his face had turned bright red with the embarrassment of six pairs of eyes glaring at his manhood. His mouth had turned dry.

'Step out of them.' As he did so, the distended phallus swung from side to side, like the hanging straps on the London tube trains. Eyes never left the sight in front of them.

'So, what is this, young man.' His father placed the cane under the swelling penis, lifting it up. It hung like a large pale sausage over the willow. 'Is it always in this half tumescent state?' James remained silent and fearful, swallowing hard. He didn't want to admit to anything.

'Nothing of the kind,' James mother spoke up contemptuously. 'We know how it fills to a hard rod of rock solid flesh, to do the work of the devil. To penetrate Eve's shrine.'

James was mortified. He knew that he would be unable to control his erection. At eighteen, such self control was difficult. And his earlier near ejaculation had been thwarted by the return of his parents. His seed was anxious to escape. One of the women reached forward, grasping the spongy tube in her hand.

'It is a considerable instrument of the devil. It will do him sterling service to be sure.' A look of surprise lit up her face. 'The impudent devil. It hardens even as I squeeze it! Feel!' And the other woman reached out to take his stiffening phallus in her hand. James wanted to scream with sheer mortification. He would gladly have cut it off to avoid the shame.

'My goodness,' she exclaimed. 'Filthy thoughts are the cause of this, Mary. Lewd fantasies.' 

'See, Mary! It's leaking! It's disgusting! How can you condone such behaviour?' A large pearl of liquid had, indeed, escaped from the head of the phallus.

Janine's mother took up from the carpet the leather strap James had been wielding on their arrival.

'You will come with me into the other room to be punished', her eyes ablaze with anger. 'Insulting our guests with filthy obscenities of the flesh. Pumping up your cock to insult and shame us.'

James was pushed through the door into the next room, naked from the waist down, carrying his trousers in front of him to hide his half-filled penis. His mother followed, accompanied by the two eager ladies, eyes gleaming with lust and excitement at the prospect of watching the young man being beaten. The door closed behind them, leaving an uncomfortable silence in the room.

'Now to you, Janine!'

Janine's lustful thoughts of James being beaten were interrupted by her father. She had hoped to escape without further castigation. But she realised that this was to be far from the case.

'Stand where you are.'

There was no escaping the shame and humiliation she was to face. Her head hung with embarrassment, trying to hide the tears and the blushing cheeks. Yet there was a strange tingling excitement behind the fear as the three men, sitting stiffly in their formal attire, stared at her. Though terrified, she was also conscious of the extent of her power over their minds. Their eyes were filled with anticipation.

'Now, Janine, you will please show us what it is you find so fascinating about your body. 

Perhaps you can share your interest with us. Remove your clothes.'

Janine recoiled with horror. This was unexpected. She couldn't believe it! Her eyes opened wide with fear. To bare her innocent body in front of strangers was unthinkable.

'Come, quickly!' he spat out.

Three pairs of eyes stared at her tense body, waiting with impatience to witness the beauty of a young figure. The girl's shame and her fear filled eyes went unnoticed. The two guests put on priggish looks, but nothing could hide their dry lips and gleaming eyes. Although she knew she would have to do as they told her, it was the sight of their excitement that began to arouse Janine's sense of power.

Her body was her strength. It would taunt them.

But Janine didn't yet have the experience, or confidence in herself. Although she had come to realise that her body was power, she hadn't yet learned how to use it; wasn't sure what she could do. Meantime, paralysed with embarrassment Janine looked at the men with their mouths agape. Her father stood up with impatience, ripping open Janine's blouse before dragging it off her shoulders.

Her bra was torn away, allowing her full breasts to fall forward, tipped with ripening nipples now stiffening. There was a gasp from one of the men. Janine's cheeks turned bright scarlet. The three men stared openly at her soft breasts, studying their shape and fullness, unable to hide the lechery in their eyes. Her father unzipped the side fasteners of Janine's navy blue skirt, allowing it drop to the floor.

She was defenceless in her blue cotton knickers. Standing there awkwardly, her body was open to any outrage her father might expose her to. The degradation she felt was horrifying. Her sense of power had left her.

'Take your knickers off,' her father ordered.

To avoid the humiliation of him removing them for her, Janine swiftly bent over to push them down. She stepped out of them. As she did, her swinging breasts, with hardening nipples. They continued to tremble as she stood upright again, until their weight stilled them. Her knickers hung from her right hand.

'Give me!' he commanded.

Janine was reluctant to hand over her warm, damp underwear, the cotton gusset heavily stained by the honey of her earlier activities. She looked round nervously, vainly seeking an escape route.

'Give them to me when I ask,' he snapped.

It was with great reluctance that Janine stretched out her hand, the knickers hanging from the fingers. Her father snatched them from her, opened them out, and examined the gusset with great care.

'My God!' he cried. 'You squalid bitch. Soaking your knickers with your filthy juices.'

Janine's jaw dropped in horror and shame as he lifted the wet gusset to his nose, sniffing at it. Her most intimate, private scent to be sniffed with such disdain. Her father grimaced with mock revulsion, passing the garment to his friend on his left.

He, too, inhaled deeply the musky odour of Janine's genitals whilst she hung her head at this violation of her ultimate privacy, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. The third man also sampled her scent, but with a certain approval at what he found there.

Their attention then turned to her naked loins. Her dark fleece, fine and downy, did little to hide the fresh pouting lips pushing through her vulva set between narrow thighs. Janine tried to cover the nakedness of her waif-like and vulnerable body with her hands.

Her father opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a pair of handcuffs. 'Manacle her!' he ordered, handing the cuffs to one of his guests. Janine's wrists were eagerly twisted behind her back and the metal cuffs snapped together. Sitting in front of her, her father looked at her with a cynical grin. He placed the end of his cane beneath the nipple of the right breast, raising it up.

'Is this one of your little play things, Janine? Do you press and rub these nipples for enjoyment?'

With a quick flick of his wrist, he struck the cane over the soft flesh. Not too hard, but sufficient to sink a furrow into it which quickly discoloured the creamy skin. Janine winced and gasped at the thrill. James had never caned her breasts, only tweaked the nipples. The breast trembled. The stripe coloured a soft pink.

'And this?' he asked, flicking the top of the left nipple with the cane. Harder than the first one. 

She yelped, but more in joy than pain. Nevertheless, tears welled up in her eyes. 

'No,' she blubbered.

'Then what?' he asked with mock innocence. 'Ah, I see,' he added, pushing the end of the cane under the hood of her clitoris. The touch made Janine's hips jerk spontaneously. Her loins shook. More honey seeped slowly and inexorably from her virginal gash, hanging from the lips like a drop of thick white honey. She couldn't do anything to prevent it.

'There!' he cried, 'that reaction tells us all we need to know. Turn sideways young lady.' There was no other choice for her. 'Since you enjoy the slap of the strap, let's see how you like the sting of the cane.'

Almost before she had stopped moving, the cane struck her buttocks hard. The pain tore at her nerves. She flinched with a yelp, making her breasts sway provocatively. All eyes were glued to her tall, slender frame. A second thwack struck her, even before her body had stilled from the first blow.

As the yelp reached her throat the third blow struck her before she had time to brace herself against it. The sudden sting flooded her loins with a burning pain. She almost wet herself with excitement. Her young breasts were swinging wildly, watched avidly by the onlookers, revelling in her humiliation.

A lull in the beating allowed the full effect of the blows to permeate through her loins, the swell of heat washing through her. The weals throbbed and stung. The three men stared open mouthed at her soft flesh, discoloured with scarlet stripes. Janine stood there, biting her lips, eyes closed tight as tears of disgrace, mixed with a private thrill , trickled down her cheeks.

Alone and unprotected, breasts heaving, her frail figure stood in silent supplication, waiting for the next humiliating act. She could not escape. There was nowhere to run. She was their slave. Only submission to their vile actions was open to her.

'Now! Bend over,' her father commanded.

One of the men had stood, eyes staring at her rounded buttocks, his trouser front bulging with desire. He pushed its contents around crudely, adjusting his genitals without thinking, as he roughly bent Janine forward. Her head rested on one arm of the settee. She examined the detail of the texture of his well-pressed trousers, pin striped navy blue, its flies hiding the object of her interest.

Behind it, the impatient penis stirred and swelled. Janine tried to visualise it, trying to take her mind from her situation. Would it end up buried deep inside her? She longed to examine it, to feel it's strength and hardness.

Janine's father handed the cane to the man. For a few moments he studied the crevice between the cheeks of her bottom, relishing the sight. Her pink lips, softly folded, were clearly puffed and thrusting from her vulva. It was an exquisite display; the perfect folds of young flesh waiting patiently, ready to be penetrated. He had never seen anything to compare with this sight. His wife's genitals were fat and hairy; set between enormous cheeks and fat thighs profuse with thick blue veins. Unwholesome and vulgar.

But the sight of this perfectly proportioned pocket of warm, young flesh, set between pale smooth valleys, topped with flawless buttocks, though now sullied with stinging weals, aroused his deep-seated lust. He suddenly became enraged that he could not enjoy such delights in his own home.

Taking careful aim he swiped the willow across her buttocks, the blow clipping the ends of her vulva. It was a fierce blow. Janine yelled, her hips recoiled. The pain scorched through her loins. An unexpected orgasm exploded inside her.

'Please! No more!' she begged. But the onlookers merely stared at her with pursed lips and gleaming eyes.

'No more? We haven't started yet!'

'Whip the bitch!' the other guest snarled softly.

'Lewd, lecherous wanton! Eve's daughter! Temptress! The wickedness must be whipped from your body.' The man was beside himself now, giving Janine a quick succession of slashes as he raved at her. The willow bit deep into her innocent cheeks, slashing her with sickening whacks. The maniac had a crazy thought of despoiling Janine's genitals for ever, tearing them beyond recognition. No one else should enjoy that young orifice.

Jealousy raged within him; his phallus taught with lust and desire. Her groin was ablaze with stinging heat. It permeated her whole loins and womb. Then she toppled over to the carpet to escape further beating, pretending insensibility.

After a short stillness, the silence broken only by the rasping breath of the tormentor, the third man stepped forward and rolled Janine onto her belly. They all looked down on her still figure. Her rear showed discoloured swollen flesh. The man pushed the legs apart roughly for him to peer closely at both her private openings.

Bending over her, he scooped between the folds of her vulva with his second finger, confirming that the bubbling lava of fire was oozing from her vagina. The punishment had filled Janine with a feeling of uncontrollable blazing excitement. As she lay there, eyes closed, as the glow spread deeper and deeper into her womb, the stimulation in the loins increased. She was poised on the crest of an agonising orgasm.

'No more punishment yet,' her father commanded. 'Get her to her knees!'

The third man took her shoulders and brought her to a kneeling position her facing him. Janine had thought him the kindest of the three. His trousers were bursting with their stiffened contents. Janine stared, mesmerised by this weapon of man's domination. The man unhooked the waist band fastening, to reveal the grip of the zip fastener.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 03



'Take it in your teeth and pull it down!' Her father, who was stood behind Janine, pushed her head against the rough tweed fabric.

The young girl was powerless to resist. What terrible degradation was she to endure now, she wondered? She paused with indecision. Suddenly, a flat hand struck her across the face. Her head jerked sideways with the blow.

'Pull it down!'

Gripping the small metal tab between her white teeth, Janine drew the zip down. Released, the garment juddered slowly to the floor, round the man's ankles. His white underpants were revealed, encasing the excited monster beneath. She could feel the heat radiating from it. A patch a thick hair covered the hard belly above the waistband. Though fearful of what was intended, her curiosity was roused. A flat hand slapped the other side of her face.

'Now the pants!' Her father's voice was hard and determined. Janine gripped the elastic waist band between her teeth, pulling it down. The man had to assist from behind for the complete removal of the underwear. As she pulled the fabric down, Janine's nose rubbed over the thick shaft as it was uncovered, catching the small bead of moisture at its tip. She smelt the musky staleness. The garment was finally drawn down to his knees.

There, before her, was the man's monster. She was awe-struck by its thrusting majesty and splendour, pressing stiffly against the hairy belly. In her innocence, Janine had imagined all cocks to be the same as James', but this was thick and threatening. It had a distinct sideways bend, swarthy and demanding attention.

Her father spoke. 'There, young lady! That is what you seem eager to see. The pride of the devil. Man's awful weapon of cruelty and joy. Only the devil within you can worship that monster. Just as your shrine of hell bubbles with hot juices, so does the devil in man.'

Janine's pain was pushed to the back of her mind in the presence of this fat shaft of solid flesh. Ridges of thick veins branched from the central stem, blue and red beneath the skin, pimpled and dark.

'Worship the devil!' Her father ordered. His hands gripped both sides of Janine's head, fingers pressing into her cheeks to force open the mouth.

To her dismay, the stiff phallus was pushed towards her face. She closed her eyes in panic. The warm penis pressed into her mouth, rasping against the roof. She began to choke. Panic engulfed her as her breathing became difficult. She struggled violently, but was held firm by three pairs of hands.

The shaft was being thrust in and out. Her mouth felt dry. She was going to faint. She couldn't breath. Her head was spinning with fear. A roaring sound filled her ears. Getting louder and louder! Her sight was obscured by a curtain of scarlet light. Just as she thought she would die, Janine felt a spurt of warm fluid splatter the top of her throat. Sticky and thick. The shaft was suddenly withdrawn. Then, more spurts of sticky juices splashed over her cheeks.

With great relief, the young lady gulped down air in deep gasping breaths. To be sick would be to disgrace herself. Janine swallowed hard, trying to clear her mouth of the tacky taste. Opening her eyes, the monster was softening before her eyes, still dribbling with juices. Though repulsed, Janine was mesmerised by the weapon. It fascinated her.

The man took a step or two back from her, tugging up his underwear and trousers. Janine's hair now in tangles, beads of perspiration trickled down the cleavage of her breasts. Deep inside her body, her loins were ablaze with excitement. She couldn't avoid it. In spite of her total humiliation, her body was responding with desire for more punishment from her master.

But her trial wasn't over yet! The second man stepped in front of her, naked from the waist down. His penis was at the ready. She glimpsed the angry looking head, already sticky with his premature lust, coming at her. Although slighter and longer than the first one, she had no time to take a proper look at the demanding object before it drove straight into her mouth, thrusting in and out with a savage harshness.

Once again, her head filled with panic as breathing became impossible. She quickly learned to breath hard through her nose. Nausea filled her but, just when she thought to retch uncontrollably, the hot juices splashed against the roof of her mouth. Several spurts, one after the other, doused her mouth, filling her cheeks with sticky sperm, salty and bitter. This time, her head firmly in the grip of her father, the monster remained in her mouth until it had disgorged its entire load and began to soften.

After the man had backed away in silence, his place was taken by her father, slowly unzipping his trousers. This was a dream, surely! Janine watched in a trance like state as he allowed the trousers to shutter to the carpet. Pushing down his pants, the full might of his penis came into view. Stiff and hard, the swarthy shaft had no foreskin. The purple head was much larger than the shaft. She stared at the manhood which penetrated her mother. The organ of delight for her. Without speaking, her father began to masturbate, slowly, in front of her eyes.

'There! That's what you're anxious to see. You do it as well.'

Janine looked up at him in disbelief. The handcuffs were being unlocked behind her.

'Do it!' And she received a slap across the face. Gingerly, Janine reached her right hand between her thighs.

'Do it, bitch!'

Janine rapidly started to rub herself to avoid another slap.

'Is that what you are so anxious to see?' he gasped, his loins beginning to jerk. She stared as his hand began stroking his penis more and more quickly, working up and down in a blur of movement. Unable to take her eyes from the jerking fist before her, the angry head disappearing and reappearing from it, her own arousal was stabbing into her loins

Now out of control herself, Janine rubbed faster, her body jerking and flexing with the growing excitement. One of the men standing behind her, pressed her face between his hands, forcing her to open her mouth, still trickling with stale sperm. In a daze of lewdness, Janine watched the sudden lurch of the penis in front of her. A spray of sperm arched from it into her waiting mouth.

She gaped transfixed as a second jet, a third and fourth splattered like a string of pearls over her lips and jaw, until the penis had emptied its entire load. Then her own body arched, her head thrown back as her orgasm swept through her. She stifled her moans.

'Now, daughter, you see what punishment the sins of the flesh bring about. You will remember the wages of sin for the rest of your life.' 

The company finally backed away, leaving the tousled young woman humiliated in defeat. She remained kneeling, still and silent for a few moments, head bowed. Her tangled locks hung over her moist shoulders and breasts. Exhaustion had overtaken her. Janine picked up her clothes from where they were lying crumpled on the floor.

Slowly, she stood. It took a moment for her to balance on her feet. Then, without casting a glance at any of the onlookers, she stole silently out of the room, across the hall, up to her bedroom, head bowed, shamefaced.

As she lay in bed, Janine contemplated her first taste of man's flesh. Of man's juices! She came to realise, for the first time, what it was like to have such a potent weapon in her power! She must learn more about it. Men seemed to enjoy having their cock sucked by chastened women slaves. They would give a great deal for the pleasure. She would practise.

James related his experience to Janine later. Of how the two women guests had stripped him naked, taking turns to strap his bottom whilst he was forced to lick and nibble the sweaty vulva on one of the others. Finally, the largest of the women sat astride his face, squashing her wet hairy vulva into his face whilst she masturbated his stiff cock in the mouth of his mother whilst the third woman caned her bottom vigorously.

'Let the wicked juice of the devil explode into Eve's boiling fires. Climb him, Mary! Teach your son a lesson!' cried the larger lady.

His mother climbed over James's torso, with one of her friends grasping the erect cock, feeding it into the dripping vagina. Immediately, she started to bounce up and down on the stiff cock, whimpering and panting for breath. With fingers grappling with her clitoris, Mary rose to a juddering orgasm.

To his mortification, James ejaculated into the hot sweating passage of his snarling mother, as she spluttered to her own orgasm. The huge fleshy thighs and hairy groin over his face, almost suffocating him, finally juddered to a climax, spraying female juices over his lips and chin.

After a brief pause, the ladies stood above James's reclining body, watching the penis deflate in silent awe, whilst recovering their breath, adjusting their own clothing.

It was with some relief that Janine realised that her father had no intention of repeating the humiliating performance she had forced to enact in front of his friends. In some ways, she would have enjoyed a repeat, so that she could have concentrated more on the experience. Her memories of that evening became a favourite fantasy for her masturbation sessions.

Remembering the way the men had leered at her, rubbing her own clitoris in utter bliss, her orgasm, which had thrilled them, the erupting penis, which, in her fantasy, was a hundred times more copious than in real life.

She was told that she was to be sent to a special finishing college for young ladies. It was renowned for its stern regime of strict discipline. There, she would be taught to conform and behave as young ladies should.

Some days later, after she had retired for bed, she heard the parents come up to their room. It was next to Janine's, with doors adjacent. They were talking. They probably assumed she was fast asleep. Her father's voice was suddenly raised. She thought she heard the word 'whore' and then a smacking sound. There was a stifled cry.

Janine's eyes opened wide with curiosity. She got out of bed, tip-toeing to the door. Opening it quietly, Janine slid through the gap to lean her ear against her parent's door. It had not been latched properly and it eased open a crack. She listened in astonishment. Even her mother, it seemed, did not escape from humiliation and punishment.

'Mary, you are a whore! You embarrassed me again this evening!'

'No, Albert! Surely not!'

'You did, my dear. You encouraged that young man, Jack, to peer down your blouse. You leaned forward, laughing at one of his weak jokes, and flaunted your breasts under his very eyes.'

'I did not!' Mary replied in a hurt tone.

'Let me see your breasts, Mary. Your nipples will be stiff and aroused. I know! And for Jack!'

'Albert!' There was an awkward pause. 'I'm not wearing my bra this evening!'

'Mary! How dare you go out without a brassiere! Taunting our friends! And with a low cut blouse?'

'But Albert, it was your suggestion!'

'Nonsense! Take off your clothes immediately.' A rustle of clothes. 'Just look at those nipples! Hard as chestnuts! Give me your knickers.'

'No, Albert! Please don't!' There was a pause.

'Soaking wet! And hot! That's terrible, Mary! You have been thinking of him. Dreaming of his enormous cock! Wishing it was deep inside you! Thrusting at your womb!

'No, Albert!'

'Liar! I know you lust after him. And the others. You want them all! Admit it! Bend over the bed!'

Janine heard the whisper of the cane in the air before the sickening thud as it bit deep into the cheeks of Mary's bottom. She yelped. Another followed swiftly. Then a third; a fourth; a fifth and a sixth! At each stroke, the victim cried out in pain, begging for mercy, but receiving none!

'Mary! Your hell mouth bubbles over copiously. It is a sorry sight to see such wickedness in you, mocking me.'

'Put out the flames, Albert! Please! I'm consumed in the fire of hell. Extinguish the flames! Thrash me!'

A sigh of womanly relief, followed by grunts of effort, whimpers of delight and a light slapping sound, telling Janine that their parents were now engaged in the ultimate act between man and woman. Janine stole back into her bed to still her own overflowing lust.

After the events of that fateful evening, James and Janine decided that virginity was too much of a burden. After a delicious spanking session, Janine allowed her twin brother to examine her vulva in detail, feeling her valleys and flaps with curiosity, whilst she took great interest in his swollen cock, examining the tracery of veins beneath the skin, retracting and closing the smooth foreskin covering the purple head, leaking a pearl of juice.

After a lengthy examination, he placed the end of his cock against the vaginal opening, liberally dripping with her juices, and slowly eased it into the secret passage. Both gasped with triumph as it disappeared deep into her.

'My god! That's wonderful,' Janine sighed as James began thrusting in and out, bringing her to a rapid orgasm. As his own juices rose within him, he withdrew to splatter his sperm over her flat belly and pubic hair.

Janine became James's abject slave and mistress for the next two weeks before she was sent to college. Their parents decided that Janine and James should be separated, and each given a strict college discipline for a few months. Even then, James managed to visit Janine most Saturdays to maintain his mastery of his sister. It was during one of these sessions that she met Fagin and his gang, with far reaching consequences. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 04



Chapter Four

Polly and Rita were impatient for Saturday to arrive. When it did, they went with Janine, breathless with excitement and anticipation. When they arrived at the barn that first Saturday, her twin brother was waiting, leaning back against the wall with a casual air. He was a fresh-faced young man with tousled mousy-coloured hair. It was a warm, sunlit, secluded spot in a small copse surrounded by a hedge behind the barn. After Janine explained what they were there for he grinned.

'Come into the barn,' he said. Without demur, the three girls followed him innocently into the shadowy interior. It was dank and dirty, smelling of horses and stale urine. There was a wide hay-loft at the back of the barn, about two metres from the ground. Little light penetrated the windowless hay-loft. A few narrow shafts of sun-light gleamed through the gaps between the wood cladding, reflecting from strange discarded farming implements. Four heavy cross-beams, with central upright supports, carried the roof structure.

Although there was old straw scattered on the cobbles, it was clearly unused for the original purpose. The straw was now a home for insects and vermin. Around the walls, Polly could see rusty tools, hanging chains and old harnesses. To one side were four stalls, now empty and uncared for. At one time the building must have been an active stable, full of the sounds of horses hooves clattering on the cobbles and snorting nostrils. Today it was silent and still.

Polly heard the sound of feet crunching into the straw behind them. She spun round. Silhouetted in the doorway was a large, scruffy man. With him was a group of five youths. Hands in pockets, they looked at the girls with insolent grins.

'Well, well, well! If it isn't our friend and mate, Janine. You're right on time my dear. We know what you girls have come here for,' the leader drawled. He turned to Janine. 'How old are they?'

Janine looked at James. He smiled and shrugged.

'They're eighteen, same as me,' Janine retorted with as much confidence as she could. 'We've only come for a walk. What do you want, Fagin?'

'Well, that's a coincidence.' He turned to the others. 'So have we.' They all laughed. 'James told us about your little rendezvous, my dear. You holding out on us, are you Janine, my dear?'

'No, Fagin. James here, wanted to suss out the new young ladies first.'

'Oh? In what?'

Janine paused. 'To see whether they might interest you.’

'Well, now, my dear. You know all young ladies are of interest to me. Particularly virgins.’

Janine remained silent.

'We'll show the girls something to excite them, as well, won't we lads?' They all laughed again. 'But you show us something first, eh?'

'No, I think we'd better be getting back to the school.'

'Oh, don't be spoil sports, my dears. We've got some mighty fine pieces of weaponry to show to girls eager to learn. Haven't we lads? Besides, if they are to be part of the team, we need to see what they are offering our clients. See what price I can put on them.'

Polly was dumbfounded by this exchange. Was this a set-up, she wondered? Had Janine deliberately brought them into a trap; were they in danger?

'Come on.' Janine strode purposefully to the door. As she passed the large man, he put his arm out stopping her. His hand was pressed against her right breast.

'My! That feels nice and soft, my dear.'

Janine pushed him away, but with a quick swipe with the flat of his hand across her face she fell into the dirty straw. She looked at him in surprise, rubbing her sore cheek.

Polly and Rita had remained still all this time. Both were pale with fear. They were terrified they might be beaten up and raped.

'Tie her up,' he ordered. Three of the youths picked her up roughly. She kicked and screamed but was no match for the strength of three strong young men. Ropes were fastened to her wrists and attached to the heavy beam supporting the front of the hay-loft above their heads. Still, Janine twisted and kicked to try to free herself.

'Help me, James.' she cried. But her step-bother just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

'They're all bigger than me,' he said, 'and besides, we're all in this together. The gang would not have been happy if we had broken away on our own.'

Hearing this, Polly began shivering with fear. Rita came up to her and they held each other protectively in their arms.

'Don't be afraid, my dears, you’ll come to no harm' Fagin said to Polly and Rita. 'But Janine here has ignored my wishes. Anyone who defies my authority must be punished.'

Polly found her voice. 'Who are you? What do you want with us?'

'Ah! Two questions. First, they call me Fagin because I control a gang of youths. Like my famous forebear, my dears, we engage in burglary and other money making activities. To answer the second question, what we want with you is to offer you a means of income, my dears.'

Fagin took down up a short whip hanging on the central post. It was an old horse whip with a leather handle. Without any preliminaries he swung the whip. There was a hiss, then it struck Janine round her hips. She yelled in pain. A second lash struck her higher on the buttocks. A third lash struck her buttocks with a sharp crack. Janine yelped, her body recoiling from the blows.

He looked down at the whip, weighing it the palm of his hand. 'Mmmm! A well-balanced instrument. Nice and light.' Fagin turned to Polly and Rita. 'At the beginning of each new scholastic year, my dears, I survey the new students. My particular interest is in virgins, my dears, but I also have some use for those who have already lost their maidenheads. If they are still tight, soft and pliant. Not too slack. My clients don't like them too slack. Janine is my scout in these affairs. And she has disobeyed my wishes.'

He smiled engagingly at the young women. 'Strip her, my dears, as much as you can with the ropes in place.' 

It all happened so quickly! Polly and Rita were dumbfounded as well as in fear. They glanced quickly at one another, then went up to Janine.

Polly whispered. 'We have to, Janine. Or we'll all get beaten.' Janine just nodded.

Her blouse front was unbuttoned. There was no bra underneath but the pockets on either side hid the fact. The blouse fluttered open like wings hanging from her shoulders, exposing her full breasts, pulled high on her chest. Her skirt soon followed. She wore blue woollen knickers, the regulation underwear of the school.

'Leave her the bloomers on for now, my dears.'

The two girls cowered back to await the next development.

Fagin studied the near naked body festooned from the beam. Janine glowered at him, her eyes flashing with anger.

'That's a fine young body, my dear.' He turned to his gang. 'Who'd like to whip it into submission?'

One tall sturdy youth stood forward and took the whip. He was a blonde with short cropped hair. Polly recognised the gardener!

'No, not Bill!' Janine screamed. She fought her bonds, but in vain. Her breasts shook wildly with the effort. 'He's a sadistic bastard,' she cried in dismay.

Fagin ignored her outburst.

'You don't need your trousers, my dear,' his leader told him. There was no hesitation. The youth's trousers came off in quick time to show that he was already aroused. Polly and Rita stared at the stiff rod, fascinated by the sudden disclosure of the youth's hidden charms. They watched, spellbound with disbelief and awe, as the half-filled tube stiffened up, swaying from side to side like a cobra, waiting to strike. It heaved itself out of the light patch of blonde curly hair at its base with a succession of jerks, until it stood upright, quivering with pride, and pressing stiffly against the youth's belly.

Fagin noticed their interest in the youth's equipment. 'That,' he told them, pointing to the erect penis. 'can give more happiness and satisfaction to a girl than all your dolls, toys and other games put together. And what's more, you'll never grow tired of that toy. In fact, once you've played with it, and sunk it inside you, you'll want it again and again. You won't be able to get enough of it! You women are all the same.’ He gave a coarse laugh. 

Rita and Polly exchanged glances of incredulity. Both were too astonished to show any embarrassment.

The young man was now ready to begin the punishment. 'You've let the gang down, Janine. You got to be punished.' Bill spoke in a low growl, with a heavy East-end accent. Twisting his body round, he weighed the whip lightly in his hand to find the proper balance.

'Don't whip me, and I'll suck you off,' she bargained in a hoarse whisper. The youth's reply was a sudden twist and flick of the wrist. There was a moment of silence; a holding of breath; the leather thong sighed through the air. Then, with a sharp crack, it curled round the pale thighs. He gave it a quick tug, slicing the thongs through the blue knickers. Janine threw her head back, her mouth pulled open against her teeth as the pain bit into her consciousness. But no sound came.

'You'll suck me off anyway,' he laughed.

Twisting his hips again, the second lash curled round the swell of the hips and buttocks. As the crack sounded, Bill yanked the whip back to slice once more through the fabric of the knickers. Polly was dismayed but felt a ripple of excitement in her groin. Even with the protection of the woolen garment, the victim's throat opened and a long scream tore through the barn.

'No, please!' She pleaded, tears streaming down her face. The faces of the onlookers were sneering. They stared at her defenceless body, ogling her luscious breasts, swinging frenziedly as she pulled at the ropes.

The sturdy youth merely grinned at her. His thick phallus rose obscenely in front of his hard belly, like some kind of god from clouds of golden curls. It swayed drunkenly as though looking for a place to lean on. Polly couldn't take her eyes from it, licking her dry lips. She was mesmerised. It was hard and straight with a head no thicker than the shaft itself, tapering to a blunt point.

Another of the youths had dropped his trousers and was lounging against the frame of the barn door, fingering his half-stiffened penis, giving it occasional pulls. He was a small youth with tousled, dirty hair. The hair on the youth's belly was a dark extensive growth, the dangling testicles heavily covered with the thatch. The cock had an upward bend so that the end touched his belly.

The fourth lash struck Janine across the top of her thighs, below the line of the knickers. An angry red weal formed immediately, thin and painful. The scream was pitiful. Returning her gaze to the victim, Polly saw that her friend was sagging heavily in the ropes tying her to the heavy cross beam. Her knickers were torn where the thong had cut through them. The fifth lash reached round the drooping cheeks, ripping away yet more of the fabric. The young victim was groaning and whimpering. She was totally subdued.

'Enough,' Fagin snapped. 'You two girls, take her knickers off.'

Unwilling to show any disobedience, Rita and Polly came to Janine's hanging suppliant figure. Carefully, they pushed down the shredded garment. Polly stared with horror at the result of the whipping. The flesh of the cheeks of the young victim were covered with blue bruises. These were superimposed with red weals, which looked swollen and painful.

'Come here, my dears.' Fagin beckoned with his crooked forefinger. Polly and Rita exchanged glances, but dutiful stood before the big brute. 'Do you see that beautiful penis, my dears?'

The blonde youth was standing, breathing heavily with the effort of lashing Janine, grinning broadly. He jutted out his hips, thrusting his mighty weapon before their eyes.

'Yes, sir.' Polly's voice was a bare whisper, so dry was her mouth, her gaze rooted on the monster she had seen briefly some weeks earlier.

'You shall see it at work, my dears.' He nodded to Bill. Dropping the whip, the young man crossed to face Janine. She looked at him with lack-lustre eyes. 'You two girls must now help your friend. Take a leg each, and part them as wide as you can.'

Afraid to refuse Fagin's demands, they squatted on either side of Janine, taking a knee each in their arms, drawing them apart as wide as they could. There, in the fork of her thighs, Polly looked on the pink lips, softly folded. They were puffed and wet, thrusting from her vulva. It was a pretty display; the perfect folds of young flesh, fully aroused and glinting with honey.

‘I see she’s properly prepared, my dear.’

Two of the other youths sauntered up to the girls, leering at them lewdly, before standing behind them. Polly felt hands rest on her shoulders, a groin pushed against her buttocks. She froze in fear of what he might do to her. But, unconcerned with her reaction, they all watched as Bill positioned himself between Janine's thighs. He nudged the shining blunt head of his penis between the soft lips, coating it with the ample honey seeping from the orifice. With a strong firm thrust, the huge shaft disappeared deep into Janine's secret shrine.

They heard the girl gasp with shock as she became filled to bursting with cock. The youth started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, then more quickly. Polly felt the thrill in her own loins as she watched the thick shaft plunder the soft passage of Janine. The victims eyes were ablaze, her belly pushed urgently at the thrusting groin. Polly heard her eager, rasping breath. She was becoming apprehensive about her own fate. 

As the young man pounded Janine's Loins, Polly felt hands caress her shoulder. Looking down, the dirty hands slipped into the neck of her blouse. She held her breath, knowing they would find her stiff nipples and soft breasts. She was powerless to stop him; a prisoner of this gang of devil-may-care men.

But, before anything further could happen, the blonde youth gave a huge lunge. His choking cry shattered the quiet. His great cock withdrew from the vulva, spouting jets of thick cream over the victim's belly. The sight took their breath away. Their friend's body was trembling and shaking with frustration, squealing for more.

'Leave her,' Fagin commanded. 'Come here to me, dears.' Rita and Polly complied, head bowed. He smiled at them wickedly. 'I think I should see yours now, in return for this display. That way, we all remain friends, my dears.'

The two girls already felt a hot desire fluttering inside their chaste vaginas. Even so, the thought of exposing their naked bodies to these seven men filled them with fear and shame. Besides the blond man, Bill, there were now two other boys without trousers, sporting heavy erections. One was the smallish youth, with the bent prick and masses of dark curls over his belly. Polly could now see his penis more clearly. It filled her with foreboding. She was surely going to loose her virginity today. But with which man she did not know.

Polly was wet with the thrill of fear. Looking round her, she saw three of the men were naked from the waist down, fondling their impatient cocks. The third young man was gripping his phallus hard, slowly drawing the foreskin back and forth. It had a slight sideways bend to it, though not as long and thick as the blonde man’s

'Come along, my dears! Don't be shy. We're all friends here. We merely want to see what charming bodily gifts you are hiding from us. I would hate to have to compel your obedience. Our boys shall help, eh, my dears?'

After exchanging hesitant looks, knowing they had no choice in the matter, the girls remained passive as their blouses were removed by the two excited young men. The small bras were unhooked and slipped from their shoulders to flutter to the ground. Their innocent breasts sprang into view.

'Stand back!' Fagin bellowed as the men pressed forward to peer at the young breasts. The youths took a few steps back, but still watched greedily as the girls undressed. Polly was trembling with terror!

'Now the skirts, my dears,' he demanded. They reached down to unfasten and remove their navy-blue gym slips. Blue knickers were pushed down with uncertainty.  The men watched in silence, as the young ladies stepped out of their knickers, wide eyed at seeing their virgin genitals, with their light covering of hair - one blonde and one ginger - over pink lips pouting with excitement. Both had flat bellies, but Rita's hips were narrow with slender thighs, tight little buttocks and thin legs covered with black stockings to above the knees.

Her inner thighs didn't quite meet allowing Fagin to see within the gap her small pouting inner labia. Polly, on the other hand, had a small waist, but wide hips and full cheeks. Her secret folds were tucked away between her thighs, although the blonde curls on the plump mound promised much. 

The dark-haired youth, unable to contain his lust, suddenly made a grab at Polly, thrusting his loins at her. The stiff up-thrusting penis jabbed into her blonde curls just as Fagin, with a bellow of anger, struck the youth hard on the head with the flat of his hand. The young man staggered, reeling from the blow, falling onto the straw, his penis swinging lewdly.

Polly was relieved. 'Come closer, my dears.' When Fagin raised his hands to stroke their smooth breasts, Polly noticed that he was wearing mittens. They were very dirty with holes in them. His nails were broken and encrusted with dirt. Goose pimples sprung up on Polly's skin as the filthy hands touched her creamy breasts.

'Hmmm! That's good!' he muttered. Then his hands dropped to their loins.

With a gasp of fright, Polly realised that he was going to feel their vulvas. Both girls were wet with the bodily secretions they had been unable to control during the salacious scenes played out before them. Her loins tensed and jerked involuntarily as the stubby middle fingers snaked their way through the growth of hair, over the clitoral hood before dipping into the honeyed lips.

Polly felt tears of humiliation roll down her cheeks, unable to prevent a slight jolt as a mini orgasm rippled through her loins. She hung her head in guilt at her private juices being violated in this way by a total stranger. An old fat man with dirty broken finger-nails.

'That's even better, my dears. You have sweet little pouches. They respond well to the touch. So, they are worth a heavy fee. Now, you need to begin your training.' He raised his voice to the members of his gang. 'If I find any of you molesting these two girls, I shall punish you personally. As for Noah here, for not keeping his lechery under control, he shall be punished.'

Turning to face Janine, drooping exhausted, Fagin ordered her ropes to be released. The victim sank to the floor. Her blouse was removed. She was completely naked; her body unprotected from the cruelty in store for it.

'Watch!' Fagin warned the two virgins. 'Prepare the victim,' he told the youths.

As Janine was brought to kneel unresisting in front of the leader, Fagin casually unfastened the rope round his trousers, allowing them to shutter to the ground into the straw. Without underwear to restrict it, his phallus sprang into view.

'Look!' he commanded the two girls. The penis was almost fully erect. 'Even we older warriors are moved to enthusiasm by some sights. Your pretty organs have aroused me. But do not fear, Janine shall satisfy my lust.'

With his long coat tails hanging over his fat buttocks, he flaunted his powerful cock. There was no foreskin to protect the purple head. The shaft was rough and knobly, like the bark of an old tree. Dark blue veins made lumpy ridges on the surface; grey locks of hair spread over his corpulent belly and thighs. Polly thought she could see lice crawling around in the dense mat at the base of the stiff cock. It looked repulsive, dirty and threatening, protruding out from the dark loins, ingrained with dirt.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 04



'But first, you girls shall be privileged to feel it. First you, my dear!' He pointed at Polly. She closed her eyes and, with great reluctance, curled her hand round the disgusting shaft. She felt it twitch.

‘Tighter!’ Fagin grunted. 'Now you, my dear! Hold them!’' And Rita was obliged to cup the rough-skinned testicles in her hand. Though timid, both young ladies were elated at the feel of such a weapon getting firmer and stiffer.

'Good. It's now hard enough for Janine to enjoy.' He stepped up to Janine's face. Her head was held still by two of the youths. Eyes focused with apprehension and loathing on the approaching invader, Janine watched the dirty shaft slide deep into her mouth. Polly trembled. She heard the grunts of Janine’s discomfort as Fagin thrust himself in and out of the yielding mouth. He was insensible to the appeal in the girl's tear soaked eyes.

His cock ground harshly against the roof of Janine's mouth, to stimulate the nerves in the head. Polly was mesmerised at the sight of the victim straining hard at the hands holding her down, her eyes showing the sheer panic she felt. Then, with a lunge of his loins, Fagin emptied his seed into the sucking mouth, thrusting into her until the very last drop of his vileness had splashed and dribbled into her throat. Janine was able to gulp air into her lungs again. Gratefully, she was still able to breathe, though her throat was clogged up with glue-like fluid.

'There, my dears. I enjoyed that. Sometime in the near future, you too can enjoy the pleasure of my ejaculations. Meantime, though, I wish to keep your virginity total. You can have her now, Towser.'

Whilst Fagin put his trousers back on, The man called Towser hurriedly came up in front of Janine, unbuttoning his trousers, already bulging with lust. His short stubby penis, tightly foreskinned, was quickly thrust into Janine's mouth, still oozing Fagin's sperm. Janine looked round in confusion, desperately wondering how to avoid a repeat of the degrading act. Grasping her head firmly, Towser held it still and jabbed the phallus into her as far as to its very base, the brown curls tickling Janine's nostrils.

Her eyes looked upwards, appealing to him to have some mercy. But the youth was already too excited to cause the victim too much pain. After only a few jabs into the lips his loins bucked, disengaging the  penis from Janine's cheeks. His sperm spurted thickly over her face, trickling onto her chin. The other two men, Jacko and Nipper, were busy masturbating over her shoulders with frantic strokes. Their sperm erupted over her hair and shoulders, dribbling onto her breasts. The victim was exhausted. Drained of all emotion. Finished.

Suddenly, Fagin picked up an old watering-can, full of stagnant water. He held it over her, jets of cold water splashing over her shoulders and breasts. Janine gasped at the cold deluge. Her humiliation was complete. The punishment had subjugated her fully to the will of Fagin. The total correction of the young woman mortified Polly and Rita. Their own wills were now in Fagin's control. They dare not refuse him anything he asked of them.

Fagin turned to the surly dark-haired young man. He was still crouched on the straw, like a dog, watching the degradation of one who had defied Fagin. His erection remained firm and hard.

'Noah! You have disgraced our trust and must be punished. Perhaps Janine will take revenge for her own punishment.'

Janine was helped to her feet.  The old horse whip was handed to her. 

'Stand in the middle of the floor, Noah! ' Fagin ordered. 'You need to be punished for attacking these innocent virgins with your wicked devil. We must beat those demons out of you and subdue the devil 
himself.'

The girls watched, bewildered, as he stood facing them, his stiffness straining upwards. Janine stood up, her body dripping, with a look of renewed determination on her face. She took up the old whip which had fallen to the floor. Positioning herself a few feet to his left, Janine weighed the leather weapon in her right hand, testing its balance. When she was ready, she twisted her body, raised her arm and lashed.

The thong snaked through the air with a whoosh. Then crack! It bit into  Noah's buttocks. His loins recoiled with a lurch, sending his phallus into a wild swing. His eyes screwed with pain. He took hold of his manhood pressing it against his belly to protect it from any stray lashes. As the second lash struck home, low on the buttocks, it curled round his right hip to raise a scarlet fleck on the front of his thigh. Buttocks lurched again. The painful heat was bursting into his groin, blood coursing into the genitals. His penis was on fire with lust.

The young man began slowly pumping the shaft up and down. But a youth of eighteen can't hold back his crisis for long when the shaft is burning. Encouraged by the third slash across his bottom, his hips started to jerk. As the fourth lash curled round his thighs, the girls gasped as they beheld the globules of white starchy liquid spitting out over the hairy belly.

The power of the ejaculation scared them, but excited them at the same time. This time they really witnessed the full force of a bursting cock. The previous ejaculations had been into the mouth of Janine, or partly hidden from their sight by others. But here, before them, was a spouting penis. Spurt after spurt of man's juice like a volcano. It was awe-inspiring, overwhelming them with a sense of reverence for the male organ.

'Let that be a lesson to you all!' Fagin cried. 'And as for you two young virgins, if you're kind to me, I shall be kind to you. But if you try to escape, punishment will be severe and total.'

He turned to James, who had stood to one side during the whole proceedings, watching the punishment meted out to his step- sister with a look of disinterest.

'James, my dear, for giving me intelligence of this rendezvous, Rita shall begin her training with you.'

At this, Rita suddenly screamed and ran for the door. But a foot shot out and tripped her. There was a flurry of activity. Polly cowered well back into the shadows beneath the hay-loft as her friend was grabbed by several pairs of hands dragging her back to the centre of the barn. There, she was forced onto her knees with her back against the centre post. Her arms were wrenched behind her, round the back of the post, tied together with a length of old rope.

Fagin came at her with anger in his eyes, an old rusty pitch-fork in his hands. Rita let out a blood curdling scream, expecting to be spiked, but the pitch-fork pinned her neck to the wooden upright, the two prongs, like a giant staple beneath the jaw bones, burying deep into the wood.

'Bitch!' Fagin yelled as he skewered her to the post. The pitch-fork handle was taken over by Nipper. Fagin came to Rita's right and swiped her hard over the face with his open palm. An angry red blotch appeared on the cheek. A crimson trickle from the corner of her mouth where the bottom teeth had cut the inner cheek. He spat in her face. Except for the crimson smudge, the blood drained from her face; it turned white as a sheet. Her eyes were filled with terror.

'Next time you try that,' he growled, 'the fork gets you in the belly.' Then he gripped her head brutally, twisting it to the other side. Waiting there was James. His phallus was already prepared. Stiff and proud. Rita stared at it, her lips trembling with trepidation. Although admiring the weapon, Rita was fearful of choking on it. She had never had anything so large and long in her mouth before. James straddled over the shaft of the pitch-fork, rolled the blunt end over her lips.

Rita stiffened, wincing at its touch. She knew she must open her mouth if she was to avoid another painful blow on the face. With uncertainty, her eyes glancing up at James in pity, she waited for the moment of entry. Smiling down at her, James slowly pressed the thick shaft between her lips. Panic swept over her. She was choking. She felt sick. But James pulled away to give her time to take a quick breath before thrusting his penis once more into her mouth.

In this manner, the young man entered deeper with each stroke until his shaft exploded, splattering his sperm into the young woman's mouth. As it withdrew, she tasted the juices of man in her throat and liked the taste. Rita watched the phallus withdraw from between her lips, dribbles of sperm still oozing from its eye. She was fascinated by it.

'There, my dear,' Fagin assured her. 'That wasn't too difficult, was it? With a bit more practice you shall fellate like an expert. You'll enjoy it!'

Janine had dressed again during the trial of Rita, but her hair was dishevelled and wet. She would go into the shower immediately they returned to their dormitory. Her clitoris burned. She was desperate for fulfilment. 

Fagin smiled at them, but there was no humour in his voice. 'I have a friend, my dears, who loves fried nipples. If I tell him where you sleep, he will creep into your bed. When you're asleep, at your most vulnerable, he will slice off those tender buds. No girl can escape him. Compared with him, my dears, I am an angel! So, you three girls will return here next Saturday at the same time, my dears. Or else ...'

And he drew the side of his hand across Polly's breasts in a threatening gesture. Polly shuddered at the thought with a curious thrill of rapture - to loose the nipples must be the most degrading and painful thing next to losing the clitoris.

It was at that moment that Polly realised that they were Fagin's slaves, to do with as he would wish. She was lucky to have escaped that day with nothing more than a lewd feel of her genitals. But Polly knew that the days of her virginity were numbered. The thought disturbed her, filling her with apprehension and exhilaration. 

On their way back to the college, Rita admitted to Polly that even though she was terrified, she felt a curious sexual thrill during her punishment. Janine agreed that being violated in that way gave her a bizarre sense of power and excitement. Although her body was being abused, it was only because the men were desperate to have it; they craved it. Her body may have been thrashed and her youthful vagina penetrated but her most intimate secret remained hers and hers alone.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 05



Without knowing why, Polly realised that she had always felt the need to be dominated; to be punished for her carnal thoughts by an understanding master. At college, she missed her father's firm control. His strict punishment. Miss Armitage gave her some gratification, but she really needed a man. A master. The meeting with Fagin had changed her life at college, providing her with a master figure, teaching her the connection between discipline, promiscuity and lust.

Fagin replaced her father as the dominating man to be obeyed without question. Polly was surprised that she should have been beguiled by this unkempt, dirty tramp-like figure. But, in spite of his appearance, he had a compelling authority. And power! The power to punish. The power to humiliate and degrade. If necessary, the power to kill. And yet, Polly kept her virginity during those tempestuous days. It was remarkable, and certainly not intentional on her part.

Fagin had treasured her virginity, threatening her with dire punishment of she gave it to some pimply youth, or other. He intended it to be traded in for some favour by a person in high authority. Her next meeting with Fagin and his gang was planned for the following Saturday.

With much trepidation and excitement on Polly's part, the three naive girls walked the half-mile to the old barn, wondering what was in store for them. Janine had first persuaded the ladies to comb their long hair - Polly's blonde and Rita's red - into a pony-tail, fastened with a studded leather bracelet, at the crown of the head. The tails bounced around in the sun shine, trapping its rays in the strands of hair, like rippling threads of shimmering gold and copper. Around their necks Janine had hung a wide leather pendant, hung with old-fashioned horse-brasses.

As the three young ladies neared the barn, Polly felt apprehensive but inwardly excited at the prospect of seeing more stiff male flesh. Then, completely unexpected, the two friends were grabbed from behind. No words were spoken, though many grunts and squeals escaped in the exertion. The two women were too surprised by the assault to think of shouting or screaming at first. They fought their attackers but had been disadvantaged by the element of surprise.

Rita realised that her blouse had been torn open revealing her rounded breasts in their scanty halter bra, worn strictly against the rules of the school! By the time they had realised what was happening, their arms had been secured behind their backs; their ankles bound. Gags were pushed into their mouths, with metal rings biting painfully into each corner, like horse bits, as they were secured at the back of the neck.

Rita saw Toswer, with his shock of brown curls, and three other youths of the gang. Further struggles were in vain. Polly looked anxiously at Rita. Her friend's face was pale and drawn; her eyes filled with apprehension. Both wondered why they had been so brutally attacked and bound.

Janine stood smiling down at them. 'Sorry, you two! Fagin's orders I'm afraid.' She turned to the youths. 'Right, Rita first.'

After being bundled into the barn, Polly watched her friend taken unwillingly into one of the horse stalls. A belt was put round her forehead. From it, leather squares with brass surrounds, like blinkers, were fastened under her chin with a buckle. Then, her bound wrists were attached to a tethering ring. Fresh straw had been scattered on the floor. The air smelt sweeter than the previous visit. Some attempt had been made to make the derelict old building a bit cleaner; more pleasant.

Polly was carried to the opposite wall facing Rita where she was thrown into the pile of straw under the shadows of the loft. It was earlier in the day than the previous week. The sun shone through the barn door, the rays stabbing through the gloom to illuminate the very stall in which Rita had been tethered. There she stood, roped to the stall, white open blouse gleaming like snow, pure and unsullied. Her skimpy dark-blue skirt showed off Rita's long spindly legs encased in black stockings.

She looked like an innocent animal caught in a trap, unable to flee; vulnerable and scared, like a young foal, her widened eyes darting round for means of escape. Once Rita was secured, Janine and the rest of the gang slunk back quietly into the deep shadows beneath the hay-loft.

They waited. A deep brooding silence fell over the scene. The minutes passed. Rita became more agitated, losing all sense of time. The ropes prevented her from sitting down in comfort. She was forced to stand there in the shaft of bright sun-light, her high pony-tail tossing as her head turned from side to side. The reflection in her wide eye-balls showed the fear held within them. Only her rasping breathing disturbed the silence. Not a mouse stirred. Polly wondered where Fagin was. Even though he was a cruel master, with him there, she would feel more protected. He would look after his slaves

A sound! A footstep outside! Then silence.

Rita had heard the crunch. Her head spun round to peer into the light, throat turning dry at the thought of being caught tethered and helpless. The seconds ticked away. Another crunch! A shadow fell across the barn floor. The silhouette of a man appeared in the opening. A tall man wearing riding gear. The unmistakable shape of jodhpurs and riding leggings. On his head was a riding helmet; in his hand a riding crop. He stood motionless, gazing into the barn.

Then his head turned towards Rita, tethered in the stall. He tapped the riding crop thoughtfully in the palm of his left hand as he took in the scene. The shaft of sunshine shone on her solitary figure, accentuating her slender beauty, as though in a spot-light. The unbuttoned blouse gave a tantalising glimpse of her young breasts beneath, adding to the impression of vulnerability.

Rita was rooted to the spot. Even if she were free, she was too paralysed to move. She was completely in the power of this mysterious figure. The man approached her, tucking his crop into his the waist of his jodhpurs. He had an air of authority. A commanding bearing. Rita cowered away from him, looking at his large frame with wide eyes.

With the sun behind him, she couldn't make out the features properly. A tanned face, she thought, with penetrating, steel-blue eyes. As he got nearer she detected the evil glint in his eyes. They narrowed cruelly as they scanned her body.

'Hmmm! Nice young filly. Needs taming I expect.' A dark voice. Deep. Cultured. It was as though he was speaking to himself. 'Unruly beasts these young fillies. Need breaking in, eh?'

The tall elegant figure stood before her. He looked malevolently into Rita's flaring nostrils and frightened eyes, her head held high and tense. Fear filled her widened eyes. His long slender fingers slowly pulled aside the loose opening of her blouse. His eyes shifted to her soft breasts with sugar-pink nipples. Rita's head was in panic. She struggled violently. The man skipped back quickly, as though afraid of being kicked.

'Frisky, eh?' he spat at Rita, taking out his riding crop. 'Needs to learn some obedience.'

With horror, Rita saw his hand raise. She managed to twist sideways as the crop sang through the air but it caught her across the top of her buttocks. She was unprepared for it. The cutting sting made her yelp and recoil instinctively. A sliver of pain cut into her flesh. A second lash followed quickly, whipping across her back and upper arm. Another yelp of pain, stifled by the gag. Too high! She wanted it on her buttocks. To feel the heat in her loins. She tensed herself for the next blow, head bowed, bosom heaving. But none came.

Polly was curled up against the wall of the barn, without stirring. She looked on in awe, watching the red weals form beneath the thin cotton of Rita's blouse, now hanging loose over her shoulders. Noah was at her side. Polly felt his grubby fingers fumbling under her skirt. She dare not make any sound or move. The exploring fingers found their way into the gusset of her knickers, pushing between her wet lips, prodding at her sensitive clitoris. Burning shame coloured Polly's lips but there was nothing she could do to stop Noah dabbling in her secret warmth.

Polly's attention was drawn back to the centre of the barn. The man once again approached Rita. He was more cautious. Taking her by the shoulder, he twisted her to face him. Tears had welled up in her fear-filled eyes. His lips twisted into a cruel smile. 

'Keep calm, young filly.'

Moving behind her, he tugged the blouse over the shoulders, down her arms as far as to the tethered wrists. Not having put her bra on that morning, Rita was now naked from the waist upwards, the brass pendant hanging round her neck, rings dangling from either side of the mouth-piece. Returning to face her, his piercing eyes examined the pretty breasts, heaving with the effort of the struggle.

The wrinkled nipples stood up with pride, pink and stiff. To her shame, Rita felt the familiar tremble in her groin. She was lubricating; the warm syrup was bubbling into her vulva. It was preparing for stimulation and penetration. Her face coloured at the shameful thought! The stranger, unaware of her inner turmoil, was rubbing the palms of his hands over her pale breasts, testing their weight appreciatively in each palm, whilst the pads of the thumbs caressed the nipples. Rita stiffened, rigid with embarrassment. The juices were now seeping into the gusset of her knickers.

'Nice breast,' she heard him mutter. 'Frisky filly.'

Rita suddenly became angry. She wanted her freedom. Kicking and struggling, the tethering ring rattled as she tried to wrench it from the wall. Her hair tossed around like an unruly horse's mane. Feeling for the tethering ring behind her, Rita tried to wrench it from the wall. But without success.

Her screams were muffled by the gag. Then she felt the pain of the stinging slash across her buttocks. The recoil shook the cheeks of her buttocks beneath the skirt.

'Steady, girl!' the man called out, his voice deep and commanding. He raised his arm and brought it down, the crop striking her buttocks a second time. The skirt helped to stem the full heat of the blow, but not sufficient to prevent the thong from stinging the supple flesh. Rita's body jerked.

'The filly needs to be trounced into submission, I think. Take that!'

The whip thrashed her again, then again. Rita's neck stretched, arteries standing out thickly, her head tossing around in shame, pain and fright. Finally, after several more slashes, agony searing throughout her body with each one, stinging every nerve in her loins, Rita came to a halt. Her head now hung in disgrace and fatigue.

Her flesh was an inferno of burning. Her breasts bursting with anguish. The furnace of frustration blazed in her loins. The orgasm that she realised she desperately wanted to give some relief, eluded her. With breasts heaving heavily against her rib-cage, she panted to regain her regular breathing. 

After a pause of a few moments, Rita recovering her breath, the whip again lashed her hips, several more times, right and left. With violent jerks, her twisting body tried to avoid the blows, head rolling crazily, ropes pulling against the shackles. Her body was tormented with pain and humiliation. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked. Rita snarled in a long, silent scream of hopeless desperation.

The supreme joy of relief wouldn't come! It was no use her resisting; it only brought on more thrashing. As her tortured brain returned to the outside world, Rita watched the bulge developing at the front of her tormentor's jodhpurs. She had a sudden crazy desire to see what hung between the man's legs. To kiss it! Worship it!

'Now for the flanks,' she heard him mutter, licking his lips. Unfastening the waist-band of her skimpy skirt, he unzipped the fastening. The skirt fluttered to round her ankles. Her flat belly was trembling with excitement. French panties were forbidden in school, but they were scanty and daring. They barely covered the light wad of copper-coloured curls. The waist-band rested above the gentle curves of her hips.

Rita was at a loss to know how to hide her embarrassment at her genitals being displayed to a total stranger. But her instructor had little interest in her face just now. He was spell-bound at the sunlit beauty before him. Hooking his thumbs into each side of the flimsy knickers, he slowly pushed them down.

His eyes gleamed with eagerness as they scrutinised the emerging curls below her navel. Finally, the vulva itself came into view, with small pouting lips pushing through the outer folds. Its pale texture contrasted with the blue and purple discolouration of the surrounding flesh. Angry-looking red stripes crossed the blotched cheeks of her buttocks in ridges of tender flesh.

Then the man noticed the fresh stains in the gusset. He glanced up with a sardonic smile into her wide-open eyes, innocent and appealing.

Then, to Rita's mortification, his hand pushed between her thighs, deep into her genital area. The hand was palm up, cupping the warm gathering of damp fleshy folds. Rita gasped in dismay. The syrup flowed onto his fingers as he scooped them forwards in an upward movement through the gash. His smile widened. From his pocket he took a narrow leather girdle which he put round her hips. At its rear was attached a plume of hair, a horse's tail. 

'A filly on heat!' he cried softly.

Bending down onto one knee, he removed the rope binding her ankles. One by one, each foot was lifted out of the crumple of clothes. His gaze fell on the most secret part of Rita's young body. The virgin vulva! It was breath-taking!

She was paralysed, unable to move, her eyes fixed on the man's stare of admiration and wonder at the perfection of her innocent vulva. It glittered like copper in the sun's rays. She held her breath, breasts stinging, her body stiffening with foreboding.

'Beautiful! Exquisite!'

Powerless to stop the intrusion into her private gap, she watched as the man's face eased forward. His nose pressed into her clitoral hood. That wasn't what Rita wanted at all. She wanted to press her own face into the man's genitals; sniff his penis.

But, at the touch of his tongue, her body twitched and trembled. He was sniffing hard at her warm womanly smell, rubbing his nose into the syrup. The most intimate fold in her body was being violated. Then, to Rita's abhorrence, she felt his tongue snake between her coated lips, licking away the sticky juices.

In spite of her repugnance, the body responded with enthusiasm. Loins jerked and groin fluttered. The invading tongue explored every crease and fold in her honeyed folds. Tongue teased her little button sending slivers of excitement darting through her loins. After a few moments the rider stood again, lips smeared with honey, licking them greedily.

His hands fumbled with his waist band. The trousers shuttered to his knees. Through the front opening of his shorts, his penis flopped out. Drooping, half erect. A long thick tube. Rita's eyes opened wide at the sight.

She remembered once seeing a donkey on heat. This penis wasn't as big, but the shape reminded her of the donkey's pizzle. A deep swarthy burgundy colour, it didn't look human at all! The phallus swayed around, slowly filling and stretching. Rita was mesmerised. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

For a few moments the heat glowing through her loins, her pain-racked body was forgotten. A new fear overwhelmed her. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead at the thought. The fear that the great monster in front of her eyes would be forced between her virgin lips. That she would be cruelly ravished. Split open!

The man drew out his testicles from the opening so the wrinkled scrotum hung beneath the swaying monster. Rita gulped hard!

The man moved behind her. She felt her hands being untied. Her blouse slipped from them into the straw. The wrists were then re-tied in front of her, leaving a short length of rope between them. The hiss of the crop through the air could be heard a split second before it slashed Rita round the buttocks with a cutting pain.

'Trot! Trot!' he cried. Another lash. 'Trot, filly, knees up and trot!'

Rita guessed that he wanted her to run on the spot. Anything to avoid the lash. The whip struck her painfully yet again. 'Higher!'

Rita brought her knees up as high as she could, trotting for the rider. He watched her breasts bounce wildly. Her mane tossing around in the sunshine and the tail swishing around. Watching from the darkened shadows, Polly thought it looked an elegant, erotic sight.

The whip encouraged Rita to keep the up the trotting until she felt she would collapse. Her breathing was heavy and laboured. Her muscles aching. Her master saw she had done enough. 'Woooah!' he called. With a sigh of relief, Rita stopped, jelly-legged, breath rasping in her lungs. Burning loins. Exhausted!

As Rita was slowly recovering, the man turned her round to face the side partition of the stall. The wooden partition was about a metre high. Slipping a noose round her neck, he fastened the other end to a ring in the floor so that her body was bent forward. If she tried to straighten up she would tighten the noose round her neck and choke. Rita steadied herself against the partition with her manacled hands with buttocks now protruding, pert and discoloured. The horse tail rested in the crevice.

She was at the master's mercy. Hands roamed over the tender, numbed flesh. Pushing the tail aside, thumbs traced the length of the honeyed outer lips, easing apart the folds concealing the pink flesh of her orifice. No other person had ever seen that secret gash so openly; not even her mother. She was distraught that both her private shrines should be so shamelessly displayed. And to a stranger at that. A thrill of disgust shook her loins.

From his pocket the rider took a strange object. It consisted of two shallow plastic cups, each with a silver key-ring fixed to the end. Around the rims were rubber rings. The cups were connected by an adjustable silver chain. The strap was a plastic strip with a simple ratchet buckle. Rita watched numbly wondering what indignity she would have to endure next.

As he placed a cup over each nipple, Rita realised that the rims were lined with sharp needle-like points. They prickled, stimulating the nipples. As they swelled up to almost fill the cups, the points sank deeper into the surrounding flesh and areolae stinging them even harder. The man fastened the bra round her chest, tugging the buckle tight.

The pin-points pressed hard into her breasts, painfully. He then took out a leather lead, attaching each end to the rings at the ends of the cups before feeding them through the rings of her gag. The buckle fastened, they were draped over her back like a set of reins. The man stood back to admire his work.

Rita was grimacing with the pain rippling through her nipples. She was afraid of taking too deep a breath for fear of pressing her breasts further into the sharp points. At each breath, the pins dug into her breasts. She looked down in despair, expecting to see the bra cups filled with blood.

But there was none.

Then, she discovered that by bunching up her shoulders into her neck, the pressure on her nipples relaxed. The pricking stopped. Having worked out how to avoid the pain, she suddenly stiffened. The horse's tail was lifted and a cool object touched the entrance of her second, tighter orifice.

Her bottom jerked, trying to repel the invader. A sharp heavy slap stung her right cheek, already sore with its earlier thrashing. The burning sensation glowed anew. It must have numbed the muscles for the unknown object slid effortlessly into her rectum. She recoiled, gripping the invader with tensed muscles, trying to expel it.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 05



But it caressed the soft puckered tucks at the end of the passage in a soothing and stimulating motion. Rita began to relax, to enjoy the sensation, her vulva filling anew with warm honey, trickling over the bloated lips. As suddenly as the invader had entered her, it withdrew. But only to be replaced by something warm and blunt, nudging between the virgin lips of her vulva.

A thick warm shaft pushed firmly between them, pushing them aside, until it encountered the spongy barrier. Rita tensed and whimpered with apprehension. This is it, she thought; she was about to die! The stretching sensation was incredible. She felt to be splitting in two. Her virginity was being forced from her. And her body was crying out for it.

Almost in a state of slow-motion, Rita experienced the deliberate removal of her maidenhead. She was terrified; tightly tensed, waiting for the shattering pain. The man carefully eased the head of his stout penis in and out of the entrance a few times to increase its lubrication. Its soothing motion began slowly to lull Rita out of her dread.

Then, with a firm lunge, the shaft sank home, deep into the honey up to the hilt. She yelped and jerked at the abrupt sharp pain. But it quickly dispelled as she flexed her buttocks. The invader went on sliding smoothly in and out of the tight little opening, with her whole body seeming to be crammed to overfilling.

Her chaste vagina was being stretched tighter than it could surely take. It would surely split! But Rita began to realise the strange, erotic feeling of the penis, gorging and sliding inside her. It was the first worshipper at her secret shrine. An unknown phallus of large proportions at her altar of lust. 

Polly was watching the action with utter amazement. The stiff flesh thrust in and out of her friend's small, puffed lips. The shaft drawing out from the passage, dragging the syrupy lips with it in seeming desperation, only to be crushed back into the orifice. Polly feared that Rita's whole womb would be drawn out of her like a chicken's entrails.

The rider was now lunging hard and deep into Rita's loins, with one hand pulling on the reins, the other slapping the coiled crop against her flank. He was riding her hard.

Polly felt Noah's fingers dipping into her yearning gap, wet with desire, teasing the throbbing bud. Her body stiffened. Other fingers had snaked between the cleft of her bottom, rubbing the lips, soft and slippery with her private honey, seeping from her secret entrance.

It was another of the boys crouched at the other side of her, hoping to increase her hunger for cock; stimulating the passage he hoped to bury his penis in. Her insides were boiling with heat and exhilaration, frustration surging in her loins. She wanted to climax, but couldn't! The sensation was beginning to overwhelm her.

Tears of frustration squeezed from her tightly shut eyes. She concentrated on watching the hard thrust of the shaft filling Rita with anguish. The excitement was almost unbearable though she wallowed in the sensation of ecstasy which pervaded her loins.

The rider's hips started to tense and shudder, he grunted, suddenly holding himself erect and still. The thick shaft buried deep inside Rita spurted the first of its offering. The loins jerked several times more as the remaining sperm splashed deep into the shrine, christening Rita's womanhood.

Polly exploded with her orgasm brought on by the two sets of fingers fluttering over her genitals.

When the man's weapon was withdrawn from Rita, it was already beginning to soften. She remained still, leaning against the partition, her loins burning and twitching. The tormentor bra was unbuckled and removed. The gag taken out of her mouth, the girdle removed.

Looking down, she saw the red blotches, like a nettle rash round her bloated areolae. But, miraculously, the skin was not broken. The nipples were now larger and stiffer than she had ever known them. Their sensitivity was incredible. They tingled with a fierce prickly heat.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 06



When the man's oozing weapon was withdrawn from Rita, it was already beginning to soften. With the feeling of a thick liquid trickling slowly down her thigh, she remained still, leaning against the partition, her loins burning and twitching. The tormentor bra was unbuckled and removed. The gag taken out of her mouth, the girdle removed.

Looking down, she saw the red blotches, like a nettle rash round her bloated areolae. But, miraculously, the skin was not broken. The nipples were now larger and stiffer than she had ever known them. Their sensitivity was incredible. They tingled with a fierce prickly heat

There was a lengthy pause. Rita's hurts were taking on a numbness; a throbbing smart in the flesh of her middle. A stirring ache in her loins. She was aware of scuffling sounds and footsteps. But she was not aware of the movement until hands gripped the strapped-on pony tail from behind, lifting her face as a warm stiff object was abruptly thrust into her rectum, moist and soft.

After the initial shock of horror at being penetrated in the wrong entrance, Rita realised that the sensation was not an unpleasant one. The tightness caused some hurt, but it was not disagreeable. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that it was Noah, his black curls bobbing up and down as his loins buffeted deep into her intimacy. But, to her dismay, Rita also realised that the others had gathered round to watch.

She had forgotten the gang, cowering in the darkness under the hay-loft. They must have seen every moment of her humiliation. Seen her virginity ravished, the seed oozing from the vaginal gash. Now they were watching, with openly lascivious looks, as her body was sacrificed to their lewdness; gloating over her pain-racked loins and sore-looking breasts.

She started to struggle. To try to escape the gleeful eyes of the onlookers as they fed their lewd appetite on her nakedness. But the noose was still round her neck and the sudden jerk pulled it tight round her throat. She dropped her head down again. More hands held her arms tightly as her head was twisted to the front.

Another penis, hard and thick, was offered to her mouth. It was Bill's. Unable to do anything about it, Rita was forced to take it in and suck on it, almost choking. She had no time to judge its size as its shaft stretched her lips, filling her cheeks with warm flesh. Rita panicked! No! This was not what she wanted.

It thrust hard, time after time, against the back of her throat, gagging her. She couldn't breath. It seemed to be penetrating her brain! She was crying out for air! But the head was held firm and the hard flesh being shoved in and out, harshly. She was aware of the hard rasping breathing of the two youths, putting every effort into stuffing her mouth and rectum with cock. Her widened eyes darted round the group bending over her tethered body. They were urging the youths on to greater effort of degradation.

'Go on, Noah! Split her open!'

'Fill her lungs with juicy come! Choke her with it!'

'Give it to her! Harder! Deeper!' 

Cocks were ravishing Rita from front and rear. There was a roaring sound in her head. She felt to be fast losing consciousness. Then, the rhythm in her mouth broke. The penis jerked, filling her throat and mouth with hot starchy sperm. She choked and retched on the sticky mess. It dribbled from the corners of her mouth. She fought hard to avoid throwing up as she gulped the air into her starved lunges.

A few short stabs later, warm juices filled her anus as the young man's seed ejaculated deep into her rear passage. As he withdrew, his copious emission seeped from her rose-pink passage, trickling down the crack of her buttock to blend with the stains already there.

Rita had been filled in every orifice; her virginity taken in three places. Violent orgasms had shattered her innocence. She was a woman. An experienced woman. Rita now realised that she was also a slave; one of Fagin's slaves; a slave of the gang. There was no escape for her so long as they wanted her. She also knew that it would be necessary for her to learn the art of deep throat.

At that moment the most unexpected thing happened. As the gang stood watching Rita's final degradation, nothing but a sperm repository, a shadow fell across the barn door. Everyone turned. There, taking in the scene of debauchery with unbelieving eyes, was the forbidding figure of Miss Armitage

There was a long embarrassed silence. Everyone held their breath, uncertain what to do. The gang glanced round at each other. No-one spoke.

'Well!' Miss Armitage exploded at last. 'What on earth is going on here?' No-one responded. They looked from one to the other lost for a reply. Her eyes gleamed. 'Janine!'

Janine swallowed hard. 'Nothing, Miss Armitage'

'Nothing? Nothing? Then why has Rita a halter round her neck? Why is she naked and dishevelled? Why are those two young men exposed?'

Whilst Miss Armitage was firing these questions at Janine, Nipper and Jacko quietly released Rita from the halter and other fastenings. Nipper handed her the discarded clothes. She stood shame-faced, trying to hide her nakedness from Miss Armitage's harsh gaze.

'Isn't that young man Noah, our gardener's assistant?'

'Yes, Miss Armitage,' he replied guiltily.

'And Jack Dawkins!'

Jacko hung his head in respect. 'Yes, Miss.'

'Who are the other young men?'

'Friends of ours, Miss,' Noah responded.

'And what are you doing here, Polly? Are you part of this conspiracy?'

Polly was pale. What could she say?

'Please, Miss, we're slaves.'

Miss Armitage's eyes glowed with fervour. 'Slaves! Good! Then, as slaves, you shall be punished.' Turning to the gang, she pointed to Janine. 'You two, bend that young lady over. She seems to be the gang leader here. I want to see her bottom. Steady her against that post.'

Miss Armitage pointed to the central post in the barn. Her voice of authority demanded obedience. Noah and Bill edged away to fasten up their trousers whilst Jacko and Nipper grabbed Janine, dragging her to the centre of the barn. Facing the post, Janine's arms were wrapped round it and tied at the wrists.

'Lift her skirt for me, please, Polly.'

Though reluctant to become involved, Polly did as she was asked. The hem was raised to Janine's waist. Her small panties did little to conceal her well stimulated gash, the gusset darkened wet with her hot honey. The sun having moved round in the sky, a shaft of sunlight caught the cheeks of her buttocks. There were faint signs of previous punishment across her creamy cheeks. The punishment given to her the previous evening by the mistress herself.

Miss Armitage was taken aback. She gaped with wonder. Such defenceless young buttocks. Perfectly rounded cheeks. She remembered the way she herself had been thrashed unmercifully years ago by her uncle and his friends as her mother watched. Thrashed for being discovered spying on their punishment. Revenge for that humiliating episode, though years ago, stared her in the face, stirring her memory.

This young lady had been thrashed as she had once been. Miss Armitage would take her mother's place. Beating her pupils was a joy for Miss Armitage - and she knew for many of the pupils a sexual thrill born of parental correction - but this time, it would be a real thrashing.

She walked up to the girl, cupped the cheeks of her bottom in each palm, feeling the fleshy peach-like softness. The breath caught in Miss Armitage's throat, her loins stirred. If only her own buttocks were as rounded and firm. Her hand stroked the spherical slopes, pressing into the pliant skin.

Fingers strayed into the cleft, thumbs onto the outer flesh of the vulva, caressing the fine downy fleece. The pads of her thumbs rubbed against the slippery flesh, intruding into the dark opening to probe the warm folds, wet and swollen. Janine's dark secret lay within that slippery entrance. Miss Armitage licked her lips. She was strangely jealous. She had never thought to be sharing her pupils with young men.

'Hmmm! Those panties are against the rules of the school, young lady. Forbidden! However, you are fortunate to have such a delightful set of womanly folds of flesh, protected by such silky curls.'

She looked at the straw-covered floor. 'You young men, take up the instruments. Are those split willow canes with the whip?'

'Yes, Miss Armitage.' It was Jacko who responded.

'Ten strokes each,' she commanded, moving back to Janine's side. Janine almost fainted at the prospect of twenty lashes.

She cried out for mercy. 'No, please! That's too many, Miss.'

Miss Armitage's smile had a cruel twist. 'No!' Janine wailed. 'Please!'

But Miss Armitage remained silent. The youths' eyes lit up. Fagin had taught them the joy of punishing female flesh. Tender and soft. They took up a willow cane each, eagerly testing the flexibility by swishing them up and down; getting to know the canes. Both had split ends to the first joint, with sharp edges making a faint rattling sound. They moved to either side of the victim. Janine looked over her shoulder.

'No! Please, Miss Armitage. Not the canes!' Her voice was strained with fear and apprehension. Her body went rigid. Oh! God! She was getting wet! It was so humiliating. Her knickers would darken with the seepage. Everyone would know that she was lubricating. On heat!

'No, please!'

'You have broken every rule in the book, Janine. You must be punished for all of them. Hard!' She nodded at the two young men, straining to whip the tender buttocks.

Both men twisted at the waist, raising their arms. Then they brought the limbs down hard. Janine yelped and jerked like a rag doll as the first blow bit her right cheek in a diagonal stripe. A second followed almost simultaneously on her left cheek with a vicious crack! The pale loins leapt and winced as the sudden searing pain jolted Janine's groin.

She was resting her cheek against the post, trying to stifle her cries, stiffening her whole body against the next attack. The blow caught her between the open cleft of the cheeks, adding further weals to the rapidly reddening flesh. The fourth bit into her . She yelped in utter agony, recoiling from the multiple sting. The next two lashes, almost together, reduced Janine to jelly! Her thighs trembled and shook. Tears were pouring down her face, eyes squeezed tight.

She remembered little of the remaining lashes. Her mind was a blur of confusion and pain. Of all the thrashing she had endured, this was the most thorough. Her flesh was bruised and reddened, interlaced with scarlet ridges. Miss Armitage noticed with scornful satisfaction that the gusset of Janine's panties had darkened with a spreading stain. She too was prone to wetting herself with sexual arousal during punishment; sometimes to orgasm, though it usually required clitoral stimulation as well.

Her eyes moved to the trousers of the young men. Both were now bursting with stiffened cocks as their imaginations worked on the reason for the stain between the naked young woman's thighs.

'Yes!' Miss Armitage cried out in triumph. 'The stew of hell is boiling over from her furnace. Look!' And everyone's eyes turned on Janine's genitals. The gusset of the flimsy knickers had worked part way between her inner labia. They were soaked with juices. Janine was scarlet, choking with embarrassment, totally humiliated. Her secret gash was under the gaze of them all.

'Quench her fire with that stiff devil of yours,' Miss Armitage instructed Jacko, holding out her hand to take his willow from him. Without hesitation, he dropped his trousers. He positioned himself between the cheeks of her badly bruised buttocks, slumped low. After tearing down the panties he pulled open the soft lips with his rough fingers. The soft folds were wet with desire. The hard shaft was pushed deep into the vulnerable opening, sliding easily into the slippery folds.

'Now, fuck her! Hard! Hurt her with it! Punish her!'

The others watched while Jacko pounded against the stinging cheeks of Janine's bottom. But her sobbing did nothing to lessen the supreme bliss she felt as the cock rammed deep into her aching tube. Miss Armitage stood close to the side of Janine's lurching hips, watching intently as the baton of hard flesh plunged in and out of the clutching folds of flesh. Then with a bellow, he withdrew his penis, spraying erratically over Janine's burning cheeks.

'The fire's not yet extinguished,' Miss Armitage growled. 'Now you!' pointing at Nipper. Miss Armitage watched this new shaft violate the tender lips with cruel thrusts.

Far from extinguishing her fire, the furnace of Janine's hell blazed deep within her with greater intensity! Soon, she reached her own pinnacle of rapture, screams of agonised delight rending the air, Miss Armitage's presence forgotten. Her head thrashed from side to side, loins shuddering, legs of jelly as the orgasm racked her frame.

'Oh, my God! Punish me! Flog me! Arrrrgh!' The liberation was an awesome experience. Miss Armitage was impressed by the sheer intensity of it. The shaft slipped out of the orifice, squirting its streams of sperm into Miss Armitage's outstretched palm.

As the young man backed off, Miss Armitage took his place facing Janine, tenderly spreading the men's copious sticky fluid into her weals, kneeling down to press her cheek to the burning flesh, kissing her pouting lips, tasting the sweet honey.

No one noticed the newcomers.

'Very nice, my dear. Very touching scene!'

Miss Armitage swung round to be confronted by Fagin, smiling down at her fondly. 'Miss Armitage I presume. I've always wanted to meet you, my dear. I've heard so much about you and your beatings from Bill, here.'

Miss Armitage saw the look of surprise on William's face. The college gardener!

Fagin went on. 'I see you enjoy our little games. Perhaps you'd like to join in?' And he nodded to Towser.

With a grin splitting his face, the young man crossed to behind Miss Armitage. Towser preferred plump women. There was more flesh to beat. Miss Armitage's eyes widened with surprise and terror. Her throat was too dry to utter a sound.

She swallowed hard. Towser grabbed her by the shoulders of her tweed jacket, pulling it down her arms, holding them firmly together.

'Please stand, Miss Armitage, my dear.'

Janine, now released from the binding on her wrists, came to the front of her mistress with a wicked smirk on her lips.

'You have told us many times that we must all be punished for our sins. Well, Miss Armitage, you have tasted the honey of hell. You called it that yourself. Hell's hot juices! You too must be beaten before the demons claim your soul. They already have mine!'

And without any warning, Janine slapped her mistress hard across the face, jerking the head in a stinging blow. The cheek coloured quickly to a bright red. Miss Armitage was very frightened!

Janine and Towser hoisted her abruptly to her feet.

'There you are, my dear. Punishment and slavery. That's my business, my dear. And yours, I have no doubt. But yours is legitimate. You will not escape the devil, though, my dear. I am he! Here before you. You will be my follower; my disciple. Together we can do wonderful things, my dear. Exciting things! Remunerative things!''

He crossed to Rita, stood silent but with a new air of confidence. He handed her two ten-pound notes.

'There, my dear. For you. For services rendered. Your rider was very pleased with your performance.' He turned back to face the mistress.

Miss Armitage looked at him, then at the others with fear and apprehension. Her loins were tingling with anticipation.

'No, please! I got carried away! Janine had a spiritual orgasm! It was an act of worship! Such a divine crevice! I was paying homage!'

But Janine was removing her mistress's blouse, tossing it aside. Miss Armitage was now stood in her skirt and corset. A quick movement behind her back and the bra fell forward to be pushed from the shoulder. Her large breasts, released from their support, flopped heavily. Only in her fantasies had her breasts been exposed to men's eyes since that first humiliating experience in her uncle's home. Her cheeks flushed hot with shame at their unexpected display.

Janine stroked her own hot rear cheeks, her eyes glaring wickedly at the over-sized breasts of her earlier tormentor. Fagin was studying Miss Armitage in the flesh! Sloping shoulders, unattractive meaty breasts resting on the rib-cage. Thick blue veins besmirching the skin and long distended nipples surrounded by large saucer-like areolae, dark and roughened with goose-pimples. Sparse short stands of hair grew from the areolae, surrounding the teat.

'Do you call those over-sized chunks of meat, breasts?' Janine mocked. She lifted them rudely in her palms, jolting them up and down before allowing them to fall back ponderously. She sneered. 'With hairy nipples! Repulsive!'

Miss Armitage hung her head to hide her embarrassment. Although secretly proud of her nipple hairs, she realised they were unsightly. Fagin nodded again. Jacko and Nipper came forward. They quickly removed the victim's skirt and slip, struggled with the corset until it fell from the thick waist, hips and pink buttocks. Her plentiful rounded flesh.

She was left only in white cotton briefs, the gusset already heavily stained. From either side of the gusset sprouted thick tufts of black wiry curls, spreading down the inner sides of the plump thighs. The mat of hair also escaped from the elastic waist band, reaching up to the navel and across to the thigh bones. A lush growth.

Miss Armitage was mortified. Her body trembled, her face was drained of colour. She was not proud of her figure but to have it openly stared at was debasing.

'What are you going to do?' she whined.

'Janine, my dear,' Fagin's voice was soft, 'there's a rope hanging from the rafters up there. Can you lower it?'

'It will be a pleasure!'

As she did, the young men grabbed a wrist each, pulling it behind Miss Armitage's back. She grunted in pain. Fagin tossed them a length of old rope hanging over a stall.

'Bind her!'

Nipper lowered the strong rope from the rafters. Taking the end of it, Rita fastened it to the bound wrists. Then she hoisted it over the rafter until Miss Armitage was bent forward by the strain on her arms pulled upwards behind her back. Her heavy breasts dangled obscenely, her buttocks thrust backwards, She cried out for mercy.

Clumps of thick black hair now showed in each armpit. The mistress was a woman of nature - as God made her. No razor or depilation cream had been allowed to remove what God had given her. And He had given her plenty!

Fagin came up behind her, kicking the thick ankles apart to display the fleshy join between her thighs encased in soaked briefs, stretched tight across the fulsome cheeks. His face wrinkled with distaste. His voice was mocking.

'Who is the mistress now? Gentlemen, take your pleasure! Beat the demons from this lecherous woman!'

Miss Armitage squeezed her eyes closed, tensing her body against the buffeting she expected. In spite of her fear, the anticipation of that first delicious bite into the flesh was rousing her lust. Her loins fluttered with agitation. To cry out would be in vain.

She waited with eager frustration as the two young men behind her took up the wicked instruments and positioned themselves facing Miss Armitage's buttocks. Her loins were bubbling over with arousal. Her heart was in her mouth, dry, apprehensive of the pain and ecstasy to follow. She heard the swish of the trial flexes of the cane as the young men took aim at their chosen spot.

The first lash of the willow sank with a dull thwack! deep into the pliant flesh, sending up a scream of anguish from the mistress. Her body convulsed, swaying from the rope, dragging on her strained arms. Another thwack! as the supple split willow bit cruelly into both cheeks. A howl of agony rent the air! Juddering buttocks heaved and twisted. The body convulsed. Miss Armitage had little time to register the ripple of white heat spreading through her loins before a second blow from each weapon made her squeal once more. The pain throbbed in her loins, the heat bubbled in her groin.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 06



Her clitoris was erect and sensitive. An orgasm was building up fast. Unwanted. Shameful.

'Take them off!' she heard Fagin order.

Thumbs were pushed into each side of the briefs. They peeled the cotton fabric over the crimson mounds of tender flesh, still swelling into a complex tracery of purple ridges. Her genital area was fully encased in a black fleece, covering her inner thighs and the cleft of her buttocks as far as to the other puckered orifice, peeking like a small clearing in the forest of curls. The pungency of her juices were released, filling the youths nostrils with female sexuality.

Fagin looked in amazement and disgust at the hairy genitals. He had never witnessed anything like it. To many men, this was a fantastic, erotic sight, arousing their lust by its sheer abundance of hair. But it revolted Fagin's sense of taste. A woman's vulva should be soft and smooth; not rough and hairy. Snatching up the long split cane from the straw, he lashed out at the offending sight.

'Disgusting!' he shrieked. 'Filthy!'

Miss Armitage was not expecting more beating. She reared with a screech at the stabbing slash. Her plump curves jolted with convulsive leaps.

'Get her legs open!' Fagin shouted. Jacko and Nipper quickly took hold of the sturdy calves and yanked them apart, opening the gap between Miss Armitage's thighs to the full force of Fagin's sadism.

The nauseating sight of the victim's secret pride, drove Fagin into a passion of abhorrence. He lashed at it with uncontrollable fierceness. Nothing was spared the onslaught. He went berserk. The delicate vulva was slashed, the large cheeks battered blue and crimson. Miss Armitage's howls of anguish were pitiful to hear.

Her massive orgasm crashed through her loins lifting her to heights of exhilaration. Not even the excruciating pain could detract from the ecstasy. This is what Miss Armitage had often craved but never experienced before. Not even in her frequent fantasies had she imagined such overwhelming agony. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined such a stupendous orgasm.

Rita and Polly stood aside, impressed and aroused at the sight. Rita's own beating had been vicious but was as nothing compared to the thrashing Miss Armitage was suffering.

When the willow finally snapped in Fagin's grasp, the split ends had splintered into a thousand strands. Miss Armitage was reduced to a trembling heap of bruised and pummelled flesh, whimpering and whining. The ridges of angry stripes on her abundant flesh were overlaid by other scarlet weals. Miss Armitage lay broken and vanquished.

Fagin hurled down the broken cane in disgust.

'Take her now, Jacko!'

Rita was in awe of this powerful dominating man. The punishment had thrilled her, though terrifying in its intensity. He may be unclean and unattractive but he had the authority. He had power. He dominated them. Fagin went to one side to sit on an old saw-horse. Rita sidled up to him and put a tentative arm round his shoulder. Breathing hard from the exertion, Fagin turned and smiled up at her before wrapping his long heavy coat round her waist.

With a grin, Jacko positioned himself behind the plump purple buttocks. They watched him stare at the sight before him. Between Miss Armitage's mutilated cheeks was the soft centre of the lady, hidden among the thicket of curls, now tousled and wet. Folds of tender, inflated flesh protruded from them, revealing the position of the secret passage. Ready for penetration.

Taking his time, Jacko placed his blunt phallus at it, nudging the lips apart. They opened like rose petals, surprisingly pale against the dark surroundings. Slowly, he sank his full length into the hot tube of womanly delight. A long wail escaped Miss Armitage. She was wallowing in the ripple of an orgasm through her groin. Whilst Jacko made slow rhythmic thrusts into the deepest dark secret of the mistress, Nipper stood in front of her, cupping the hanging breasts, heavy and pliant in the palms of his hands. He kneaded and squashed them, twisting and pulling brutally at the long nipples, stiff as dugs.

Feeling Nipper's stiffness pressing into her face, Miss Armitage groped for it with her mouth, like a fish, opening her lips to take it in to suckle. It was instinctive. She sought solace from her uncle.

Standing beside Fagin, Polly felt the heat glowing in her belly. The juices of desire re-kindled by the scene being acted out in front of her. The warm embrace of her new master, the curious smell of his stale clothes. A male smell. His hand wormed its way between her throbbing cheeks, searching for her young virgin genitals. Polly's muscles flexed and stiffened at the touch. The stubby finger found the opening between the soft folds, gently caressing the stickiness.

They watched Miss Armitage becoming more agitated. Her buttocks trembled like a huge blancmange. The penis in her mouth erupted, Miss Armitage's buttocks lurched and thrust hard against the young man behind her. She screamed pitifully as the agony lashed through her whole nervous system. The stiff shaft slid from her mouth. Her body bounced. She tugged at the ropes. Her arms were at breaking point.

With no more strength, she was beside herself with anguish. Her loins were burning with lust. Then she slumped forward as Jacko burst his dam, gushing into her, slaking her hell-fire.

Several minutes passed as the young men readjusted themselves. Miss Armitage slumped forward, suspended by the rope, heavy breasts swinging, slowly like pendulums, knees sagging. The groans were barely audible behind the harsh breathing. Janine broke the hushed, almost remorseful, atmosphere with rustling the straw as she walked across to the reclining figure.

She lowered the rope from the overhead beam, allowing the victim to collapse into the straw. Rita went to help her. The fettered hands were released and Miss Armitage was lifted to her feet, legs apart, supported by her two pupils. Her tear-stained eyes opened, looking dully at Fagin.

He was sitting impassive, his grubby finger still inserted in Polly's vulva. The dishevelled naked figure looked pathetic. Fagin thought she looked disgusting. Her hairy belly was matted with perspiration and sperm, her hips blue with bruising. Crimson stripes discolouring the flesh. Miss Armitage looked spent.

Fagin smiled at her without humour in his eyes.

'Now, my dear, you must do whatever I bid of you. You will obey without question.'

'Yes, master,' was almost inaudible.

Fagin's transferred his stubby fingers to between Polly's cheeks, pushing deep into her stretched anus. She felt a jolt in the groin as he delicately rubbed her sensitive button with his thumb. Polly's inside exploded in an orgasm, her knees buckled and she sank heavily onto his fingers.

Miss Armitage became an ardent slave and disciple of Fagin, feeding him with young virgins for his rich clients as they came into the school and teaching her pupils the joys of bondage and punishment. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 07



After dinner, the three young ladies relaxed in Miss Armitage's private room. They had returned to the college and showered. They examined each other's bruises, applying soothing lotion to the tender skin. Rita's nipples, in particular, were in need of attention. They then set about their routine tasks before dinner. On Saturday evenings, they were excused school work.

The young ladies usually played board games, but on this occasion, they sat recalling the thrilling activities in the barn. It was agreed that they would pool the payments for services, to be shared out at the end of the academic year. Janine surprised the others by admitting that Fagin had given her fifty pounds for her services. They were added to Rita's hundred pounds.

'For each virgin, we get one hundred pound?' Miss Armitage cried. 'We'll be rich!'

During the discussion that evening, the mistress remembered with a thrill, the fury of Fagin's punishment. She was, she told the pupils, reminded of her first experience of bondage and humiliation. It had happened when she was only just turned eighteen. She had inadvertently caught her uncle in the act of whipping her mother, his sister. Even though it was unintentional, her uncle told the young Miss Armitage that must be punished for spying. And not just the normal spanking.

The next day, she was sent to her room to put on her old school uniform, before returning to her uncle's study. He threw her top coat to her.

'Here! We're going for a drive.'

After getting into the car, they were joined by her mother, who blindfolded her. The drive was not a long one. About ten minutes. The young lady was helped out of the car and taken into a building. When her blindfold was removed, she found herself in a small panelled office. The floor was thickly carpeted. The mahogany desk was clear of papers, well-polished, with a green shaded lamp on it.

Pictures of important looking men, wearing curious hats, and fur-trimmed gowns stared down at her from the walls. Her uncle removed her topcoat, then opened a drawer in the desk, to take out a pair of handcuffs. Miss Armitage was bewildered. What was going on, she wondered? Her wrists were crossed in front of her before being manacled with the small pair of handcuffs. Though small, they were firm and secure.

It was then that her uncle clasped a hinged metal band round her neck. It had a ring of staples set into its circumference. Her arms were raised and put round the back of her head. Two small brass padlocks secured the manacles to the staples at the back of the neckband. Finally she was blind-folded once again and led, over a carpeted floor, out of the room. As the door opened, the sound of many voices reached her. Laughter and chatter. It quickly subsided as she was led into the room. She was helped up three steps, stumbling onto a wooden surface. The atmosphere was warm. Cigar smoke hung in the air.

When Miss Armitage's blindfold was removed, her eyes widened with disbelief. Her throat froze with shock. She was standing on a wooden platform in the centre of a large room. Four blinding spot-lights, one from each corner of the room, trained on her figure, preventing her from seeing the outer parts of the room.

She could make out tables, with people sitting at them. At the tables set round the base of the platform, was a crowd of men dressed in dark suits, some wearing bowler hats. Others carried rolled umbrellas, or walking sticks and canes. All, except her uncle, wore black masks. Miss Armitage stood quite still as the chatter stopped, the men turning to look up at her. 

There was a hushed silence. All eyes were trained on Miss Armitage, the centre of attention. No one spoke.

Her uncle stepped forward to stand on the lower step, hooked his cane under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up high to reveal her blue woollen knickers. The young lady's heart was beating fast and her mouth felt dry. Suddenly, the platform began to revolve slowly. She closed her eyes tightly and blushed a deep crimson at the thought of all those strangers staring at her knickers.

The men put down their coffee cups on the tables, turning to face her. Then, to her horror, she saw her mother standing directly in front of her. She was dressed as a man, wearing a mask, but she knew it was her mother. Glaring at her with a grim, merciless expression. Two of the men came onto the revolving platform, one on each side of her. They hooked a fore-finger into the top of her bloomers, drawing them down to her ankles. Miss Armitage felt paralysed with humiliation as her nakedness was exposed to the whole company.

There was a low whistle. Heads craned forward to catch sight of the naked loins.

Her uncle whispered to her that she should step out of the knickers. She was petrified. Her legs were like lead, refusing to move. Suddenly, she was swiped hard across the buttocks with the cane. Recoiling and stiffening, she stepped from the crumpled bloomers. No one moved as she reluctantly lifted first one unwilling foot, then the other, out of the navy-blue knickers.

One of the men beside her, lifted them to his face, sniffing their contents, then threw them into the room. There was a brief scuffle as men fought to catch them. They were passed round the room, their aroma being inhaled by all the men. Miss Armitage was mortified at this behaviour. She watched them in disbelief as they, for their part, stared in amazement at the mass of dark curls covering her navel. Her mother was sneering at the sight.

The growth of hair on her belly, in her groin and thighs, was extremely profligate. Her uncle tapped her inner thighs, instructing her to part her legs. The display of the thick covering of hair on her genitals, spreading down her inner thighs, through to the cleft between the cheeks of her bottom was startling. The young model was overwhelmed by guilt at the lushness of her growth, blushing deeply.

When one of the men who had removed the knickers leaned towards her, to peer closely into the plump swelling of her vulva, she almost fainted with humiliation.

'Yes, gentlemen. There you are.' Her uncle spoke softly. 'You see an example of the hirsute young female in her natural state. Turn round please,' he asked his niece politely, 'and I'd be most grateful if you'd allow us to remove your skirt.'

The two men unfastened the garment, allowing it to shudder to her feet. The rounded cheeks of her bottom were exposed, drooping seductively over the tops of her thighs, as she stepped from the skirt and kicked it to one side.

'Would you bend forward, please.' The model was horrified at being asked to display her hairy bottom to these faceless men. She turned to look pleading at her uncle. Rooted to the spot, with her hands behind her head, she begged for mercy from him.

Still the platform slowly revolved, giving everyone a full view of the model.

'Please,' he said his steel-like eyes narrowed. The cane slashed again across the ample flesh, sinking deep into the softness. The stinging slash cut into her, forcing a gasp of pain from her. Tears welled up in her eyes. Without further protest, she bent her body forward, being steadied by two of the smiling men on either side. Her ample buttocks were thrust out for detailed inspection of her intimate crevices.

Her uncle pointed with his cane. 'There you see, gentlemen, the way in which the hair grows thickly between the tops of the legs. There is a large tuft in the crack of the rectum and a lush covering around the vulva itself. This is a wonderful example of the hirsute female. It is rare to find one in which none of the hair has been trimmed or, indeed, removed entirely. In its natural state, the hair also grows thickly in the arm pits and, in some cases, around the nipples. To some gentlemen, this is a very erotic condition. Shall we see whether or not this specimen has more body hair, or whether she has committed an act of folly by removing it?'

The men muttered and murmured amongst themselves, nodding their approval.

'Would you please stand up again?'

Young Miss Armitage stood and turned, still wearing the school shirt and tie. The shirt partly hid the hairy navel. One of the two men stepped in front of her to unbutton the shirt which he hoisted up to her neck, stuffing it behind her manacled wrists behind her neck, leaving her completely naked.

Arresting the attention of the men, nestling in her arm pits , were dense tufts of black curls. Her full heavy breasts swung slightly, pulled upwards by her arms held beside her head. They were topped with swollen, dark-brown nipples, hard with arousal. Round each nipple was a light cluster of hair. Her belly was well-rounded, with the hair growing to a thick peak at her navel.

There was a gasp from the men as the full glory of her fleecy armpits, and overgrown navel, were revealed to them.

'Gentlemen, you are now allowed to touch or stroke the specimen wherever you wish, run your fingers through her hairy patches. Satisfy yourselves that the hair is, indeed, real. Admire and enjoy the feel of it.'

Miss Armitage was gripped with panic. With hands manacled behind her head, there was no escape. Nor did she want to show her embarrassment to her mother, her uncle and his friends. The young lady was immediately surrounded by men, jostling to explored her firm, silken flesh with roving hands as though she were a marble statue. Her supple flesh crawled with humiliation and disgrace. Her buttocks, hips, calves, breasts and arms were all caressed, strokes and patted.

The men murmured their appreciation to each other. During the bustle, her legs were drawn apart, belts fastened round her ankles were fixed to staples set into the sides of the platform. Not one of the men laid aside his brolly or stick. To Miss Armitage, her humiliation was almost complete, when, to her devastation, her vagina began to lubricate freely. Hands probed her inner thighs, stroking the hair, getting nearer and nearer the tell-tale stickiness at her epicentre. The platform revolved slowly, giving access to every reaching hand.

Then it happened! Fingers discovered the wet pouting lips, barely visible through the mass of curls. Miss Armitage didn't know which was to turn her face to hide her disgrace at the involuntary show of sexual arousal. The finger hesitated in the syrup between her warm folds. There was a pause in the fumble. A slight scoop. Then it was removed.

'Tut, tut!' muttered the man as he examined his finger, now stained with her juices. He held it out for the others to take a close look. They peered at it intently, before exchanging looks of surprise. Then another of the men tentatively pushed his second finger into the crack. After prodding it around the hidden folds, he took it away and looked at it in disbelief. He sniffed it before holding it out for the others to inspect. There was shaking of heads and much tutting.

There was no respect or privacy left for the chastened young lady. Then many groping hands felt between her thighs. Fumbling into the lips of her vulva, gathering the juices, the crack of her bottom, into her rectum, jabbing at her clitoris; flicking, rubbing and caressing the oily skin, drawing out the honey. They were all muttering to each other words of surprise and disbelief. Miss Armitage stood with a dry mouth, crimson with shame.

Her secret was no secret any more. Her most intimate folds were being violated and defiled. She started to sob quietly with remorse. But no one took any notice of her emotions until her thighs began to tremble and her buttocks to shake. Agitation built up within her groin, deep inside her belly. Her vulva was leaking copiously, soaking into the hair, to the great excitement of the gentlemen.

'Ah! The vagina is now ready for the act of copulation. The function nature designed it for. If you stroke and caress the cheeks of the buttocks and the small of the back, you may find even more lubricant flowing from the vulva.'

Miss Armitage felt hands obey his request, an act which aroused her to a peak of excitement. Fingers parted the hair round her entrance where the wetness between her thighs had increased, as yet more juices oozed and dribbled from between the lips.

'There you are gentlemen. It appears that our model is now ready to be penetrated by the male penis. The pumping action will also activate the little hood you see covering the clitoris,' he explained, pointing to the part in question. 'This will, eventually, result in the lady having rapid contractions and convulsions. That is the orgasm. A most exciting moment for the lady. I shall begin.'

And, almost immediately, a stout walking stick was slid through the crook of her elbows, and below her chin. The stick was pushed downwards, forcing Miss Armitage to bend over forwards. She felt a stiff blunt weapon prodding at her vulva from behind. She took a deep breath as she anticipated being sexually violated. She wanted to scream out that she was a virgin, but that would only inflame the men even more. The other men looked on with fascination, unfastening their trouser-fronts to pull out their protruding, bursting erections.

'Please restrain yourselves, gentlemen, by limiting yourselves to twelve deep thrusts each, you can all sample the delights of this delicious example of feminine charm. Then you may try the mouth. The main purpose is to stimulate the lady by filling her impatient vagina with a variety of stiff penises and satisfying it's ache by giving her much pleasure in the encounter. The female orgasm will be our cue to finish.'

The thick, warm shaft of male flesh prodded partly into her vulva. She held her breath. Stiffened her muscles. It made a few pushes at her maidenhead before crushing it aside to invade her virgin shrine. Miss Armitage opened her mouth to scream. But no sound came, for a turgid penis was inserted. She was paralysed.

The weapon within her vagina thrust in and out of her tight slippery folds, whilst that in her mouth did the same. Then, as she sucked on it desperately, the one behind suddenly withdrew, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness. But not for long. One by one the men serviced her with a dozen firm plunges into her soaking, clutching warm flesh before withdrawing to make way for the next one. After she felt the spurt of warm liquid in her mouth, that too was replaced.

Penis after penis penetrated deep into her, until she lost count. Splashes of warm sperm splattered over her buttocks and back as some of the men masturbated over her after withdrawing from her warm muff. Finally, after what seemed like hours of activity, she achieved welcome, shuddering orgasmic spasms, each spasm accompanied by a loud gasp.

Her orgasm overtook her with a wave of despair, her knees trembling uncontrollably, her whole body shaking with the intensity of it whilst she leaned heavily on two of the men, others holding on to her firmly. Every twitch of her face, each grunt, was noted with great care by the onlookers, as her orgasm shook her. Her mind was ablaze with disgust at herself.

'The young lady is also wanton, gentlemen. To allow several men to fornicate with her is an act of prostitution. In need of punishment. Feel free to correct her.'

Almost before her convulsions had subsided, a circle of men started to slash at her bare flesh with their canes, sticks and brollies. Buttocks, thighs, waist all fell victim to the onslaught. Miss Armitage was emotionally drained. She no longer cared what happened to her. She was a slave to the sadistic beating from the men, all of them fighting to get close enough to beat her. Her knees crumpled beneath her, her body slumping slowly to the wooden floor. She twisted herself round to protect her head and face from the blows with her arms.

But the blows rained down on her body. There were shouts of abuse.

'Thrash her! Scum! Bitch!' Her mother's voice was louder than them all.

Nor did her breasts escape the violation. She was beaten brutally.

'Open her legs.' one voice shouted. Miss Armitage felt her thighs being pulled wide open, her soaking genitals pouting from the bush of wet, matted hair.

'Beat her!' came the cry. Miss Armitage recognised her mother's voice. Her inner thighs and genitals were subjected to the most appalling torture. With her brain no longer capable of registering the pain, Miss Armitage's whole body became a mass of searing hot pain. Large blue bruises and scarlet stripes smothered her buxom body. Ugly swellings on her breasts and buttocks, on her thighs and back, left her like a heap of human garbage. One of her eyes was closed in a deep blue and crimson swelling.

The beating stopped. The circle began to shrink from the platform. Eyes were glued to the broken human being. There came a feeling of shame and contrition.

Then she lost consciousness.

When Miss Armitage finally recovered, she was lying with a rug thrown over. She was in her own home. Her whole body was on fire, throbbing with pain and heat. The trembling was uncontrollable. Sitting alone, watching her, was her smiling uncle. Miss Armitage looked at him, silent, for a long time. He was naked. She glanced into his groin to study the half-filled penis. It took on beauty all of its own. Then she realised that she loved this man. She adored his penis. He was her lord and master. She was his slave.

A quiet orgasm rippled through her loins at the thought. Very slowly, she slithered over to him, crawling abjectly between his legs. Her eyes swollen with tears, Miss Armitage took his manhood between her lips and kissed it. When it had responded fully to her inexpert stimulation, she crawled onto his lap, crushing the stiff phallus deep into her stretched vagina until it was fully embedded. Then she fell asleep, exhausted but content in his arms, his hands cupping her ample breasts.

After listening to her story, the three pupils had a much deeper regard for their dormitory mistress. It was unanimously agreed that Polly should be made dormitory prefect, acting as the spy for Miss Armitage, reporting carnal activity amongst the other girls. She was so successful in this that all six girls were finally drawn into the net.

The whole dormitory became a nest of lust and sensual activity. Nightly floggings, mutual masturbation and orgasms went on with one pupil or another. Polly was Miss Armitage's chief assistant with punishment. Janine was an effective second-in-command to Polly. One of the pupils did not involve herself in the group activities, preferring to watch from her bed quietly after a slapping, rubbing herself to a private fulfilment as the others enjoyed their nightly frolicks. 

Polly had now attained a power-base which gave her authority in the dormitory, though she allowed Miss Armitage the control necessary for a mistress.

It was Miss Armitage who told them about Father James having an unholy interest in young ladies - or rather their virgin bodies. He was not a repulsive person by any means. Indeed, he was a handsome, tall man in his late thirties. Some of the girls found him attractive and used him as the object of their sexual fantasies. However, he was known to enjoy observing the Principal meting out punishment to the wayward young ladies. The Principal herself was a rather large lady, stout bodied with an erect bearing, black hair greying at the temples beneath her head-dress. Her face was stern, putty-coloured with no chin to speak of.

Father James visited every morning except Fridays when an older, much milder, Father Williams taught religious instruction. It was strongly rumoured by those who had been queuing in the punishment line in the Principal's office that Father James' cassock showed distinct signs of arousal, like a rod poking at the fabric, during the punishment.

Furthermore, the girls giggled at the thought of him copulating after the event with the Principal as she bent forward over the desk. It seems that sounds of slapping had been heard in the Principal's room after the girls had left it. Rita insisted that she had put her ear to the door after one such punishment to hear Father James chastise Miss Angelica.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 07



'This is to repay the over enthusiasm and enjoyment of your severe punishment ma'am,' he is supposed to have said. 'Bend over! Lift your dress! Higher!'

'Oh, Father James. Don't be too hard on me. I swear I only try to do God's will.'

'It is God's will that you be punished by me. My own will be done.'

Then followed distinct thwacks of leather on bare flesh, accompanied by stifled squeals. After several blows he was heard to chastise her further.

'You are leaking, ma'am. Juice oozes from your secret hell. You are on fire! That is an intolerable sin! I shall need to plug the crevice until it stops!' 

'Oh Father. Punish it thoroughly. I am sinful and wicked; in need of correction. Do not spare your rod, but trounce it soundly. Be rough, I pray you!'

Muffled grunts and whimpers followed. Rita swears that she then put her eye to the key-hole and saw Father James, cassock hoisted to his waist, thudding his loins vigorously against Miss Angelica's bare behind bearing signs of whipping. She saw that huge, wobbling mountain of white flesh, streaked with many scarlet weals, tremble under the onslaught. The Principal was groaning piously as the piston-like shaft brought her to a high peak of sexual exhilaration. Although fascinated by the sight and sound of Father James pounding at Miss Angelica, mewling with delight, Rita was frightened of being caught spying, so fled to her class-room.

Polly had watched Miss Armitage's reactions during the tale, seeing the signs of envy gleaming in her eyes. She accused her of having carnal desires for Father James.

'Of course not!' Miss Armitage insisted.

'Show, then!' Polly demanded.

'No!' she implored. 'Don't! I lust after no man. Only young ladies in my care. YOU, Polly!'

'I don't believe it. Hold her down!' And two of the young ladies pinned Miss Armitage to a chair, twisting her arms behind the chair back whilst two more, with a whoop of delight, unfastened her bodice and bra, releasing the meaty breasts with their distended nipples, to slouch on her swollen belly. Meantime, Polly and Janine lifted her legs high, pushing the hem of her skirt to her waist, exposing the nylon briefs hiding her fleecy secrets. The gusset was damp with arousal.

'There,' Polly cried. 'Lust juice in abundance! On the bed with her!'

The young women handled her roughly, face down, onto the end of a bed, removing her clothes in the process with the exception of the panties. Polly eased the nylon garment away from the ample cheeks of her bottom, sufficient to uncover the hairy space between the thighs. Sure enough, her arousal was plain to see. Polly reached over to part the fleshy lips.

'Look! Our mistress is aroused by the carnal thoughts of Father James large penis!' There were gasps of shock. 'Admit it! You lust after him!'

'No, no!' Miss Armitage wept.

'Hand me the tawse, Rita.' As Rita opened the drawer to select the multi-thonged device, Polly continued. 'Confess that you've allowed that his male flesh to penetrate your private place. You've disregarded our trust, opening your female secret to this mere man. And just for lust!'

'No!' the slave wailed.

Polly pulled the nylon back over the mounds of flesh as she took the whip from Rita. Without pause she lashed at Miss Armitage's ample mounds. She responded with a cry of anguish with a recoiling jerk of loins.

'Confess!' Polly cried as she lashed a second time across the pale nylon-clad flesh, now swelling under the knotted cords.

'I confess,' Miss Armitage finally admitted, through her wails.

'Tell us about it,' Polly demanded with a third stinging lash. 'Take them off!' she instructed the other girls. The nylon panties were peeled over the buttocks, wincing at the touch, until Miss Armitage was devoid of all clothing. Her substantial cheeks of flesh were criss-crossed with red weals from the many knotted thongs of the tawse. The plentiful curls covering the crack between her thighs were sugared over with honey. The weals stung and burned their way into her belly.

'Father James is a lewd person with an attraction which is difficult to resist,' she sobbed. 'He is handsome and charming. After I was punished by the Principal for a minor offence, Father James soothed my hurt by gentle massage. He found my honey overflowing and Miss Angelica insisted that he doused my carnal heat by beating it, then dousing it with his demon, already aroused and ready for the assault. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. A swarthy pole of flesh. The circumcised head was scarlet and blue, with a purple ridge. It looked magnificent and awesome.'

Polly reached into the drawer of weapons and selected a large dildo, covered with nobbles and lumps.

'Then he nudged the head of his large penis into my secret hole. It was wonderful being entered by a servant of the Lord.'

Polly placed the dildo between the swollen lips, slowly inserting it to the fullest extent. Miss Armitage shuddered with pleasure as the device stretched her inner folds.

'Like that?' Polly asked.

'Bigger! Hotter!'

Hands groped for Miss Armitage's nipples and soft breasts, caressing her thick thighs as the invader thrilled her bubbling furnace. Six pairs of hands roved over her body, exploring every crevice. She was rolled over onto her back so that her sensitive parts could be better handled. Thick thighs were pulled apart showing her wrinkled pink lips.

Janine got onto the bed, straddling Miss Armitage's head, pushing her young leaking lips to the waiting mouth. Rita bent over her thighs, running her lips across the quivering belly until it sought out the hard button in the midst of her black forest. Stiffened tongue jabbed lewdly at it as the dildo continued its relentless plunging in and out of her orifice, wet with arousal.

'He was superb! Thrilling!'

Miss Armitage went into a reverie, concentrating all her senses on the sensations in her loins and burning furnace. Fluttering in her belly, trembling loins, hips starting to jerk out of control. Her groin lurched at the dildo, meeting its thrusts. Choking grunts as the breath was pushed from her lungs with every lunge of the large invader.

'Ooh! I've been very wicked! The devil is about to leave me!' she groaned into Janine's groin.

'She's coming!' A yell!

And a wave of exhilaration swept through Miss Armitage's belly which arched convulsively. She shouted out in agony several times as the orgasm slammed into her time after time. Polly had trouble in keeping the dildo in place whilst Janine had also reached her climax, grinding her vulva over Miss Armitage's face, using her nose to stimulate her sensitive bud, sliding her slick lips on the mistress's mouth, pouting, kissing and licking avidly.

When Miss Armitage had recovered she was allowed to sit up. Polly looked at her sternly, whip still in one hand and dildo in the other, smeared with her honey.

'To complete you punishment, you will give me head - your head. Whilst you do that, Rita will strap your bare buttocks until I come. So, you'd better be good.'

Polly removed her skirt and briefs, lay herself on the divan, opening her thighs wide to display her fully aroused sex. She propped herself up on her elbows behind her so that she could watch the humiliation of the mistress. Miss Armitage knelt at the base of the divan, staring greedily at the open lips spread in front of her.

The delicate lips, pale and crinkled, half-open leading to the secret orifice, shimmering with Polly's own sweet love-syrup. The sparse golden hair trapped the light like threads of gold, the hood protecting her responsive button which would soon launch her into paroxysms of delight. Miss Armitage licked her lips. She had never seen such a heavenly instrument of pleasure. Perfect! She moved her head between the warm thighs to plant a kiss on the sweet lips.

Thwack! Miss Armitage recoiled as the strap fell across her buttocks, making them tremble and colour.

She now started in earnest, licking the folds eagerly, stabbing her stiff tongue under the hood to stimulated the pink bud.

Thwack! Another stinging smack made her renew her efforts to bring Polly to a climax.

Polly watched with triumph as the strap flay the chubby buttocks, and the mistress gratified the yearning in her burning passage, licking at the flames of lust. She was good with her mouth and tongue. Very good! It must be the result of years of experience.

As the sixth stroke was sighing through the air, Polly felt her excitement surge, her bottom jerked, the tongue jabbed at her trigger bud. With a judder of release, Polly howled quietly. Her hands grasped Miss Armitage's head, pressing it her hard to her groin, rubbing the gash against her nose and chin, as the strap connected with the reddened cheeks.

Instruction at the college was excellent. The young ladies were schooled and groomed. As well as some basic academic instruction, they were taught posture and carriage. They were given speech lessons, and the importance of elegance and breeding. They were also taught other arts, not on the curriculum. The art of seduction and sexual titillation.

Convincing fake orgasms were practised, with effective screams and yelps. During their four terms, the whole range of vocal expression was taught, together with the correct physical responses to any form of sexual molestation - and physical abuse.

During the Christmas break, Polly was to witness scenes of sexual excesses she didnt think possible within her family!



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 08



Chapter Eight

It was Christmas. Polly usually came home for the holidays but had agreed to spend the first two nights with Rita. At the last minute, however, plans changed and she travelled home after all. She took a taxi from the station, to find her parents out when she arrived at the house. All was in darkness.

Feeling tired, she decided to retire to bed early. The central heating was on a high setting and Polly woke hot and damp. After tossing and turning for a few minutes, she decided to get herself a glass of milk. Not bothering to slip on her dressing gown, she stole quietly down the back stairs. No one would see her at the back of the house.

Her parents, if they were at home, would be in the lounge, a large room at the front of the house. Her short nightgown allowed the flow of air to cool her thighs as she crept down the dark staircase. There was no need to switch on the kitchen light. The one in the fridge was enough for her to see to fill her glass with cool milk.

A faint cry coming from another room made her pause in her movement. She cocked her head to listen. Nothing! It must have been an owl, she thought. After pushing the door of the fridge closed, Polly glanced through into the dining room. She was stopped in her tracks, dumb-struck. At the far end of it were a pair of multi-paned glass doors leading into the drawing-room beyond.

It was a spacious room, with French windows in the far wall, now heavily curtained. Through these doors had come the muffled sounds she'd heard. Polly could see through into the lounge. The lighting was subdued, and the sounds were muffled. But the action was clear enough. Sitting round the room were people in cloaks, wearing hoods attached to the back of the collar. Some were black and others red. Polly could only see the people on the opposite wall, so she had no idea how many were there.

Tip-toeing silently into the dining room, she got a clearer view. There were four or five couples. On the low coffee table, placed in the centre of the room, stood a woman in a long multi-coloured, almost transparent chiffon gown. Her figure could be clearly seen in profile through the fine silk; wrists were tied above her head to the large sturdy chandelier directly above her, lifting the spiky breasts high, nipples jutting against the silk.

The woman's head was dropped onto her chest, loose hair hanging over her shoulders, in an attitude of contrition. Before her stood a man, carefully weighing a multi-thonged whip in his right hand. He was testing it's balance. He was speaking sternly to the woman. Though muffled, Polly recognised her father's voice. When he turned sideways, Polly was staggered to se that he was naked beneath the cloak. His familiar thick penis was half-filled, swaying before him.

He was shouting. 'Mary, you're nothing but a filthy whore! We shall whip the devil out of your lecherous body!' Polly watched in horror as her father raised his arm, coiling his body back.

'No!' the woman screamed, twisting her body to try to escape the blow. But, with a twist of his waist he brought the vicious whip hard across the buttocks of the helpless woman. There came the crack of leather thongs biting deep into the soft flesh of the cheeks. Muffled sobbing sounds accompanied the jerk of the torso. A second blow followed immediately, stinging into the tops of the cheeks even before they had recovered from the first slash. A painful cry came from the twisting body.

'You must be punished, else you won't truly repent of your carnal sins.'

A third slash cut into the flesh. Polly could see the long weals forming on the pale skin. Like angry red stripes along fine mounds of swollen flesh. Polly put her glass of milk on the kitchen table and stepped cautiously into the dining room to get a clearer view. Not too close in case she could be seen, although very little light penetrated through the glass panes into the dining room.

'Don't hurt me, Albert! Please! I promise not to do it again.'

Although faint, to Polly's amazement, she recognised her mother's voice. She was clearly being punished for something she'd done. One of the silent men then stood. As he did so, his cloak fell open. His waist was encircled by a bright yellow sash above his dark mat of hair and rearing phallus. He crossed to the suspended body to remove the silk gown with one swift move. It fluttered to the floor, draped over the edge of the table.

'No mercy!' His voice was stern and hard.

The pale curves of her mother's slender body reflected the glow of the lamps. Her jutting nipples were clearly aroused, pointing to the ceiling. The warm glow emphasised the red weals crossing her buttocks. Another of the men went to a switch beside the window and touched it. The chandelier started to lower from its pulleys. Polly had often wonered what that switch was for, but had never found out. Now she knew!

When Polly's mother was slumped on her knees in the centre of the table, her head thrown back, tears streaming down her cheeks, two other men, each holding a short cane, came to either side of her and pulled her thighs apart.

Polly's father put a hand between her trembling thighs.

'Look! Just look at your secret gash. Hot and wet with lust! The fiend within needs to be beaten out of it. Feel, brethren.'

'I can't help it, Albert,' his wife squealed. 'I can't control my body. The devil has control of it.'

But the men approached the beaten figure, lewdly groping between her thighs to sample the wetness.

'Beat it out of her,' one of them cried. 'Then the others.'

The men at the side of her, after feeling her soft folds, slippery and hot, began whacking her buttocks with alternate smacks. Instead of a sharp crack, the sturdy canes made more of a thud as they sank into the flesh. Polly was now aware that beneath the red robes were naked women. They stood, calling out words of encouragement to the men. Eyes gleamed through the eye-holes in their hoods. One pair of large breasts were hung heavily over her ribs, heaving with excitement, their nipples hard and inflated. The breasts on all the women Polly was able to see were supported by a halter-like bra's, lifting their weight forward, presenting their distended nipples.

'Enough! Untie her!'

The beating stopped. In the sudden silence Polly could detect the sound of her mother sobbing. From where she was watching, though, Polly couldn't see the effect of the punishment. She knew her mother's cheeks would be red, perhaps even purple, burning and stinging. She also knew that the churning in her loins would encourage more juices to flow, preparing her passage for the great idol of manhood. Perhaps several. Her own juices ran freely during a good spanking.

'Come and feel the waters of hell seeping from the depths of this depraved woman. Tell me if you think she should be spared or thrashed.'

'No, please, don't,' the woman begged.

The man in the yellow sash, stood behind the victim, pushed his hand through her legs, fondling her vulva.

'This is a bad case of molten lust overflowing the carnal passage. It needs to be thrashed and then doused. It may require several attempts.'

The chandelier was lowered further until the woman was on her back. The two side-men unfastened her wrists before stretching her legs upwards. When the ankles reached the chandelier, Polly noticed the fastenings round them. They were quickly snapped onto opposite branches of the chandelier so that the captive was resting on her neck and shoulders.

The red, swollen cheeks of her buttocks were now fully visible. The object of their examination was exposed to them, separating the red cheeks. The wrinkled lips were puffed, thrusting obscenely from the outer folds, and liberally coated with her secretions.

At that precise moment, Polly froze. Her breathing stopped. The short hairs on the back of her neck bristled with fear. Her scantily clad still figure was reflected dimly in the glass of the connecting door. A slight movement in the glass drew her attention. To one side of her own reflection was the image of a head. It was this head which had moved; like a ghost. The face of an ugly old man, eyes gleaming.

Polly's throat dried and her legs turned to jelly. She was paralysed with fear. The figure was sitting behind her, only a metre or so away. He must have been there all the time. Who was he? He scared the pants off Polly. She dare not move for fear of attracting the attention of the people in the next room. The ritual action was continuing before her eyes but they hardly took in what they saw. In her alerted mind, she watched her father raise his whip arm. Polly realised that he was about to whip her mother's genitals. That tender, secret flesh; the soft entrance to her private folds of pleasure.

She gasped in disbelief as the cry of pain penetrated the closed doors. The body lurched as the searing lash bit into the delicate lips, the stabbing pain flooding the body. Polly was alarmed. Just then she felt a light touch on the cleft between the cheeks of her bottom. Her body stiffened and reflexed at the touch. She was powerless to do anything about it. The roughness of the texture raised goose pimples on her flesh. She went cold all over.

It was a finger, prodding at her rear cleavage. It slid down the peach-like skin of the cleft until it reached the puckered, slightly damp orifice of her anus. There, it paused, gently nudging at the aperture, testing its tightness. Polly felt a wave of acute embarrassment as the finger reached her downy covered vulva, stabbing into the wetness, exploring the soft folds.

Her body had reacted to the sensuality of the scene before her and lubricated her vulva with a profuse seepage of her juices. The muscles in her bottom clenched tight. The intruding finger reached even further, making contact with her private button. Her loins gave an instinctive jolt of excitement at the stimulation.

In the next room, her mother's vulva was being paid more attention. The members of the party came up to her exposed genital area one at a time, lifting their hood to spit on the battered open lips between stokes of the cane. The hard nipples were pinched hard, the small breasts pulled hard and slapped. Her screams went unheeded. Her inner thighs were blue and purple with bruises, cris-crossed with red weals. The skin had broken here and there, showing strings of ruby-like spots. Spittle was running down her thighs and over the defiled genitals. Her body was being tormented. Her face was wet with tears.

Polly was rooted to the spot. Her loins were churning. She couldn't control her muscles. They twitched and trembled at the stimulating rough fingers groping into her secret passage. She felt disgusted by the attentions of the ugly old man. But, to her shame, the coiled spring inside her groin was tightening. The old man was an expert at manipulating the vulva and clitoris. Abruptly, the finger was transferred to the rear opening and pushed deep into the tight passage.

The lubrication of her honey gave the finger ease of entry. Polly jerked and grunted involuntarily as the finger invaded her rectum. Her orgasm exploded inside her, unexpected, flooding her whole body with a feeling of ecstasy. Her mind was in a whirl. Everything was blotted out whilst her mind gave way to the thrill of the flesh; unable to take anything in.

As reality slowly returned, she felt a roughness pushing between the cheeks of her bottom. A snuffling; a turbulent sniffing round her genitals. Hands were holding on to her waist firmly. It was the old man's head, pressed into her thighs, sniffing her young juices, pushing his nose deep into the crease. His tongue lapped at her entrance. His rough stubble chaffed her thighs, soft and tender.

Polly saw that her mother had now been lowered to the table, buttocks over the edge, thighs splayed wide. The man in the yellow sash was thrusting at her savagely. The small spiky breasts were bouncing wildly. The two sidesmen held her down by the shoulders, watching intently. Her head was thrashing from side to side, lips drawn back in anguish. Polly could not hear the sighs and whimpers her mother was making. 'Come on!' a woman cried out loud. There was urgency in her voice. Others joined in the verbal encouragement. 'Pour your magical balm into the burning hell of this bitch. Put out the fire of her lechery. Harder! Deeper! Reach into the farthest corner! The embers still burn in every tiny fold. Dry her passions.'

The large man gave a violent lurch, followed by erratic thrusts as he poured his seed deep into the burning shrine.

'Enough!' she cried in anguish.

'It still burns with lust and desire!' Her husband retorted. She opened her eyes as he positioned himself between her thighs.

'Your fiend is standing up, all excited! Your own devil is swaying his head.'

'He's searching for your hell mouth, Mary! He'll not rest now until he has entered your furnace to slake the fire burning hot in your hell. You dirty slut! Let him in!'

There were many voices now, shouting.

'Fuck her! Split her open! Rip her nipples off! Tear her legs apart!'

Polly watched her father violate her mother's slender body, ravish the womanly shrine with great pounding loins. Two men lifted her from the table. Her legs were wrapped round her husband's waist, exposing her back. Two of the women began lashing her back and hips as she was bounced roughly up and down on the urgent penis within her. The victim's voice became shriller until it turned into a long high moan.

The old man behind Polly finally stood. Her knees crumpled beneath her. She sank to the floor, exhausted with fear. Eyes closed, her brain no longer registered the terror. Her brain was numbed, refusing to take in any more. She was powerless. Without feeling. Completely in the old man's domination. Hands gripped her shoulders and turned her kneeling body.

Opening her weary eyes, Polly was confronted by a heavy, turgid penis. The veins stood out thickly, pulsing, giving the shaft a gnarled appearance. The foreskin was half retracted showing the purple knob. It had a pronounced ridge, smeared with a stinking cream. It reminded her of a toad. Dark and blotchy. The old man's muscles no longer had the strength to erect the phallus fully upright. It was pointing horizontally from the thick grey curls at its base. The shaft was not properly hard and rigid. It smelled of stale urine and sweat.

Taking her head in both hands, the old man pushed his repulsive phallus at her mouth, prising open the lips. Unable to resist, Polly allowed the filthy monster to penetrate her mouth, soft and warm. As it started to thrust into her, Polly was glad she had fully mastered the art of deep throat. Her tongue pressed upwards, pushing the stiff rod against the roof of her mouth. She took hold of the rough baggy trousers still hanging over his meagre bottom, jabbing into her with short urgent strokes.

There was a grunt. A jerk. Her mouth filled with spurts of warm, acrid-tasting fluid, strong, almost bleach-like. She gulped hard to prevent the starchy substance from choking her. After a moment of stillness, the softening cock was withdrawn. Polly watched its gnarled skin slip out of her mouth, drooping over the small testicles, tight and wrinkled. The image of the toad returned.

Glancing at the glass doors, Polly was horrified to see the hooded people stood watching her fellate the old man. Finding strength in her need, she jumped up and ran from the room. Her naked body staggered and fell up the carpeted staircase, rushing into her bed-room. Locking the door, she leaned heavily against it, panting for breath, before throwing herself under the blankets. The taste of the old man's sperm lingered in her throat as she finally fell into an exhausted, troubled sleep.

The following morning, everything was as usual. A grim-faced mother sitting quietly eating her toast. Her father read The Times as he sipped his coffee. Polly wondered if she had dreamed the whole episode. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she was sure it had been a particularly realistic dream.

Her mother looked at her. 'You didn't drink your milk last night.' The episode was never referred to. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 09



The dependence of Miss Angelica on flagellation came as a revelation to Polly. It seemed that the whole college was a school for discipline and correction. It was late one evening, when Polly realised that she had left a book in the chapel near the confessional earlier that evening, that she first became aware of Miss Angelica's addiction.

It was a warm dark night. Everyone would be in their dormitories finishing off home-work or reading. Polly ran swiftly in her nightdress to the chapel. Others would think that she had gone to the toilet. But when Polly entered the small chapel by the small side door, it felt scary. Dark grotesque shadows were thrown against the stone walls from the moon shining coldly through the windows. She cringed with uneasiness.

Her breathing stopped with suspense and apprehension. She thought she had heard voices! Polly strained her ears. There were the sounds again! Polly thought she recognised the voice of Miss Angelica. No, it couldn't be. It held a curious whimpering tone, completely alien to the principal's usual dominant nature. But it was.

'What's she doing here at this time?' Polly wondered. Creeping stealthily nearer, she realised that Miss Angelica was kneeling at the confessional. Polly's first reaction was to leave quickly and silently. But curiosity overtook her intentions. What on earth could the Sister have to confess about, she wondered? She crept still nearer, dodging behind the large columns. Now she was near enough to hear properly.

'You are so domineering. I must confess to you. Forgive me, father, and punish me for my sins.'

'Tell me about them, sister, so that I can decide the level of punishment you deserve.'

Father Emmanuel!

'Today I pushed a pupil over my knees and punished her. And I experienced carnal thoughts during the act.'

Miss Angelica was knelt upright on a hassock before the confessional box. Her prim, iron-grey hair was fastened in its usual bun at the back of her head. Her hands were clasped behind her back.

'What did you do?' came the muffled response from behind the curtain.

'The young lady's bloomers were stained with a lustful discharge, so I lowered them to examine her genitals with lewd intentions. The sight of her young soft vulva roused my wicked thoughts. I am unable to resist yielding to them.'

'What else?'

'Unable to stay my curiosity, I told the young lady that it was necessary for me to examine her innocence by testing the gap with my fingers to see if her juices were running?'

'And were they?'

'Indeed, father.'

'Describe what you saw.'

'She is a ginger-haired girl, looking younger than her eighteen years. The growth of hair round her genitals was sparse. She had small, but delightful inner labia. They were a delicate pink and a little wrinkled. They peeked shyly from the narrow gash of pale folds. Damp with her juices.'

'Did you see the secret entrance to her sanctuary?'

'I did. It was puckered and damp with her sweet nectar.'

'Only damp? Not wet?'

'My caresses encouraged the syrup to seep more freely. I could smell her young odour. Fresh and sweet. Then I accused the girl of having carnal thoughts.'

'Did she agree?'

'Yes. Although red from embarrassment, she said she was thinking of being felt by a young, handsome stranger. Then I whipped her cruelly for having such thoughts.'

'What was the girl's response?'

'She wept bitterly. Begged forgiveness. The pain was awful for her. So I bent over her to kiss her tender stripes and lick her wounds. I tasted the juices of Eve.'

'In such a virgin, sister?'

'Indeed, father. The devil wastes no time in burrowing into our young women. I thought it my duty to lick away those signs of wickedness. Her loins squirmed. She whimpered until I felt her groin in the throes of her modest orgasm. Then I sat her up and kissed her, made her promise not to say anything, and sent her back to her dormitory. She thanked me for correcting her and bringing her peace of mind.'

'Was this the same girl as before, or a different one?'

'This was the same Olive.'

'And did your own juices bubble up whilst you toyed with her's?'

'They did, father. Copiously! I had need to calm my wicked thoughts by use of the altar candle I keep in my room for such emergencies.'

'Sister, I think your story was told me partly to inflame my own passions as well as to confess to your own lewdness. You have succeeded in raising the devil's head in me. You must then douse his anger.'

'I will, father. If that is your will.'

'It is! But first, you must be punished. The flames of hell must be flogged out of you. You must be chastened thoroughly. There must be no mercy given. Come into the chancel.'

Polly watched Miss Angelica go into the chancel, through the wide arch. The pupils already spoke of wicked salacious acts between the principal and the father. But Polly thought it was all speculative rumour. Now she would find out for herself. She crept up to behind the pillar to watch the proceedings.

To her astonishment, the chancel was lit only with red and yellow flickering lights. Like flames. There, standing to one side, was Father Emmanuel flexing a long thin cane. Miss Angelica was standing in profile, her head bowed.

'Remove your habit,' he barked.

As Miss Angelica slowly undid the buttons and cord, allowing the black garment to fall to the floor, the father unpinned her hair-bun. The locks fell in a torrent down her back to her waist. Polly gasped inwardly. Beneath the habit Miss Angelica was naked!

Perhaps she had come already prepared for the punishment, leaving unnecessary garments behind. Her large buttocks jutted proudly with a full, weighty overhang. The waist was thick, the wide, swollen belly supporting two pendulous breasts resting on it. Large saucer-like areolae with peaks of nipples resembling walnuts. The hips were stout, her thighs muscular and bulky.

Flashing red and yellow lights gave her body the appearance of being consumed in flames. A single spot mounted on the floor was trained on the inner fork of her hips. 

'Raise your arms and grasp the rings.' Miss Angelica reached up to grip two sturdy iron rings suspended from the high ceiling, turning to face Polly as she did. Her eyes opened wide at the arm-pits, covered in thick coarse hair.

'Open your legs, devil-witch.' He kicked her calves apart from behind her. 'Angelica,' he blurted, 'your own hell is inhabited by demons, stoking the fires of lust in your own loins.' He reached between her thighs and sank his fingers deep and rough into her genitals.

'There!' he cried, reaching over her shoulder to push the sticky fingers in front of her face. The Principal's fissure, now open for inspection, fascinated Polly, illuminated by the single spot. Plump and swollen, framed in thick, wiry hair, the tousled curls soaked with her plentiful juices. Her fat wrinkled inner lips dangled, like large, dark testicles, from her vulva throbbing as though gasping for breath.

'We need to flog the devils out of your furnace, Angelica. They are busy stoking the fires deep inside even as we speak, the lava of hell pouring from the abyss. The cane, I think! The cane! We must flog it out of you.'

Moving to one side of her, Father Emmanuel struck the long cane across the buttocks with a sickening thwack. It sank deep into the flesh. Miss Angelica grunted loud with the sudden pain. The body recoiled, buttocks and breasts shuddering obscenely. Several more ferocious thwacks followed, beating the quivering cheeks without mercy. Father Emmanuel bellowed at her.

'Your mind is filled with evil thoughts. With wicked thoughts of lust and sex. They must be thrashed out of you. You must be chastised.'

Once again, Father Emmanuel raised the willow cane high, bringing it down with an almighty slash across the wide expanse of white buttocks. There came a stifled scream of pain, the loins lurched and bucked. Another slash brought up another angry weal. Slash! Slash! Slash! The cheeks were beaten remorselessly as they jolted and recoiled to more throaty screams of pain. The red stripes swelled up in long crimson weals.

The fat folds of flesh between her ample thighs oozed forth yet more juices. Then Father Emmanuel paused, stood to one side of the heaving, sobbing body, considering his next line of attack. He was determined to thrash her to submission.

'Flog me hard, father,' she begged.

Snatching up a leather strap, Father Emmanuel aimed a blow across the suspended breasts. They swung with the sudden onslaught. As Miss Angelica recoiled against the excruciating blows, her breath taken away by the force of the blow. More slashes into the heavy pendulous meat sent the bags of flesh juddering and swaying, the skin rising in angry-looking ridges of crimson.

The victim was howling with burning pain. Her loins on fire. Oozing, dripping hot lava onto the drooping lips.

'Now, kneel down!' Father Emmanuel barked. Miss Angelica sank onto her trembling knees, buttocks thrust out. Her wrists were soon hand-cuffed to the legs of the altar. Polly had not before noticed the fixtures on the legs, but realised they were usually hidden by the altar cloth, which reached the ground.

Father Emmanuel returned to his station to the side of Miss Angelica's shaking bottom, blistered with sore blotches, where he took up the cane once more. Aiming the willow cane carefully at the cleft between the cheeks, with a faint whistle through the air, the cane slashed across the tender lips, sending up a spray of honey. Miss Angelica shrieked in terrible pain as the thin cane inflicted blows on her most sensitive lips.

'No more, I beg. No more! I am punished enough.'

'I shall now extinguish the flames, sister. Your great healer is ready to enter the furnace of hell to quench it with holy water! And she is ready to receive it.' 

'No!' bellowed Miss Angelica, struggling. But Father Emmanuel was a strong man. He had twisted her arms painfully behind her, forcing her against the edge of the altar in front of her. Her struggles were in vain.

'The only true healer of the tormented spirit,' the Father gasped. 'Receive its blessing, sinful woman.'

Polly expected to see him penetrate the hot gash with his rampant penis. But no! He snatched up a thick wooden cross from its stand on the altar. It was about thirty centimetres long, constructed from oak with a rounded end.

'Oh, no, Father!'

Father Emmanuel thrust the thick cross deep into Miss Angelica's gaping entrance. She screamed out in agony as the heavy oak bar was forced in, stretching the bruised lips, as far as the cross piece would allow. He rammed it in and out harshly, pitilessly.

'Overpower the devil. Harrow and torture the demons. Draw out the fires of hell and extinguish the flames of lustful desire.'

Angelica roared in her agony! But her stout body soon responded to the carnal act. The groans turned to moans and whinnying sounds. Pumping the cross in and out, Father Emmanuel slapped the lacerated buttocks with his other hand, sending shards of pain throughout Miss Angela's belly.

She no longer heard his demands. She no longer cared. Her mind blotted out everything except the feeling within her loins. Her exhilaration grew, burning loins trembling with hot delight. Thighs shook. Buttocks fluttered. She was fast climbing to the peak of agonising delight.

Holding the cross deep inside the passage, Father Emmanuel pushed his face into the gap, pressing his stiff tongue into the wet forest of hair, searching for the other opening. He found it! As he thrust the stiffened tongue as far as he could into the back passage, Miss Angelica jolted her body as her orgasm swept through her like a wild torrent, swilling through her body, loins trembling, legs of jelly, head flaying from side to side.

It was true that Father Emmanuel had enjoyed the merciless flogging of the Principal with open mouth and a bursting manhood. No longer able to contain himself, he moved behind her thighs, lifting his cassock. Removing the dildo, he took hold of his shaft, aimed it at her gaping vulva and thrust hard between her wet, delicate lips, deep into the vagina. She groaned with despair.

Grasping hold of the coils of grey hair to steady his action, the Father plunged hard and fast, gasping and grunting with effort. The excitement spiralled, his loins tensed, dragging at his groin. He tugged cruelly on the hair as he thudded into her, pulling his victim's head back, her lips drawn back in a snarl of pain. Suddenly, his scalding seed gushed turbulently into the heaving mass of shaking flesh.

'Receive my blessing,' he cried with joy. 'Hallelujah!'

Miss Angelica's head collapsed to the floor, moaning loudly, vagina filled with thick sperm, her buttocks and breasts lacerated with read weals. Father Emmanuel released her wrists. She threw herself round his legs in supplication.

'Thank you father,' she gasped. 'I feel calmer. I feel scourged of the devil. Let me lie at your feet in worship.' Miss Angelica pushed up his cassock to kiss and lick his sticky, softening penis and testicles. She felt great joy and happiness in the service of this mighty master.

'And, in return, you have drawn his vile seed from my loins, now let us both rest a while.' 

Polly, aroused by the carnal sight, found herself manipulating her own clitoris wildly. She was moaning to herself in anguish, twisting her buttocks erratically. But Polly could not hold back her groans. Miss Angelica stiffened at the faint uncontrolled whimper.

'What's that? Is someone there?

Polly held her breath. Father Emmanuel stood and walked out into the chapel. There, in the darkness, he found Polly crouching. The white of her dress gave her away. He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her roughly to her feet.

'What are you doing here? How long have you been crouched there?' His voice was angry and threatening.

'Please, father,' Polly whined, 'just now. I came for a book I left here at prayer.'

Sister Angelica, now dressed again in her black habit appeared in the doorway. The red and yellow flame-effect was gone. Just the pale light from a single bulb shone in the chancel. She peered into the intruder's face.

'It's Polly! Have you been snooping? Tell the truth.'

'No, miss. I came for the book I left behind.'

'What did you see?'

The question was spat out. Polly paused.

'Tell me!' Miss Angelica slapped Polly hard across the left cheek. A stinging crack which snapped her head to one side. Then a second smack on the other cheek snapped it the other way. Polly was blinded for a few seconds by the severity of the blows. She was too taken aback to cry.

'Nothing miss! I was searching for my book.' Polly's eyes were rolling with fear, her cheeks colouring red.

The principal and the father exchanged significant glances. He nodded. She took Polly by the arm, gripping tight.

'Come in here, Polly. You must be punished for being out of bounds. And let me tell you that if I hear any suggestion at all that you have been telling others about interrupting my confession, you will be whipped to within an inch of your life. Do you understand?'

Polly nodded. 'Yes, miss,' she muttered, barely audible. Polly was shaking with apprehension.

'Let this be a foretaste of what you can expect.' The Principal had a reputation for savage punishment. But, when Father Emmanuel rolled up his sleeve, Polly realised that it was he who would correct her. The principal pushed Polly across her lap, lifting the night-dress above Polly's waist, exposing her gleaming white buttocks.

With cassock hanging loose Polly was able to catch sight of Father Emmanuel's straining shaft. She gazed at it, imagining that she was across her father's lap. Father Emmanuel's eyes were glued to the plump mound of inviting flesh, soft and warm, between Polly's slightly parted thighs. The agitation in his loins was almost unbearable! He was desperate to spray into this gorgeous young female.

With the open palm of his large hand, Polly was smacked hard on both cheeks. They coloured quickly. Red blotches raised on the pale flesh. After several hard slaps, he paused for breath. Then, he took over with the cane. The stinging blows jerked Polly's cheeks. They bit deep with a burning pang. Her stinging loins sang with a scalding agony. She moaned loudly, squirming her thighs. Tears welled up in her eyes.

As though unable to control herself, Polly grasped the erect cock for comfort. She imagined it was her father. Beneath his cassock, she squeezed Father Emmanuel's hard penis!

'Oh, father!' she gasped.

The burning in her loins was encouraging her flow of honey before his covetous eyes. To the lustful Father, the young folds of Polly's flesh were electrifying, her grip clenching and unclenching on his cock. It was hard as iron. Then, to both his exhilaration and surprise, he experienced a second ejaculation, his hand raining blows on those young perfect cheeks. His offering dribbled over Polly's fist.

Too aroused to stop at this, Polly moaned in anguish, twisting her buttocks erratically. Without thinking, the flood in her hand was rubbed into the softening flesh which had released it. The gathering tension in Polly's groin tightened and tightened. Then it snapped with a great relief.

'Father! Father!' Polly screamed with ecstatic release, the surprised Father Emmanuel's penis now drooping between his thighs. He stopped the beating, believing the girl to be crying out for God's mercy. Polly's buttocks were bruised and split.

'Let that be a lesson, young lady,' Father Emmanuel spoke sternly, though embarrassed by the stains showing at the front of his cassock.

Polly returned to her dormitory determined not to repeat anything of what she saw to the others. But she secretly determined to visit the chapel the following week.

But, the following week the chapel doors had all been locked. More care had been taken to ensure that Miss Angelica's confessions were made in private.

But Polly now had the ultimate weapon for blackmail, should it ever be necessary. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 10



When the time came for Polly's schooling to finish, Fagin sent for her. They met in private, in the Principal's office. He was reading Polly's final report.

'You have first class report, my dear. The Principal is fulsome in her praise of you. Gives you a title of deputy-governess. That's good. With a final certificate of this quality, you should do well. However, my dear, the time has come for us both to cash in on your excellent abilities. I have a very important business associate who is looking for a young lady to carry out a special mission for him. It will be exacting, but enjoyable work for a young lady of your spirit and bearing.'

'What sort of mission?'

'Well, my dear, let is just say a most dangerous and painful one. It involves international travel, with life at the very top. Much excitement.'

'Does it pay well?' Polly inquired.

'My dear!' Fagin chuckled. 'For the both of us.'

First, she was to be tested for her suitability and endurance under torture. Polly laughed at the idea.

'It's more like a James Bond story!'

'Do not mock, my dear. In this line of business, your life may well depend upon your endurance.' Fagin warned her that this man was to be her temporary master, stern and demanding. He had been saving her innocence for just this sort of wealthy international operator.

He gave Polly a visiting card with an address written on it and a date. The address was in fashionable Knightsbridge, London. The date was three days away.

'Present yourself there at ten in the morning.'

'Right, Fagin. I shall miss you.'

'Now, my dear, remember all I've taught you. Don't shrink too soon. Ulysses likes to think he has tamed his women. The harder and more sophisticated they are, the better he likes it. He has a strong arm, my dear, so beware! Obey his orders to the letter. He has no mercy on disobedience. If he likes you, it may be some time before we meet again. If not, we may never meet again! So, good luck, my dear.'

Three days later, the weather had turned to rain. Nevertheless, Polly's taxi managed to draw up outside the main door to avoid her having a lengthy walk. It was an imposing building with an impressive entrance. She was met by a door-man in standard uniform, who checked her name against a card he took from his inside pocket before ushering her into the lobby.

The spacious hall she entered had a marble floor, its centre covered with a circular silk Chinese rug, overhung by a large, cascading crystal chandelier, and dominated by a large sweeping staircase, thickly carpeted and bordered by a wonderfully carved and turned, polished mahogany balustrade, curling up to the next floor. The walls were superbly decorated in panels, each painted with a rustic Gainsborough-like scene. Luxury spilled over. Polly was overawed!

'It's now or never to show your metal, girl!' she told herself.

The doorman spoke in a phone then escorted her to the back of the hall to a lift which ran up a shaft behind the staircase well. The lift itself was rather like an old-fashioned Pullman car; polished mahogany, metal folding doors mirrors and water-colours, with an Axminster carpet on the floor.

'Fifth floor, ma'am,' he said indicating the buttons to the left of the doors.

The lift purred quietly passed the intermediate floor, coming to a hissing halt at the fifth. The doors sighed open. Facing the lift stood a serene-looking blonde lady, probably in her twenties, with excellent posture and bearing. In fact, rather like an army officer in stature, which, as Polly would late discover, is precisely what she was. She smiled warmly.

'This way please ma'am.' Polly was escorted into a deeply carpeted spacious room, expensively furnished in cream and white. Large French windows leading onto a deep balcony overlooking Regent's Park dominated the far end of the room. They were framed by heavy brocade curtains and swagged pelmet.

An elaborate Adams fireplace surround was surmounted with a huge gilt-framed mirror with elaborate wall-lights. Standard lamps, deep sofas and arm-chairs, occasional tables were scattered round the room. A Steinway grand piano in an ebony case stood elegantly in one corner, lid open, music on the stand.

'The music room, ma'am. Please make yourself comfortable. There's coffee on the table in the corner, there.' And the elegant lady disappeared through double doors to the right.

'Phew!' Polly said to herself. 'Some pad! There's plenty of money here, alright!'

Polly went over to study the view. After a few minutes, she heard sounds coming from the room the lady had gone into. It was unmistakable! The faint sound of whipping. Stifled cries followed each lash. Polly's mind was intrigued. What should she do? Was this a part of the interview; an initiative test to see how she might respond to such an incident?

The heavy door muffled any sound, but there could be no doubt in Polly's mind. Would she be interfering in a private affair and so lose her opportunity, or would she lose it if she ignored the activity. Correction figured large in the advertisement, so she decided to bite the bullet and find out what was going on.

Striding across the room, she flung open the door to be met by an incredible sight. The elegant lady who had shown her into the room was naked from the waist up, standing between two desks facing each other, wielding a long thin willow cane. Bending face down over the desks, on either side of her, were two figures. Male obviously! Khaki shorts were round their ankles and the cheeks of their bottoms were protected by thin cotton underpants.

The blonde beauty was swishing the cane, striking first one, then the other, in alternate strokes. At each stroke, their was a suppress grunt as the buttocks jolted with the sting. Polly glanced quickly round the rest of the room. It was fully panelled in oak, with desks if similar wood, a range of occasional chairs and furniture appropriate for an expensive private office. Large bunches flowers were filled every corner of the room adding much colour in the strong sunlight shafting through the tall windows. The rain clouds had gone. It was a glorious day!

The elegant lady looked up at Polly. Without saying a word, Polly strode forward. She hooked her thumbs into each side of the underpants of one man, jerking them to his knees. Reaching between his buttocks she quickly explored the sac hanging there before searching further to find a poker-stiff shaft of average proportions. It quivered at her touch. Polly then repeated the action with the other man. Turning to the elegant lady, she snatched the willow cane from her. 

'I don't know who these miscreants are,' she said, allowing herself a few quick swishes of the cane through the air as she spoke, 'but they have the effrontery to show their naked sexually aroused state in front of ladies. That demands extra punishment.'

And, without further comment, Polly landed a heavy lash on each naked bottom in turn. Red weals formed immediately on the already crimson-blotched buttocks to squeals of pain. Several more lashes followed in quick succession until their buttocks were cris-crossed with scarlet stripes.

'Stand up and turn round!' she barked. They did, with bowed heads. Polly was surprised to see they were so young. Neither could have been more than nineteen, or twenty at the most. Their shining bodies looked lightly oiled, being devoid of hair which made both handsome erections seem longer than ever.

Their skin was olive-toned, their curly hair dark brown. Although their stomachs were firm and flat behind the elegant upright columns of flesh and their shoulders well proportioned, there was nothing muscle-bound about them.

'Now you!' Polly ordered the elegant lady. Without demur, and a look of admiration in her eyes, she unfastened her skirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. Stepping out of it, she bent over the armchair between the desks. Tan-coloured silk stockings, held in place by scarlet garters, covered the long shapely legs. Displayed above them was a gorgeous bottom of rounded cheeks encased in flimsy silk briefs which did nothing to hide their luscious contents.

'How dare you display your bare breasts to tease these young men, causing them to show their arousal, and be punished for it?'

Without any preliminaries, Polly quickly thwacked the willow cane across the buttocks. The lady yelped with both surprise and pain at the ferocity of the blow. After administering several stinging thwacks, which made the girl screech and flinch, Polly turned to the two youths who were staring drooling at the proffered cheeks of female beauty.

'Take off her briefs,' Polly commended.

They turned to look at her with curiosity. They clearly didn't understand her. Polly stepped forward to drag down the flimsy garment, the girl flinching at the touch of her bottom. Her long graceful legs parted slightly to expose a plump vulva with inner lips pouting at Polly. Soft tousled curls surrounded the private entrance, now moist with its arousal.

Polly slid the cane between the labia, giving a couple of light strokes of the cane, almost lovingly, making the genitals quiver, before gesturing to the first youth to penetrate the impatient lips. He understood that perfectly, wanting no second bidding. Taking his lengthy, stiff manhood in his hand, he pointed it at the entrance, then pushed it in firmly to its fullest extent.

'Now, hard regular thrusts!' she commanded, lashing his taught buttocks with the cane on each thrust.

The girl was now moaning and twisting recklessly, holding on the arm of a chair, pushing her loins at the pounding phallus. Exhilaration increased with each stroke, her fingers finding her private bud, pushing it hard against the pumping shaft to increase the stimulation. Excitement began to peak. It became almost unbearable. The scream stuck in her dry throat. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

Then, she finally shrieked with triumph as an orgasm overwhelmed her body, crashing all over her. This was sufficient to trigger off the youth's climax, his groin juddering as it thudded against her, spurting his release into the passage. He remained buried deep inside it until the tremors had finally subsided.

Polly stood watching, breathing hard with the exertion of the whipping and the eroticism of the copulation. The youth's tensed bottom was aflame with the effect of the lashing. When they separated, all three looked steadily at Polly. The girl stood gently rubbing the smarting cheeks of her blotchy scarlet bottom before she spoke.

Polly studied her slim figure, slender waist, small white breasts with perfectly proportioned nipples pointing upwards, soft golden curls - now tousled and dark with love juices round the orifice - protecting her fleshy mound. Her parted thighs displayed the swollen lips of her vulva, the pink button peeking out from it's little hood.

'These boys don't understand English,' she said. 'They are Greek youth. I am Helen.' As she spoke to them briefly in Greek, Polly studied the two youths. Greek Gods indeed! Lightly tanned, smooth, clean firm bodies. Beautiful! Polly thought. The one who had just serviced Helen showed his softening manhood but the other one rose majestically from the groin, hard and smooth.

The torpedo-shaped shaft, with a slight sideways bend, was perfectly made for woman's enjoyment, Polly thought. The skin was smooth. The veins and vessels well hidden, with the testicles hanging gracefully from the base, the left ball hanging slightly lower than the other in its wrinkled sac.

Whilst Polly's attention was held by the youth's cock, all three suddenly turned on her, the girl wresting the cane from her grasp whilst the youths held her arms tightly behind her. She could feel the strength rippling through them. Helen hastily unbuttoned Polly's blouse, tearing it apart revealing her braless breasts, still heaving with her exertions.

'For bursting in on our privacy you must suffer the consequences, ' Helen said, now unfastening the waist band of Polly's full skirt and unzipping the side fastening. The garment fell to her ankles.

Helen stood facing Polly who returned her defiant look. Taking a step back she looked her up and down.

'So, you call these breasts, do you?' Helen spoke disparagingly as she knocked the breasts abruptly to each side. 'I've seen bigger tits on a child!'

'Better than those puny bags of flesh you call tits!' Polly spat back venomously. Helen flushed, her eyes gleaming with cruelty.

'Bitch!' She struck her across the face with an open hand. Polly's head recoiled from the blow. 'Step out of that and bend over that desk,' Helen ordered harshly. 'You will be thrashed for your impudence!'

The youths pushed Polly roughly onto her hands and knees. She was wearing her best silk knickers with flaring, lace edged legs. Even so, they clung to the cheeks of her pert behind, leaving little to the imagination. The bending action dragged the gusset into her moist gash, the parted swollen lips displayed her honeyed curls in each opening of the knickers.

Before she realised what was happening the first lash of the cane stung her cheeks. Polly yelped with the unexpected bite of the willow, her loins recoiling with a jolt from the blow.

'You - must - learn - manners,' Helen emphasised each word bringing the supple cane down on Polly's silk-covered bottom, 'and - not - interrupt - others' - en - joyment!' Each blow expelled air noisily from Polly's lungs mingled with sobs of pain as the cane struck mercilessly against her soft cheeks, rapidly reddening under the smacks.

Helen spoke brusquely in Greek. One youth bent over Polly yank down her knickers. The dragging of the silk against her tender flesh made her yelp and twist spontaneously. Helen looked at the reddened orbs, gently caressing them with the palms of her free hand. Polly flinched at first but soon relaxed as the cool palm soothed her burning cheeks. Her thighs parted to allow freedom of movement.

The fingers fluttered between the cheeks finding their way into the damp warmth between them, paddling in the slipperiness of the lips. Two fingers were slid between them to explore the fleshy inside folds, sending Polly into raptures of whimpering delight. After a few moments of soothing treatment, Helen spoke quietly to one of the youths.

Almost at once, a blunt shaft was presented to her mouth. The gorgeous stiff cock she had just been admiring was before her admiring eyes. She took it lightly between her lips, softly chewing against the foreskin, pushing it up and down the knob end. Polly licked and nibbled the perfect cock until it was thrust fully into her mouth. She took it all in.

The other Adonis had recovered his stiffness and was quietly masturbating over her buttocks, whist the blonde softly whipped the wonderful bottom, whilst still paddling her fingers in Polly's oozing vagina. In the centre of her groin the little bud was throbbing with impatience. Polly was rubbing it rapidly, bringing her to the boil.

The cock sliding in and out of her throat was getting more erratic, jerking and lunging into Polly's cheeks, until a burst of liquid squirted down her throat. This was followed by five more spurts, filling her mouth with the glorious sperm of the Greek god.

'Aah! Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes!' Polly cried, head thrown back, as the excitement grew within her. Without warning the cane struck her across the thighs, catching the swollen labia. Polly yelped as a second thwack struck her yet again catapulting her to a violent screaming orgasm. Polly collapsed exhausted into Helen's arms.

After the foursome had recovered, the youths dressed themselves, and left the room to Helen and Polly. The two naked women looked into each other's face searchingly.

'She's very attractive,' Polly thought. 'I wonder if she's bi-sexual?' Their eyes continued to spar with each other, looking for an opening. Helen took a small step towards Polly, who held her hands out to stroke Helen's small rounded breasts.

'They're not puny bags, Helen. They're beautiful. So innocent looking and attractive.' And she bent her head to fasten her mouth onto one of the hard nipples. 

Helen closed her eyes, murmuring with ecstasy.

'And your vulva is the most perfect I have ever seen! The young Gods were agog by its beauty. Where did you find one so perfect?'

Her hand reached out to cup the soft pliant flesh between Polly's thighs. Polly lifted her head, took Helen's face between her hands to look at her with soft dreamy eyes. Their mouths met in a long delicate kiss of parted lips and closed eyes. Tongues sparring, each body embraced the other, hands caressing hips , backs and soothing the luscious orbs of their bottoms. Still burning with the fire of the cane, they were healing over, clenching at the touch.

'Let me kiss your stripes better,' Helen said, turning Polly round. 'Bend over.'

Polly turned and bend forward, supporting herself on the edge of the desk, whilst Helen knelt behind her. Her moist tongue and kisses fluttered over the angry-looking weals, her hands stroking the outer slopes. Once more, Polly felt her sex becoming aroused. Her thighs parted, her bottom thrust backwards towards her tormentor. Helen tucked her face into the cleft, nose rubbing down the damp gash, her stiffened tongue darting in and out to find the little hood.

'Mmmm. That's exciting. Men are good to fill a woman's passage but a woman's tongue is unbeatable at stimulating the bud,' Polly muttered with sighs of delight at the sweet fluttering she was feeling deep within her womb.

'Come then,' Helen suggested. 'Lie beside me.' And the two women lay down full length, head between each other's legs. Both tongues sought out the mystery hidden between their thighs, teasing the delicate little buds, lapping at the damp gash, pressing their breasts to the other's body.

Their whimpering and squeals of ecstasy harmonised, with occasional sudden cries as a tongue flicked the spot. Sighs became heavier, breathing shallower and faster. Bodies began to tremble against each other. Bottoms quivered, loins thrust against the loving mouths. Muscles lurched and jerked. Cries became shriller.

Suddenly, Polly started pounding her palms against Helen's sensitive bottom, making Helen cry out in painful anguish. Helen returned the gesture slapping as hard as she could. Polly screamed as the stinging pain strained at her belly. She bit Helen's soft inner thigh to cries of agony and exhilaration. Helen returned the love bites as the two bodies rolled over and over, lashing around, hands flaying against the soft mounds.

Muffled cries as mouths gobbled ravenously at the fleshy lips, teeth nibbling. Tongues snaked lewdly into the velvety folds, until Polly howled with the voluptuous joy of her orgasmic happiness. Helen's shouts of delight and exultation followed immediately, as she clasped her thighs tightly over the head between her thighs gving her such thrills. The two women continued to eat the other's vulva hungrily, converting to loving kisses and embraces as their paroxysms drained away, leaving a feeling of tranquil fulfilment in their bellies. The warm glow of their buttocks added to their contentment.

The two ladies got dressed and were repairing the damage to their hair styles, when another door opened. Two more women entered the room with smiles of appreciation.

'That was great, Polly and Helen! We have it on video, so you can watch the play-back later. I am Lucy and this is Anne. Before finally agreeing to your appointment, let us hear something of your back-ground. Shall we all sit down.'

Polly studied the newcomers. Curiously enough, both ladies were the same height, and the same as Helen. All three were blonde and looked as though they could have worn the same clothes with comfort. Their ash-blonde hair was swept back and plaited into a large bun on the summit of the head. They wore light blouses, open to the waist in the warm weather. Polly could distinguish their small, rounded breasts. Both their nipples had stiffened - no doubt aroused by the performance - pushing into the silky fabric. Short skirts showed off the length of their elegant legs. Perfectly shaped.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 10



Anne pressed a bell on the desk. No sooner had Helen and Polly settled in deep arm chairs, Lucy and Anne on the large sofa, than the door opened and one of the Greek Gods appeared with a tray of coffee which he placed on the low table beside Helen. He then went. During the conversation, she poured four cups of black strong coffee and handed them round.

'First, tell us something of the corrective establishment you were deputy governor of.'

'It was a home for young women who had become unmanageable at home or who had been abused by their fathers or other member of the immediate family. You'd be surprised how cruel some members of a family can be to their own female relatives.' 

'What were the ages of these young girls?'

'From eighteen upwards. There were separate establishments for younger people.'

'And their backgrounds?'

'Varied. But many were from middle-class, respectable families.'

'What was the purpose of the establishment?'

'We were to teach the young ladies better forms of behaviour. The problem was often sexual frustration in the adolescents. This often meant correcting them with corporal punishment, since they had been brought up to believe that was essential for absolution. I am aware of that myself, since I was often punished by my father, though it was a mainly playful and erotic experience. Only when mother insisted did father beat me in anger. But even then I revelled in the pain, and the obvious signs of arousal in father's trousers gave me extra enjoyment. I would fantasise that he was fornicating with me as the slipper thudded against my sore bottom until it was swollen and burning crimson. Then I reached my orgasm.'

'Do you masturbate?'

'Frequently! Often with self flagellation.'

'Good! Tell me something of the house of correction.'

' A new inmate would be asked about her back-ground. Evidence from the family had already been taken separately. Any sexual abuse was referred immediately to a special counsellor, with treatment under carefully monitored conditions. Some of the girls, though, felt the need for correction to continue, because they had become accustomed to accepting thrashing as their only form of absolution. It then became our task to help them to overcome this fear.

'For some girls, however, it had become their main means of excitement and sexual arousal. With inmates such as these we arranged one-to-one therapy sessions. The girls often felt the need to retaliate against their thrashing. Physical revenge! We would act out that need as surrogates.'

'Can you give an example.'

'Yes, young Penny. Penny was a slim girl. She had the body of a waif, really. Small budding breasts with tiny nipples, and narrow hips. Thin legs which did not meet at the thighs. Her groin was covered with thick curls of mousey-coloured hair. She was unusually hairy down there. Her brown eyes were very large and innocent. Her head was often bowed in supplication and her demeanour subservient.

'In fact, Penny was the daughter of a senior captain of industry - since ennobled by the Queen - who was often away from home. During his absences, her mother would keep track of Penny's misbehaviour. So when her father returned, she would be punished for all of them during one week-end. Each misdemeanour had its own level of punishment. Being disobedient, for example, called for five strokes of the leather strap. Any sexual breaches six strokes of the cane. Not doing homework, or minor offenses, three strokes of the slipper. And so on.'

'What sort of sexual breaches?'

'Well, Penny told me that her mother would be waiting at the door for her coming home to examine her briefs for tell-tale stains resulting from sexual arousal. This might happen after a goodnight cuddle with the current boyfriend. Or, she might even discover her in his arms in the front porch, perhaps fondling his manhood. That would count a double punishment!'

'I see! Go on!'

'In a perverse way, Penny came to look forward to these corrective activities. She found them exciting because she remembered the reason for them and re-lived it in defiance as the smacking was going on. Though painful, she was able to orgasm more intensely after them.

'One day, Penny lost her temper with her mother who happened to be in her negligee at bed-time. Not an unusual occurrence. She'd been drinking. Again, not unusual! When Penny came in from the cinema, she was told to remove her briefs. Well, Penny had been on the back row with a boy, and there'd been some heavy petting. So, of course, her knickers were well stained and very wet.

'Her mother was horrified! "I shall keep these as evidence for your father when he comes home," she threatened. "You dare!" Penny shouted back. There was a tug of war with the knickers and Penny lost her temper. "Right! That's it!" And she ran into her father's study followed by her mother, railing at her. "You slut! Man crazy! Let any man feel you down there, between your legs, I suppose."

'Penny took the cane from the drawer of her father's desk. Her mother turned pale at the thought of what her daughter intended. She backed away but stumbled and fell into an arm chair. "No! You daren't!" she pleaded, scrambling to her feet unsteadily. Penny leapt at her, forced her over the arm of the chair, raised the hem of her night-dress to expose her mother's bare buttocks and thrashed her mercilessly.'

'Didn't the mother struggle?'

'Oh yes! To begin with, but Penny had her knee on her neck, so she soon submitted herself to the punishment. When Penny had recovered some of her composure, she saw how swollen and scarlet her mother's bottom had become. She realised she'd gone too far. It was also the first time she had seen her mother's genitals. They were surrounded by mousy-coloured curls, now glistening with juices aroused by the beating. The lips were a dark brown, wrinkled, inflated and obviously aroused.

'Penny told me that at that moment she realised that her mother must be sexually frustrated during her father's long absences. By this time, her mother was sobbing bitterly in the cushion of the arm chair. Her father kept a large red candle on his desk in case of power failures, which were fairly common at that time. It was one of those sugar-candy sort of candles, but much thicker than the usual Christmas affair. It was stuck in a short wooden holder.

'Penny swept it up, holding it by the wooden base, and placed it against the wet entrance between her mother's thighs. When her mother eased her bottom towards it, Penny realised that she was in need of solace. So she thrust it deep into her gash, pushing it in and out with firm regular twisting strokes. The sobs turned to whimpers of sadness. Then to sighs of happiness. Finally to a cry of triumph as she reached an orgasm.

'Penny felt disgusted with herself. And with her mother, though she couldn't understand why. She replaced the candle on the desk, leaving her mother slumped in the chair, and went to her bed.

'The episode wasn't mentioned after that. But it was with some apprehension that Penny waited for her father's homecoming. She was not disillusioned. On the evening of his return, dinner was taken normally, though conversation was strained. When the meal was over, her father, as was his custom, changed into his dressing gown for comfort.

Eventually, Penny was asked to go into the study for her regular punishment. There, she was made to bend over the very same arm of the chair she had used to thrash her mother. Standing to one side, her mother watched with a smug smile on her face. Her father took hold the hem of her dress, threw it over her hips, and dragged down her briefs to expose her bare cheeks. And her secret flesh!

'As I said, Penny was very hairy. She was secretly proud of her profuse growth. It aroused the boys! Besides covering her genitals, her fleece spread down each thigh, and reached up the crease of her bottom as far as to the brown puckered orifice. But now, in front of her father's probing gaze, Penny was mortified with embarrassment. Although she had been spanked many times, it was always with her cotton knickers covering her bareness.

Nothing was spoken until her father had the cane ready in his hand, swishing it about. Penny was waiting with some excitement mixed with trepidation. There was a thrill of sexual anticipation stirring deep in her belly.

'You know what you've done!' her father barked. 'I'll not repeat the offence. But you shall repay your mother with twenty-four lashes.'

Penny was shocked! Her throat dried up and the colour left her face. Twenty-four lashes! Could she stand it?

She steeled herself, stuffing the side of the cushion into her mouth to bite on. Then came the first lash. It stung and burned. Searing pain convulsed her body. Then another on the other cheek. The pain exploded in her mind as her loins jerked in response. The third was equally severe, crossing the previous stripes, stinging her with blinding agony. Penny could feel the flesh swelling as the blood pounded in the weals.

'The fourth; the fifth; the sixth followed in quick succession. Three biting slashes. There came a welcome pause. The throbbing pain engulfed her loins. Her little button, however, was burning with desire. Surely her father would see her sexual arousal in her crack, seeping onto the tufts of hair surrounding it. Then the lashes continued. Penny felt the strokes less and less as a numbness engulfed the buttocks. Suddenly, unable to control herself, a golden jet spurted from her, trickling into the folds of her skirt hanging over the chair arm.

'"Filthy bitch!" her mother cried as her father laid on with renewed vigour.

'There was a pause after the next half-dozen. Penny could hear her father breathing hard with the effort. She was aware of her soaking genitals amidst the heat of the throbbing cheeks. There was an atmosphere of steaming sexuality. Opening her eyes, Penny saw through her tears that her father was standing at her side. Her eyes opened even wider when, inside his dressing gown, she saw his thick shaft, rigid with arousal!

He must have been seriously stimulated. Penny's attention was distracted from the painful strokes he now inflicted on her burning cheeks. She studied his shaft swing from side to side as he swung the cane. She wanted to feel it! Inside her! Her incredulity was increased when, after the next six strokes she watched a bead of liquid formed on the end of his pleasure rod. She had the mad desire to lick it off!

Then, quite suddenly, as the next stroke whipped her buttocks, Penny cried out as the surge of an orgasm slammed into her. Her buttocks twitched and jerked around. Her father, of course didn't recognise it as an orgasm. He thought she had finally succumbed to the beating.

'There were yet more surprises in store for Penny. When her father had finished the beating, she felt her passage entered roughly, filling her to full stretch. It wasn't her father. He was still stood beside her, his stiffened manhood now openly displayed before her eyes. The intruder was rammed in and out, stimulating Penny as she kept her eyes glued to her father's stiffness, waving about in front of her eyes.

'Then she realised what it was! Her mother was wreaking revenge with the very same candle Penny had used on her! To her shame, Penny impulsively reached out and grasped her father's stiffness, feeling its iron-hard stiffness. It jerked at her touch. It was wonderful!'

Listening to Polly's story, Lucy's eyes were now shining with excitement. 'My God! What an erotic experience!'

'Well, just then, her father struck her insensible bottom with the willow cane, and knocked her hand away from his manhood, but not before it erupted. Penny reached a second, even more intense orgasm as her father's cock sprayed his sperm over her buttocks. The candle was withdrawn and her parents left her sprawled indecently over the arm of the chair, buttocks on fire. Her face wet with tears of pain and shame, she rubbed the cheeks very gingerly, spreading her father's emission into the skin, trying to soothe it.

'It was a long time before the burning abated, and Penny was able to stand again. In all this time, darkness had fallen. Chastened, Penny crawled her way slowly and painfully up the stairs to her room.

'Passing her parent's bedroom door on her hands and knees, she had her final surprise. There were distinct sounds of flogging from within the room. The door was ajar and through the dressing mirror, she saw reflected, her mother laying on the edge of the bed, legs splayed wide open. Her father was stood naked between his wife's thighs, thrusting heavily in and out. She was striking her father's buttocks with his slippers in rhythm to his lunges. At that very moment, her father exploded deep into his wife's nest. Then they saw her!'

'So, that's how she came to be referred to your establishment.' Lucy asked.

'Yes! She had become so used to regular punishment that we often beat each other. In fact, we became lovers until, eventually, she met a sensible young man who reformed her approach to sex. She later told me, though, that she and her now husband enhance their sex life with the occasional bondage and punishment.'

'What about your own family background?'

Polly told them of her father's disappearance and of her own erotic spankings by him up to the time of his journey to Greece.

'That all seems more than satisfactory. I take it from your earlier performance in this room that you are bi-sexual and enjoy spanking and bondage with both sexes.'

'Indeed!'

'Good! All that remains now is for you to correct Anne and myself. Helen will help you. We have spied in your love-making and deserve to be punished.'

Polly stood with an air of indignation. 'Spied on us?' she barked. 'Voyeurs demand a special punishment. Stand up!'

The two ladies obeyed. Polly and Helen began stripping their clothes from their bodies until the two stood before them in only their silk panties. Their almost identical breasts were small and rounded with stiffened nipples pointing upwards. Narrow waists with flat bellies, covered where the thighs join with blonde curls glittering with trapped sunlight. Wide hips, well-cushioned behind with soft cheeks, smooth and alabaster. Their legs were breathtaking, perfectly shaped and of equal length. Polly was again excited by their elegant figures.

'Stand with backs to the window. Place your hands round your calves!' Polly barked. The two did as she asked, folding their bodies to display buttocks against the silk fabric stretching over the rounded cheeks. The cotton gusset already darkened with moisture.

'Look! They have the impudence to become aroused and coat their knickers with their private nectar! That will require additional stokes.'

'Don't be too hard on us, please!' cried Lucy with fear in her voice.

'Gently, Helen. Don't be angry with us!' begged Anne.

Polly and Helen had stood on either side of the two bent women flexing their canes, swishing them through the air to practice the swing. The miscreants were waiting with anticipation for the first assault.

Polly nodded! Swoosh! Smack! Both canes struck the centre of the cheeks simultaneously. The buttocks winced with the sudden sting. Red weals swelled up beneath the silk where the canes had struck. Swoosh! Smack! The second swipe cut across the beautiful globes of soft flesh, raising another long weal on the writhing cheeks. A third and a fourth in quick succession forced Anne to cry out with the stinging pain.

Lucy still bit her lower lip, absorbing the hurt with a flinching movement. She lasted out the two final lashes with tears streaming from the corner of her eyes. The buttocks burned with thrilling fire as Anne whimpered in delightful agony.

Polly and Helen put their canes down and carefully peeled the silk knickers down the women's legs. They recoiled with the soreness of the dragging silk until the garments were stepped out of. The tormentors examined the swollen, bruised lattice-wok of angry flesh.

'To show there is no anger intended,' Polly told them, 'we will lick your wounds.' She and Helen knelt behind the moaning women, applying their wet tongues to the burning flesh. The women flinched to begin with but were soon enjoying the soothing nature of the healing tongues. Of course, their punishment had aroused their womanhood. Pink lips were pouting with glistening honey begging for attention from the tormentors.

Polly finally obliged Lucy's desire, pushing her mouth at the damp opening, prodding her stiffened tongue under the little hood. Helen did likewise for Anne. The moans turned to squeals of gratification, the buttocks pushing gently against their intruders.

'That's enough,' Polly cried standing. 'But stay where you are.' The bowl on a table by the window was full of various fruit. Selecting a large banana, Polly placed its end between the swollen lips, pushing the cool length slowly into the waiting passage. The feeling of a cool object filling the burning orifice added greatly to the thrill of being penetrated.

After pausing with it fully inserted for a few seconds, Polly began pulling it out and pushing it in, slowly at first, but gathering pace until Lucy was crying out with exhilaration as her excitement grew within her. Her loins flexed, her groin shook and her thighs trembled until, with a long wail her body lurched and convulsed with orgasmic release.

Anne was similarly affected. If anything, the banana Helen selected was rather longer than Polly's. The result was the same, though, Anne following Lucy's animal cry of joy as an orgasm ripped through her loins. 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 11



To Polly's surprise, she was told to attend for interview at a building in London's Park Lane. She dressed with care. Simplicity was her aim; innocence and purity. White frilly panties, flimsy halter bra to accentuate the perfection of her breasts, peach-coloured silk stockings and suspenders. Then she slipped into a long white dress with full skirt, a simple wrap-over tied at the waist. It was sufficiently sheer for her darkened nipples, carefully emphasised with pigment, to show through.

Her ash-blonde hair was perfectly plaited and swept up into a bun at the top of her head. The slightest touch of make-up to bring out the shape and colour of her lips, her eyebrows lightly pencilled, her face touched with powder to obscure any sign of perspiration. A spray of lavender anti-perspirant. She looked sophisticated, haughty and self-assured. But she couldn't prevent soiling her knickers with her juices, running with anticipation.

A taxi took her to an exclusive mansion in Park Lane with an impressive entrance. A door-man in standard uniform met her, checking her name against a card he took from his inside pocket before ushering her into the lobby. The spacious hall she entered had a marble floor. Its centre, covered with a circular silk Chinese rug, was overhung by a large, cascading crystal chandelier.

Dominating the hall was a large sweeping staircase, thickly carpeted and bordered by a wonderfully carved and turned, polished mahogany balustrade. The walls were superbly decorated with panels depicting rustic Gainsborough-like scene. Luxury spilled over everywhere. Soft music was piped into the hall. She recognised Mozart but not the piece of music.

'It's now or never to show your cool, girl!' she told herself.

The doorman spoke softly into a phone before escorting her to the back of the hall where a lift-shaft ran up behind the staircase well. The lift itself resembled an old-fashioned Pullman car; polished mahogany, metal folding doors mirrors and watercolours, with an Axminster carpet on the floor. Once inside, the doorman pressed a button on the outside controlling the destination of the lift. It sighed swiftly to the penthouse floor. The doors slid open and Polly was faced by a butler waiting for her. A well-built man, tall and imposing in a blue livery.

'Follow, please.' He had a slight foreign accent. Polly followed him down the corridor, thickly carpeted, through double mahogany doors into an airy, sunny room.

'Wait, please,' the voice instructed. He went out through the double doors at the opposite end of the room. Polly looked round at the comfortable furniture, the oil-paintings on the walls - she recognised a Gainsborough (wasn't that the one which was stolen from a gallery a couple of years ago?) - heavy brocade curtains, festooned with thick tasselled cords, perfectly swagged. The off-white deep-pile carpet, the tall windows opening out onto a balcony overlooking the gardens, all gave the impression of extreme wealth. Standing in this expanse of luxury, Polly felt very vulnerable and meek. The doors re-opened. The butler stood to one side of the entrance.

'Go in, please.'

Polly entered into a magnificent large room. It was impressive. Similar tall windows filled the wall to her right. The floor was polished rose-wood parquet. A tiger skin rug in front of the large open fireplace of Italian marble, a finely carved rose-wood surround topped with a huge mirror in an ormolu frame. The fire-grate was over-flowing with plants and flowers, adding a splash of colour contrasting with the cold marble. To the side of the fireplace Polly noticed a strange object. A large wooden wheel, painted in gaudy, gypsy-like colours, it stood over six feet high. It was tipped slightly backwards, at its centre, a large central hub. A spot-light was trained on it. On a dais at the far end of the room stood a superb French table, heavily carved and gilded.

Sitting behind the table was a well-built man with a shaved head. He had a dark beard and moustache encircling his mouth. Round his neck was a gold chain and locket, his body swathed in white robes. He was gazing silently at Polly, weighing her up. At the end of the table Polly saw another man. This one was a dwarf. Polly's eyes opened wide at the sight of his a misshapen body and humped back. He had a large head topped with slicked-back hair, a flat face split in two by a black moustache. A permanent grin gave him an altogether satanic appearance. He was perched on a padded stool. He, too wore a white wrap-over robe. Polly noticed a polo neck beneath it.

She walked slowly to the centre of the room, taking in the surroundings before facing the table with head held high, her clear eyes fixed on the man in the centre. Her gaze held a suggestion of insolence. She noticed that he had a pierced ear, with a ruby gem hanging from it. When he finally stood, her heart stopped. She gasped with surprise and admiration. He was well over six feet tall. He came round the table to the front of the dais. Legs apart, he crossed his arms, looking her up and down with undisguised lechery.

Polly swallowed hard. Her legs felt like jelly. This man was a dominating dictator. She felt his power overwhelming her. Pulling herself together, she spoke. 'What is your name?' she asked in a loud voice full of authority. His eyes opened in surprise at the unexpected verbal thrust.

She went on. 'You stare at me as though I was a new slave to pleasure your body. If so, you make a big mistake.'

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the dwarf's smile widen. His teeth were discoloured and uneven; chisel shaped and slightly protruding. Almost like an animal's. Still, the man said nothing. His eyes narrowed. Their piercing stare un-nerved Polly. Her heart was thumping against her ribs. She continued, a little unsure that she might have overdone the impertinence.

'What is it you want to ask of me?'

The man's head raised fractionally as he viewed the beautiful poised figure in pure white. He was going to enjoy correcting this lady's arrogance. She would groan with mercy before he finished with her.

'You must be Polly. My name is Ulysses,' he barked in a perfect English accent. 'The God of hate. Master of the concubines.'

His head nodded slightly in the direction of the windows. Polly recoiled in surprise. There, on each wall between the four tall, bright windows, was a woman. Five altogether. They were manacled at the wrist and ankles. Round their throats was a gold collar attached to a chain which was pad-locked to the ornate wall-light fittings.

'I don't ask you anything. I tell you! Show me your breasts!'

Polly stepped backwards. Her body stiffened.

'Certainly not!' She must show some resistance, though her whole being was screaming out to throw herself at his feet, begging for punishment at his hands. But that moment was nearer than she thought. Polly was grasped from behind by a pair of strong arms. Her wrists were roughly twisted behind her back. Glancing over her shoulder in surprise at the suddenness of the assault, Polly realised that she had forgotten all about the butler. He had followed her into the room in complete silence, to take her by surprise.

With one rough gesture, the butler grasped her gown at the shoulders, dragging it over her body until it crumpled in a heap at her feet. Polly couldn't move. Her arms remained pinned painfully behind her. The flimsy bra was torn from her, hurled to the carpet in tatters. She stood in only her panties before the might of Ulysses. His eyes opened with appreciation at the sight of her young breasts, perfectly proportioned with proud nipples pointing at his face.

Ulysses slowly shrugged away the white robe, sweeping it away from his body with a wide gesture of his arms. He stood before her, his powerful body naked except for a pouch, almost transparent, enveloping his genitals. It was well-filled, the swarthy contents straining at the fine silk. There was no sign of hair on his body except for the dark growth encircling his mouth. The skin was a pale-olive, with a lustre as though burnished. There was real strength in those shoulders and thighs. His stomach was taught, knotted with thick muscles.

Polly examined the tall, strong figure, admiring the muscular thighs, the tight cheeks of his buttocks, powerful arms and wrists. Their eyes held each other for a brief moment. She was completely hypnotised by the power behind that steel piercing look, whilst trying to put on her own insolent stare. She knew he was her new master. But not yet!

At a nod from the master, Polly was forced to her knees in front of the all-powerful figure. Her face almost touched his groin, bulging with manhood. At the table, the dwarf dropped from his stool with a nimble vault, darting to Ulysses' side. Leering at Polly, watching her reaction, he unfastened the string of his master's pouch, snatching it away to reveal the magnificence beneath. Her face froze.

His penis was certainly not puny! It was, in fact, a handsome weapon, enhanced without the usual forest of hair to conceal its base. The circumcised knob was as a large ripe plum, a mottled pale mauve and scarlet, topping the thickening shaft, rippling with veins and blood-vessels. Down the upper skin of the shaft, Polly noticed a prominent scar forming a diagonal ridge. The result, no doubt, of some sadistic activity gone too far. Polly was mesmerised by the sight. She must have that magnificent phallus. Ulysses saw the greed in her eyes.

'It is not for you, I fear. It is reserved for princesses. You are only fit for servants. That one, for example.' Polly followed his nod. The dwarf had flapped opened his gown to display an erect cock. It reached beyond his chin, almost touching the end of his nose. Other parts of his anatomy may have been stunted, but not that! The dwarf howled with laughter, then kissed away the pearl from the end of his own penis.

Polly was awe-struck by Quilp's gruesome cock. She couldn't resist taking the shaft tentatively in the grasp of her hand. It throbbed with expectation and lust, as though it had a life of its own. 

'That shall be yours, Polly. After you have lost that haughty insolence. We call my servant here, Quilp, the sadistic dwarf. His body may be stunted, but not his appetite, nor his strength.'

Quilp bellowed with laughter again. Then, giggling, he moved to her. Leaning forward to take her left nipple, in his wide mouth. He sucked on it hard, filling his mouth with soft breast, the nipple inflating fully. Polly took a deep breath as the nipple tingled with delight. Then he bit hard. Polly screamed with the sudden pain, her body lurching!

The dwarf bellowed with laughter as he ran round the back of his master to Polly's right. There he took her other nipple between his lips to suck the breast deeply into his mouth before biting hard again. This time she was prepared, but even so the pain ripped through her, jolting her groin. Tears filled her eyes.

At a snap of his fingers Quilp trotted to the table and returned with a triple-thonged whip. Each thong was about a metre long, with three tight knots in it. The handle was of ivory, inlaid with a fine gold pattern. Polly's eyes stared at this impressive weapon. This would certainly hurt. Her loins rippled and juddered with excited anticipation. Ulysses too was becoming excited, his penis responding with arousal. Polly watched its dignified progress, slowly filling, jerking and lifting. The knob turned a deeper purple, the shaft thickened until, at last, it stood proud and rigid. Remembering Fagin's instructions, she started to struggle and scream. The butler had a hard time containing her.

'No, please! Not the whip! You dare not!'

Polly wasn't ready for the excruciating pain as the whip lashed across her breasts, wildly tossing in the struggle. It took away her breath and stopped her struggle. She gasped, looking down at her breasts to watch the three weals come up in burning ridges of crimson fire. Looking up at Ulysses in disbelief that he would besmirch her beauty, his eyes gleamed with a dreadful insanity. Polly's eyes began to fill with the pain. Then he cracked the whip in the air. The butler hauled Polly to her feet and dragged her to the wooden wheel. Polly screamed and shouted for help, quite aware of the fact that none would arrive.

In spite of Polly's struggles, the butler pushed her face against the spokes, attaching her wrists to leather fastenings on the rim. Her feet were pushed into leather loops and manacled to the lower spokes so that Polly was spread-eagled, legs apart. The large central hub pushed into her belly, thrusting her buttocks out in an obscene manner.

'Ha!' Polly snorted. 'The great Ulysses had to resort to the assistance of a strong bully to overcome a defenceless woman!'

She heard the hiss of the whip a split second before it cut deep into her waist. The terrified shriek was not for effect. The pain scorched into her skin, searing into her groin. Polly had not expected this degree of punishment. She marvelled at the thrill glowing in her loins but wondered how much her body could take. It screamed out for more. Her white nylon panties stretched over the round cheeks of her superb bottom. Noticing the darkening patch in the cotton gusset, the butler pulled the gusset away from her cleft, pushing his fingers along it, feeling her softness. The passage was well moistened.

'She is ready, master. The juices flow copiously.'

Turning her tear stained face , Polly watched as Ulysses returned from the table with a long double willow in one hand - two switches attached at the handle - and the triple-thonged whip in the other.

Without warning, he swiped the willow canes across buttocks. 'Bitch!' he shouted as it struck.

Not being ready for the onslaught, Polly hadn't tensed her body against the stinging pain. She winced; her loins jolted. 

'I have selected a fine twin willow for your excellent backside, Miss Polly. Your so-smooth cheeks will shortly be a relief-map of ridges and hollows. Ten strokes, I think, Miss Polly? Each! Then we shall see if you still have any resistance left in you.' 

Ulysses stood flexing the twin willow cane. He laughed cheerfully as he swished the canes through the air with cavalier swings. He chose the willow cane, handing the whip to his butler.

Then there came a brief stillness. Polly held her breath in anticipation, waiting for the sting to bite into her. The men held their arms aloft, twisting their shoulders back. Then their arms fell! At the same time, the willow canes stung into Polly's soft flesh whilst the knotted thongs wrapped across the lower meat of her cheeks with a loud slap. The result was horrific. Polly's loins jerked against the hub of the wheel. Pain tore remorselessly through her body.

Before she had time to recover her breath, the second lash struck home. Polly cried out involuntarily, her buttocks jerking. Twin weals of swollen flesh pushed against the fine fabric of her panties. The blush of pain on her cheeks was easily seen under the fine white nylon. The victim squeezed her eyes together in anguish, forcing out tears of agony tensing her body awaiting the next blow. It followed quickly. Polly was now sobbing quietly with suffering, stinging heat branding her soft flesh, loins ablaze with pain.

A pause allowed her to relax. Ulysses waited for the effect of the lashes to spread through the women's loins before continuing the punishment. With a slight nod at his butler, Ulysses raised his arm behind his shoulder, and swung the canes viscously across Polly's upper thighs making her yelp with pain. The butler thwacked the whip against the buttocks at the same time. They repeated the strikes quickly, sending the tortured body jerking and twisting, tugging against the shackles in vain.

'Five!' Ulysses called. Polly was aflame with her pain already. It spread throughout her middle, sending sparks of arousal deep into her groin. The stain in her gusset had spread. Another five swipes would be unendurable! Then she felt a strange snuffling at her genitals. Turning her head she saw the dwarf pushing his flat nose into the cleft of her buttocks. He was inhaling deeply at the entrance to her shrine. The aroma of her secretions aroused his passion.

He laughed with triumph as the butler began to rotate the wheel. Through her tears, Polly watched the room revolve until she was hanging upside down on the wheel. Her tender buttocks were now at shoulder height, facing the two torturers.

Polly felt something fumbling at her waist. Then her panties were removed. She realised that they had been slit with scissors. Her wildly parted legs now revealed the full glory of her smooth, throbbing vulva, the soft folds wet and eager. Her most sensitive part was defenceless, open to the onslaught of the master and his servant. Surely they would spare her that! Then, smack! The canes bit into her burning cheeks sending splinters of pain coursing through her nerves. The next blow struck across her lower buttocks, digging into the wet genitals, stinging her soft vulva.

She screamed with fear and pain. As her mouth opened in a gasp of anguish, her head was pulled between the spokes, her mouth filled with a hard rubbery object. Slimy, like an enormous warm slug. She retched with revulsion. Opening her eyes in horror she saw Quilp's scrotum, dark and wrinkled swinging at her. His stiff penis was crushed into her mouth, tearing at her throat. Polly choked on the thick muscle. Her nostrils were restricted by the slapping testicles. The stench was abominable; a strong, stale fishy stench.

The eighth slash ripped through the flesh of her buttocks. A numbness was spreading through her swollen cheeks, burning fiercely. She hardly noticed the pain for the blind panic rushing through her head. Struggle as she might, she was unable to get a breath. The phallus was thudding in and out of her mouth. Grunts kept time with the stabs. Her muscles ached with tension, flinching against the assault. On the ninth slash her loins recoiled with convulsive jerks sending another explosion of dull pain through her body. Her head was swimming as the phallus pounded into her throat relentlessly.

She was losing consciousness. She knew she was going to suffocate! The grunts became more urgent. Her mind was oblivious to pain any more, with a roaring sound obliterating all else. The large slug suddenly discharged its slime. Spurts of hot spunk splashed into her throat, sticky and bitter. She swallowed hard to clear her windpipe. There was a lengthy pause whilst her body, gasping noisily for air, waited for the inevitable lash. When it came, it stung deep into the flesh, splitting the skin to allow beads of rubies to form where the weals crossed.

The once creamy skin was now red-blotched and swollen with ridges of angry crimson weals standing proud from the flesh. Cool air soothed its burning. Polly was drifting in a sea of blissful pain washing over her loins. She was vaguely aware of probing finger tips snaking over the skin of the inner groin. It reached the womanly secret between them. The vulva was boiling over with lust.

Ulysses gazed on the exquisite vulva with wonder. It was superb. The spotlight lit up its beauty. His delicate fingers explored her soft folds, pulling them apart to examine the glistening pink flesh of the mysterious orifice. The secret of the universe lay buried deep in that perfect opening. It beckoned him. He was tempted to break his rule. With open mouth, his lips fastened onto the sweet petals of flesh, drawing in the entire cluster of creases. Lapping tongue forced its way into the warm opening. It scooped away the syrup, relishing the exquisite juices. Then, recoiling from the temptation, he pushed the wheel to rotate it until Polly was upright again.





The Trials of Pauline Ch. 11



Polly kept swallowing hard to clear her throat of the acrid sperm. Coming out of her reverie, she felt a blunt object nudging at the moist opening. Thinking it was Ulysses, unable to resist her charms, she thrust her loins towards it, inviting it to enter her. She longed for him to take her virginity. But, to her disappointment, the fat knob slid upwards and pushed its way slowly into her other passage. It had collected sufficient honey from her vulva to ease its passage. Polly gasped with the sheer intensity of pleasure; loins were ablaze, being soothed by this thrusting shaft. But she was desperate to have her vagina penetrated. To feel her orifice being filled, expanding its contours with a sensation of ecstasy. Polly let out a long strangled cry of despair.

She pleaded. 'Please, Ulysses. Fuck me properly!'

But there was no response. Only the rasping breath of effort as the phallus plunged with enthusiasm into her arse.

It wasn't long before she heard the butler's grunt of release, loins jerking in muscular spasms, as his sperm gushed in copious spurts deep into its passage.

Later, over coffee and candies, Ulysses conceded that Polly had almost persuaded him to break with his policy of copulation only with the daughters of the world's aristocracy. He explained to Polly that got his pleasure from punishing these ladies of breeding and grace, his concubines, subjugating them to his domination.

After her trial, Polly had been taken into a luxurious bathroom by Lucy who had been watching the proceedings from the corner of the room. She now assisted Polly in repairing the damaged skin, bathing the body in warm, oil-scented water, anointing her stripes with soothing creams. A comforting glass of brandy helped. Lucy explained to her during the treatment that Ulysses was kind to his women, even though he was a sadist.

They all found his correction exciting and satisfying. But none of them had actually seen Ulysses copulate with any woman. Nor had he been seen to ejaculate by any of the slaves he kept. He kept his own fornicating private. Quilp was something of a nuisance, but he was only allowed the rear entrance of women. They were happy to keep their rear passages stretched.

Polly and Lucy returned to the large room to join Ulysses, now sitting alone in a deep leather arm-chair, wearing his white robes, sipping a large rye whisky.

'You'll do well, Polly. I have a job for you. You fly out on Tuesday next. You'll take a boat to the island. You'll like it. I've arranged for you to stay overnight in the Athens Hilton.'

Polly's heart missed a beat.

'Is something the matter?' Ulysses asked.

'No, not really. But the Hilton is where my father was staying when he disappeared.'

'Disappeared?'

'He was on a business trip, negotiating a big deal for a client. He just disappeared. All his belongings were found in tact in the hotel room. Only his brief-case and business suit were missing.'

'What sort of business?' Ulysses asked with suspicion.

'That I don't know. His name was Hubert Raddles. If you come across him I'd be thrilled to know. He might even be dead, I suppose.'

Ulysses eyes narrowed. He paused before he spoke.

'I'll throw out some feelers, Polly. But whatever happens, whatever you do, don't try to locate him yourself. You never know what dangers you might let yourself in for. In fact, on second thoughts, it might be as well if you went straight to the island. I'll fix it.'

It was explained to Polly that she was to carry secret information to one of Ulysses secret agents. The matter was far too dangerous and delicate to trust the information to the usual methods of communication. The secret papers were on microfilm. They would be hidden in a pair of Chinese love-eggs. These would be inserted in Polly's vagina - tucked deep behind her maidenhead - for the journey and removed only by Lucy who would accompany her as chaperon.

Polly was also to offer herself to Ulysses' agent, where she would be introduced as a slave with insatiable resistance to punishment. She would be well rewarded, for the agent moved amongst the world's wealthiest men.

'Now, Polly, I am particularly anxious that Cronos - that is his name - and his friends are properly rewarded for their hospitality.'

'Do you doubt me, Ulysses?'

'No, I don't. But please give them all they desire.'

'They shall be given all they deserve.' Ulysses looked startled at this. 'But don't worry; what they deserve, is what they desire anyway!'

'A lot hangs on this encounter, Polly, for me personally. More than I can tell you.'

'Then don't bother telling me. It does for us as well, in a more practical way! But I'll not let you down, I promise.' 



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 12



Pauline has been brought up to practise and enjoy sexual thrills from sado-masochism and is on a quest to find her father, a secret agent, last seen at the Athens Hilton. Though still a virgin, in spite of many sexual experiences, Pauline's controller, Fagin, has 'sold' her to a new master, Ulysses. After passing tests of severe tolerance, Ulysses entrusts her with a secret mission to an island in the Aegean, with a trusted companion, Lucy.

*

Polly's lacerations took several days to repair, encouraged by twice-daily applications of soothing cream. Nevertheless, the interview with Ulysses had been successful. She had been chosen to deliver an important document to an eminent client and submit to his will. She bore no illusions what that would entail.

Ulysses had instructed her to shave her pubic region. No hair must remain on her body other than the hair on her head. It was a very private estate on a remote island in the Aegean sea. A playground for the rich magnate who would pay a substantial figure to satisfy his sadistic fantasies. He commanded the best throughout the world, of every colour and shape.

At the airport, Polly's name was announced on the speaker system. She was asked to go to the information desk. There she was met by a strange woman.

'Ulysses has sent me to wave you off. Let's have a coffee.'

But they turned into the ladies toilets instead where the woman bustled Polly into a cubicle.

'On the seat!' she whispered urgently, locking the door.

Polly did as she was told. The woman raised Polly's skirt and pulled down her panties. 

Without any compunction, the woman pushed two ivory eggs, connected by a thin silver link, between Polly's labia, deep into her vagina. There was some delay in negotiating the maidenhead without damage to it. Once done, a nylon string was left in the vulva. After listening intently at the door for a few seconds, the woman suddenly went, leaving Polly still perched on the toilet seat.

The eggs rolled around in Polly's vagina as she walked to the departure lounge, filling her with an exquisite flutter of stimulation. For the first time in her life, Polly experienced a vaginal orgasm, though still a virgin. 

Polly found Lucy waiting as arranged, by the perfume counter of the duty free area. They went through the usual preliminaries before going to the VIP desk. There they were met by two smiling men, with flashing eyes. They were wearing the uniform of flying officers.

'I'm your captain,' one explained, 'and this is my Chief Engineer.'

Polly smiled sweetly.

'Shall we go?'

Both felt a sense of great excitement, as though going on a holiday, but both realised that the success or failure of this expensive project relied heavily on their commitment to Ulysses. He placed complete trust in their loyalty to him and his enterprise.

They met in good time for boarding, and drank a black coffee in the cafeteria.

'I'm glad to be on the way,' Polly admitted. 'I've had no cock for a week. I'm getting desperate!'

'Oh, I've been getting a regular supply,' came the response. 'Even so, I'm always ready for more. An unlimited supply is my ideal!'

'Lucky you!'

Both were travelling light since they were assured that everything they could possibly need would be available at the villa. Dressed in summer blouses and full skirts of white crepe, sling-back white shoes and white briefs, their braless breasts swayed provocatively under the blouse, pockets hiding the nipples from view. Vanity cases were their only luggage of personal possessions.

They were booked in the rear seats of the first-class section of the aircraft. At the other side of the aisle, one row in front, were two young business men sitting in their shirt-sleeves, who looked the ladies up and down as they walked up the aisle, smiling at them in obvious appreciation. Lucy returned the smile with a lingering look into the nearest man's eyes with her best let's-fuck look. She could see his surprise - and disbelief. There was never any mistaking Lucy's message! Besides these two, there were only two other occupants, sitting towards the front of the cabin.

After they settled down for their four-hour flight to Athens, the steward offered them coffee. 

As he bent over Polly to pour her coffee, his eyes strayed to her blouse hoping to catch a glimpse of her breasts. Polly eased her shoulders forward slightly so that the blouse would billow at the top, giving him a good view of her perfect rounded orbs, with nipples taught and stiff. The steward's eyes opened wider.

'Enjoying the sights?' she whispered hoarsely, smiling into his embarrassed face. 'Don't be shy, they're worth looking at.' She slowly unfastened the top two button with unconcern. 'Come back later for more.'

Whilst the two women sipped their coffees, the steward served the other passengers. When he had served them, he returned at her side. Polly looked up into his face, drawing her blouse to one side revealing the superb breast. As he ogled it, she placed the palm of her other hand on his groin, feeling the stiffening tenant, rubbing her palm slowly up and down. The steward gulped.

'Are you interested?' she asked, 'or is it just a passing fancy?'

'You are stunning. Who could not possibly be interested in your beauty.'

'When your duties are done, let's suck,' she whispered to him. 'I'm sure you can find the time. Meantime perhaps you can find us a bottle of champagne.'

Lucy laughed quietly. 'You never give up trying, do you Polly? Do you seriously expect to have him during the flight?'

'Of course. I might have that dishy man in front as well. I'm pretty sure his friend will be interested too. How are you fixed, Lucy?'

'I'll try anything once!'

After a few minutes, the steward returned with the champagne in an ice bucket and two glasses. He was a young fresh-faced man of average build, wearing regulation shirt and dark-blue trousers. As he approached, Lucy studied his crotch before looking up at him with her let's-fuck look. When he got to Polly's seat she once again felt his crotch. It was already stiffening in anticipation.

'How well are you hung?' she asked. He was setting the ice bucket beside the arm of her seat. The cork was already drawn.

'Well,' he hesitated, 'why not take a look for yourself?' So, Polly unzipped the flies, groped inside to search for a way through the boxer shorts, finding the quickly stiffening tube of warm flesh. Lucy watched the act with a light smile in the corners of her mouth as Polly cupped the genitals in her hand, drawing out the full set. The penis was swelling quickly. Polly leaned forward to take the expanding cock in her mouth. There was a faint whiff of lavender talc.

Polly always enjoyed the sensation of cock growing in her mouth, running her tongue over the knob, teeth gently biting into the shaft, sliding it in and out. The steward gasped and jerked at the contact, but concentrated on pouring two glasses of bubbly as Polly concentrated on bringing him to full stretch. Looking down at her with a glazed look, a glass in one hand, he watched his penis thrust into the beautiful mouth of the elegant lady. To increase his excitement, Lucy opened her blouse to show him her breasts, cradle them in her hands, lifting them for his better inspection.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. Polly took her head away for a few seconds as he put the glass down in front of her. She peeled back the foreskin to examine the weapon, its shaft hard and smooth, knob pale mauve. Fondling his testicles she took the head once again into her mouth, setting about working it up into a frenzy. This was great!

Having been cock-starved for a week she was relishing the sensation of having control over a wonder-weapon. Polly felt the steward's loins clench, his buttocks jerk. He was pouring the other glass of bubbly, passing the point of no return. His spasms began to increase until with a muffled grunt he splattered his semen into her cheeks.

She withdrew her face, holding his emission in her mouth, as he handed the glass to Lucy. Polly quietly replaced his genitals into the trousers, zipping it up. She sat back in her seat, lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip, rolling the bubbling liquid round her mouth.

'Is that to your satisfaction, Madam?' he asked.

Polly smiled as she swallowed. 'That's a superb cocktail. Not too dry,' she mused. 'Thank you!'

'Thank YOU madam,' he replied. 'It isn't often I have the pleasure!'

'Nor me!' she assured him.

'Any time!' The steward adjusted his trousers before returning to the galley.

Lucy laughed, adjusting her blouse to cover her breasts. 'That was cool, Polly! Cool!'

'Always expect the unexpected,' she smiled. 'After seven days of chastity, that felt absolutely wonderful!'

'Cheers!' Lucy lifted her glass.

Some time passed whilst the ladies read their magazines. A shadow fell across the page. Polly looked up to see the captain facing her. Her innocent look won him over immediately.

'Good morning, Madam. I hope everything is to your liking.'

'Thank you, yes. You have a very obliging staff, Captain. A little stiff, but very forthcoming.'

'Thank you. We do our best to please. The steward mentioned your request. Were you fully satisfied, or can I be of assistance in completing your pleasure? I have a little time to spare.'

Polly placed the forefinger of one hand on the captain's groin and pressed.

'Hmmm! Feels promising!' She slowly unzipped the flies, pushed a hand delicately into the gap. Her fingers immediately curled round the stem. He had clearly removed his underwear in advance.

'You seem to have been cock-sure of my interest,' she added.

'Well, one cocktail is rarely enough for a lady of obvious discernment. Two are always better, and sometimes three are best!' Whilst the Captain spoke he leaned on the head rest of the seat in front, obscuring his bared genitals from other passengers. Polly took his circumcised shaft, which was stiffening quickly.

'We shall see,' Polly replied. 'You'll forgive me if I refrain from speaking to you with me mouth full.'

The faint smell of male sex filled her nostrils as she leaned forward to run her lips over the shaft before sinking it into her mouth. Another swelling shaft filled her cheeks until it reached its limit. Longer than the steward's, but not quite so thick, Polly worked on it ravenously, fondling the testicles, heavy and warm.

Lucy took over the conversation. 'You have a useful piece of apparatus, there, Captain. Does you use it often?'

'Whenever I can, madam. Occasionally it gets overworked, but most of the time I'm able to regulate its use to suit my requirements.'

Polly could never get enough cock. She just adored the organ. Its nobility, its arrogance, its servility in front of woman. Her teeth nibbled the knob, her lips caressed the shaft, her tongue rolled around the proud stiffness. There was a soft slurping sound as her mouth bobbed up and down swiftly on the member.

'I suppose it requires plenty of lubrication, Captain.'

'That certainly helps, madam.'

Thighs began to tremble. The Captain tried to suppress jerks in his hips.

'Are you sure there's an adequate supply of cream?' Lucy asked.

Polly increased the pressure of her lips, teeth scraping the skin. With a twitch, the swollen penis exploded into her warm mouth. Several spurts of hot sperm overflowed the corners of her lips, dribbling thickly down her chin.

'Copious, madam! Copious!' he gasped through his discharge.

Polly carefully ran her lips along the entire shaft before taking her head away, replacing the wet penis and zipping up the trousers.

'Good health,' he saluted her as Polly took a sip of champagne, swallowing the cocktail. Lucy turned to Polly, scooped the dribbles from her chin and transferred them between her own lips.

'That was enough to send me into orbit, Captain. Thank you for showing us your gadget. It operates very well and is well stocked.'

'Well, that was only a quick demonstration. It works better when fully submerged in the channels designed for it. Even so, it's always a pleasure to help satisfy the ladies' curiosity.'

As lunch time approached, the two business-men invited Polly and Lucy to join them in a cocktail. Polly transferred to the seats opposite, one of the men sitting beside her, whilst the other joined Lucy. The Steward served their Martini's without any tell-tale expression. He was totally professional in his attitude.

They all ate their food with enjoyment, finishing with coffees and brandies. Both men were Greek and good conversationalists with perfect English. Polly's companion turned the conversation tentatively to sex, to see how Polly would respond to his overtures. Feeling a bit more confident, he confided in Polly.

'Women seem to enjoy my company.'

'Why?' Polly asked him. 'Have you got a large cock?' His jaw dropped with astonishment at the unexpected question.

'I like to think so,' he eventually spluttered.

'Ah, but do the ladies like to think so?'

'Is size important to you?'

'Absolutely! She's a liar who says otherwise. Small cocks are no use to me. Let me feel!' And she turned to face him. Without further ado, using both hands to undo the waist fastening and the zip of his trousers, she pushed her hand into his groin.

His face showed astonishment as her hand buried its way into the opening, fumbling for his cock. It was there, thickened but not fully swollen. Polly lifted it out to look at its swarthy appearance jutting out of the black curls.

'Hmmm! Not bad!' she cooed. Her fingers trailed lightly up and down the shaft, rousing it to greater heights until it stood thick and proud.

Her Greek gentleman looked round with apprehension as she calmly peeled back the foreskin, wrapping her slender hand around it to masturbate it. Her male partner grunted with instinctive arousal!

Following her lead, Lucy was similarly engaged across the aisle with an equally startled companion. The stewarding staff were busy in the galley and the two forward passengers were dozing. There was no one around to see their carnal activities.

'Yes! It's quite a good size!' Polly watched the fully engorged shaft thrusting impatiently in her pumping hand. She leaned across the aisle, opened her mouth, pressing it to the portals of her wet orifice. Cock at last! A long heart-felt sigh escaped her as she slid onto her knees in the aisle. The man closed his eyes and smiled.

As Polly's enthusiasm grew inside her, she manipulated her clitoris with relish. The spring of lust inside her was winding tenser and tighter. Preparing herself for the joy of orgasm, she felt the cock inside her splash its riches into her cheeks. Just then she lost awareness as her own exhilaration swept to a climax, the orgasm slamming into her belly like an electric shock. With an intense whimper, her loins jerked wildly until the spasms finally subside.

Kneeling at the side of the other seat, Lucy was also trembling with orgastic jerks, muffling her cries of joy, her partner having filled her mouth with sperm.

'I hope your wives don't notice the stains,' Polly mused.

The two ladies, satisfied and relaxed, visited the wash-room to replace their soaking panties.

'How was yours?' Polly asked Lucy.

'Not bad, but too embarrassed to get fully involved. And yours?'

'OK. I was really desperate for cock, so what he did didn't matter. At least, he kept stiff as long as necessary.'

Before long they were dozing contentedly for the rest of the flight.

Because Polly was travelling with the minimum of luggage - she was assured that everything she could possibly want would be provided on the island - Polly checked quickly through customs and passport control. No-one showed the slightest interest in her, apart from appreciative looks at her superb figure. After a refreshing black coffee in the lounge to allow the passengers to clear, they slipped into the ladies powder-room. It was empty. The two women dodged into a cubicle where Polly once again stood on the seat whilst Lucy removed the ivory eggs with great care. A slight tug on the nylon cord was all that Lucy required for the first egg to appear. The other followed without undue pain or difficulty for Polly.

A quick swill under the running tap in the wash-bowl and the eggs were dropped into a special velvet container Lucy carried in her hand-bag. Polly was sorry to lose the eggs!

They took a cab to the harbour where they were to take a boat to the remote island. Having found the boat, Polly introduced herself and Lucy to the captain. Polly didn't like Leon at all. He was the captain of the boat which would take them on a three hour journey to their island. The boat was more of a tug, really. Paint was peeling from the timbers and the deck needed a good scrub down.

Captain Leon was a huge brute of a man, wearing only a filthy singlet over the fat bosom and flabby belly bulging over dirty white ducks. Rope-soled plimsolls and a peaked captain's hat completed his dress. His hair and beard were matted, his yellow teeth chipped; his skin was leathery and weather-beaten, his finger-nails ingrained with dirt, hands with engine-oil. He reminded Polly of the crude fairground man in Disney's Pinocchio. Altogether coarse and disgusting. He stank of stale sweat and squalor.

There was a crew of three others. The so-called Chief Engineer, another gross-bellied man who spoke no English and smoked cheroots all the time, the First Officer who looked more like an escaped convict, and a dirty deck-hand. Polly and Lucy were the only passengers. The four men leered at the two gorgeous women with obvious relish, rubbing their damp palms down the side of their soiled shorts.

The boat was also engaged to take a large consignment of supplies to the island and Polly was expected to take charge of them.

'You come, sign for cargo,' Leon explained in slurred speech. 'When we get away from harbour. After my siesta. Eh?' He was almost always drunk to a greater or lesser degree. A bottle of whisky was constantly in his large fist. Polly had been asked by Ulysses to make sure that she gave him a litre from her tax-free allowance. Perhaps after his siesta he may be lesser drunk. The First Officer took the boat out of harbour.

Of course, Polly would wait until the goods were unloaded before signing for any of them. She and Lucy leaned over the starboard rail watching the hive activity along the harbour wall and the wealth of activity slip by as they slowly steamed down the channel towards the open sea. It as a busy small harbour with pleasure boats mingling with fishing smacks and cargo vessels.

The sea was calm, the sky pale blue, almost white, and the stench of diesel fumes filled the air. Lucy became conscious of the deck-hand with nothing to do, sitting against the wheel-house, staring at them, drooling with lecherous thoughts. He was about twenty, unshaven and grimy, wearing a T shirt which was so faded and filthy that the legend on it was illegible. The jeans he wore were threadbare, torn at the knees and ragged round the legs. Lucy lifted her sun-glasses onto her forehead to look down at the urchin. She decided to tease him. Almost casually, she lifted the hem of her dress to expose her plain white panties.

'Don't turn round, Polly,' she said quietly, 'but were being admired by that little runt of a deck-hand. Let's get him worked up and encourage him to toss himself off. Pull your skirt up and show him your bum.'

Polly did as she was asked. She made the gesture as though rubbing her bottom to soothe an itch. The perfect cheeks radiated softly in the bright sunlight. The rough youth's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Here was a classy lady with a beautiful body, showing her buttocks, teasing him. Seeing the stirring in the crotch of his jeans, Lucy pushed the second finger of the hand holding up her dress against the top of her secret crevice. This moulded the nylon against the contours of her mound showing the curls beneath the fabric. She fingered her clitoris whilst the other hand unbuttoned her top, pulling it to one side to show the youth one of her lovely breasts, nipple perking up stiffly.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 12



The young man was really getting worked up! Lucy nodded to him in an invitation for him to show her his penis. He got the message immediately, slowly undoing the waistband of his jeans and unzipping the front. Sliding his back up against the cabin wall, he pushed the jeans down to his ankles before resuming his cross-legged sitting position. His hips and waist were now entirely uncovered, stiff cock fully in sight, low-slung testicles hanging low. He was dark haired in the groin, though not thickly covered.

His hand was slowly working his shaft up and down. Lucy watched fascinated as the knob slipped out of the foreskin as the hand reached the base, and back again as the hand returned up the shaft. The knob was glistening with his seepage.

'You can turn round now, Polly. He's tossing himself off. Show him your crotch.'

Polly turned to watch the youth stimulating himself. Then, without taking her eyes off the youth, Lucy removed her panties, now soaked with her leaking juices. She stood straight again, parted her legs and taunted the man by thrusting her bare loins at him, feeling her soft lips lasciviously. He was getting more excited at this display.

When Lucy tossed her panties to him, he caught them with his free hand, lifting them to his nostrils to sniff deeply at the sweet aroma of woman's secretions. His legs started to tremble, his loins to lurch. With a jolt, his groin pushed forward, spraying jets of milky fluid onto the deck between his legs. Lucy managed a diminutive orgasm as she rubbed her button, encouraged by the sight of sperm ejaculating from the penis.

'That diversion passed the a little time,' Polly smiled. The young man was still sniffing deeply at the panties as he squeezed out the last drops of semen.

There was a small cabin aft, which they had been shown before setting sail. They smiled sweetly at the young man as they left him to retired into the cabin. There was a toilet to one side of the cabin with a lavatory and wash-basin. 

The covers on the bunk in the cabin were reasonably clean. They were able to sit without fear of soiling their dresses. Polly decided she would explore the boat a bit further, to find out where the Captain's cabin was. No one was about. She went forward. There was a muffled smacking sound coming from somewhere. Polly stopped to try to determine the direction of the sound. It was coming from one of the cabins. She eased her way down the walk-way until she reached the door the noise was coming from.

Looking through the porthole to the side of the door she saw a strange sight. At the side of a bunk was a naked female, tied by the wrists and ankles to rings in the bulkhead. Her body was against the wall, but Polly could see that she had a slender body, olive in colour, with small pert buttocks. At the moment this part of her body was being flogged by the Captain with a leather belt.

He was naked from the waist down, back to Polly. The sight of his huge quivering buttocks nauseated her. As he swung back his frame from the hips to increase the force of the blow, she caught sight of a stiff horizontal penis below the sagging bulk of his belly.

Polly listened to the muffled voices, quickly taking in the untidy cabin, unwashed clothes scattered round, empty alcohol bottles, dirty linen hanging half from the bunk. Pieces of equipment were lying about. A car battery stood in the corner, claw-leads attached to an electric charger. The cabin was a mess!

'You a young slut!' Leon was shouting at her, his bulging arms bringing down the belt across her blotched cheeks, with fiery red weals of swollen flesh. The lean hips recoiled and winced. She shrieked as the leather bit into her flesh. 

'No, master. I never!' she wailed.

'You make eyes at Robbo!' He lashed at her again. She screamed and jerked with pain.

'No!' she cried.

'Your cunt it is wet through! You think of him! I thrash you for insolence!' Another stinging blow. 'You a bad girl! You deserve to die! Open legs!' The sobbing young woman braced herself against the bulkhead presenting her defenceless womanhood to his domination.

Leon approached the half-sagging form, pushed her legs further apart with his foot. Still grasping the belt, he took hold of her waist, his heavy bulk thrusting against her stinging buttocks and began plunging at her. Polly assumed that he was now penetrating her as his mountains of flesh juddered. The girl was whimpering with pain as the fat belly slapped against the sore, pert cheeks. After a few minutes of exertion he began to tire.

'Right! You suck!' He withdrew from here, and unfastened the knots in the rope securing her to the bulkhead. The woman slowly slid down the partition, collapsing into a beaten heap. Even though released from the ropes, one ankle was attached to a length of chain padlocked to a heavy ring set in the floor.

Leon kicked her in the side. 'Suck, bitch!' He yanked her up by the hair, raven black. She screamed with pain. Leon lay back on the bunk, the woman between his open thighs. Between their burly, hairy flesh hung tight testicles covered with black curls, the stiff shaft protruding from the tangled mass. As the woman turned to place herself between his knees, Polly noticed that she was a Eurasian girl with beautiful features, now stained with tears of torture. She rolled her doe-like eyes in terror, dutifully taking hold of the stiff penis to place its knob into her mouth.

'Suck, bitch!' Leon roared, as he slashed the leather belt against her buttocks once more. She yelled with pain, straightaway bobbing her mouth up and down rapidly on the cock. It was not of unusually large dimensions but the girl clearly had some discomfort getting it fully into her mouth. She choked with sobs and whined, croaking as her head pumped and sucked the nauseating muscle.

Finally, Leon lurched, his loins shuddering, letting out a loud groan. His sperm was splattered into the mouth of the Eurasian. She stopped her movement, lifting her head from the groin. Leon pinched her nose forcing her to swallow the vile slime he had ejaculated into her. Then he thrust her away from him to collapse in a heap at his feet.

Polly studied the woman. She had beautiful features, almond-shaped doleful-eyes, high cheek bones and a small nose. Her breasts were petite but with almost black nipples on large, prominent areolae. The figure was slight, thighs slender with smooth skin, olive-sheened. Her mound was protected by a small expanse of black curls, reaching down between her thighs.

In what seemed no time at all, Polly heard the heavy snores as Leon fell into a deep, whisky-induced sleep. His reclining body resembled a huge whale; his softened penis drooping over the tight testicles. It was an obscene picture! Normally, Polly enjoyed studying the reclining form of a male, his genitals at rest after coitus. But not this one!

With great care, Polly turned the door handle and pushed the door open very slowly. The Eurasian woman felt the disturbance of air, lifting her head in apprehension.

Polly lifted her finger to her lips. She approached the girl. 'Who are you?' she whispered softly.

'Marina,' came the almost inaudible reply. 'Leon keep me slave for fuck and suck,' she added. 'He nearly kill me.'

'How old are you, Marina?'

'I nineteen.' Polly raised her eyebrows in surprise. She looked far younger, but these Eurasian women with taught skin and smooth complexions always appeared several years younger than their real age.

'Would you like to escape from Leon?' A look of hope flickered in Marina's dewy eyes, but quickly disappeared.

'I like, but he follow me and flog me to death,' she murmured sadly.

'I'll think of a way to take you with me. Where does he keep the key for the padlock?'

'Under his pillow.' But Leon's head was on the pillow.

'I'll come back later.'

Polly backed away softly to return to Lucy, explaining what she had seen. They worked out a plan of campaign. It would have to wait until they had docked and the provisions were almost unloaded.

They finally arrived in the small, pretty harbour at the foot of the cliffs. A flat lorry was waiting with two young men to unload the provisions. They looked strong and clean looking. Lucy checked the items, ticking them off against a bill of lading as they were transferred to the dock-side. The crew and the Captain were busy supervising the work as Polly quietly slipped away to the Captain's cabin, after giving an unobtrusive nod to Lucy.

Marina was huddled in the corner of the cabin in the semi-darkness. She looked nervous, her doe-eyes widened as Polly felt under the pillow for the key. It was there! She crossed quickly to the girl. Stooping, she inserted the key into the manacle round Marina's ankle and unlocked it. The chains rattled unexpectedly. Polly caught her breath, remaining quite still for a few seconds. The sound of voices continued unbroken from outside. With a sigh of relief she replaced the key.

'Now, creep to the rear of the boat. Keep out of sight whatever happens. When you see me get into the truck and start the engine, jump from the boat and into the back of the truck. But, whatever you do, keep silent and try not to be seen. I'll draw their attention away from you.'

'I'm scared!'

'There's nothing to be scared of if you keep absolutely quiet. I'm going.'

But as she turned the huge bulk of Leon appeared in the doorway. Polly took a step back, her mind racing.

'What do you think you are doing?' he growled. 'This cabin it is private. What you steal?'

The massive figure was closing in, his hands unbuckling the wide belt round his waist. Polly retreated to the end of the cabin, Marina cowering on the floor. His breath stank of stale whisky, his perspiring body reeked of sweat.

'I flog intruders,' he snarled. 'Teach them lesson.' With a flick of the wrist, the leather belt curled through the air. It struck Polly on the hip with a stinging blow. She tried to fend it off with her arms but Leon grabbed her by the wrist, twisting her round into a half-Nelson. The strap was flailing her buttocks with stinging blows.

The large man fell onto the bunk, pulling Polly across his lap. The biting strap never stopped beating the cheeks of her bottom and the tops of her thighs. Polly was kicking her legs but to no avail. The brute was strong. She was powerless! The noise outside as the crates of supplies were transferred to the wagon drowned any sound of the scuffle within the cabin. Besides, the others were at the other side of the boat.

Polly's kicking had pushed the hem of her dress as far as her buttocks, presenting her white neat panties to the glazed eyes of the punisher. The tufts of golden hair escaping from the side of the briefs aroused Leon's libido. The spreading dark stain in the gusset was evidence that the lady's libido was also aroused.

Leon decided he would fuck her. She was an elegant lady of great beauty and refinement. But, like all ladies, she would enjoy being fucked, he thought. Very few turn down the offer of a stiff cock. He paused in his whipping. Hanging the belt over his shoulder he smoothed his callused palm over the sleek nylon panties, covering the blotched crimson swelling of her buttocks. Polly winced at the sharp pain. When he peeled the panties over the buttocks, Polly became alarmed.

'I want fuck you!' he said slowly with hoarse lewdness. 'You enter my cabin for fuck, no?' His fingers had found the delicate lips of Polly's secret folds, now fattening with desire in spite of her revulsion. They pushed their russet lips from out of the plump vulva, wrinkled and soft. The honey was leaking from the pink opening, staining the golden curls. Leon's eyes were rivetted. His stubby fingers stabbed at the entrance.

'You ready for screwing,' he said. 'I feel your oils.'

'No!' she told him.

'Yes! You want Leon fuck you.'

Leon stood, still keeping Polly in the half-Nelson, pushing his ducks down with the other. His erection had sprung into action. He tore Polly's briefs from her burning, fiery bottom. She yelped in agony as the fabric scraped the tender sores. Leon had become wild with lust. He flung Polly into the corner of the cabin stumbling frenziedly out of his trousers' Polly saw the angry shaft protruding from the black greasy curls, the tight testicles swinging lewdly between his massive thighs.

'Suck first? You want suck Leon's cock?' he enquired as he stood astride her exhausted body. Polly noticed the car battery at the side of her. She reached for the leads, wrenching them from the charger. Leon was too drunk with desire to notice what she was doing. Hypnotised by the glory of her superb vulva, plump and inviting, his eyes could only stare at its beauty.

As he lowered his groin over her breast, Polly aimed at the genitals, dribbling and spilling over with lust. She jabbed the open claw of a lead at one side of his testicles, then the other one.

'ARRRGH!'

The effect was stupefying! Leon's huge bulk was tossed in the air with a great bellow of pain. The twelve volts seared through his testicles with a jolt of ultimate agony. Polly had managed to attach one of the claws to the skin of his sac. She rolled away, leaping nimbly to her feet as Leon crashed to the deck in anguish. The other claw-lead hadn't attached to his balls.

She stooped to pick it up again, clasping it over the base of the rigid shaft. Leon gave another roar of pain, his thighs jerking wildly, his knob spurting its vile jets of sperm over his fat belly. Polly didn't wait to study the effects of a twelve-volt current through a man's genitals. She took Marina by the wrist, dragging her swiftly out of the cabin, round the forward deck and down the gang-plank. Lucy caught sight of her as she raced round the wheelhouse, Marina in full flight behind her and fired the engine into life.

The loading of the produce was complete. As the two women vaulted onto the lorry, Lucy let in the clutch with a squeal of skidding tyres. The crew members looked in amazement as the lorry accelerated up the slope away from the dockside.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 13



Pauline has been brought up to practise and enjoy sexual thrills from sado-masochism and is on a quest to find her father, a secret agent, last seen at the Athens Hilton. Though still a virgin, in spite of many sexual experiences, Pauline's controller, Fagin, has 'sold' her to a new master, Ulysses. After passing tests of severe tolerance, Ulysses entrusts her with a secret mission to an island in the Aegean. After a series of sexual adventures, during which she rescued a young Eurasian, Marina, from the sadistic clutches of a sea captain, she and her colleague Lucy arrive at their destination.

*

Chapter Thirteen

Polly was impressed with the island. It was gorgeous. Rising from the sea with sheer cliffs at one end, sweeping down to a sandy shore-line at the other. The centre-piece of the island was a small, but perfect amphitheatre, with the ancient stone seating rising steeply in a semi-circle round the main arena. Polly thought of the many ritualistic beatings that must have taken place there in the past. The villa was superbly positioned half-way up the slope, tucked amongst groves of olive and citrus fruits.

In the hall of the villa, Polly, Marina and Lucy were met by a smiling butler. He expressed surprise at seeing three of them. After Polly explained briefly, saying she would tell the full story to Mr Cronos, the butler apologised for the nature of the transport, assuring them that they would find everything they required in their apartments.

'We will provide better clothes for your maid.'

They were to be escorted to their rooms by the severe-looking lady dressed in black, stood to one side.

'We have to take precautions against possible intruders, even here, on this remote island. There is much valuable property and information of special interest to the international criminal. So we issue all our guests with special alarms. It is a simple device to be worn round the neck. Besides being a high pitched whistle, it is also a CS gas spray.' And the butler demonstrated the workings of the security devices.

'Let us hope we don't need to use them.' Lucy shuddered at the thought.

'If there is anything at all you require, please phone the housekeeper. Mister Cronos is anxious that you should enjoy your stay with us.'

The matron led them to their luxury apartment. It was air-conditioned with its windows overlooking the sea through the trees. Polly noticed a large swimming pool at the centre of the large terrace, with ample sun-bathing facilities for sun-worshippers. It was agreed that Marina was to share the ample apartment, begging to be allowed to be their servant, to look after their every need.

Since there were three bedrooms, each with en-suite bathrooms, the women had no objection. In fact Lucy thought Marina a very pretty young lady and would provide excellent private entertainment. She looked on with growing interest as Polly attended to the young girl's bruises. Polly's hands were spreading soothing cream, squeezing Marina's cheeks more firmly, occasionally slapping them gently. Slender thighs were parted, the crevice dark and mysterious, the inner folds trying to push their way out of the bush. Trickles of honey were smeared on the soft flesh.

Polly allowed her fingers to probe the inner secrets of the folds, warm and slippery. Prodding upwards to the little hood, she sought the clitoris. To her surprise it was unusually large. Almost like a small penis. She looked up at Lucy with eyes wide, inviting her to share the surprise find. Lucy was impressed. A body to punish! Genitals asking to be slapped and nibbled!

'Ah,' Marina murmured with delight, 'you find my little prick. My pleasure button.'

'You are certainly well provided with an exciting clit, Marina. It stiffens just like a baby penis!' Polly laughed with delight. Marina pushed her buttocks out allowing better access to her genitals, now fully aroused. Polly's own vulva had already become excited, moistened with syrup. As Lucy watched with excited eyes, Polly toyed with the small protrusion, gently massaging the cream around the stem and into the hood.

Lucy was enchanted by Marina's reactions. Her pretty face was a picture of rapture, lips slightly apart, eyes closed, head rocking from side to side. The flat belly trembled, the narrow hips shook. Lucy traced her finger-nails over the dark buds, wrinkled peaks on the large swollen areolae of her small breasts. The small body began to convulse, to whimper. The orgasm delighted all three women, not least Lucy who was now determined to thrash the smooth, olive skin of the tight buttocks.

Whilst Marina took a cool shower, Lucy went to change out of her travelling clothes. Polly didn't waste any time before phoning Ulysses on his private mobile phone to explain about Leon. Ulysses listened in silence, then promised to ask the villa to make other transport arrangements for the future. It later appeared that there had been increasingly dissatisfied with Leon's work. Other complaints had been made. For emergencies and medical attention, there was a helicopter service available for the island.

Feeling happier about her forthcoming trial, Polly examined her wardrobe of summer clothing. Light and simple casual wear. Some suitable clothes for Marina were ordered by phoning the housekeeper.

Lucy returned wearing a short tunic, tied by a simple cord round the waist, to join Polly in their lounge area just as the young Eurasian came out of her room from taking a shower. Standing in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight she looked elegant and beautiful. Like a young goddess! Raven hair hung over her slight shoulders. Her small breasts with their prominent areolae and nipples, were now stiff and puckered after the shower. A flat belly with narrow waist and hips; tight provocative buttocks; slender legs of perfect shape.

Lucy gazed with greedy admiration at the olive-skinned small beauty. She was itching to punish this waif-like figure, innocent and pure-looking. The bubbling in Lucy's groin, her clenching loins, was testimony of her interest in the girl's body. Her wrinkle free face and tight, smooth skin made her look several years younger than he real age.

Lucy spoke to her in a slightly husky voice. 'Turn round, Marina. I want to examine your stripes and bruises.'

The slender girl did as she was asked. The skin glowed with vitality. The swelling of her buttocks between the narrow hips were asking to be beaten. There was now very little evidence of the earlier thrashing on the boat. Polly also admired the small, petite cheeks, but perhaps for rather different reasons to Lucy.

'You have a truly exquisite bottom, Marina. So lovely!'

'And you have healing palms, mistress Polly,' she replied with a gay laugh. 'Leon, he beat me unmercifully with leather strap, but pain now gone. Only pleasure remain.'

'How often did you have to put up with that brute?'

'With luck, he too drunk to thrash me so often as he would like. So I might escape with only two, sometimes three thrashing in a week. Even then, he not always have the strength to flog me too much.'

'He seems a horrible man!' Lucy snorted.

'Yuck! His penis it is 'orrible! Foul smell and sticky! He sweat much. His come, it taste terrible. But he like me to swallow it. Leon no good at fucking. He too fat to get it in properly. But I have sensitive fingers! So I can pleasure myself a lot!'

'Were you with him for long?'

'I come to Greece eight months ago to work as a barmaid. He trick me to be his maid. He promise much pay. But I stay chained in his cabin. Robbo, he try to escape me. But Leon find out and half-murder him. I get thrashed until skin is nearly hanging from my bottom. Since then I no try again. Until you come to rescue me.'

Lucy could resist her urges no longer. 'Have you a strong hair-brush with you, Polly?'

'Yes, sure!' She went into her bedroom and returned with her long-handled hair brush. It had a wide, flat stock. She handed it to Lucy, who was still looking with desire at the young, smiling girl.

'Now, Marina,' Lucy said, 'it will be part of your duties to surrender to my command. You are familiar with the activity, I know. But here, you will be punished only by Polly and me. No nasty smelling brutes with dirty cocks.'

Polly saw the Eurasian girl stiffen. Her buttocks tightened, her shoulders hunched slightly.

'Yes, madam,' was all she said. But a look of apprehension fluttered in her eyes.

'Please lay over the edge of the bed.'

Marina felt the thrill of anticipation judder through her. Her loins trembled with desire, lubricating her pretty vulva with honey as she looked at the tall blonde. Here was a woman to obey, she thought. She holds her head high with pride and authority. She will protect me. I will obey her. Marina positioned herself, hips on the bed edge, knees wide apart, arms stretched to the corners of the head-board. Her head faced towards Polly. She smiled reassuringly.

'Please tie me to the bedpost,' Marina asked.

Polly took the cords from the dressing gowns, knotted them round the slim wrists and fastened them to the bed-posts. Lucy stood, legs apart, tapping the hairbrush in the palm of her left hand. Relishing the anticipation of the pleasure to come. Polly now stood to one side, her heart in her mouth. Marina was so slight and vulnerable. So innocent. The gleam in Lucy's eyes was malicious and cruel. Polly's own loins were starting to churn with yearning.

Lucy's hand came down heavily. The brush struck the soft flesh with a loud slap. Marina recoiled with an involuntary jerk, biting her lip to avoid yelling. The second blow came on the other cheek. As the skin reddened, a familiar glow spread through Marina's loins. The young girl never murmured, never flinched other than to recoil against the slaps. Taking the punishment silently, the girl thrilled at the sensation of burning surging through her middle. The arm raised and struck time after time.

Loud slaps echoed round the apartment. The cheeks became suffused with a crimson glow, swelling in response to the assault. Her loins were ablaze with passion. They hungered for more. Sweet agony of the stinging hair-brush filled her with delight and joy until an involuntary orgasm swept through her, washing over the throbbing ache. It rippled on and on, like a wave soothing every part of her body. It seemed ages before Lucy stopped the beating. Marina turned to look appealingly to Polly, tears on her face, exhilaration in her loins.

There was a silence before Lucy spoke, her voice hoarse with emotion. 'Open your thighs really wide.' Marina did.

Lucy knelt between the beautiful inner thighs of the Eurasian girl. In the valley between the crimson, burning cheeks, Lucy scrutinised the secret gash, tucked in its nest of curls, pouting and wet. Her hands lightly massaged the inner hollows of her thighs with delicate fingers. She was mesmerised and enchanted by the swollen bud above the soft folds of glistening flesh, now exposed fully to her gaze. 

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Lucy leaned forward between the superb thighs, her own bottom uncovered by the short tunic. She flicker her stiffened tongue over the bud. Marina reacted with a little squirm and a murmur of delight at the touch. Lucy began to lick the clitoris and the crack in earnest, her flat tongue exploring every tiny fold, lapping, pushing deep into the crevices, tasting the juices of Marina's secret passage.

Polly picked up the hair-brush. Lucy's vulva was clearly roused, glistening with honey. Polly pushed the handle of the hairbrush between the wet lips, then thrust it deep into the dark secret of Lucy's loins. She quivered at the feel of it entering her. Marina's loins were now responding to Lucy's attention with trembling muscles and quivering buttocks. The gash was pressed back hard at Lucy's mouth, searching for more contact.

With stiffened lips gripping the clitoris, Lucy lashed her tongue backwards and forwards across the tip. Polly rammed the brush in and out of Lucy. The girl's moans became wilder until, with a cry of anguish, her loins bucked heavily. Choking sobs escaped her throat as the waves of her orgasm swept over her. Her brain was filled with an explosion of colour, like a giant firework. Her whole body was suffused with a glowing heat. Lucy's own orgasm was triggered by the vehemence of her slave's response.

After licking the turbulent vulva as best she could while the girl's spasms subsided, she smothered with kisses the soft flesh, swollen and sweet. When her own spasms had died down, Lucy sat on the bed and took Marina onto her lap, enveloping the slight frame her arms, kissing her face and neck with light touches of her lips.

Marina purred with happiness.

Watching the encounter, after the excitement of the punishment, Polly was highly aroused. She sat on the floor, knees up and wide apart. Her fingers pushed the handle of the brush between her own vulva lips, into her groin whilst her other hand searched for the clitoris. It took very few thrusts to bring her own internal flutters to the peak of delirium. The orgasm exploded in her belly. She cried out loud as her knees buckled beneath her, watched by the two satisfied young ladies on the bed.

It was already early evening. When she had recovered from the beating, Marina poured Polly and Lucy a Tio Pepe each to sip whilst Polly dressed, as instructed, in a simple white dress and silver sandals. Nothing else. It was a calm, balmy evening. The soft sun filtered through the trees, bathing the lawns and groves with speckled light.

Through the windows, they saw terraced lawns, which led down from the villa, were surrounded by shrubs and trees dripping with perfumed blossom. Gurgling waterfalls carried the water through a complex of pools to the lower levels. Finally, to the main pool itself. A system of lights and torches illuminated the whole area. There were many statues to be found, some of copulating couples, some of nude warriors sporting huge erections. 

A tap on the door brought them back to reality. It was the severe-looking matron. She made it clear that Polly was to go with her. A carpeted corridor led to a large walnut door at the far end. After a discreet knock, the servant opened the door and motioned Polly to go through into the room. The door softly clicked as it closed behind her.

It was a large room, comfortably furnished and decorated with superb frescoes painted on each wall. They depicted classical scenes of mythology. Polly thought she recognised the rape of the Sabine women, Venus and Adonis, what looked like the pillaging of a brothel and a study of naked slave women being flogged by muscular brutes. A large window opened onto a balcony with an exquisite view beyond of the illuminated gardens.

Sitting with his back to her, admiring the view, was the dapper figure of a man dressed in a white suit. Polly stood silent in the centre of the room. Eventually, the man stood and turned to face her. He was ordinary looking. Clean shaven with neatly arranged hair, parted down the middle. The only remarkable feature was the large staring eyes, unblinking behind rimless spectacles.

He examined Polly without a word. She was breathing hard. It was unnerving being scrutinised in complete silence. She tried not to look afraid. Her clear blue eyes kept focussed on him. He was immaculately dressed. White shirt and tie - silk satin. Perfectly fitting white suit of silk and mohair; shirt cuffs fastened by ruby studded gold cuff-links. A white silk tie protruded from his top pocket. He was scrubbed clean. Not a mark besmirched any part of him. Their eyes finally met. When he spoke, Polly noticed the pure white, gleaming teeth.

'Let me introduce myself. My name is Cronos, Lord and master.' He made no attempt to touch her. 'It is told to me that you are an English virgin. For one so beautiful, that is hard to believe. I shall satisfy my curiosity. Please remove your dress.'

There was the briefest of hesitations before Polly opened her dress, shrugging it from her shoulders. The perfect shape of Polly's smooth body affected her host. A small intake of breath and widening of his staring eyes registered his appreciation of her loveliness.

'You are truly beautiful, Polly. Pale flesh shows the signs of the whip to best advantage. But first, I wish to examine you.' He crossed to the dining table in the centre of the room. It was covered by a pure white linen cloth.

'Please lay on the table.' Polly did as he asked, laying full length on her back, arms at her side. Cronos stood beside her, gently running his open palms over her breasts, her flat belly and smooth mound. His fingers pushed gently into the flesh of her thighs, moving down to her knees. Gripping the legs at each knee, Cronos opened her legs, drawing them up to her chest, to expose the hairless genitals.

From a nearby table he took a surgical cap, set with a small lamp in the centre. After switching the lamp on, he pulled on transparent gloves of thin plastic. As he smoothed the glove over each finger, his eyes remained fixed on the beauty of Polly's genitals, now spotlighted. The pink folds of her vulva pushed the outer labia aside. The small hood only half concealed the clitoris, now erect with anticipation and a little fear. All the creases and folds of her secret shrine were displayed before his blank, wide-eyed gaze.

Polly felt her lips eased apart, the orifice opened out like petals of a flower. Her honey was glistening on the folds of flesh, preparing her virgin vulva for penetration. Was this to be the end of her virginity, she wondered? The nylon thread was carefully pulled to draw the two ivory eggs from Polly's vagina.

Suddenly, Cronos stood, removing the gloves and cap.

'Amazing! A beautiful English virgin rose.' He returned the implements to the side table, swilling the eggs into a bowl of water before placing them on a hand towel. Polly remained in her position, knees up and wide apart, displaying her feminine charms, now wet with desire.

'Before you are punished, Polly, I have something I wish to show you.'

He helped her to come down from the table. Polly was uncertain what it was she was to be shown. Some apprehension made her shiver slightly. Cronos walked her to face one of the large paintings on the wall. There they sat on a couch facing it. At the touch of a button on a hand set, the wall slid up into the ceiling. Revealed behind it was a glass screen overlooking a small room.

Polly's eyes widened with horror. There, before her, was a blonde woman strapped to a table. It was circular, with her ankles and wrists secured to four legs. At her side was a heavily built man wielding a tawse. A long leather weapon. He was already engaged in the act of punishing the woman, for stripes of crimson crossed her buttocks. As Polly took in the scene, Cronos explained.

'They cannot hear us, nor see us. It is one-way glass and the room is sound proofed. However, it is wired up with microphones. I can listen to the sound of the woman being punished.' And, at the touch of a switch, the harsh sobbing of the woman was clearly audible. The table was positioned so that Cronos and Polly were facing the female genitals. The vulva was well covered by blonde curls, now matted and darkened with her juices, oozing freely from the unfolded orifice. Her flesh was of a coral colour, the inner lips a wrinkled brown shade. The cheeks of her buttocks trembled and shook as the leather strap slapped heavily into her flesh. A loud cry of pain escaped the victim.

The tormentor was covered with hair. Everywhere except his head, which was polished, was covered in a forest of black hair. Arms, the back of his hands, chest and belly, thighs and legs. The hair spread over his back, thinning over the heavy buttocks. He was completely naked. From his belly protruded a thick stiff penis. Not very long, but thick and swarthy looking. It was already aroused with a thick starchy dribble from the top of the foreskin.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 13



'They entertain me with their games. I myself have an aversion to body hair but have a curious fascination to see it. My servant Pluto is well covered. The woman is also well endowed with her blonde curls.' Well endowed, perhaps, but far from matching the hairiness of Miss Armitage, Polly mused. She wondered what Cronos would have thought of her?

The woman in the punishment room was sobbing with the torment, screaming out loudly as each lash of the tawse sank deep into the ample flesh of her buttocks. Polly felt nauseated. Perhaps it was to be her turn next with this heavy brute. Her body was already aroused at the thought, lubricating freely, as she speculated on the terrible pain she would have to endure.

When it seemed that the body on the table could take no more punishment, the table unexpectedly revolved through a quarter turn. The woman's face was now facing the hairy brute's groin. Polly had another surprise. The victim being put through the torture was Lucy! Taking a hand full of her tousled hair in his free fist, the monster jerked her head back. As Lucy opened her mouth to gasp, the stiff penis was thrust deep into it.

Polly watched as Lucy's eyes opened in panic. The bulky loins pounded against her face, the rough hair scouring the nostrils at each thrusting stroke. The other hand brought the full might of the strap down her back and over the buttocks. Lucy struggled fiercely, eyes wild with fear, but to no avail. Terrible moans filled the air. The grunts of Pluto matched the rhythm of his savage jabs into her. Loud and coarse. They got louder as his thrusts intensified. With one mighty bellow, his buttocks tensed, thrust hard into the mouth. Polly knew that the spurts of thick sperm would be clogging the throat, choking Lucy. As Pluto withdrew his softening phallus, Polly watched the thick sperm trickling from her the sides of Lucy's mouth as she drank in the air.

Cronos must have pressed the button, for the wall slid down, back into place. The painting returned.

'Now, my dear lady, that was the prologue to your own act. It is time for my entertainment with you.' Cronos led her to an large inclined table. She thought it was an architect's drawing board, covered with felt. But it was more substantial looking. Her hands were snapped into cuffs at the extreme corners of the board, her ankles to the extreme ends of a long foot rest below the table. Her buttocks rested on the lower edge of the table; her head on a cushioned head-rest.

Suddenly, the table tilted, lifting her buttocks and dropping her head until the hips were at a slightly higher level than her shoulders. Polly knew that her bottom was now exposed in a most vulnerable position. Her throat went dry, her belly fluttered with excitement as she saw out of the corner of her eyes, the long birch Cronos took from a case.

'Not too much tonight, Polly. I must save some of you for the feast.' He was draping a square of fine fabric over her bottom. 'It is the festival of the Marquis de Sade. My wealthy friends will be here to celebrate with a blonde English virgin. Tonight is just a curtain-raiser.'

Polly heard the swish of the birch. Her bottom was defenceless.

'Only two-dozen strokes tonight. To familiarise you with the surroundings. But for the festival, a hundred lashes!' Polly's mind almost burst at the thought of the terrible torture she would be expected to endure.

She steeled herself, stuffing the head-rest into her mouth to bite on. Then came the first lash! It stung and burned. Searing pain convulsed her body. The piece of silk did little to deaden the pain. But it saved the skin from fracture. Then another on the other cheek! The pain exploded in her mind as her loins jerked in response. The third was equally severe, crossing the previous stripes, stinging her with blinding agony. Polly could feel the flesh swelling as the blood pounded in the weals.

The fourth; the fifth; the sixth followed in quick succession. Three biting slashes. There came a welcome pause. Polly saw through her tears that Cronos was standing at her side. Her eyes searched the front of his trousers for signs of arousal. She hoped to distract from the painful strokes he now inflicted on her burning cheeks. But in vain. She wondered what his penis was like, imagining it swing from side to side as he wielded the cane. She wanted to feel it! Inside her! Still eighteen to go! The throbbing pain and heat engulfed her loins. Her little button, however, was burning with desire. Surely Cronos would see her sexual arousal in her crack, seeping onto the tufts of hair surrounding it.

Then the lashes continued! Polly felt the strokes less and less as numbness began to engulf her buttocks. Suddenly, unable to control herself, as each lash sank into her flesh, a golden jet spurted from her vulva, soaking into the felt of the table top. 

'Ah! Excellent!' Cronos cried. My fellow disciples of de Sade will be most honoured if that is the outcome tomorrow. Don't worry about the floor. It can be cleaned.'

There was a pause after the next half-dozen. Polly could hear her Lord and master breathing hard with the effort. She was aware of her soaking genitals amidst the throbbing heat of the cheeks. There was an atmosphere of steamy sexuality. Then, quite suddenly, as the next stroke whipped her buttocks, Polly gave a stifled cry of anguish as the surge of an orgasm crashed through her. Her buttocks twitched and jerked around. Her loins were ablaze with delicious suffering, her flesh reddened and tender. But unmarked.

Polly looked up at Cronos. He was smiling with satisfaction as he watched the punishment. It came as a surprise to Polly to notice the erection in his trousers. It was almost bursting the fabric. So he could be aroused, after all, she thought. Curious to see it, her hands, which were caressing his thighs lightly, now moved to the bulge. Beneath her delicate strokes, it throbbed and jerked.

As casually as she could, Polly's fingers unfastened the flies of his trousers. With a little fumbling, she extracted the warm shaft and got it between the palms of her hands. Hard and hot, Cronos gasped as cool hands grasped the bare shaft. Peeling open his trousers the hairless groin was exposed to her. Not a hair defaced the white flesh. Groin and scrotum were even devoid of any shadow of stubble. It looked clean and clinical.

'You make a good slave,' he muttered to her. She squeezed his genitals gently, in response.

'And you are such a dominating master,' she replied in a seductive whisper. She slipped the head if his penis between her lips, sucking on it gently. Polly explored his substantial weapon with tongue, lips and fingers, admiring the contours. As she pleasured her master, he continued in a quiet hushed whisper.

'You may remember that Menelaus tried to persuade Proteus to tell him how to return to Sparta.'

Polly stiffened at the mention of the pass word. She paused in her sucking.

'What happened to Proteus? Where did he go?' she whispered as her eager fingers explored his genitals.

'Ah! Mr Raddles! Where indeed! They seek him here, they seek him there. He is sought world-wide. Or, rather, under-world-wide!'

'Please tell me Cronos,' Polly muttered pleading. 'He is my father!' She heard him catch his breath.

'You are not MI6 then?' he asked after a few moments of thought.

'Good heavens, no!' she hissed. But the reply was stifled by his ejaculation bursting into her throat.

His sudden smack across her cheek surprised her. Her head snapped to one side. Then a second slap jerked it the other way.

'Bitch! Slaves do not ask questions. They obey! Go!'

When Polly was escorted to the recovery room, she found Lucy in a state of exhaustion. They smiled weakly at each other. They applied the creams to each other's marks.

'I watched your punishment from Pluto,' Polly told her. 'It was severe.'

'Ah, yes! But I exaggerate the wailing and despair for the sake of Cronos. He likes to hear women suffer at the hands of others.'

'But not at his own,' Polly added. 'That's curious.'

'Did he hurt you very much?' Lucy asked.

'Two dozen, but wearing panties. He wants to keep my flesh whole for the ceremony. Even so, couldn't contain myself. I peed for him.'

Lucy laughed. 'He'd like that! But you must be ready for every degradation they can do to you in the temple. It is a fearsome thing to be the sacrifice.' Lucy decided not to mention the sacrifice who had died from the sadistic beating she got.

'Tell me about it,' Polly asked.

Lucy was reluctant to tell Polly all of what she knew of the sacrificial ritual. She would hedge.

'Well, not having witnessed it personally, I can't be sure. But there'll be eight or ten members of the brotherhood of the Marquis de Sade. They're all influential people in this part of the world. You won't see them though, because they'll be wearing hoods. Each will deliver a few lashes from a variety of implements. Play it up, Polly. Writhe and moan. They might take pity.'

Just then the housekeeper re-appeared and beckoned to Lucy to go with her. Lucy sighed.

'Pluto wants more revenge.' Lucy slipped into a dressing gown. 'A cock suck may be all.' And then she left Polly to finish off her own ministrations.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 14



Pauline has been brought up to practise and enjoy sexual thrills from sado-masochism and is on a quest to find her father, a secret agent, last seen at the Athens Hilton. Though still a virgin, in spite of many sexual experiences, Pauline's controller, Fagin, has 'sold' her to a new master, Ulysses. After passing tests of severe tolerance, Ulysses entrusts her with a secret mission to an island in the Aegean. After a series of sexual adventures, during which she rescued a young Eurasian, Marina, from the sadistic clutches of a sea captain, she and her colleague Lucy arrive at their destination where they are introduced to the sadistic Cronos and Pluto. Following their introduction to them, Polly is called away.

*

Chapter Fourteen

When Polly later returned to the apartment, everything was quiet. There was no sign of Marina who was usually singing or humming when Polly returned. She went into Marina's bedroom where she was startled. There on her bed was the young Eurasian, stark naked, bound and gagged. Her dark doe-eyes were full of terror, her cheeks stained with tears.

'Marina!' Polly moved quickly to the bed.

But before she could reach her, Polly was grabbed from behind. She recognised the smell of an excited animal; pungent and nasty. A loop of rope was thrown over her head and shoulders, her arms pinned behind her.

'Now, I have you my fine beauty,' he growled.

'Leon! What are you doing here?' Polly struggled, but she was far too late. The rope was pulled tight round her waist, Polly spun round before being finally thrown onto a dressing chair, 

'No-one treats Leon to such humiliation and pain. I come to recover what is mine. I come to punish you.' Leon tied the loose end of the rope round her ankle and chair leg, then the other one. He was much too powerful for Polly to oppose; she was like a rag-doll in his arms. Looking up at the cruel leer on Leon's ugly face, her face tightened at the stench of his stale sweat.

'When I finish with you, no-one want you ever again. I cut you into pieces,' he growled savagely. 'But first, I thrash you both, fuck you both.' He was unfastening his wide leather belt from his waist.

The brass tube hung round Polly's neck, out of reach. If only she could summon help! Leon stepped out of his dirty slacks, the huge bulk of his belly and loins appeared before Polly's eyes. A waft of sour urine and male sex offended her nose. His ponderous penis was thick and half swollen. First turning to Marina, Leon rolled her over.

She whimpered in fear as he held her, face down, over the edge of the bed. Her tight small bottom was at his mercy. The fleshy folds projected darkly from the defenceless vulva. He swung his other arm, swishing the leather strap across the smooth skin. Marina gave a muffled yell, her loins recoiling in response to the stinging blow.

'So,' he yelled as he swung his arm, 'you thought you would escape me, hey?' A third violent slash cut high into Marina's buttocks, her hips bucking in pain, her cry of pain muffled by the gag. The skin was already reddening, crimson weals crossing the cheeks.

The fourth slash! 'I teach you lesson you never forget!' The fifth slash! 'Little bitch!'

Polly watched in fear for Marina's life. The brute was demented with rage, his phallus now distended to its full, frightening size. Oozing vile starch from it's single eye, it throbbed beneath the overhanging belly blanketed with black hair, filthy and matted. His arm swung the heavy leather belt high before bringing it down hard onto the tender cheeks. Marina's body gradually stopped reacting to the blows, hanging limp over the edge of the bed. The flesh responded to the violent lashes, with sickening thuds, but the muscles no longer recoiled from the blows. Leon dropped the strap.

Falling to his knees, he unfastened the rope round Marina's ankles and pushed the legs wide apart. Her honey-coated vulva was open like a flower covered in dew, innocent and defenceless against the loathsome intentions of the brute. His eyes gleamed with lust as he gazed on the object of his lechery. Hoisting up his huge belly in both hands, the bloated penis sought the wet orifice between the cheeks, now a crimson mass, swollen and ridged.

Polly watched as the mass of thick masculine flesh was forced savagely into the crack, pushing aside the folds, delicate pink flesh. Leon grunted with the effort, then started to plunge in and out of the orifice with lusty thrusts. The defenceless body beneath him, rolled and bounced as the gross loins battered at it. Marina was only half conscious, moaning with the pain racking her body, loins burning fiercely. The victim's vagina responded to the thick shaft sliding in and out, as nature intended, seeping her honey to ease the passage of the invading shaft.

Polly looked on helpless. The bulk heaved as Leon roared, pouring his slime into the slight inert figure with jerks of the massive thighs, the buttocks shaking obscenely.

After he withdrew, panting from the exertion, Polly noticed his phallus already softening, stained with Marina's syrup. She watched the sludge dribble from Marina's tousled crack. Leaving her in a half-conscious state, Leon turned to Polly.

'Now for you! I have something special.'

An old satchel was behind the door. From it, he took out two lengths of wire with claw clamps at one end, an electric power plug at the other. Polly recognised the battery leads she had used on his testicles a few days earlier.

He dangled them before her face, guffawing lewdly. 'First I thrash you, then I fuck you, then I electrocute you. Your nipples will fry! An orgasm you never forget! If you live!'

Stepping up to her, he reached out his greasy hands, tearing away the flimsy tunic she was wearing. Polly took a deep breath. Her gorgeous breasts, thrust forward, heaved and swayed as she struggled, but in vain. The garment was ripped away, leaving only her gossamer panties protecting her genitals. But Leon was determined to strip Polly to the flesh. His strong hands tore the side seams apart and yanked the strip of silk from her sensitive loins. Naked and unprotected, Polly was at her wits end to think what she could do to escape his savage intentions.

Leon returned to his satchel for a bottle of whisky. He stood leering at Polly's gorgeous figure, her breasts swelling as he put the neck of the bottle to his lips. He laughed cruelly, his great penis - now softened - swaying before him. It was like a huge slug, glistening with slime; it nauseated Polly.

'So, Miss Clever! You think you outwit Leon, eh? Ulysses cancel my contract. Your fault! I get revenge! You watch! First I feel you up!' He reached forward with his free hand, pushing the grubby fingers into her crack, pale and syrupy.

'Ah! I feel wetness in your cunt. It is eager for cock. You desire me! But you must wait! Nice soft cunt! Warm and wet. Waiting for Leon's mighty prick!'

Putting the wet fingers to his mouth, he sucked them clean with a lecherous smile, taking another long swig from the bottle before groping into Polly's genitals again, licking off the sweet honey.

'You taste good! See!' he taunted, 'it make my cock stand again.' And, sure enough, Polly watched the slimy slug beneath his hairy belly, thicken and stretch. Leon released one of Polly's ankles from the chair leg, twisting her so that he could attach the rope to her wrists. After he had done the same to the other ankle, Polly was pushed to her knees, wrists and ankles roped together behind her back, breasts thrusting forward.

Kicking the dressing chair away, Leon took up the leather belt, swung it high and quickly swiped it hard across Polly's back. Thankfully, her tied wrists roped to the ankles protected the cheeks of her buttocks, still tender from the earlier activities with Cronos. But the belt lashed her hips with excruciating agony. She recoiled, falling onto her side.

With great guffaws of enjoyment from Leon, more lashes followed, indiscriminately aimed, stinging into Polly's body. She twisted her shoulders to protect her breasts from the blind scourge. The blows fell on her shoulders, waist and hips. Red blotches welled up on her skin, crimson weals cutting into the pale flesh. It felt as if her whole body was aflame with stinging, swollen weals. Suddenly, Leon, rolled her onto her back with a kick, her tied hands forcing up her waist, breasts and belly exposed to his cruelty.

'First I fuck, then I electrocute!'

Leon dropped the belt, pressing on Polly's knees to prise them wide apart. Her exquisite vulva, perfect in every detail, beckoned Leon. The beautiful folds of pink flesh parted the outer labia, showing the moistened entrance to her secret paradise. Leon looked at the vision as though dumbstruck. Even a brute could enjoy the sheer beauty of Polly's genitals. 

'Beautiful cunt!' he muttered. 'Very beautiful! Made to be fucked.'

But, he soon found that he wouldn't be able to penetrate the delicious orifice without untying her ankles, and that would result in a kicking and struggling woman. Nor dare he ask her to fellate him. She would certainly bite his penis off. In desperation, he pushed his face between her thighs, pressing his stiff tongue into the honeyed crack, scooping the syrup onto his tongue. The tongue jabbed at the clitoris sending a jolt of agitation through Polly's body, in spite of the revulsion she felt. She screwed her eyes tightly shut to blot out the vile image.

Her hips began to jerk in response to the stimulation of her genitals. Leon's breath, hot and stinking, aroused her responsive vulva. His tongue lashed her sensitive button. Her belly was trembling. She tried to prevent the tension building up, but in vain. The familiar tensing had started. Her muscles twitched. Her breathing was irregular. Whimpers escaped her throat.

With a sudden recoil, an orgasm rippled through her loins, thighs shaking. Leon now lay on top of her, pressing his inflated shaft against her pubic bone and clitoral hood. His fingers probed her private flesh, now tousled with his spittle, and stimulated his heaving shaft.

'Perhaps I take you as slave as well,' he panted thickly as his huge thighs jerked rapidly. 'You have gorgeous cunt! Soon, I come!' His breathing was heavy, his groans loud. 'You got lovely cunt! I fuck it often!'

With a twitch of the huge buttocks, a loud bellow, his cock spewed forth his great globs of slime over Polly's delicate vulva.

After he recovered, Leon stood slowly and menacingly over Polly. She was breathless with the effort of resisting his bulk.

'Now the exciting bit!' he crowed. The power socket was in the wall directly beside Polly's head.

'Ah! Here is electric power!' Leon took the wires, pushing the plug firmly into the socket. Polly panicked! She fought furiously against the bonds, immune to the searing pain caused by her efforts.

'First I attach the claws to your nipples. They are strong. Bite deep into your tits. Then switch on the power.' He laughed loudly, enjoying his work. He picked up the metal claws and stood astride her. His fat hair-covered thighs, sagging buttocks and testicles towered over Polly. She screamed as loud as she could. He leaned forward to swipe her hard with the back of his hand across her cheek. 

'Shut up!' he bellowed. She screamed again!

Just then came a deafening screeching noise. Leon turned in alarm to see Marina blowing into a brass tube.

'What the -?' Before he could finish the question, a spray filled his eyes, burning them! Leon bellowed with pain. He was blinded! 

Meantime, Polly rolled over to the wall beside her, pressing the switch with her nose. It worked! A crackling noise mingled with the cry of terror as the voltage seared through Leon, still clutching the two metals claws. His huge body gave a leaping jolt. Polly rolled away. Almost immediately the room was filled with people, shouting and screaming. Nestor and Pluto had appeared with Lucy and others. One switched off the current, leaving Leon an exhausted, twitching mountain of limp flesh. Polly was untied and Marina's gag removed.

After Leon had been manacled and taken away to face Cronos, Marina and Polly explained to Lucy what had happened. They all tended to each other's wounds.

'If you hadn't raised the alarm when you did,' Polly told Marina, 'I would have been electrocuted! Perhaps it was only Leon's sheer bulk that saved him from a similar fate.'

'He thought I finished,' Marina smiled. 'But, when I fully awake, I watch him thrash you on the floor. Then, when he start to press his cock against fanny, I knew he concentrate on only one thing. Fastening round my wrist had worked loose during he copulate me. So I pull gag off, blow my whistle hard. When he turn, I spray his eyes!'

They all laughed and clapped hands together.

Polly and Marina never saw Leon again!



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 15



It was three days later that Cronos finally arranged for Polly and her companions to join him for dinner. Lucy had already warned them.

'Although Cronos looks mild-tempered, he must be obeyed without question and without hesitation. Any sign of disobedience and you will be thrashed ruthlessly. What is more, any sign of ingratitude will also be heavily punished.'

'Will we escape without any correction at all, then?' asked Marina, a note of disappointment in her voice.

'Not likely! But the correction will probably be for their own pleasure in domination. Hard, but not terrible. After last week, Polly, it will seem a pat on the back!'

The instructions were for Polly to wear a simple white tunic, her hair loose. Lucy and Marina were asked to put wide dog-collars, decorated with brass studs, round their necks. Each collar was attached to a leather lead. A flimsy pair of panties and an equally flimsy halter bra was all they wore. Lucy was expected to attach screw-type special ear-rings to her inner labia. They were simple rubber rings, about ten centimetres in diameter. They dangled between her thighs until tucked into the panties. When the time came, the severe-looking housekeeper escorted them to the dining room, Polly following, holding the other two by their leads.

The decor was luxurious, soft hidden lights reflecting from the pale ceiling, encrusted with an intricate interlacing moulding in gold and silver, with pale-blue bosses. The central chandelier in gold and crystal was elaborate, but unlit. To the right were large sliding glass windows leading onto a large conservatory, beyond which stretched a wide balcony, over-canopied with foliage and blossom. Amongst the shrubs and exotic plants in the conservatory was a small Greek band, playing soft romantic music.

To the left of the room, a dining area had been set up, with a low table covered by a white cloth and many different dishes. It was surrounded on three sides by cushions and divans. In the centre was a small dancing floor and, at the far end of it, a sitting area around a large coffee table having a shallow silver bowl filled with fruits of all kinds.

The men were standing in front of the divan as they entered. They were dressed in formal dinner suits with white tuxedos. Cronos stood in the middle. Polly immediately ran to sit at his feet whilst Lucy cringed and fawned at the feet of Pluto.

'First, let me introduce my nephew, Nestor. A young stallion of twenty years and already a wealthy shipping magnate, with a little help from his father.' Nestor was a tall, well-built man, with bright eyes, a mass of black curls and a ready smile. Marina looked at him with greedy eyes. Without hesitation she ran to him and bowed at his feet.

'Thank you master. Your bond servants and I are very pleased to fall at your feet and do your bidding this evening. My maid and Lucy's slave girl is Marina.'

'She seems to have found a new master already. Is she obedient? Is she trained?'

'Oh, yes, my lord. Marina is a devoted young bitch. No amount of beating will deter her from being faithful and true. She will do anything her master desires.'

'Good! We shall test that later. But first, for my guests, I have arranged for you all to watch the taming of the Greek shrew. It is a dramatic event set to the music of Zorba. He was the Greek master of the slaves.' He gave a signal to the small band.

The small band struck up the theme music of 'Zorba the Greek'. From out of the conservatory stormed a woman with generous curves, almost naked. Her raven hair was tied up with strings of pearls, with a pendant hanging over her forehead, with a solitary emerald dropped centrally over the bridge of her nose. She was swarthy skinned. Her body undulated to the rhythm of the music. The beads, suspended over her breasts, did nothing to hide the plentiful flesh, bursting to capacity, superbly supported by firm muscles, helped by a halter round her neck, crossing at the front and passing under each breast.

The almost black nipples were engorged and jutting, with a suggestion of milk on their extremities. Her rounded belly, with its deep cavity in which another emerald was embedded, undulated and swayed erotically. The minuscule modesty belt only served to accentuate the mass of black curls it tried, but failed, to obscure. Carefully shaved to remove any stray hairs, the profuse growth was shaped in an inverted pyramid, pointing down to the clitoral hood. With undulating arms, snaking around, swaying hips rolling the ample cheeks of her buttocks to and fro, she approached the company.

The men's attention was glued to her as she displayed her body in an obscene, though artistic manner. She knelt on the low table, knees splayed wide apart, arching her body backwards, supported by her arms behind her. All the curves of her seductive body were accentuated, her large, plump vulva yawning to reveal the generous lips of wrinkled flesh drooping from the orifice, their petals slightly parted.

The hood of her clitoris was pierced by a gold ring set with a large opal. Twisting to one side to retain her balance on the left arm, the dancer brought her other arm to between her thighs. She parted the lips with thumb and second finger. Her forefinger was clenched tight and placed under the clitoral hood where it began to stimulate the hard button beneath the ring. Her finger flickered rapidly on the sensitive part making the woman growl with excitement, deep in her throat.

At this point, from the conservatory came a tall, heavily-built, dark-skinned man carrying a leather crop strapped to his right wrist. He had no body hair at all. The head and groin were both hairless and smooth. He was completely naked, his semi-thickened penis swaying around obscenely. Muscles rippled on his arms, shoulders and chest. His buttocks were taut and firm, thighs muscular.

He strode to the woman dancer, gripped her right shoulder to swing her from the table. She looked at him with terror in her eyes, her body shrinking from him. He raised the whip as though to strike her. But she rolled away from him. He followed her. Catching her by the wrist, she was pulled to her feet and twisted round. A flick of his wrist was all that was required for the lash of the whip to curl round her hips, cutting into the plentiful flesh of her bottom. She spun round, contorting her body in pain.


The music grew in intensity as she threw her arms out to the man in supplication, but to no avail. The whip whisked through the air a second time, stinging her on the upper thighs. The woman recoiled, retreating from her torturer, watchful and tense. The man, dark skin now glistening with perspiration, stalked her full of menace, whip at the ready. Suddenly, the wrist flicked. A third lash caught her high on the cheeks. The slave shrieked in agony. The three weals could be seen in the soft flesh, crimson against the olive skin.

Shaking with fear, the voluptuous body crouched on the floor, curled into a tight ball. Muscles were tensed against the sting of the next, inevitable blow. It came. The hiss of the thong and the slap as it sank into the velvet-like skin. The body winced. Sobs accompanied the music, filling the room, but quickly stifled. The body kept shaking in its silence. During the short pause, waiting for the right musical cue, Zorba stood, legs apart, casually weighing the whip in his right hand. He stared maliciously at the defenceless woman in front of him.

The music swelled once again. Three more savage slashes followed in quick succession in time to the rhythm. Racked by the searing pain, the figure jerked and jolted, recoiling from the blows. The man dropped his whip, closed in to scoop her with apparent ease onto his shoulder. Collapsing forward, the slave twisted her thighs round Zorba's head, so that her head fell against his belly as though insensible. The strong man now paced round the table with the woman held upside-down against his chest, his now stiff penis finding its way into her scarlet mouth as though by accident.

He pressed his mouth to her bare vulva, fat and dripping with thick vaginal lubricant. As the music reached its crescendo, he swung the woman from his shoulders to the floor. He cupped the cheeks of her behind in his hands, his fingers pulling open the entrance to her secret passage, bouncing her from the floor into an embrace, her arms round his neck. The deftness of the move resulted in his erect shaft sliding straight between the open cleft of her vulva, penetrating her depths.

The woman still feigned senselessness, her body jumping like a rag doll as the man bounced her vigorously on his phallus. On the final coda of the music, he lifted her from his manhood, placing her in a heap at his feet, her expansive buttocks towards the spectators. He stood over her, stiff penis thrusting arrogantly, holding his arms high in victory. At the end of the exhibition, Polly stared in admiration at his swarthy phallus fully extended, straining hard.

After he had taken his ovation, Zorba lifted the woman into a squatting position on the low table facing the men. A large brandy goblet was placed below her vulva. It required two mighty slaps on her breasts to persuade the defeated woman to empty her bladder, squirt by squirt, lips pulled apart, into the glass whilst the onlookers studied her genitals.

Zorba lifted the glass of warm golden liquid to the light before knocking the dancer from the table with a swipe from the back of his hand onto the wooden floor. With a sudden gesture, Zorba grabbed her jaw in his huge hand, forcing it open to pour the contents of the goblet into her mouth. Some slopped over her chin, splashing down her full breasts. Defeated and humiliated, she was again thrust to the floor where she cowered on her side. Then, Zorba gestured for the men to take their leisure on the woman.


Cronos and his nephew were eager to respond. Standing over the passive figure, dripping with her own urine, they raised their arms and began whipping the supple flesh without care or mercy. Back, arms, thighs, waist, buttocks. The willow canes furrowed the flesh with deep red and blue stripes. The heap shuddered and trembled under the blows. A continuous high moan of agony filled the silence. Pluto joined in the humiliation with his strap, studded with sharp brass nodules.

The male dancer stood watching the terrible punishment. Finally, he raised his hand. The breathless trio rested their weapons, gazing down on the beaten heap of collapsed flesh, raw and speckled with broken skin. The dancer knelt at the head of the moaning figure. Taking her head by the hair, he jerked it up. The jaw dropped open, tears of pain wet the cheeks.

The drums rolled quietly. Opening her eyes, the belly-dancer opened saw the rampant penis in front of her face. Grasping it at the base she drew it towards her mouth. The spectators watched entranced as she slowly lowered her mouth over it, sliding and licking as she went, until it was completely submerged. With a slow lift of the head, the woman slid her mouth away, to the crash of cymbals.

The Zorba music struck up again, slow and rhythmic. As Zorba thrust deep into her mouth, Pluto knelt behind the woman, placed the head of his phallus at the entrance to her gaping vulva, and submerge it fully inside in one slow stroke. Both men increased their rhythm with the beat of the music, until her head was bouncing up and down vigorously in time to Pluto's thrusts. She was moaning loudly and gasping obscenities as the music got louder and faster.

As the climax slammed into her, she threw her head back, eyes screwed tight. Her lips were drawn back over her teeth in an agonised snarl, letting out a long high pitch shriek; loins lunging with savagery and lust on the mighty shaft. This was not the behaviour of a civilised woman, but of a trapped animal!

With a final whoop of release, she knelt up straight, disengaging from the phallus which was on the point of eruption. She reached behind to grab it in her hands. A powerful surge of starchy juice shot from the shaft, spraying her swollen tender buttocks. Holding her hand over the knob, the remaining spurts gushed into the palm, oozing down the shaft. With both hands, the woman caught the sperm as it erupted, rubbing the sticky juices along the shaft before collapsing on the floor. Zorba scooped her into his arms and carried her away to the applause of the guests.

After re-settling themselves, Cronos spoke to Pluto.

'I was telling my nephew that my new English slave is a virgin. He doesn't believe me. Let's show him, Polly. Lay across my lap.'

Without hesitation, Polly lay over the perfectly creased thighs of her master. Her tunic was pulled up to reveal her rounded bottom with its complexion. Although the scratches were fully healed, the severe beating of the previous week had left the skin slightly mottled and pink. Without hair to cover the plump vulva, the inner lips showed through. Polly felt them being pulled apart uncovering the puckered orifice of her vulva.

Nestor pushed a special instrument the into the opening of the flesh surrounding the secret entrance. It pulled the flesh apart to open up the pink folds. His eyes opened with pleasure and surprise.

'You are quite right uncle. A perfect specimen. But not a virgin elsewhere, I don't believe.'

'Ah, no. Last week's ceremony required penetration of the sacrifice. However, the precious passage was left unsullied as a tribute to the Marquis.'

Cronos caressed Polly's buttocks delicately. 'Your wounds have healed well, Polly. You withstood the punishment well. The Marquis was delighted at your bravery.'

'Thank you, master,' Polly responded.

Lucy was looking up into the stern face of Pluto with a pleading expression. He turned to Cronos.

'Do you object to my dog having her thrash, sir? She seems anxious to grovel.'

Cronos grimaced. 'If you must, Pluto. But whip the hound well. They are so much more obliging when they are humiliated.' Polly slid to the floor between his thighs. 

'Shall we be pleasured by all three, uncle?'

'Most certainly! Between each course.'

Pluto grinned. Pluto took the lead bringing Lucy on all fours to the centre of the room, onto the small dance floor. He was followed by Nestor.

The two men brought Lucy to the centre of the small dance floor where she was pushed onto all-fours, her lead looped round the leg of a heavy table.

'Please do not whip me, master. I will do as you wish,' Lucy screamed! She knew it was useless, but it added to Pluto's sense of power

'Just wait and see!' Pluto taunted her. 'I will teach you complete obedience.' Lucy's silk panties were stretched tight over the overwhelming buttocks. They were a perfect shape, filling the kickers. Then men couldn't keep their hands off the supple flesh, smoothing the silk stretched over them. Outlined in the gusset could be seen the dark shape of the rubber rings.

Each of the men had taken up a weapon. Pluto the strap and Nestor the cane. The earlier exercise had given them both an appetite for their next victim. They stood one either side of the bent figure. At a nod from Pluto, they both swung their arms to strike the flesh at the same time. Lucy almost toppled over with the strength of the blows. The flesh reddened almost immediately. By the time the second blows reached her buttocks, they were already swelling with the pain.

Lucy bit her lips to avoid crying out with the agony tearing through her loins. Her pale bottom jerked! The pain stabbed through her. Both men were rivetted to the defenceless body, the perfect bottom displayed for them. Nestor licked his lips with exhilaration. He would put his back into the next blow. With a sudden twist of his waist, Nestor brought the cane down again, cutting into the soft flesh, whose only protection was the thin layer of silk. The hips recoiled against the blows, but Lucy managed to avoid crying out in pain as the burning seared through her loins, her eyes squeezed shut in pain. The fourth swipe split the fabric covering those delicious orbs. A tearing sound followed the thwack of the cane striking the tender flesh. Lucy recoiled savagely.

A fourth and fifth stroke followed in swift succession, aimed at the lower part of the buttocks. The tortured cry from Lucy could not be stifled! The stinging heat of her loins had reached her genitals, now responding by oozing with honey, vainly trying to douse the blaze in her vagina. The fat vulva, with its protruding inner lips and hanging rings, stood proud of the surrounding cheeks. The flexible cane sank into the folds with a sickening sound, sending Lucy into paroxysms of agony.

Her head was spinning, her whole groin stinging as the blood rushed to protect her tender flesh, swelling under the assault of the willow cane. Her knickers now were little protection. They had split from waist to crotch. Only one more strike to endure before that wonderful feeling of joy that it was over. The moment of numbness as a prelude to the soothing feeling.

Thwack! The last blow once again straddled both cheeks, catching the bloated lips of her vulva. An explosion of agony. Her mind was a whirl of fire works. The terrible sting radiated throughout her hips and loins. After the flinch, her body relaxed. The raging fire enveloped her entire lower half, seated deep in her loins, burning with desire. She opened her eyes. There before her stood Nestor.

Through her tears, Lucy saw his large cock sticking up from out of his open flies. It was a massive thing, the skin covered with a tracery of veins, thick and blue, pulsing with the heavy beat of his excitement. The foreskin was half pulled over the plum-like head, a polished purple. It was a menacing sight. She felt the waist band of her knickers give as Pluto cut through it with a knife, allowing the fabric to be peeled from her crimson cheeks, sensitive and swollen with long weals. The rubber rings swung from the labia.

'That is what women worship, bitch. The penis!' Pluto sneered at Lucy. Nestor's trousers now fell to the floor followed by the boxer shorts. The massive cock was there in all its glory, sprouting from the hard belly of rippling muscles, surrounded by a mass of black curls.

'Ah, my nephew has a magnificent weapon. Look, slave! But I do wish he would shave it!' Polly saw it being pushed into Lucy's face.

Lucy smelt the male sex excrement and sweat. It was exhilarating! Yes! She would worship this phallus to please her lord and master; to emulate the belly-dancer's homage.

'Lick it, woman slave! You are honoured to have such a prominent member to worship. Lick!' And she did!

Moments later she felt the rings attached to her labia being pulled aside. The lips were opened roughly. Then a prodding at the entrance to her vulva. The fire in her belly had produced a plentiful supply of honey, now smeared thickly over her lips and the entrance to her paradise. Lucy's craving to be filled by her master overwhelmed the pain she would have to endure, for the fire in her loins to be extinguished by a flushing penis.

She cried out with sudden shock and pain as the mighty penis forced its thick girth roughly into her passage. She thought her passage would split! The folds of burning flesh stretched to their limits to let in this lunging giant. Pluto plunged heavily in and out of her warm muff with no thought for its owner.

The thrill of being ravaged by a monster so excited Lucy that it drove her to an early orgasm. The release swept over her in a crashing wave, bubbling and boiling through her brain. She cried out in agony; a pitiful wail. Her twitching loins, hot and wet, slowly subsided. In her mind was the image of Pluto's massive cock, bigger than ever, as it plunged with regular rhythm, deep into her shrine.

The sight of such fierce ravishing stimulated Polly's lust. Just then, she saw Pluto withdraw from Lucy, fold the rubber rings over each other against the vulva, and crush his cock through the rings into the opening. As the rings pressed into the orifice, the screw fastenings tore at the labia as they were dragged into the vagina. Lucy screamed in agony. The massive cock pounded in and out. The rubber rings gripped the shaft. The fastenings scored into the tender flesh, tugging the labia behind them.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 15



Her screams became pitiful. After what seemed an eternity of agony, Lucy became conscious of a break in the rhythm. Those powerful loins started to jerk and lunge erratically. A massive jerk behind her almost split her womb open, as Pluto emptied his loins into her tightness. The liquid seemed to inflate her vagina even more! She was flooded with his gushes. Pluto withdrew, his deflating shaft slipping from the rings. Lucy's lips were severely stretched after the treatment they had withstood. Swollen and scarred. Angry in colour. So that was how her vulva became so violated, Polly thought. Her face was drawn with pity for her friend.

After being released from the table leg, the ravished Lucy curled at the feet of Pluto, caressing his feet and kissing his legs as he sat at the dining table. The men had removed their trousers and shorts so that their slaves could tend their genitals. An occasional morsel of food was passed down to them to nibble. Nestor was sitting at a divan the end of the table, Marina squatted at his feet.

At the end of the first course - a selection of cooked meats with olives - Nestor gestured to Marina to lay across his lap. She positioned herself eagerly, presenting her olive-skinned cheeks of her small shapely buttocks, thighs slightly apart. Nestor thwacked her bottom brutally with his open palm, watched by the others until the cheeks burned crimson. Marina bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Her grunts were spontaneous as each slap rippled through her.

Then came the unexpected. He took up a small bell. At its sound, Polly's attention was drawn to a naked man who entered the room on all-fours wearing an animal costume with a wolf's head. The erect penis protruded from the costume, swaying lewdly from side to side as he approached the group. After sniffing heavily at Marina's genitals, the wolf's head withdrew.

So realistic was the costume, that Polly could believe her small servant was being ravished by a huge wolf. Taking the cheeks in each hand, it's claws dug deep into the soft flesh, they were forced painfully apart. But instead of violating her small vagina, the stiff erection thrust fiercely into the damp rectum. At this, Marina screamed! She was taken by surprise.

Unprepared for the sudden violation. Nestor watched their butler thudding hard into the slender buttocks. The tight entrance was stretched to tearing round the thrusting shaft. Marina's body shook and jerked with the agony of the forced entrance. But she did not object.

After the heaving had reached it's climax, the phallus withdrawn, dribbles of sperm following it, Nestor repeated the beating of her buttocks with a large wooden lath until the slender girl writhed in pain. Still she did not complain or cry out. Stifled whimpers showed her distress. Finally, Nestor threw down the weapon, lifted the slender body like a doll, turning Marina's back against his chest. Her legs opened wide over his thighs, his straining cock plunging deep into her dripping vagina.

Lust had overtaken Marina. She now cried out in blissful agony. No joy could surpass penetration by her powerful master.

The others watched as the Eurasian doll bounced wildly up and down on Nestor's loins. Her eyes were dazed; her mouth slack and drooling with desire; her small breasts heaving with effort and pain.

After Nestor had liberated his loins with liberal splashes into the small Eurasian, the masters returned to their meal. Once again, the slaves were passed morsels of food as the three masters enjoyed their kebabs and salads. Polly was desperate for sexual release but her master ignored her, passing her morsels of food. She dare not finger herself for fear of being discovered. During the next break in eating, Cronos spoke.

'My slave must be spared the rod this day,' he explained. 'The Ceremony of the Marquis will be performed tomorrow and Polly is required to be in perfect health; sound in body and limb.'

Nestor expressed his disappointment, but said nothing.

'Perhaps you, Pluto, and you Nestor would care to continue taunting your pets.'

'I think, uncle, we should allow our two slaves to beat each other. With the whips.'

'Good!' Cronos cried.

Lucy and Marina were taken into the middle of the room, each handed a whip.

'There. Please your masters by flogging each other.'

Polly sat at the feet of her lord as her two friends sparred and lashed out at each other. The three men watched with undisguised relish. Marina and Lucy knew they would have to make it real if they were to avoid a savage thrashing from their lords. They fought like cats, snarling and lashing at hips, waist, legs, shoulders. Anywhere to raise furrows of pain.

When both had exhausted their strength, they sank exhausted to the floor, their bodies lacerated by long scarlet weals; their buttocks swollen and blotched. Perspiration shone on their faces and heaving breasts.

'Before retiring for the night,' Cronos told them, 'I think we should inspect their private entrances to ensure no damage.'

One after the other, the battered friends were laid out on the table where they were subjected to a close inspection of their secret passages by all three men. Polly escaped that humiliation. The rear entrance of their collapsed bodies were finally violated by Nestor before the entertainment came to an end.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 16



Polly and her friends, having gratified the cruel whims of their masters following an erotic dance by a naked couple, prepare to have a late feast before retiring to bed.

Chapter sixteen

Having rather tender behinds, it was suggested by Neleus that they removed their clothes to eat their meal. This was accepted, and the four couples sitting naked on the soft cushions round the low table to eat the from the many dishes. Discussion centred on the role of men and women in society, Polly insisting that men's main purpose was to fertilize the egg of the female.

'I think we may have a difference of opinion about the respective roles of the sexes,' Neleus confessed. 'But that need not spoil the enjoyment of our evening.'

'Surely not. For we women posses what you men most desire. The secret of life lies deep within us. It is the secret of existence itself. We are happy to allow those we trust and admire to penetrate that secret, to experience the delight of our private paradise. But it is a journey man must make through the devotion to female sexuality. Without it there is no joy!

'You men may shout and be aggressive, but the more subtle women know how to tease you. Think of Lysistrata! She brought an end to men's wars by persuading her women to deny their husbands their connubial beds. I admit it was as difficult for some of the more randy married women as for the men, but, there, it worked!'

'Nonsense! Pure theory! A dramatist's invention!'

'Male chauvinism!' They looked each other in the eye with a certain respect and amusement.

'We women can easily hold our own where wit and strategy is concerned. Men's only weapon is their strength. Beneath the lash of a whip in a woman's hand, they become powerless.'

'Nonsense!' cried Nestor. 'Look! I challenge you to a match! Six of your top troopers to six men of my choosing. Muscle power forbidden. Whips and armour allowed!'

'Done! The contest to be fought in the arena. The first combatant in each pair to touch the ground with any part of their arms is the loser. There must be no further combat. The winner will give the loser eight whacks before ravishing them publicly.'

'Agreed! In the event of a draw, you, Commander, will fight the final bout with my Chief.'

'But my argument is already won, for see! You gentlemen are already sporting stiff erections again. And so soon after the punishment.'

'Ah! But with such beauty to stimulate our fantasies, what man could fail but show his appreciation in the best possible manner.'

'Well, I am sure we ladies are more than willing to allow you to worship at the altar of Aphrodite once again. You must admit that the temptation is too strong to resist. You are all anxious to penetrate the secret of our womanhood once more. And your weapons are a good selection. Saturn, in particular sports a massive idol.'

'But first, the sweet course!' Nestor clapped his hands. The waitress had brought a selection of fruits and sweets, with cream.

The woman dancer re-appeared from the conservatory. moving to the rhythm of the band. Her thighs swayed provocatively as she stepped onto the now almost empty table. She held up before her a small bunch of grapes taken from the fruit dish. The music changed to a low roll of the side drum. Pulling one grape from the branch, she pushed it between her thighs, inserting it between her own grape-like vulva lips. This was followed by a second, then a third. The men watched in astonished amusement as the belly dancer inserted eight large black grapes into her vulva.

The women were equally engrossed by the act. The dancer stood up on the table, legs apart, beckoning to the first man - Menelaus - to bring his mouth to her open thighs. He did! A grape emerged from between her lips to drop into his mouth.

There was much laughter and applause at this. The dancer then invited Saturn to do the same. Sure enough another grape was deposited into his mouth. So with Nestor and, finally, Neleus. As everyone laughed with appreciation, the dancer expelled the remaining four grapes, one by one, onto the table to great applause and a crescendo from the drummer. The grapes were picked up by the men and eaten with relish!

The male dancer now came to join his partner. On the table was a plate of large eclairs. Taking one in his hand, he wrapped it around his shaft, and offered it to Polly for her to bite. With the encouragement of the others, she managed to open her mouth sufficiently far to take in the first two or three centimetres, biting off the eclair, whilst sucking the knob end it encased. She licked the chocolate from her lips with a smile as he moved to Lucy, sliding the eclair forward. She had difficulty in getting her lips over the end of it and, amidst laughter from the rest, resorted to nibbling round it.

This was repeated with Helen and Anne who finished off the rest of the eclair, leaving his shaft smeared with cream. As Anne took the last morsel, the band played a victorious chord as the couple bowed and went off.

Lucy stood in the centre of the table. 'Menelaus has decided to have strawberries and cream a la Lucy.' She lay on her back in the middle of the table, doubled her legs back so that her genitals were facing upwards, her glorious cheeks alluring. Taking a strawberry from the dish, she delicately popped it between the lips of her vulva, pushing it well inside the vagina.

'How many would you like, sir?' she asked, pushing more strawberries into the gash. 'Help yourself to cream.'

After they had overcome their initial astonishment, the guests began to laugh, encouraging Lucy to fill her vagina to the brim.

'Enough,' cried Menelaus. 'Leave room for the cream.' He leaned over Lucy, parting her lips wide with one hand, and pouring the thick cream into the orifice with the other until it overflowed.

'Before you eat it,' Nestor called, allow me pummel it. And he squatted against the crimson cheeks of Lucy's bottom before levering his body over her doubled-up body. Polly took his quivering penis, aimed it at the brimming entrance to Lucy's vulva, for Nestor to slide the stiff penis into the cream. The guests cried out with admiration, Helen clapping her hands together with glee. The cream oozed out as the stiff cock displaced it, stained with crushed strawberry juice.

After a few strokes, Nestor removed his penis, coated with strawberries and cream, offering it to Anne to taste. Menelaus pulled Lucy on top of his face, scooping the fruit from her dripping vulva with his tongue before pushing her down to mount him, his elegant shaft sliding in and out of the vulva, frothing with crushed strawberries and cream, flooding into his white pubic hairs, staining them bright red.

Helen pushed Neleus onto his back, squatted over his face, taking an eclair from the dish. She slowly pushed the chocolate coated eclair between her parted lips until most of it was immersed. Then, tightening her inner muscles, the cream squirted onto Neleus's face. He happily gobbled away at the eclair as Helen thrust it out of her vagina.

When he had taken it all, Helen slid down his body to impale herself on his hard shaft. The melted chocolate coated her soft folds, assisted by the honey of paradise. She plunged herself up and down on his manhood with great vigour!

After Anne had licked Nestor clean, he pushed her onto her back, lifted her thighs and thrust an ice-cream log into her vulva. With the shock of the cold, Anne cried out but Nestor pushed the cream deep inside with his rampant penis, fucking her furiously. The sensation was incredible. He was unable to withstand the effect on him and, with a cry of surprise, he spurted his own cream into Anne's lush receptacle.

Polly twisted sideways to Saturn beside her, who was sitting back, propping himself up with his arms, watching the others with amusement in his keen eyes. Taking up the jug of honey Polly poured it over his massive phallus, straining proudly, adding a spoonful of cream, before going down on him. Catching sight of a bowl of chocolate truffles, Saturn reached for them, popping five of them into Polly's vulva. Rolling her over, Saturn crouched across her so that she could continue licking away at his shaft.

He took up a half empty bottle of champagne, and stuffed the neck between her soft lips, smeared with chocolate. The fizz almost brought Polly to an orgasm. It was like a thousand little tongues licking her folds of flesh. The cool wine quenched the fire in her loins, soothing away the smart which lingered from the whipping. Saturn's tongue searched inside Polly's vulva for the truffles, now quickly melting to a sweet sludge. But he was getting too aroused, eager to thrust his heavy weapon into the mud. Polly gasped with shock as the shaft stretched her chocolate-coated vagina. Once penetrated, she revelled at the sensation.

The four couples rolled on the cushions, fornicating wildly. Hands were everywhere, breasts were kneaded, vulvas felt with cocks pounding them, testicles squeezed. Helen and Lucy dragged Saturn and Nestor from their partners, ruthlessly rolling them onto their backs to mount their stained penises. The two other men moved quickly to Polly and Anne, penetrating their dripping passages without preliminaries.

Their were moans and whimpers, loud and uninhibited, as the couples wallowed in sheer eroticism, melted chocolate, crushed strawberries and cream, soft ice-cream and honey smudged over the bodies. Neleus scooped a handful of thick cream from the jug to smear over Polly's breasts, massaging it vigorously as he thrust heavily into her. Menelaus fell sideways from Anne, found the chocolate sauce and poured it over her belly. Soon, the bodies were intermingled.

Honey was emptied onto the bodies, eclairs crushed between clefts of buttocks. Cocks were thrust in and out of different vulvas, whichever happened to be vacant at the time. The women grabbed with abandon at the swaying cocks, gobbling them voraciously before crushing them into their vaginas recklessly.

They were animals, growling and snapping. Thighs and tender cheeks of bottoms were bitten, breasts were slapped about, testicles pulled. Cries of pain filled the air. The butler and waitress appeared naked, armed with straps. They flailed about the seething mass of bodies.

Polly, bounding on Nestor's penis, beaten over her back, saw Saturn pull away from Helen, his penis spurting powerful jets of sperm. She reached out to catch the spray in her mouth before he threw himself on Anne, shoving the massive shaft deep into her vacant vagina. Nestor was begin to buck at her. He was near coming.

Anxious to see her favourite sight, Polly transferred her loins to Nestor's face, taking his smooth penis in her hand, pulling at it as the muscles contracted. Nestor's tongue lapped furiously at Polly's clitoris and labia, sending waves of excitement through her loins. With a thrust of his hips, and a loud groan, Nestor's penis erupted, showering Polly's hands with several bursts of sperm. The sight of such an effusion brought about Polly's own explosive orgasm with a cry of joy as she ground her vulva against Nestor's eager mouth.

Neleus was being fellated greedily by Helen, whilst Menelaus licked and nibbled her vulva and clitoris and the waitress lashed her back. The screwed-up eyes and rolling head, twitching loins, showed Neleus nearing his climax. But Menelaus's teasing tongue bought about Helen's orgasm first. Her groin thrashed about wildly as the release swept over her, sucking recklessly on Neleus's throbbing shaft.

With a yell, his vaulting hips thrust his cock deep into Helen's hot mouth, splashing its sperm deep into her throat. After the first jet, Helen took it quickly from her, to allow the sperm to eject its globules over her shoulder. Menelaus's penis was now being masturbated rapidly by Lucy between her lips, brushing the bare glans as the foreskin was pulled back and forth. His sperm spurted against her teeth, dribbling over her chin and hand.

When their spasms had all subsided, they watched silently as Saturn battered relentlessly against the cheeks of Anne's bottom, shuddering and bouncing against the thrusts of the huge phallus. Her folds of flesh clasped the driving shaft as it pulled and pushed against them. Anne's orgasm was violent and noisy. She screamed, tossing her loins about, her breasts swaying lewdly.

'Show us how you erupt, Saturn,' Polly cried as she saw his hips begin to heave. Withdrawing from Anne, they watched as his tensed loins quivered, his penis jerked, his thick sperm suddenly discharged in several spurts down the length of her inner thigh. Polly watched it in awe. She was fascinated by male ejaculations. To her knowledge, Saturn had climaxed four times already, but the sperm was still as thick and copious as the first time!

As a finale to the orgy, the butler shouted to the waitress.

'Come here, bitch! It is not your place to beat the master and his friends without permission. You have to be punished for your insolence!'

He grabbed her wrist and forced the waitress to lean against the table. She was only a thin, small woman, with girlish tiny breasts. Her thighs were narrow and the buttocks tight and puny. Taking up one of the discarded canes, the butler raised his arm high and brought the instrument down hard across her small, tight bottom. Without pause, he raised his arm again and again, lashing the poor girl's unprotected behind. His body twisted with the effort, his long stiff penis waving lewdly around.

Being naked, it wasn't long before the frail cheeks were swelling with crimson weals. The puffy vulva didn't escape punishment either, for the butler's aim was indiscriminate. Polly looked at her genitals with interest. They were not luscious at all! Her outer labia were on the scrawny side with sparse hair covering. The inner folds were thin and wrinkled, but long and well lubricated, Polly noticed.

The waitress screamed and wailed as her body jolted like a rag doll as the blows rained down, stings of searing pain racking her slender frame. Suddenly discarding the cane, the butler took hold of his his iron rod and drove deep into her vulva. She cried out again, but now with lust. Her slender body, shaking with lechery and exhilaration. The ravishing was vicious. Polly, incensed by the savagery of the assault, took up the cane and laid heavily into the naked butler. She beat his taught buttocks without mercy until he jarred his loins heavily, pulling out of the tight vulva as the spurts of sperm arched over the thin back and red-spotted buttocks of the waitress.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 17



Following many trials of sheer physical tolerance to a full range of tortures on her body, Polly is finally prepared for the ultimate punishment by the disciples of the Marquis de Sade in his temple. And to be reunited - briefly - with her father.

*

Polly and her friends enjoyed the freedom of the island the next day. Lucy and Marina had found a mutual delight in each other. The Eurasian girl was the perfect slave and Lucy her perfect mistress.

At the appointed hour, Polly was escorted to the small temple in the grounds of the villa, overlooking the bay. The sea was a deep blue. The housekeeper had dressed Polly in a pair of silk panties and a series of gossamer silk robes and veils, until she resembled a bride. Her hair was combed down her back, a ringlet of flowers was placed over the veils covering her head. The housekeeper, dressed all in black, and a butler also in black, walked before and behind Polly down the paths to the door of the temple.

Waiting there on either side of the door, were two tall figures in black tunics and hoods. Each carried a long horse-whip, thongs turned back in a loop, fastened to the stock. They entered the temple at Polly's side, her head bowed, escorting her to an altar on the centre of the circular room. It was covered with several velvet cushions all in white. Beyond the altar, Polly saw a beam hung with heavy chains, suspended some two metres or so from the floor. It sent a chill of fear down her spine.

When she reached the altar, she was turned to face the door. Through the veils, Polly could detect the semi-circle of men. All had white hoods over their heads and wore short white tunics, belted round the waist. The two black-hooded men, looking like executioners, stood on either side of Polly, the stocks of their long horse whips resting on the marble floor.

Polly was shaking with nerves. Her throat was dry, her knees like jelly. The anticipation of excruciating pain from one hundred lashes filled her with a thrilling foreboding.

Polly recognised the voice of Cronos. 'Oh, mighty Marquis de Sade, we thy servants, thy disciples, pay homage to your teachings of pain and punishment. We praise thy name and offer this, our slave, as a sacrifice to glorify thy name and teachings.'

Another voice took over the incantation. 'This young white virgin will be subjected to one hundred lashes in thy name, oh great one. Give her the strength, oh mighty Sade, to endure the punishment, so that we may rejoice with her in her pain.'

Polly thought she head heard that voice before. It was muffled by the hood, but it stirred in her mind. But, just then, a drumming started. A rhythmic beating. Polly's nostrils twitched as the smell of an aromatic incense permeated the air. A musk-like odour, sensual and pleasant.

The disciples then moved in single file to Polly's left. The first removed her floral coronet. Polly could see the gleam of fervour in the eyes behind the hood. The second disciple removed the veil from her head, draped down her back. Then the veil covering her face was removed. She could now see clearly the mocking look in the eyes, a look of triumph, which met her own. Five more hooded figures removed a veil from her shoulders until she stood naked apart from the panties. Each face behind the mask showed diabolical cruelty in the gleaming eyes.

No one had tried to touch her body in any lewdness. She was treated with the utmost respect. But Polly was under no illusion about their intentions. The eight men returned to their original positions in a semi-circle facing her, four each side of the central aisle. Beneath their hoods, all admired the beauty of Polly's perfect figure.

'It is right that such female perfection should be sacrificed to the Marquis.'

'Strike the gong. Bring on the instruments of torture.'

A gong sounded. Then, through the door came the butler carrying a wide silver tray. Polly face blenched as she saw the array of instruments on the tray. A thin crop, a tawse, a multi-twigged birch, a paddle, a simple willow cane, long and thin, a leather strap, encrusted with fine gold studs, a triple willow, three half-metre long thongs bound into a plaited handle, and the strong stalk of a rose with vicious barbs.

The butler passed round the semi-circle as each disciple selected an instrument of punishment. Polly was turned to face the altar by the two hooded guards. They pushed her body over the altar, each fastening a wrist to a ring set into the side of it. Her ankles were manacled to metal rings set into the floor at the base of the altar. Her pale bottom was exposed to their sadistic pleasure, smooth hairless genitals, pink and defenceless. The delicate folds of her inner lips pushed through to show themselves timidly.

Eight pairs of lips were being licked at the thought of thrashing such innocence. Polly's nerves were stretched to breaking point. Perspiration stood out on her forehead. Her body tensed against whatever indignity and punishment was waiting. A hundred strokes! With those awesome instruments! It wasn't possible! Her body would break.

A deep gong sounded. A faint sing of the crop a split second before it reached her out-thrust buttocks. The barbs of pain cut cruelly into Polly's loins as she recoiled against the blow. The thin strip of leather bit into the silk of her panties for the second stroke. Polly tried to blot out the sensation of the sting exploding in her groin. She concentrated on the still reverberating sound of the gong. The fabric of her panties blunted the edge of the pang, though the insistent regularity of the slashes, aimed accurately across the cheeks of her buttocks, burned into her whole nervous system.

This was an experienced caner. The blows never fell on the same spot twice. That process would follow later. Grunts escaped Polly inevitably as the lashes tore at her buttocks, but she never cried out in pain. Then, to her great relief, Polly realised that the first ten strokes were finished. A sigh of relief escaped her. Even though the severity of the lashes had been restrained, the burning was spreading throughout her belly like a sea of pain. The reverberations of the gong died away.

'Praise be to the Marquis!' was shouted from behind her as eight voices rose together in worship of their idol.

The drum now started its rhythmic pattern of sound. Soft and menacing. After allowing her muscles to relax and recharge, Polly stiffened again. The next ten strokes would come any time. The wide tawse struck her a heavy blow across the back, jarring the breath from her lungs. Her waist, shoulders and upper thighs were beaten by the leather strap, its three thongs raising crimson weals over the pale flesh. The back and shoulders were bearable, but the pain from her fleshy thighs stabbed down her legs and into her groin.

Polly knew that the gusset of the silk panties would be darkened by the spreading stain of her secretions. The men would be aroused by the sight. But, so long as the panties remained covering her buttocks, she had some protection, however slight, from the harrowing blows. Polly concentrated her mind on her father, imagining it was he who was beating her. He would hold her tight afterwards. The fantasy raised her lustful response to the thrashing. Her first orgasm rattled through her blazing loins, giving some relief to the agony overwhelming her.

When she came back to reality, there was a pause in the punishment. Her breath was rasping in her throat, her body heaving.

'Praise be to the Marquis!' came the shout of worship.

There was silence. The heavy aroma of incense filled her nostrils. The gong reverberated softly. A side drum suddenly split the quietness. Loud and rousing. Polly tensed again. But she was unprepared for the barrage of lashes across her buttocks and thighs. It was the birch, cutting into her skin in quick successive lashes. Polly's mind went into orbit with excruciating anguish. Each lash sent bolts of pain shooting through her body.

She bit her lower lip to prevent her crying out. But her high-pitched moans and jerking limbs told their own story of suffering. The lashes stopped as abruptly as they started. Polly was swimming through a sea of red waves. Her whole body seemed to be swollen to several times its normal size. Her buttocks were numbed with a blazing ache. She had never experienced anything approaching this level of agony.

As her feeling returned in some slight measure, Polly became conscious of her rectum being stretched and entered. It could only be a penis, she thought. As her senses returned from the blanket of agony, the slow movement in and out, soothing away the scalding feeling, gave some solace. The indignity was of no consequence to her.

Relief was all she pleaded. Her breathing became regular again, matching the rhythm of the invader. Polly begged to herself for it to continue as long as possible. Some relief from the whipping, whatever it was, offered a little respite. The thrusting got more urgent, came to a climax. A flood of warmth inside her passage. The invader withdrew, leaving Polly rippling with her own minor orgasm, to a patter of applause vaguely in the recesses of her ears.

'Praise be to the Marquis!' came the shout.

How Polly survived the next punishment she would never know. All idea of time and place had deserted her. Wallowing in her bed of dull numbness, the paddle beat her flesh ruthlessly. She no longer counted the number of strokes. She no longer cared. Unconsciousness would be a welcome end to the punishment. But she remained acutely aware of her punishment, grunting as the paddle struck her raw flesh.

The shackles were released on her wrists and ankles. There was no longer any need for restraint since Polly was incapable of movement. She was turned onto her back, the skimpy panties, torn and shredded, dragged from her before she was gripped by the ankles and her legs lifted high and wide. This presented her inner thighs and genitals to the gaze of the assembly. Surely they'll not beat my tender secret folds, she thought. Polly watched in horror and disbelief as the long, thin willow cane slashed into her inner thighs. Excruciating pain racked her. Her scream could no longer be stifled. It was too horrific.

Then the second slash stung like a whole nest of wasps. Her whole genital area was burning with a fierce blaze. Unable to contain herself, her screams accompanied each lash. Her bladder finally burst. A golden fountain arched through the air, splashing against the marble floor, to the extreme delight of the onlookers. The willow was laid on with even greater force, cutting deep into the swelling flesh. Polly's humiliation went unnoticed by her tormentors.

Only when the golden flow had reduced to a trickle did the beating stop. Polly was hoisted into an upright position. Her head hung slumped onto her chest, her dull eyes watching as the guards held her up under her arms. The noise of rattling chains filled her ears. The arms and shoulders of the pain-racked body were forced horizontal against the cool wood of the beam, shackled to it by heavy chains. The two guards took an ankle each, pulling them apart as far as they could until Polly though she would be torn down the middle, before fastening them.

Polly was a sorry sight. The whole area of hips, waist, buttocks and thighs were a mass of swollen flesh, covered with weals, ridges of red flesh. Her hairless genitals pulled open between the stretched legs, their lips fully exposed, thick and enlarged with the beating. Red blisters stood out on the labia. The pale creamy colour of her belly and breasts were in stark contrast.

As the encrusted leather strap struck Polly's left breast, it swung away from the blow, reddening. The second blow came from the opposite side. Specks of crimson came up like pimples where the small, sharp studs bit into the breast. After ten strokes, Polly's breasts were as discoloured as her buttocks. She no longer cared.

'Praise be to the Marquis!' came the shout.

The triple willow cut into her upper arms and ribs. The almost unconscious Polly was only dimly aware of the anguish she was suffering. She thought she was in heaven. Her body no longer responded to the beating. When pain is all enveloping, the body responds very little to more of it.

'Praise be to the Marquis!'

After the wand of rose thorns had lashed her breasts, loins, buttocks and thighs, Polly's body was a mass of red beads. Torn and ripped. Trickles of blood seeped thickly over the bruised and cut flesh.

The beam hanging high behind the altar was slowly lowered, the shackles removed and Polly allowed to slump in a heap on the marble floor. The impassive, hooded men stood around her poor submissive figure. It no longer resembled a human being. It was a heap of twisted raw flesh, scratched and swollen, covered with bruises and weals. At a gesture from one of the disciples, each raised his tunic, took hold of his penis, each at various states of arousal. They splashed streams of urine over the body.

Polly felt nothing as the body was cleansed by the warm saline douse. After the men had emptied themselves fully, one of the brethren bent over the crumpled figure, wrapped a towelling sheet round her and carried her to the altar. A black attache case was brought in by the housekeeper. Polly was examined for some moments by the hooded man, using a stethoscope taken from the case. At last, he looked up at the others and nodded.

'This one lives,' he said softly. 'A courageous slave! Let the marquis reward her.'

Polly was brought round by some kind of smelling salts under her nostrils. All she could feel was the burning, scalding pain through her body. Her wilting figure was propped upright at the end of the altar. When her eyes opened with reluctance, she looked into the eyes of the hooded man facing her, gleaming with lust. Her gaze dropped to his loins, noticing that he, too, was aroused. His penis pushed at the white tunic.

Driven to a high state of arousal, Polly had an overwhelming desire to embrace it. The hooded brethren lifted her down from the altar, holding her in a kneeling position. Falling forwards, her knees widely parted, she fumbled impatiently under the tunic for the erect shaft. The phallus felt familiar, but her brain, muddled with agony, couldn't place it! It was handsome, straight and smooth. She knew she had to worship it.

Holding her hands together as if in prayer, she took the stiff shaft between the palms. With thumbs pressed into the underside of the penis, Polly studied the mauve, polished glans in a haze of lechery. Then, closing her eyes, she took it fully between her lips, slowly sucking on it with devotion and respect. It thrust in and out of her mouth. Even though she felt to be choking, fighting for air, losing consciousness, her hands embraced his strong thighs. The taught cheeks of the buttocks flexed. The penis drove hard, deep into her mouth.

Polly felt hands grasp her shoulders tightly, loins stabbing at her face. Lashing her tongue against the thrusting shaft, body trembling with sudden desire, Polly wanted his sperm! Her lord's seed. Her honey was seeping freely from her beaten, swollen vulva. The man's groin flinched and quivered, buttocks heaving out of control, threatening to pull his phallus from her eager mouth, sucking the life from him. Then, with a final bucking grunt, Polly felt the gush of hot fluid splash against the back if her throat.

In the midst of his distraction by the paroxysm of orgasm, Polly distinctly heard him cry out, 'Pauline!'

Only one person called her by that name! With a superhuman effort, she pulled herself up, grasped his hood and jerked it off.

'Father!' she cried in amazement, dropping the hood, sperm dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

Then Polly collapsed.

One of the large guards hoisted her over his shoulder to take her inert body back to the villa and security. She was placed on a special padded treatment table where she would be helped to recover.

As Polly lay inert in a fever of pain, she suffered a vivid nightmare, disturbing her sleep as her body slowly recovered from the sadistic punishment she had taken. So graphic was the dream that she later remembered every detail of it.

Polly found herself in a large dim cavern. Gaudy lights were flashing in and out. The air was smoke-filled and hot. There was a curious whining noise in her ears. In the middle of the cave she could just see a large steaming cauldron hanging from a large tripod over an open fire of blazing logs. Sitting round it on low stools were a group of people, men and women, dressed in medieval garb. Saxon-like costumes.

They were drinking from goblets, coarse laughter was echoing round the chamber. Female slaves, small and dirty, with matted hair, wearing skimpy rough tunics were going round the guests, filling the goblets from large stone jugs. Then Polly's attention was attracted to a large man who appeared through the smoke, wearing a horned Saxon helmet. A heavily studded, wide belt was wrapped round the waist of his leather tunic. His legs were encased in leggings, laced with cross gartering round his calves. On his right hand was a beautiful, tall lady wearing a fine silk gown. Her bright red hair was pinned up with rubies and pearls. Jewels were strung round her neck and wrists.

'Pay homage, serfs! Your Lord and Lady,' a loud voice echoed round the cavern. The chatter stopped as the guests stood, bowing and scraping before the noble couple.

'Praise be to the Marquis!' echoed round the cave.

The lord, with a cruel grin on his face, squeezed and twisted the breasts of each female guest as he sauntered into the room. They winced at his brutality. To Polly's amazement she saw that it was Ulysses! His lady, passing by the men, felt under each tunic, making sure they were not wearing anything beneath it, at the same time crushing his testicles in the palm of her hand. None dare cry out or complain for Polly knew instinctively that they would be castrated on the spot if they did. The Lord and his lady reached the centre of the cave, facing the fire, where Polly could see two wooden thrones. Gold goblets were handed to the regal pair.

Noticing Polly the lady came across to face her, standing meekly in a corner of the cave, watching the scene. It was Lucy! Her face was gleaming, her eyes bright with recognition. She leered at Polly with a mocking smile before dashing the contents of her goblet into Polly's face. It was then that Polly realised that she couldn't move. The wine ran down her face onto her white bride's dress.

'Bitch!' Lucy screamed with venom in her voice.

She then grasped the neck of Polly's dress in her hands and tore it savagely. The bodice ripped apart exposing Polly's white breasts, heaving with indignation. The whole dress was torn from Polly's shoulders leaving her naked from the waist up.

'So, you are my husband's new slave, are you? First, you must be crushed to his will. And to mine, serf!'

Polly was blindfolded before being led over the rough floor until she was eventually stopped and swirled around several times until she felt dizzy. Her arms were grasped easing her down to sit on a flat surface. Then her blind-fold was removed. The cave had changed. It was lit by large candles, lots of them, standing on a long table beyond the fire. Partly dazzled by the flames, Polly could make out some of the guests sitting grinning at the other side of the table. She turned to see who was holding her by the arms.

The sight of a witch, complete with large wart-encrusted nose, straggly hair and wide-brimmed hat, took her by surprise. A black cloak hung loose over a naked body. Her breasts were long, shrivelled bags, hanging low, crowned with huge, black, leathery nipples. At her other side stood a second witch of a similar shape. The witches leered at her, holding her arms firmly behind her.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 17



To Polly's surprise, she too was naked. She didn't recognise her body. It wasn't her's! The long pointed tits, thrust forward in a creamy glow in the candlelight, she didn't recognise. As the witches held her wrists, Polly realised that she was perched on a long, narrow table - like an altar. Lucy fitted a curious leather support over Polly's breasts to lift them. It had no centre, allowing the nipples to protrude. But the insides of the two cups were pierced with a myriad of short pins. They prickled painfully, puncturing the delicate flesh of her breasts, as the strap was fastened behind her. Polly's mouth opened in a silent scream of agony.

Then came an unexpected explosion, a shower of green sparks in a billow of smoke at the end of the to her left. A shout of delight and a burst of applause from the table greeted two figures appearing from out of the smoke. They were demons, with balaclava-like helmets, spouting short horns. Under a black cloak, their chests had a dark-brown shaggy texture.

These demons were naked from the waist down, each cradling in both hands a huge stiff penis, crimson in colour, protruding from their loins! Polly was fascinated and terrified by these grotesque pricks with a tracery of heavy blue veins. They approached her with sinister laughs. Kneeling on either side of her waist, they grasped her ankles, yanking open her shapely legs to the full, displaying her unprotected genitals. Her ankles were quickly manacled to the front legs of the altar.

A second explosion came from the other end of the cave, smoke billowing amidst a shower of red sparks. The cauldron gave off a blow of blue smoke. A tall figure, a black cloak drawn across his body with his left arm, appeared out of the smoke. His head was covered by a full black mask. Polly could just detect his eyes glinting through the slits. She knew it was Ulysses. A threatening rumble of thunder shattered the silence as he approached her. Polly's flesh turned to goose pimples. A sudden thrill of apprehension shuddered through her body as the figure slowly threw open his cloak.

There was a shower of green sparks and, held in his other hand, was an enormous stiff green phallus waving in front of her. A huge hairy scrotum holding his two mighty testicles swung beneath it, thrusting from the hairy torso. Although his chest looked almost bare, from the waist down to his feet he was covered with coarse hair, like a goat. Polly couldn't take her eyes off the giant green phallus prodding of it's shaggy base, swaying from side to side.

Polly stared at it, whimpering. But whether in fear or exhilaration was difficult to tell.

'No! No! Please don't touch me,' she moaned.

'Whip her!' The command came from Lucy

The figure, ignoring Polly's plea, gestured to the devils. They turned her over onto her belly. The pins in the bra perforated her breasts with sharp stinging jabs. Her buttocks were thrashed. She felt the slashed biting deep into her, cutting her into shreds. In her nightmare, she wondered how her flesh could be sliced in this way without bleeding. Waves of agony spread through her loins. The onlookers were cheering and laughing; the devils jeering; the witches cackling. If her master, Ulysses, wanted her to suffer these indignities, Polly was happy to please him through her own torture. There were many cries demanding abuse.

'Whip her!'

'Split her open!'

'Destroy her beauty!'

'Puncture her arse!'

'Cut out her clitoris!'

'Praise be to the Marquis!'

One of the demons penetrated her rectum. There was a cheer as he started to thud his vile penis deep into her pain. Then she felt the other repulsive penis pushed down her throat. Her body was a sea of pain and suffering; her mind a fog of confusion and diabolical images swimming in and out of focus. Laughing faces thrust before her eyes. The ugly, leathery breasts of the witches swayed before her as the two evil cocks battered at her.

Suddenly, her whole body was awash with a revolting slime. Both inside and out. The smell was loathsome. Then she was turned over again. The devil moved slowly between her parted legs, looking down at the unprotected, shaven genitals with their pouting lips. Polly felt a wave of excitement. Cupped fingers grasped the tender lips, caressing the already damp folds before placing the head of the enormous prick at the puckered entrance.

'This is the vulva of an angel!' he cried. It was her father's voice!

At last! Though fearful of the pain, Polly was overjoyed at the prospect of being taken by Ulysses. His beautiful cock nudged into the pink opening. Polly whined and struggled, her eyes glued to the monster, hips and buttocks writhing from side to side. But she was no match for the fastenings round her ankles, the witches and the demons, all holding her firmly.

The two demons reached over her thighs, opening up her vagina to allow the huge phallus to slip slowly into the heat of her wet flesh. A shock went straight to her centre. The penis was as cold as ice! A huge orgasm suddenly slammed at Polly's body as she arched her groin. With a strangled cry, she flung her shoulders back onto the table, screwing her eyes tight in the anguish of the climax, her body embracing the hideous, cold monster. With a smile of triumph, Lucy opened her thighs, straddled Polly's head, lowering her wet vulva onto the pretty face.

Polly kissed Julie's warm lips as the Devil began to fuck her with long strokes. Slow at first, but gradually quickening, whilst the two demons chewed on her swollen nipples. Polly now concentrated on the thrill she was beginning to feel inside. The huge prick completely filled her, stretching her soft fleshy lips to their fullest extent, the pink folds accommodating it's girth and length. She felt as thought she was being split apart down to the entrance to her bottom. Tremendous lunges threatened to burst through into her womb.

It was exactly as she had imagined it in her fantasies. The awareness of being defenceless, her soft body being brutally violated by Ulysses, triggered off her second orgasm. It surged quickly to a peak, crashing over her senses as the massive penis continued to pound her mercilessly.

Polly became aware of other beings at her side, touching her, feeling her body, taking liberties with her bottom. They pinched her breasts, her bottom overhanging the edge of the altar they invaded her anus, they felt and squeezed the stretched the lips of her genitals as the penis lunged in and out of it. Hands everywhere! Breasts squeezed painfully by hands and suckled by wet mouths.

Now a stiff prick, sticky with sperm, was pushed into her face, rubbing urgently against her cheek. She looked up into the face of her father. Eyes gleaming with lust. She took his hard cock into her mouth and sucked on it passionately. Her hands, still held by the witches, were guided into hot, hairy groins, dripping with female honey. Her fingers paddled in the soft fleshy folds, probing the creases. Another orgasm swept through her as she almost lost her senses in a sea of painful lust.

There was a loud, hoarse shout. The penis in her mouth suddenly erupted filling it to overflowing with salty, vile sperm.

'Father!' she screamed.

Hands turned her head roughly to the other side where another stiff shaft was thrust harshly into her mouth. She looked up into the smiling face of her father. Again! He fucked her lips with frenzied thrusts, accompanied by urgent grunts, until that, too, quickly exploded into her, washing her throat with spurts of hot sperm.

'Father!' she cried out again. 'Protect me!'

Her brain was spinning with visions of long spouting cocks lashing her buttocks. Suddenly, the Devil Ulysses bellowed 'Hallelujah!', thrusting his shaft deep between her almost numb genitals. 

As Polly swallowed the last of the sperm in her mouth, the bra was removed from her breasts. They were now inflated like balloons. Red speckles covered them. Her belly dripped copiously with a starchy liquid. One of the devils thrust his red penis deep into her ravished vagina, pumping into her with rapid strokes. It pierced her womb with sharp pain. Others were leaning over her, massaging the thick liquid into her belly and pubic hair.

The demon gave a victorious shout, withdrawing his red penis as it spurted jets of more liquid over her groin. The second demon fell on her, aiming his shaft between her wide, plundered thighs, driving deep into her swollen lips. Her father was laughing loudly and obscenely. Orgasmic spasms swept into her tortured belly. She screamed and screamed and screamed uncontrollably with each deep thrust of the demon until, with a loud 'Hallelujah!', he gave a final thrust, gushing jet after jet of sperm inside her.

No sooner had he withdrawn than a fourth stiff penis entered her with a strong thrust. Her brain began to spin. Her breathless screams continued with each savage thrust, getting hoarser, as wave after wave of ecstasy continued to sweep through her almost exhausted body. She was unaware of the ruthless, jerking loins between her bruised thighs, ejaculating its libation into her battered flesh. Every orifice in her body was pouring green slime, thick and stinking. Her breasts exploded. Her vulva had split apart.

Then, quite suddenly, she was stood alone, naked and bleeding, dripping with a stinking sludge. Her hair was tousled, her breasts deflated. No shape was left them. They were empty plastic bags with sloppy teats. Polly was horrified at her appearance. Her genitals were a mass of dangling raw flesh, her rectum was split wide open, her bowels bursting from the gash.

'Throw her to the dogs,' came the cry.

Ulysses appeared in front of her. He was smiling sadly.

'I'm afraid you have failed me, Polly. The Marquis had decreed that you shall be sacrificed to his wolves.'

Polly was weeping uncontrollably. To fail her master was the deepest humiliation of all humiliations. Her body was useless. He breasts empty, her vulva sewn together by the witches. Her cheeks of her bottom in hanging in shreds.

'Please, master. Give me another chance.'

'No! I cannot, Polly. You have come to the end of your usefulness to me. I shall now seek another slave. One with large breasts and a sweet tight vagina.'

Polly let out a long scream of despair.

`Don't be afraid,' he reassured her. 'It will be quick. They have razor sharp teeth. They'll soon tear through your young flesh. It won't take long. They'll start at the genitals, but in no time at all it will be as though you never existed.'

In the distance she could hear the baying of wolves approaching. When the fog in front of her eyes cleared, she was encircled by huge wolves, snarling at her. Sniffing her disfigured bottom and drooping genitals. Growling and howling. Then she saw that they were tethered by their collars. Not quite able to reach her. The terror shook Polly's whole frame. She knew they would tear her limb from limb if they were let loose.

An angel sang in the distance. It was a soothing sound.

'Let them go!' shouted Ulysses.

Polly woke with a terrifying scream.

Into her line of vision Lucy was smiling down at her, stroking ointment into her the deep scratches on her belly. Marina was caressing her genital area with more healing balm, singing a strange song. A special insert was cleansing and soothing her hot vagina. In the distance she heard the growl of a motorised lawn mower. All was peaceful. Her body glowed like a furnace.

'Gosh!' Lucy gasped, 'we thought we'd lost you then. You've been out for ages! What on earth happened, Polly?'

Polly didn't reply straight away. Her memory was still a bit unclear. She just looked blankly at Ulysses.

'Where is he?' Polly asked.

'Where's who?' Lucy was uncertain who she meant.

'My father.'

'Your - who?'

'My father!'

Lucy smiled. 'You've been dreaming, I expect. But don't worry, we'll soon have you back to full health,' Lucy assured her. 'Cronos was very pleased with you. You were great!'

Polly relaxed. She was glad Cronos was pleased, of course, but even more delighted that Ulysses would be happy with her work. For it was he she really wanted to satisfy. There was nothing she wanted more at this moment than to be cradled in his powerful arms, curled up on his muscular lap.



The Trials of Pauline Ch. 18



Pauline had endured the final trial of her resistance to cruel punishment, having taken everything the members of the Marquis could mete out to her. Before fainting with exhaustion and pain, she had been allowed, without realising it, to fellate her father, for whom she had been searching all these months. Now that her trials were at an end, she could rest.

*

Polly continued to enjoy the rest during the next few days in the idyllic, exclusive island setting. She exercised by swimming in the pool, relaxed by sun-bathing on the patio. Lucy nursed her, though herself in need of treatment from time to time after her punishments at the hands of Pluto. His sadism was more internal and deeply humiliating rather than skin deep. Scarred labia and blistered throat. Lucy's eyes were always wet with tears when she returned, her body exhausted with suffering.

Polly never dared to ask her what Pluto had been doing to her. She had already seen the torture of the rubber rings.

'Why don't you leave the island?' Polly asked her.

'Good heavens, why? He's kindness itself. And I'm devoted to his mastery. I'm his obedient slave. I willingly do everything he asks of me. I would die for him!'

'And so you might if you're not careful.'

Marina continued to wait on Polly's every need, though the slave to Lucy. As soon as Lucy came into the room, the slender young Eurasian would run to her and curl up at her feet. She gave herself to Lucy's demands and heavy punishment. At times, Marina would deliberately do something silly as an excuse for Lucy to lay her over her knee and slipper her hard. Sometimes, Lucy would use the back of a hair-brush or a wooden ruler. Other more serious offenses would require a proper caning.

Marina and Lucy always used a dildo on each other after these punishments - the handle of the hairbrush was a popular dildo - with Marina sucking Lucy's stiff clitoris like an animal until the older woman screamed with the joy of orgasm, thrashing her blazing thighs in exultation. Polly watched their passion with growing excitement, quietly masturbating. It was a perfect few days for Polly. But she knew it would come to an end.

On the evening before they left, Cronos sent for Polly again soon after Marina had been summoned to Nestor. She was not asked to wear any special clothing and went to his now familiar room in short white tunic and bare feet. She knew he liked her feet bare and her bottom immediately accessible to satisfy his latest cruel whim. As soon as she entered the room she ran to his feet and cringed before him.

'Remove your tunic,' she ordered sharply.

Polly did as she was told, letting it slip to the floor at her feet, waiting he next command. Cronos looked at her sternly, his large pale eyes unblinking, behind the rimless spectacles, whilst pulling on a pair of clear plastic gloves. Walking round her very slowly, examining her body with minute care, touching gently here, lifting her breasts to scrutinise the crease. The nipples were inspected, then the back and buttocks.

'On the couch,' he commanded. Polly did so. 'Knees up and apart.' Cronos then carried out a close inspection of her vulva and rectum.

He finally stood back. 'Hmm! Good! You recover well.' He peeled off the gloves. 'You may put your tunic on again.'

After Polly had slipped her tunic back on, wondering what he had in store for her, he took her to sit with him facing the painting in front of the screen. Pressing a hand control, the painting slid silently into the ceiling revealing the punishment room beyond.

On the operating table lay Marina, her small naked frame strapped to the legs in the same way she had seen Lucy the earlier evening. Except Marina was strapped across the table, rather than along it. The smooth body proved to be resilient. Already swollen and crimson with weals across the olive-coloured cheeks, the petite Eurasian was suffering a savage beating with the willow. Her body was writhing and jerking as much as the shackles would allow.

Nestor was also naked, his half-aroused genitals bursting from the forest of dark curls, swaying as though drunk. Cronos switched on the sound. Suddenly, Marina's awful screams filled the room. Nestor was shouting obscenities at her. He was threatening to kill her.

'I'll tear that sweet little cunt out of your body,' he screeched. 'I'll throw it to the dogs so that you can never tempt any more men.'

'No, please master,' Marina was begging through her sobs.

Pluto joined Nestor during the thrashing and forced his huge phallus deep into her rectum whilst Nestor drove deep into her throat. Marina greeted the invasion of her rectum with a howl of pain only to have it stifled by Nestor's entry into her mouth. It took Pluto little time to ejaculate into the tight passage, squeezing his shaft, stimulating the nerves.

Marina was then released. Pluto lifted her bodily from the table, thrusting her belly at Nestor's loins. Her legs wrapped round the strong waist as the meaty penis drove deep, into her secret womanhood. It was then that Polly noticed Marina's nipples encased in strong clips of intermeshed claws. Her eyes were full of terror, her frail body shaking with pain.

Cronos turned off the sound and closed the screen. Polly was then instructed to show him once more the evidence of her virginity. This time all she was expected to do was to lift her tunic, open her thighs as wide as possible and pull her vaginal lips apart. Cronos knelt on the floor between Polly's thighs and peered with intense interest into her orifice. She was then instructed to stand, bend over with open thighs for Cronos to inspect her from behind.

'I must return you unscathed, slave. That is part of the contract. I itch to thrash that tempting behind. I shall take my exercise with Lucy. Now go.'

'Please, master, first tell me of my father's whereabouts.'

'He left the island directly after the festival. His other affairs would not allow him to stay. But he said he was very proud of you. Pleased with your stamina. Thrilled by your beauty.'

Polly was upset that he had not stayed longer. But the memory of that handsome penis deep in her throat would remain with her forever.

* * * * * * * * *

It was over an hour later that Lucy returned to their apartment, dishevelled and heavily marked. There had been no contact between them, Lucy explained, except though the birch. Cronos had laid on hard until he drew blood. And when Marina finally returned, her areolae were very swollen with angry-looking teeth marks surrounding the nipples, stiff and tender.

As they soothed each other's violated body, Marina told Polly and Lucy that she felt the two cocks almost met deep inside her body. She had been made to lick Pluto's stained cock after his withdrawal until it was clean and dry.

'I no like Pluto, Lucy. He remind me of Leon.'

'Well,' Lucy replied, 'I think he now prefers you to me. So, perhaps it is as well that we leave tomorrow.'

On their return home, Polly searched for her father in Athens, but to no avail. She was desperate to find him again, to embrace him, to taste him! The trial Polly had fulfilled was marred only by the loss of her father so soon after their re-union in those bizarre circumstances.

Finally arriving back in London Polly paid a visit to Ulysses late the same afternoon. She could hardly contain her excitement at seeing him again. Would he be pleased with her? Would he take her as his worshipping slave? It was with a sense of foreboding that she was whisked up the lift to his penthouse.

The butler she remembered smiled thinly, escorting her to the thickly carpeted room. The Gainsborough, the heavily swagged brocade curtains. The memory of that eventful day came flooding back to her. It seemed a generation ago. Yet it was barely three weeks since she had last stood in this imposing room.

Heart in her mouth, Polly was summoned into the next room. She stepped inside hesitantly, moving slowly to the middle of the parquet floor. There, behind the ornate table sat Ulysses. Polly stood patiently and quietly. After what seemed an eternity, he looked up and stared at her. Polly held her breath. She was uncertain. Would he dismiss her as he had in her dream. Throw her to the wolves. Tell her that he had found another, more willing, more beautiful slave-girl?

Then a kind smiled split the growth of hair round his mouth. Polly's heart leaped for joy! He smiled! Then she noticed Quilp silently standing to one side. He too had a smile on his evil face. But on this occasion, Quilp did not look half as threatening as the first time they had met.

Polly's master, her adorable brute stood. He was wearing the same white robe. Polly's breast was heaving with pride. The master came down from the dias to face Polly. She hadn't remembered him being so tall. He towered above her. Their eyes met fleetingly before Polly sank to her knees, bending her head in supplication.

'You have done well. Cronos called you the Queen of Sacrifices. That is better then a princess. So I shall punish you hard for having been away for so long. Then Quilp will punish you for allowing others to master you. Then I shall remove your virginity. I shall fuck you. Perhaps Quilp will fill your mouth and my butler your rectum. Who can tell what the event will bring? You must allow at least three hours for our sport. Quilp will order dinner for eight.'

Polly's heart stopped in her mouth. She couldn't believe her ears! At last, her female fulfilment!

'Fifty strokes. You will learn to obey only me, your lord and master. Is that understood?'

Though not as fierce as the scourging Polly suffered in the Temple of de Sade, fifty strokes was a test of endurance for any fair-skinned young lady. Resigned to her fate, Polly bowed her head.

'Yes, master. You are kind to me.'

'But, first, you shall observe with me the fate of your college friends. That event will be the curtain raiser to your submission. Our mutual friend Fagin has arranged a little surprise for you.'

Full of curiosity, Polly was taken into the next room. It was strange to her, long and narrow, dimly lit. There was a long window facing her, overlooking a darkened room. Polly sat on Ulysses lap, feeling the warmth and strength of the muscles, rippling in his thighs. The divan faced the window. Beside the divan was a small table with a control box on it.

At the touch of a switch, floodlights drenched the room below in a blaze of light. It was a studio.

Polly gasped in amazement. Hanging helpless, arms outstretched along a shoulder-height horizontal wooden beam were Lucy, Rita and Janine. They were naked. Their long hair streamed down each back.

Behind them, on a separate beam, her feet manacled apart to iron rings fixed on a raised rostrum was Miss Armitage. All were blindfolded; each was manacled by heavy chains and padlocks to the wooden beam. The posture of their arms and shoulders thrust high the pale breasts of the three women. Even Miss Armitage's meaty breasts were pulled high on her chest, their enlarged areolae protruding from the heavy flesh.

Above the figures was a large split screen showing the view of the studio from the other side of the room. This allowed the spectators to see both sides of the bodies being punished. The backs and buttocks of each of the women were in sharp focus on the giant triple screen. 

At the sound of a deep Chinese gong, a shutter raised behind the three spread-eagled women. Polly's eyes opened in surprise as Fagin walked in, followed by three other men. Fagin was wearing his usual long, shabby tweed overcoat, its hem torn and mud-splashed, it's sleeves an inch too long. The other three were dressed in black frock-coats, striped trousers and grey top-hats.

They looked severe, almost like pall bearers at a funeral. In a grey-gloved hand each carried a riding crop. They walked silently to the centre, standing facing the three shackled women. A shiver of excitement went through Polly, anticipating the feel of the leather thong as it bit deep into the rounded flesh of her friends.

'Do you recognise any of those three gentlemen?' Ulysses asked.

'Is the one facing Lucy, Janine's step-brother, James?' Polly asked uncertainly.

'It is. And the tall man next to him facing Rita is his father, Janine's father. A good loyal patron of Mister Fagin.'

'And the third?'

'Ah! The third man. Another of the many patrons of our friend, Fagin. A government minister, no less. Involved in espionage and that sort of thing. He will enjoy flogging Janine.'

Fagin removed the blindfolds of the three women before standing to one side of Miss Armitage. The men removed their hats to the ladies in polite acknowledgment before moving in to them. They examined their victim, stroking their breasts and flanks, peering closely at the genitals. Round the back, they fondled the rounded buttocks of the three women, cheeks squeezed together by the widely separated thighs.

They were defenceless. Pale and smooth. A camera zoomed in to show the honey seeping onto the pronounced lips of Lucy's vulva. The third man unbuttoned his coat, revealing a wide leather belt round his waist, studded with brass heads. He unbuckled it, allowing it to trail on the floor. He swung his arm round behind him, taking aim. Then the belt swished through the air, landing with a sickening smack across the sumptuous bottom. Janine yelped with the stinging pain, her loins jerking.

The crop immediately followed, curling round the top of her thigh, cutting a savage crimson furrow into the pale flesh. Her face screwed up with agony, tears squeezing from her tight-closed eyes, lips drawn across her teeth in a silent scream.

Another smack, this time across Rita's perfect cheeks, resounded in the room. The crop slashed down the right buttock followed by the belt, removed during Lucy's first blow. Rita's slender body twisted and shook. She grunted with the shock of the stings, gasping at the sharpness of the pain. Head thrown back, Rita tried to ride the blow but was too securely shackled to avoid the full effect of the crop and belt. The studs showed clearly in the cheeks as the camera went into close-up of her buttocks.

As the third man repeated his punishment high on Janine's behind, James swung fiercely at Lucy with both weapons at the same time, arms flailing. With a cry of pain, Lucy recoiled from the double thrash, chains rattling urgently, fighting against her ankles.

The noise was like a fusillade, cracks sounding irregularly as the three men flayed the tender cheeks of the women. The third man was swinging his arms, one after the other, like a propeller, in an endless stream of volent blows. James whirled his arms in unison, crop and leather smacking deep into Lucy's soft skin. Janine's step-father was lashing Rita with deliberate strokes, taking careful aim at each powerful strike. The cries of anguish went unheeded.

The punishment seemed unending. The weals came up in crimson ridges where the edges of the leather cut into the soft flesh. Red blotches suffused the buttocks. Spots of rubies appeared on Janine. The stinging fire blazed through their loins, their sensitive groins hot and moist. The cameras caught the full effect of the three floggings. The cries turned to screams of torment. The suffering was terrible; the agony unbelievable.

Polly was transfixed by the punishment taking place.

'Enough!' cried Fagin.

The men stood back, letting their weapons trail on the ground. Whilst the three women's moans and whimpers filled the room, their bodies hanging limp from their shoulders, Quilp appeared through the door. He was naked, his squat hairy body taught, his large phallus swaying obscenely. Four ropes were lowered. The end of each rope was secured to a ring and metal catch. They were snapped onto the ankle fastenings of the women before the ropes were hoisted up.

The three bodies were now slung, like hammocks, with wide open thighs displaying their secret folds to the spectators, honeyed petals open to show the pink orifice. The cameras closed in to show every detail of the women's genitals between splayed thighs, smothered in sweet syrup. Each of the men walked round his victim, to eye with lechery the moist vulvas displayed before them.

Janine was the first to feel the crop bite into her inner thighs. Lucy and Rita were soon to follow. Thighs, vulvas and bellies were covered with streaks and bruises. The howls of the women were evidence of the pain burning into their loins. James was the first to surrender to his lust. Dropping his trousers, he stepped between the discoloured thighs.

Lucy felt the thick phallus split her folds, bloated and slippery. The glow in her groin from the flogging boosted her yearning for cock. She had been feeling the torture of frustration in her loins from the start. At last, that craving was to be quenched. Her flesh unfolded to admit the thick penis into her hidden mystery, soft and dark, her muscles grasping the stiff male flesh hungrily as it thrust its passage deep inside her.

Rita and Janine were likewise penetrated by the eager lecherous men, vulvas violated and pounded by the vicious stabs of rock-solid cock, sore buttocks slapped by the swinging testicles. The pent up excitement brought Rita to a rapid orgasm, her loud moans reaching a crescendo as her hips twitched and jerked.

Janine felt the tension rising in her belly. The cock lunged savagely in and out of her. Her eyes screwed up, tears rolling down her cheeks, her whimpers pitiful to hear. With a sudden cry of despair her hips lunged as her orgasm shattered the tension. The third man's penis disengaged during Janine's contortions, spraying copious spurts of semen, long repressed, over her trembling belly and honeyed curls.

Lucy was the last to shout out her release, with a shriek of distress. The wildness of her bucking loins brought on James's discharge, the starchy fluid spurting deep into her passage. Released at long last from his frustration, James jerked several explosive contractions. 

After Janine and her friends were taken down from the bar, their bodies wrapped in robes, they were left in a crumpled heap to recuperate. The men left the studio carrying their trousers whilst the beam was lifted away by unseen machinery. A vaulting horse was now placed in the centre of the gymnasium.

Miss Armitage had watched the punishment of the three women with alarm and foreboding. Her eyes were filled with terror, like a frightened doe. Fagin and Quilp approached her silently. Then, with scissors and electric razor, they removed the masses of black curls from her belly and thighs. They took little care in the task. Miss Armitage, cried out in pain as hairs were plucked from the most tender parts of her body.

Fagin sliced through the growth in the pits of her arms, Quilp enjoying removing it from the genital region. Although by no means smooth when they accomplished their task, her belly and thighs were mounds of clear pale flesh. The floor round her feet was scattered with the black clippings.

After her ankles were unfastened by Quilp, the beam was hoisted up, Miss Armitage hanging suspended from it. The beam was then flown to the middle of the studio, above the horse. There, Miss Armitage was lowered until her body draped over the leather square of the vaulting horse. Her arms were still shackled to the beam, her head only inches from the floor. Her buttocks jutted out lewdly over the leather square, the ankles clasped to the splayed legs of the horse.

Her genitals were fully exposed. The spectators held their breath as Fagin took off his belt.

'It will give me great delight to punish Miss Armitage's vile body. Such ugliness must be flogged without mercy.'

Quilp was the first to strike. His penis reared stiffly from the forest of curls, swinging recklessly as his arm swung back before bringing the belt with a resounding smack on the pale cheeks. Miss Armitage's ample loins recoiled spontaneously, juddering to the sting of the biting leather. She bit her lower lip, swallowing her grunt.




The Trials of Pauline Ch. 18



At the second lash, her body jerked against the fastenings, her head snapping back in pain, her pony-tail swishing around. Tears seeped from her eyes, screwed up against the sting. The pain tore through her loins, burning with almost unbearable heat. A third and fourth slash tore into the soft skin with searing agony. Miss Armitage could not prevent a scream tearing her throat. Quilp dodged to the front of the horse where he adjusted the height of the beam so that his grotesque cock could penetrate the victim's mouth. Without any preliminaries, Quilp gripped her jaw , pulling it open, and slid his penis deep into her throat. 

Polly could see her old mistress choking on the thick shaft. Remembering her first visit to Ulysses, she knew just how Miss Armitage felt. Unable to breathe, head spinning. Fagin, meanwhile, had continued the flogging with energetic blows. His passion was frantic. He flogged without mercy. This was real punishment! Serious flogging! An all-enveloping numbness gripped Miss Armitage's loins, scorching with fire. She no longer felt anything.

The lashes bounced from her raw broken flesh, leaving long weals. The huge penis filled her mouth and throat, thrusting in and out. The swell of her vulva spurted with the two blows, her bladder out of control. The once creamy cheeks were now ablaze with crimson streaks, bruised blotches. The mistress was almost unconscious, her body limp. A furnace of pain crushed her senses.

The dam of sperm burst in her mouth. Quilp's thick seed swilled into her cheeks. It withdrew giving the victim the chance to gulp air into her lungs.

The sperm dribbled from the corner of her loose mouth. The beating stopped. Fagin stood panting for breath, the leather strap hanging inert from his right hand. All became still. Harsh breaths were all that broke the silence of the studio.

Slowly, Fagin unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to fall to the ground. He had become deranged with viscous lust. His rigid penis appeared, swaying drunkenly. Looking down on the motionless figure of Miss Armitage, her buttocks a mass of bruises and striped ridges of crimson, speckled with bright red spots, Fagin wondered if he might have gone too far.

The puffed vulva, defenceless amid the burning hills, beckoned to him. In the silent room, all eyes were glued to the passive figure splayed across the vaulting horse, head hanging as though lifeless. There was no longer any reaction from the body. A camera close-up showed that the vulva was certainly aroused, honey oozing from the open petals.

Fagin dropped the weapons as he moved between the hot thighs. He placed the knob end of his engorged prick against the orifice, feeling the silky warmth. Pulling the foreskin back along the shaft as far as it would go, the large plum-like head, with purple rim, sank into the velvety opening, stretching out the folds to penetrate deep into 's secret depths.

The wonderful feeling of expanding vagina, filled with thick male flesh, thrusting into the very pit of her being, brought Miss Armitage back to consciousness. Her mind, dulled by pain, was recalled by the exquisite sensation of being inflated, almost to bursting point. She felt the testicles cuffing her clitoris, stimulating her desires. She could sense being filled with cock.

But Fagin was too deranged with lust which had been building up inside him. He was crazy with desire. The limp, plump female body with its puffed vulva was too much for him to resist. His muscles convulsed, buttocks tensed. With a dragging in his belly, a massive explosion deep in his loins burst his dam. Sperm splattered into Miss Armitage's willing tortured body.

As soon as he withdrew, Quilp slapped Miss Armitage again with his large coarse hand, until the coiled spring in the pit of her womb got tighter and tighter! She moaned with anguish and ecstasy. She could hear the slapping sound, but nothing else mattered in the world! Time was suspended! Her thighs tensed; her blazing buttocks quaked. The thrill of her sex swelled up, like a great wave of relief, carrying her along a swirling crest of delight. Surging and swirling!

Finally, her orgasm crashed over her! With a loud rasping scream, it blasted into her belly, gushing into every limb. Every nerve cried out her elation. 

Polly watched as Miss Armitage was released from the chains and assisted to her feet. She had been thoroughly ravished and too weak to walk. Then, Ulysses took Polly back into his own comfortable room. There, in the corner, stood the large wheel of punishment. Stood beside it was the diminutive bulk of Quilp. Polly couldn't believe how he had moved so quickly from the studio. He held a long horse-whip. Polly blenched at it. Then she realised how. The door opened and another Quilp entered. Twins! 

It was the most wonderful evening of her life. Strapped naked and spread-eagled to the wheel of torture; her buttocks beaten and bruised, whipped and wealed with red swollen stripes; her groin churning with sweet agony; the spread of fervour running and bubbling inside her belly. The wheel spun as her vulva seeped her sweet syrup. Her mind in a turmoil of lust and pain; a blur of torment and abuse. A kaleidoscope of sensations.

Quilp's horny cock thrusting into her mouth. Choking. The wheel turning. A thick object deep in her rectum. Pumping in and out of her. Thick sticky juices splashing in her throat. Hot and bitter. Fierce jerking in her rectum. Her mouth violated again. More thick spurts. The wheel turning. Then a pause. The final moment. His strong, thick phallus nudging at her virgin vagina. Wet and warm. Sweet and slippery.

There it was inside her. In her secret passage. In there! Stretching! Filling! Bursting! Battering! The sheer joy and elation of being taken by her lord and master. Her long moans of delight and pleasure; squeals of elation, her spring tightening and tightening. Such ecstasy! Such agony! When, oh Lord, when?

It finally burst! She screamed and screamed and screamed! A shower of thrilling shards shattered her brain. Crashing waves of bliss, her vagina filling with her master's seed. A shout of exhilaration from him as he poured his libation onto the altar of her secret, womanly shrine. The altar all men seek. The shrine they all seek to enter. Sheer rapture!

Relaxing afterwards on a divan with the evening sky outside on the balcony, Ulysses was content and relaxed with a supremely happy Polly curled up at his feet. No longer a virgin! Her secret orifice had finally been penetrated. Her shrine ravished. A woman at last!

* * * * * * * * * * * *

'I spoke to Cronos about your father,' he told her quietly.

Polly was suddenly alert again. 'Well?'

'He thinks he's gone to Africa.'

'Where in Africa?'

'He's not sure, but believes MI6 in London knows.'

'Why MI6?'

'Because your father is a secret agent posing as an underground arms dealer. The man who was in the studio knows about it.'

Just then the door opened to admit her old friends. The four women ran to greet Polly with enthusiasm and joy. Tears and laughter were exchanged. Finally, Fagin appeared in the doorway, arms open wide, smiling broadly. She ran to embrace the scruffy old man.

'But Ulysses is my lord and master now,' she told him.

END