LOANING LUCY

By Velvetglove

Copyright and Disclaimer

‘Loaning Lucy’ is an original work of fiction and neither events nor characters portrayed are based in reality. Any resemblance with actual persons is entirely coincidental. Codes: F/f, F+/f, D/s, consensual, humiliation, serious, interracial. Copyright is asserted by the author and no reposting to other sites or commercial use whatsoever is authorised.

LOANING LUCY

Alice sat, gently grinding her hips, enjoying the feel of the hot, wet tongue up her bottom. She loved rimjobs. She could climax from analingus alone, without any clitoral action at all.

A voice answered.

“Hi Alice.”

She’d dialled her friend Jodi on the cell she was holding to her ear. They called each other frequently.

“Mmm.”

Jodi’s chuckle was audible. “That good, huh ?”

Alice and Jodi were both members of a discreet and exclusive BSDM Club based in the South East of England. Just fifty men and women in all. Numbers were pretty equally split between dominants and subs, females, males and a couple of transexuals, singles, marrieds and couples. Each member used a confidential code name.

Alice – her real name - was dominant, divorced and unattached. She was 33 years old, bisexual and ravenously sexed. In a previous era, she’d have been labelled a nymphomaniac, or sex-crazed, but fortunately the world had moved on from such offensively sexist notions. Now, like many guys, she was simply considered to enjoy a ‘healthy libido’.

The girl on whose face Alice was trotting was a new conquest. Her name was Lucy. She was a 22 year old lesbian submissive. This was their third meeting. The first had been an introductory rendezvous in a public place. The second had been a brief, mild evening session, when Lucy had carried out a few simple tests to demonstrate her willingness to obey, without any bonds, chains or crops. A level of trust had been established and the ice broken between them.

As she talked, Alice reached down and trailed her left hand between Lucy’s parted thighs. She was sitting on the young brunette’s pretty nose, facing the girl’s feet. Lucy’s ankles were strapped against her inner thighs, her knees wide apart, forming a splayed ‘v’.

Alice’s fingers slid languidly over the damp, open petals of the girl’s throbbing vagina. There was very little Alice enjoyed more than tease and denial. She felt the warm breath in her anus as Lucy hissed with her own desire and need. Alice absentmindedly pinched her chunky labia.

“You swinging by later ?”

“Sure.” Jodi replied. “Six’ish ?”

“Great.”

They talked some more, idle chit-chat. It was Saturday morning. This time, Lucy was booked to stay the whole weekend with Alice. It was to be a full on ‘no limits’, two-day session. By the end of it – if she passed – Lucy would be approved onto the short list for membership to ‘Wonderland’, the exclusive BDSM Club.

Alice thumbed the red key on her cell, ending the call, and began concentrating on enjoyment. She was still sweaty from her morning jog and work-out.

Lucy had knocked on her door bang-on 10.15 as arranged, just a few minutes after Alice had finished her run and swigged a glass of grapefruit juice. She loved oral sex before bathing. Her breasts glistened as they jiggled. She upped the pace and pressure and smiled down at Lucy’s mewling for oxygen.

Up, down, up, down; like she was competing in a dressage event.

Alice was proud of her own body. A rigorous exercise regime and sensible diet kept her in shape; flat tummy, trim butt, taut skin. Nevertheless, she had fulsome tits, round and heavy, that packed a D cup. Both women and men loved them.

Lucy had smaller handfuls. Not poached-egg-flat, but only pert B cups. They would be a useful butt of rude jokes and comments. If their relationship developed, Lucy’s tits would be displayed, commented on, ridiculed, punished, decorated, maybe even enlarged. Or reduced in size ? Alice enjoyed body amendments.

“Eat me.” She encouraged, feeling her climax building. Lucy’s stabbing tongue was a thing of curious wonder; curiouser and curiouser.

Afterwards, she lay soaking in the hot bath, while Lucy tended her; soaping her cleavage with a sponge, washing her toes, conditioning and combing her hair, fetching and replenishing her coffee cup and plate of fruit.

“How is it so far ?” Alice asked suddenly.

Lucy almost jumped in shock at the broken silence. “… good Mistress. Wonderful.” She still had that fresh-faced innocence that would be gone in a year or two.

“You liked my butthole ?”

“… yes, Mistress.”

“It was clean ?”

Lucy blushed. “I think so, yes, Mistress.” Her brown eyes dropped to the floor, unable to hold Alice’s penetrating gaze.

“We’ll try it again another time. Soon.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

They had already discussed Lucy’s sexual history, experience and desires, by email and during their previous meetings. She’d had only three girlfriends and just one boyfriend over six years. Alice was her first, proper Mistress. The other relationships had been largely vanilla with a bit of experimentation.

“Remind me,” Alice teased, “you never fucked your boyfriend.”

“No, Mistress.”

“Not much of a boyfriend. What did you do ?”

“It didn’t last long. The time we got nearest, he had no contraception, Mistress. I … used my hand. He showed me how.”

“Did you enjoy fondling his dick ?”

Lucy shrugged. “It was … okay.”

“And you made him cum ?”

“No. He became impatient. He finished himself off. The first time. But we tried once more and I managed to do it for him. Then we broke up shortly after.”

“And you didn’t swallow ?”

“No ! Mistress.”

“Or even lick it up ?”

“No, Mistress.”

“And after that you gave up on guys for good ? You promise me. Technically speaking, you’re a virgin ?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Lucy nodded her cute head for emphasis.

Alice smiled, resting her neck on the back of the bathtub. Lucy was standing, dressed only in a pair of black pull-up stockings and high heels.

“You want to be my slave, yes ?”

Lucy nodded again, eyes downcast, like a puppy hoping to be taken out for a walk. “I do, Mistress. Truly.”

“Without limits ?”

“Without any limits, Mistress. You said you wouldn’t go too far.”

It was Alice’s turn to concur. “I did. Not … too … far. But still a long way. I enjoy borrowing slaves from members of our Club.” She raised an eyebrow. “And lending my slaves out to other members. Sharing them.”

Lucy gulped. Her reply came out as a broken whisper. “Yes … Mistress.”

“To women.” She paused. “… And sometimes … men.”

Lucy exhaled, her lower lip quivering. “Yes, M … Mistress.”

Alice sighed happily, then gestured at the large fluffy white towel on the hot rail.

Jodi and Alice sipped their Vodka Tonics. It was just after six and a respectable time for their first alcohol of the day. Jodi was a buxom woman only two years older than Alice, although she looked in her forties. She had ‘big’, dyed platinum hair and always applied loads of makeup.

Lucy was now wearing a tight shirt and black leather mini to go with her stockings and heels. She resembled the archetypal French maid, although she was too tall to carry it off sexily. Her short dark hair was cut in a chic fringe. Her full lips were exaggerated by plum coloured lipstick.

Alice nodded at the champagne glass.

“Drink.”

There were no bubbles. The liquid was a murky gold colour.

Lucy raised the glass and took a sip. Her face crumpled at the sharp taste.

“Sourpuss !” Jodi said.

Alice smiled inwardly, although it was a line Jodi had used with others before. The urine was three days old. It was her early morning brew, first piss of the day, dark and cloudy. She had kept it in the larder, out of the fridge, so that it had begun to ferment, harmless but truly unpleasant. Some slaves actually found the flavour of clear, fresh, watery piss okay. So she regarded it as her duty to satisfy their submissive hunger for the obnoxious.

“Knock it back.” She said. “In one.”

She watch Lucy screw her eyelids shut, steel herself, and glug the tall glass back, her throat bobbing as she drank. It made Alice hot to watch. There are few thrills in life more powerful that watching somebody paying homage to your waste.

The glass was empty. Lucy held it out. A pair of plum lipstick marks remained on the rim.

“Good girl. And there’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Put the glass down and come here.”

They were sitting on the sofa in the living room. Alice handed her Vodka tumbler to Jodi to place on the side table.

“Lean down.”

Lucy obeyed. Alice swung her arm, slapping Lucy across her rouged face.

The shrill ‘thwack’ of flesh on flesh was like a gunshot in the room.

Alice smiled, and waited, then slapped again, against Lucy’s other cheek.

“As the bible says, you must learn to turn the other cheek.” She said, watching Lucy’s reaction carefully for any suppressed resistance.

“What a load of cheek !” Jodi giggled.

Both Lucy’s cheeks had flushed scarlet and her eyes were watering.

The slaps weren’t hard. Not enough to do damage. Just enough to hurt and humiliate. Lucy managed to hold her head in place, cringing with fear.

“Bend over.”

Alice and Jodi began a crude examination of Lucy’s bottom. They flipped up her mini-skirt to reveal her naked buttocks. They were not bad, a little pudgy, dimpled. She currently had a red zit on one cheek.

“Pull your ass cheeks open.”

Lucy’s fingers slowly gripped her buttocks and parted them. Alice winked at Jodi as the dark, wrinkled bud was revealed.

“Bend lower.”

Now her newly hairless cunt appeared between her legs; pink, moist labia, like hanging fruit. A velvet pouch waiting to be utilised.

“Spread your feet wider.”

They left her in that position a while, bent over, exposed, humiliated. Alice asked for her glass back. She and Jodi drank their Vodkas and chatted.

“Faster.”

Lucy was totally naked now, running on the spot in the living room. Her pert breasts wiggled to and fro as she jogged from foot to foot. Her breathing was ragged, a sheen of perspiration on her face.

Alice studied her. At 22, Lucy still carried some puppy fat. She was very pretty but could undoubtedly be improved by a combination of toning, diet and perhaps a little surgical enhancement. Perhaps a tattoo or two, some piercings, new makeup and a sluttish wardrobe ? She was a big girl, tall at 5’ 9”, wide-hipped with long, coltish legs. Her top teeth were white and even, but her bottom front teeth were slightly misaligned. Maybe Alice would send her to the orthodontist for a brace ?

“Lift your knees higher. And flick them out sideways as you run.”

Lucy’s bald pussy was quite clearly excited by all this treatment. She had now spent some eight hours in a state of humiliated arousal, almost untouched, damp and ready. Her clit was engorged but ignored.

“Stop. Now go and stand over in that corner.”

There was a wooden square set in the timber floor. It had been cut so that it was pretty much invisible unless you knew it was there, like a trapdoor.

Alice leaned down and put her finger in the secret hole, then lifted the wooden square out with her hand. A metal plate the same size as the trapdoor was revealed. The plate actually comprised two halves and there was a circular hole in the centre large enough for a human neck. It was like a pillory facing underground.

“Kneel down.”

Alice lifted out the two metal halves.

“Put your head down the rabbit hole.”

Lucy blinked but obeyed. She leaned down on her knees and placed her head in the hole until her throat was level with the timber floor.

Alice replaced the metal plates, encircling Lucy’s neck, with her head stuck below. Then she clanked shut a bolt that locked the metal plate in place. She and Jodi exchanged ‘high five’ grins and stood back to admire the headless young body apparently growing out of the timber floor. The long limbs were a truly appealing prospect.

They finished the job by fastening steel ratchet handcuffs round Lucy’s wrists behind her spine, and fixing a spreader bar to hold her knees apart.

Finally, Alice flicked on the TV and DVD player.

A murky black and white image on the screen gradually came into focus. It showed a close up of Lucy’s face. The tiny lens was mounted inside the hole under the floor. It displayed the young girl’s anguish perfectly.

Now the real, heavier fun could begin. Alice fetched a tray and Jodi pulled her bag of toys from the back seat of her car. They replenished their drinks, with the addition of a bowl of healthy raw vegetable crudités, and settled down on stools next to Lucy’s naked, helpless haunches, the TV screen in front of them.

Jodi produced ‘the plunderer’, a vibrating anal plug she’d purchased from a specialist shop in Holland. It was diamond shaped, with a thin tip, flaring out to a fat middle, down to a thinner end that was mounted on a flat base. In all it was 8 inches long and the circumference of a good-sized vaginal vibrator. Inside the shaft of the plug was a battery that powered the throbbing tip studded with pin-sized rubber spikes.

Alice watched her friend slip on surgical gloves and coat the anal plunderer with a thick slick of lubricant, laced with jalapenos, ground pepper and lemon juice.

Phew. This bit was always interesting !

She watched the screen as Jodi applied the tip of the plug to Lucy’s wrinkled bud, causing her hips to move. Jodi slapped her butt.

“Keep still.” She shouted into the tiny gap between metal and neck.

Jodi didn’t waste time. She pushed firmly and smoothly, driving the arrow shaped top half of the plug straight into Lucy’s rectum. The girl skittered about helplessly like an untamed mare not wanting to enter its stable. Her anus made a soft popping sound as the thickest part of the wedge passed her sphincter. It was downhill from then on.

Jodi slapped the base of the plug until it was flush with Lucy’s butt. A full eight inches of plastic laced with irritant was crammed into place.

On screen, there was a hysterical view of Lucy’s mouth opening and closing, nostrils flaring, as she absorbed the cruel intrusion.

“Time for a break.” Alice said.

They spent an hour online looking through the Club’s secure website, checking out their accounts, the personals, correspondence. Jodi was in negotiation with a married mother-of-two and was wonderfully close to luring the unsatisfied late-thirties submissive into her web.

At around eight thirty the doorbell rang.

It was Bull. Not his real name, but that’s what Alice and Jodi knew him as. He was a dominant black male who specialised in fucking married women, either submissive sluts, or dommes with cuckold husbands. He was muscular, 6’3”, handsome and spectacularly-endowed.

“Hi.” He pecked both ladies on the cheeks. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry.” Alice replied. “We’re in no rush.”

“Sorry, but I am.” He looked round, the whites of his eyes widening when he saw Lucy’s backside sticking up out of the floor. “I’ve got another rendezvous later.”

Alice smiled. “No problem. How long do you have ?”

He looked at his bling gold watch. “Five minutes. Maybe ten ?”

She shrugged. She’d have to change plan. “Okay, Bull. Let’s get to it. This one’s a lezzie. And a virgin. Can you do something about that ?”

“Sure thing.”

“Mind if we film it ?”

“Keep my face out of it.”

The whole thing took less than ten minutes. They left the anal vibe buzzing away inside her throughout. He didn’t undress. He just unbuttoned a couple of shirt buttons and lowered his pants. He fingered Lucy’s labia and coaxed his dark penis to impressive hardness.

Jodi giggled at the screen. Lucy was there, appropriately in black and white, wailing silently at this new indignity. She’d evidently realised she was about to be mounted. Later, she’d get to watch the movie.

Not many girls get their deflowering preserved digitally forever. Alice leaned in close to film the moment of penetration, as Bull’s veined weapon filled the white girl’s defenceless cunt. He began thrusting hurriedly.

More lesbian or more submissive ? That was the question.

Alice was genuinely interested to know if Lucy’s dislike of male partners would turn out to be stronger than her deep need for all kinds of humiliation. Loaning her out to guys would be an amusing and interesting experiment.

Bull had offered to use a condom. He usually did and was a safe bet. But Alice had decided that bareback was the only suitable way for a 22 year old submissive to lose her innocence so late in life.

“Any time.” Bull said, buttoning his shirt. “It’d be a pleasure.”

Jodi showed him to the door while Alice filmed his thick load oozing slowly out of Lucy’s mashed pussy. Then she put the camcorder down and began manipulating the girl’s stiff clit.

“Ooh, yes.” Jodi said, staring at the screen. “Look, she’s right on the edge. You’ve got her. The little slut likes dick inside her after all.”

So Alice pulled her fingers away. She saw no reason to make her cum yet.

Another whole 24 hours passed before, late on Sunday evening, Lucy was finally allowed to strum her own clitoris to a huge, brain-scrambling orgasm. In fact, the girl actually lost consciousness for a moment or two.

Alice lounged on the sofa, watching, as Lucy squatted, masturbating before her. The red light on the camcorder glowed, silently filming everything.

“So,” Alice said, before Lucy left, “did you enjoy it ?”

“It was … intense. I … I’m not sure if … enjoyed is the word I’d use.”

“Why not ?”

“I hated some of it. But … that’s what I wanted. What I need.”

Alice nodded. “And you’re no longer a virgin either.”

“No … Mistress.” Lucy’s voice trembled with emotion; sadness ? anger ?

“If you join our Club, I shall loan you out. Is that clear ?”

Her lips curled in a rictus of nausea. “ … yes.”

“Including for money. I will sometimes prostitute you.”

Lucy sucked in a couple of deep, hyper-breaths. For a moment Alice wondered if she had pushed it up a rung too far.

“I understand, Mistress.”

“We don’t have lesbian subs in the Club. Or straight subs. They’re all expected to be bisexual. They do whatever, with whoever. In public.”

Lucy simply bowed her head in acceptance.

“I will give you 24 hours to think it over. To make certain. Afterwards, there’ll be no going back.”

After Lucy had curtseyed goodbye, Alice closed her front door.

She spent a few minutes online, posting a few words and images for the entertainment of her fellow members under the title ‘Loaning Lucy’. She logged out and set another bath running, ready to wash away her perspiration and pussy juice after the day’s enjoyable activities. She stood and admired herself in the looking glass.

Yes, Alice was in wonderland.

The End

Further adventures in Wonderland ?

Please let me know if you’d like this series continued.

By the same Author:

Completed Novels:

“After the Pestilence” – a long (80,000 words) novel set in the near future, involving numerous characters and containing, as one reviewer said, ‘something for everyone’ (most of it is non-consensual and the humiliation is extreme, although the actual violence is mainly moderate).

“Five Words” – a long (70,000 words) Fem-domme novel, beginning with just five words that changed his life. The handful of words that turned him from a husband, father and businessman to something else entirely (a bdsm romance).

“Best Enjoyed Cold” – A medium length (35,000 words) ‘Rape and Revenge’ thriller (non-consensual and emotionally cruel).

“Priceless” – A medium length (32,000 words) ‘Blackmail Saga’, originally conceived as a short-story, that grew into a novella punctuated by advertising industry taglines (consensual becomes non-consensual).

New Short Stories:

“Credit Crunch” – a two part Male-dom short story (M/f), September 2008

“Used Goods” – a single part Male-dom short story (M/f), September 2008

Completed Short Stories:

“A Special Relationship” and “A Special Weekend” – A fem-sub story and its sequel set in 2007 England of an Anglo-American relationship, involving a submissive British woman whose boundaries are pushed to their very limit by her younger dominant boyfriend during two turbulent weekends (a consensual story involving cuckqueening, female chastity and humiliation). This was originally intended as a ‘trilogy’ but due to reviews of A Special Weekend, the third instalment was canned.

“Son-of-a-Gun” – A male-dom short story set in both the mid-nineteenth century and the present day recounting the fate of two young ladies at the mercy of a desperate ship’s crew stranded on a remote island (part non-consensual and part consensual involving moderate bdsm and humiliation).

“The Ballad of Lara and Gemma” – a Fem-domme, lesbian spin-off tale from ‘After the Pestilence’, in two parts, describing the infatuation of a Domme and her unwilling female slave (all non-consensual scenes and extreme humiliation, including scat).

Unfinished Business:

“Hard Labor” – intended as a multi-part novel set in the near future but I’m afraid writer’s block and lack of inspiration have prevented continuation of the story for the moment (non-consensual)

“Short n Sweet” –  a Male-dom story first posted at the same time as “Five Words”, with an invitation for readers to choose which novel was continued. Five Words won ! (consensual, at least for now ?)

“Hors d’oeuvres” and “Amuse-Bouches” (both written in English by the way !) – two collections of three ‘first chapters’ that were never continued.

Poetry:

“Supper’s Ready” – a collection of five short, light-hearted poems with a bdsm theme.

Non-Fiction:

“The Root of All Happiness” – an interview conducted for an unpublished book. I have never posted it to the BDSM Library Fiction Site. It is a transcript of a genuine dialogue with a Female-led couple and anybody interested can find it at Altairboy’s website in a posting dated August 9th 2007. Please no reposting to other sites or commercial use.

LOANING LUCY

PART TWO

Lucy knocked on the door. She was carrying a tiny suitcase with everything that she hadn’t sold, stored or given away. It contained her remaining worldly possessions; maid’s clothes, lingerie, slutwear and accessories, along with her cosmetics and wash bags. In the side pocket were her diary and an envelope containing her passport and the wad of cash she’d raised by selling most of her belongings.

Her ‘dowry’, as it was termed. Her application had been successful, but subject to payment of an irrevocable fee to her sponsor Mistress Alice. Lucy could change her mind about all this, but there’d be no refund.

She waited.

Eventually the door opened and a young girl about Lucy’s age opened the door. She was beautiful, with uber-blonde ringlets and bright blue eyes. Beautiful and totally naked.

“Lucy ?”

“Yes … um … hi.”

“Come in.” The girl turned and walked back through Alice’s hall. Her perfect, curved silhouette took Lucy’s breath away. She followed.

“Is … Mistress Alice in ?”

“No. She’ll be back soon. She said you should start right away by taking everything off.”

Lucy gulped. She self-consciously started unbuttoning her top.

“Can I ask … who you are ?”

The girl threw herself casually onto the larger of two leather sofas.

“I’m Beck. Didn’t she tell you ?”

“… no.”

The girl smiled, shaking her head in wonder. “I’m Alice’s girlfriend. Her lover, her muse and her submissive, all rolled into one hot and dirty package.” She giggled, looking at Lucy.

“She really didn’t tell you did she ?”

“No.”

“And you’ve come here thinking you were going to be her girlfriend right ?”

Lucy’s mouth was dry. “I … well …”

Beck eyed Lucy up and down as if for the first time. “I should carry on undressing if I were you. She could get back at any time. Come on, let’s see those tits. Alice said they’re not much to write home about.”

Lucy found herself sticking her chest out as she eased her top along her arms. She was wearing a white bra underneath.

“Er …wha …” she frowned in confusion, slowly trying to formulate a question.

Beck rolled around in amusement on the sofa. “Oh, don’t be silly. The situation’s quite straightforward. You’re our new slave. I’m submissive sure, to Alice, but I’m not a twenty four seven, no limits slave ! She and I love each other. But you’re just the hired help.”

Lucy’s fingers had frozen in shock as she was unzipping her skirt.

There was a scratching sound of a key in the front door lock. She hurriedly started to pull her skirt off.

“Ah.” Alice said, walking in and surveying the scene, totally unfazed. “You’ve met I see.” She raised an eyebrow sternly at Lucy. “And what are you waiting for ? Strip. It’s time for introductions.”

*** *** ***

Lucy squirmed on the floor, licking Alice’s and Beck’s feet in turn.

Alice was still wearing the stiletto heels she’d returned in. Beck’s feet were naked, with a rainbow of toenails, each varnished one of ten bright colours. They were drinking peppermint tea, chatting, cuddling.

“What are your plans for her ?” Beck asked.

There was a long pause. Alice had accepted the brown envelope of cash from Lucy without making comment. Not even a thank you. She hadn’t looked inside at the amount or the passport. “Well, I shall train her first. Then either sell her or rent her out. I think it would be fun to loan her out, for a while at least.”

“You know she thought that she was coming here to be your girlfriend.”

Lucy heard Alice snort. “I don’t think so, dear. That position’s taken.” She heard them both kissing each other.

“Can I help with her training ?”

“Of course. We can be super wicked with this one.”

They laughed. Beck’s pretty toes twiddled against each other.

“Go on. What can I be in charge of ?”

Lucy felt Alice’s heel jabbing the back of her head. “You can teach her how to clean shoes properly, for a start.” Lucy licked the leather with renewed vigour.

“Okay. And ?”

Alice sighed. “Anything but the really big decisions. I’ll still take those. But you can direct her day-to-day life. How’s that ?”

Beck hissed. “Yesss.”

“Hold on. And no sex with her.” Alice said. “Not unless I say so.”

“Of course.”

“In fact, make sure she has no sex at all. Or more precisely, no orgasms. Keep an eye on her at all times. After a while, when she’s horny enough, the slut’ll probably try anything.”

“You could have her clit numbed by that quack doctor ?”

“Not yet. Not unless she’s constantly touching herself.”

“What about duties ?”

Alice exhaled. “The usual. I want her working 14 to 16 hours a day. The full list of chores and you should make extra mess if necessary. Keep this one in constant drudgery. Seven days a week.”

“It’ll be pleasure.” Beck giggled. “So I don’t have to do anything ? Not even cooking this time ?”

“Not unless I fancy something special. You can teach her to do salads and simple stuff exactly as we like them.  The rest of the time you can just lie around and watch TV, so long as you’re ready when I need you.”

Lucy heard Beck exhale a giggle at the innuendo.

“Routines ?”

“A strict diet, for one. I want to change her body shape. We’ll get her in corsets too. I’ve got that Victorian whale bone one somewhere.”

“How strict ?”

“Oh, that’s up to you. Plenty of water. And fluids.” They both laughed. “And plenty of fruit and fibre. Keep her regular !”

“Talking of which, visits to the bathroom ?”

Alice paused, then Lucy heard the ‘psswh’ sound of whispering, followed by childish giggles. “A severe training regime for at least the first two weeks.”

Beck curled her toes under Lucy’s nostrils. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

*** *** ***

And so it began.

A brutal routine. Lucy had come to Alice’s home expecting mistreatment, but of the exciting, sexual kind. What she got was completely different. A constant and relentless barrage of unexciting toil and ruthless criticism, however hard she tried.

She slept nights in a tiny, windowless box room, on a steel bed. The mattress was thin rubber and the springs were uncomfortable. At around midnight each night after a day’s toil, Beck shackled her wrists and ankles to metal bolts in the four corners of the bed. Lucy slept naked except for an adult incontinence diaper round her waist, and a single torn sheet. Her only company was a baby-listening device that piped the sounds of lovemaking through to her from Alice’s bedroom suite. The sheet was yellowed and filthy, crusty with yellow, pink and dark smears, unwashed since previous occupants.

Each morning, at any time between 8 and 10 a.m., depending on when Beck got up, Lucy’s day began. From that moment, she didn’t stop. Apart from a few short breaks for toilet and sustenance, she scrubbed and polished, wiped and dusted, washed and ironed, pressed and sorted, prepared and cooked, served and washed up, stitched and sewed, fixed and mended, typed and filed, then scrubbed and polished all over again. Until midnight. Every day.

She had to follow specific rituals, word for word.

“Please, Beck. May I ask you if I can use the toilet ?”

“Yes, you may ask.”

“May I use the toilet ? I need to pee.”

“You may not. And do not ask again for at least one hour.”

It was terribly hard doing all the chores with a full bladder. She wasn’t allowed to use any of the modern equipment that was locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Dusting was done on all fours, speck by speck. Mopping was done on her hands and knees with a wet cloth. It was truly like being a maid in a Victorian household.

Alice used to go out most weekdays, leaving Beck in sole charge. But before she left the house, Alice always followed her same routine. After a cup of mint tea and perfectly sliced fruit for breakfast, she would use an old fashioned bedpan in her large, ensuite bathroom. She never once commented on why she used it when there was a perfectly serviceable flushing toilet that was more comfortable and convenient.

While Alice soaked in the hot suds of her bath, she summoned Lucy and pointed silently at the used pan. More often than not, several brown coils lay steaming inside it, usually swimming in dark urine.

Again, she had to get the words and tone exactly right, verbatim.

“Thank you, Mistress.” She cooed. “And would you be so kind as to allow me to clean your bedpan ?”

Alice merely rolled her eyes, watching her over the edge of the bath.

Lucy lifted it carefully, keeping her eyes on Alice, never wavering. She held it under her nostrils and breathed in appreciatively. At the same time, all she could usually think of was how much she needed to use the toilet herself, since Beck never allowed her to ‘pollute the atmosphere’ until Alice had left home.

Slowly, Lucy lowered her eyes to the pan, careful to show no emotion, except for an appreciative expression. She felt Alice’s gaze on her.

Then she placed the pan on top of the toilet cistern and delicately lifted out the first piece with her bare hands. She wasn’t allowed to drop it. She lowered her hand and daintily laid the stinking brown handful on the surface of the water. She then repeated the exercise as many times as it took. Often she needed a dozen handfuls before it was accomplished.

Next, she used an old toothbrush and paper towel to scrub and polish the used bedpan until it sparkled, ready for its next use. Finally she was allowed to press the toilet flush and watch her Mistress’s waste being sucked away.

“May I wash my hands now please, Mistress ?”

Again, Alice merely rolled her eyes to signal permission.

Lucy lowered her hands into the refilled toilet bowl and wiped them together. Later, downstairs, she was allowed to scrub them properly with antiseptic, liquid soap, but Alice found it offensive if she did that in her presence.

“Will that be all, Mistress ?” Lucy wiped her palms dry over her own naked breasts. “It was an honour to be of service to you. Thank you.”

*** *** ***

Beck was strange. In Alice’s presence, she was sometimes as reserved and submissive as any slave. But alone with Lucy, she was the complete opposite.

For punishments, she liked to make use of the wooden trapdoor cut in the floor of the living room floor.

It was the same secret hole where Lucy had been fucked for the one and only time in her life. She hated the reminder and it always felt to Lucy like being in a claustrophobic pillory underground.

Beck was callous and skilled with the leather paddle. She beat Lucy’s bottom until her skin was scarlet, and the flesh had started to blister. Lucy was constantly too sore to sit down and she winced if her bare buttocks touched anything. At night she lay in pain, biting her lips to stop crying.

But the whipping was just Beck’s starter course. Lucy knelt helplessly as she felt Beck playing with her dry anus, roughly spreading it open without any lubricant. Alice owned a legendary collection of over a hundred dildos and vibrators, from funny little ‘pleasure toys’ to seriously large ‘pain machines’. Lucy was forced to listen to the two lovers at night using the nice ones on each other for hours.

“I’m going to ruin your asshole.” Beck often whispered to Lucy, while she was scrubbing the kitchen floor or ironing Alice’s lingerie.

Alice seemed not to care about the bullying. She never commented when Lucy howled with pain as she squatted to pass a stool in front of both women. Alice had entrusted Beck with the job of training her and, it seemed, had full confidence in her ability. Once, there was blood seepage on Lucy’s overnight diaper but Alice was more angry about the waste of a diaper than Lucy’s abused anus. If she pissed at night, her diapers could be re-used several times, saving money. It was only if she soiled them that Lucy got a new one.

When they were alone, Beck would sometimes make Lucy stand naked and she would compare their faces and bodies. It was humiliating. Lucy knew that she herself was quite pretty, but Beck was stunning. She was a year younger than Lucy, cleverer, more talented and, what’s more, Alice loved her.

Yet Beck never seemed convinced of the fact, and she took her insecurity out spitefully on Lucy.

So, once the large vibrator was churning away in Lucy’s anus, with her head locked in the underground pillory, Beck would start on her ‘dessert’. She used to pick away at the sore diaper rash that had developed round Lucy’s inner thighs. Lucy sobbed helplessly, her tears splashing the black hole. They always made her drink two whole pints of fluid around 11 p.m., to ‘train her’. Virtually every night she woke up and, after a valiant struggle, she felt hot urine filling her diaper. Within days, a nasty red rash had developed.

First Beck had picked at the sores until scabs developed. Now she was picking at the scabs, then rubbing rock salt in to sterilise them, making Lucy scream. Her vagina was becoming more of an ugly mess by the day. But Alice didn’t seem to care about that either.

*** *** ***

Lucy had to cook for them wearing a ball gag in her mouth, which made her drool, so they gave her a chin strap of absorbent towelling as well.

The reason for the gag was to prevent her tasting or stealing the delicious food she was forced to prepare and cook for them every evening and at weekends. She was so hungry her stomach growled and she could hardly bear to handle the ingredients. The odours made her light headed.

Twice a day, after she’d cooked, served and washed up all the pans and dishes, Lucy was made to eat herself. Occasionally they forced her to dine off the floor but usually she sat alone at the kitchen table. While Lucy had been making her mistress’s three-course feast in the kitchen, Beck was out in the utility room mixing up Lucy’s slop.

Alice came home twice a week with shopping bags, either from the local butcher’s or fishmonger’s. Both women would giggle at Lucy and peer into the bag, making ‘mmm’ sounds. Lucy had been a vegetarian since she was 15 years old, but solely on the grounds she didn’t like the taste. In her application for membership to Wonderland, she accepted that what she was fed would not be subject to any limits.

Beck had already revealed that she was actually an excellent cook. She still made Sunday lunch for herself and Alice. But the rest of the week she dedicated her skills and knowledge to producing jaw-droppingly awful food for Lucy. In fact, even though Lucy was half-starving, she soon had to be force fed. She had lost 17 lbs in weight during her first ten days. 

Her diet was almost completely meat (or rather offal) and fish (or rather fish heads, tails and skin). Lucy would boil the ingredients for hours until they had liquefied into a loose but lumpy porridge. Scum floated on the surface. To this, she added, waste fruit from Alice’s and Lucy’s own recycle bin and a dollop of stewed prunes, into which she mixed vitamins, iron and laxative supplements.

Of course, the recipe varied, according to what body parts and fruit skin were available. Sometimes she curried the mix. Occasionally she added a few ‘secret ingredients’. But the result was always foul.

“Eat up, Loose.” Beck would say, pointing her finger.

Lucy heaved, staring at the bowl.

They quickly had to resort to a black ‘watersports’ hood.

It was made of heavy rubber, zipping up at the back, with a locking collar. There were eyeholes and a mouth opening. Into the mouth opening went a hollow, penis-shaped gag with a wide hole through its middle. Lucy couldn’t budge the gag once it had been fixed between her teeth.

Beck winked as she affixed a long rubber tube to the hole in the gag. At the gag-end of the tube was a one-way valve and at the top-end was a stainless steel funnel. Lucy could only peer helplessly through her eyeholes and bite against the rubber gag with her teeth.

Then it was feeding time at the zoo.

Alice used to interrupt her surfing on the internet with a glass of wine to watch. The first time, Lucy had leapt out of her chair on tasting a mouthful. So, after that, Beck carefully taped her wrists down to the arms of the chair, and her neck to the sturdy wooden back, so that Lucy’s face pointed upwards.

Because it was primarily over-boiled protein and fruit pulp without any carbohydrates at all, an extremely large helping contained only a few hundred calories. The laxative ensured that a high proportion of her intake didn’t stay inside Lucy long, assisting with weight loss.

Thus, it could take Beck 20 to 30 minutes of forced feeding to empty the contents of the huge bowl. She would wait, calmly and patiently, while Lucy reluctantly swallowed each mouthful, quite often several times, as she spewed the rejected bile up to the tube’s one-way valve, where it was blocked and slid back down again.

Lucy stared helplessly upwards. Using her peripheral vision, she could see Alice and Beck nibbling a chocolate or even an icecream while they ladled large mouthfuls into the funnel. They even played music and paused for a slow dance while Lucy looked upwards and waited, her eyes watering with nausea.

Then on the fourth evening, Alice broke off from a dance with Beck and fetched a large bowl from a cupboard. She raised her dress and sighed, emptying her wine-filled bladder there, rather than walking fifteen measly feet to the cloakroom. Soon Beck did the same. Once Lucy’s meal was eventually finished, the contents of the bowl were transferred via a jug into the funnel. So that Lucy could ‘rinse away’ the taste of her food.

*** *** ***

And yet, despite everything, something deep inside Lucy, responded to the dreadful treatment she was subjected to. For the first time in her life, she felt … fulfilled. No, that was stupid, but she couldn’t think of a better word. She felt … right. And her life was uncluttered by bills, or a career, or finding a girlfriend.

This was what she wanted, what she deserved.

After a week, she was climbing the walls with sexual frustration. Every night she lay, exhausted but awake, long after the sighs and cries from Alice’s bedroom had turned to gentle snores and breathing. She just wanted to touch herself once, to feel a climax rippling through her body one more time. Every day she watched Beck passing the afternoons watching bodice-ripping movies and lesbian DVDs on the screen while pleasuring herself.

Occasionally either Alice or Beck would call her over and examine her vagina, fingering her labia until they pouted. They’d tease her about her scabs, saying that it was her leaking pussy causing the nappy rash.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you ?” Alice said. “Deep down.” Her eyes bored into Lucy’s. Her smile was crooked, querying.

Lucy knew that now was the time to complain that things had gone too far; the food and diet, the constant abuse, Beck’s behaviour.

“Yes, Mistress.” She croaked.

Alice slid her thumb casually over Lucy’s clitoris. “Don’t you dare touch this will you ? Even by accident.”

“No, Mistress.”

Alice’s expression slowly softened into a full grin. “I will look after your sex life. It will be much better for you that way.”

In spite of the occasional vaginal examinations, they continued to ignore her sexually. Lucy was a slave, a maid, a punch bag, but she barely seemed to register on their sexual register.

Then, on her third Sunday in service, the doorbell rang.

She opened the door naked. A fat, middle-aged Chinese lady stood there in a shiny sweat suit. She had a jet-black bun of hair and big hoop earrings.

“Aha. And you must be Rucy.” The woman said.

The woman’s visit lasted barely twenty minutes. The longest twenty minutes of Lucy’s life. Smiling, Alice and Beck said they would pop out to Starbucks for a coffee, leaving Lucy with Jasmine. The visitor was a married member of the Wonderland Bdsm Club. She had dropped by on the off chance, having seen Alice’s advert.

Lucy knelt between her naked thighs. The woman had removed just her Barbie-pink sweat pants and a pair of large knickers, the elasticated kind that hold your tummy in. Her thighs were huge and dimpled, like the skin on cold chicken legs. At the apex was a triangle of black hair and a damp vagina.

Lucy realised the fishy stench wasn’t body odour, but second hand sex.

Jasmine smiled, pulling Lucy nearer by the back of her hair.

“My husband knows nothing about this part of my rife.” She said, fluently but with an oriental accent. “He still likes to have his once-a-week, Sunday morning fucky-fuck. So, rick me clean little white girl, and give Rady Jasmine a nice orgasm prease.”

Lucy had never tasted semen before. She had always been repulsed by the idea. Yet her first experience was to be even worse; served second-hand from the fetid vagina of a woman she’d only met 5 minutes earlier.

Cautiously, she stuck out her tongue and pressed it to the woman’s glistening pink maw. Her trimmed triangle of hair was black and damp. She heard a sigh and watched the woman’s thighs inch wider. The semen dregs weren’t pearly white as she expected. The ooze was clear-grey, like a wallpaper paste. She licked at it and felt acid rise into her throat.

“Hurry up deary, Jasmine doesn’t have all day.”

The lapped again, flicking the tip of her tongue against the woman’s obscenely protruding clitoris. Her Velcro sweatshirt had ridden up, revealing an expanse of blotchy stomach flesh. Lucy heard a hiss of pleasure.

It took around ten minutes, of tender licking, kissing and eventually slobbering, as the woman’s juices ran thick and copiously.

“Careful dear. Swallow it all. Don’t make mark on Alice’s sofa.” The woman pronounced Alice’s name as Arriss.

Eventually she climaxed, wrapping her pudgy thighs round Lucy’s head.  Her orgasm took ages, but she remained almost silent throughout, just making a staccato ‘ah…ah’ sound with her mouth wide open.

Afterwards, she said nothing. No thank you, not even a nod of acknowledgement. She pointed at her knickers and shiny track pants. Lucy passed them over and she put them on in silence.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door.

“Are you decent ?” Alice said, popping her head round. “Finished ?”

“Yes.” Jasmine replied.

Lucy caught Beck’s smirk as she walked in behind Alice. It was a grin of total triumph. Like she’d won something.

Jasmine walked towards the door, still ignoring Lucy.

Alice smiled, escorting her out. “Do drop by again soon.”

On the doorstep, Jasmine paused and turned. “How much ? To loan her out to me.” She pronounced it ‘roan’, not loan. Roaning Rucy.

Alice smiled at Lucy, turning the sides of her mouth down in that universal expression of disregard. She shrugged. “Oh not much at all.”

END OF PART TWO

http://velvetramblings.blogspot.com

feedback welcome

LOANING LUCY

PART THREE

Alice logged onto her bank account, gratified to see the balance.

Even the most unreasonable pimp usually allows his whore to retain a portion of her earnings. He’d take his ‘fee’ for protection and maybe drug money or rent, but he has to let her to keep the residual balance or she’ll go on strike.

Yet Alice was able to charge top dollar and to retain all of Lucy’s fees. Absolutely 100% went into her bank account. Lucy’s reward was merely the knowledge that she was making a contribution to Alice’s lifestyle.

And men seemed excited to stump up wads of hard cash when they heard they’d be dominating a pretty lesbian sub.

Alice could hear them in the bedroom now. Two businessmen with furtive Bdsm desires paying a sum well into 3-figures to spend one hour of their lunchtime with Lucy. The echo of smacks, thumps on the wall, female shrieks, male grunts and laughter was audible through the walls.

Alice always kept an ear out for trouble but there was rarely any.

At 2.00 p.m. precisely, the men exited the room adjusting their suits and ties. They handed Alice a stuffed brown envelope and left the house, returning to their mundane but well paid jobs. They looked like satisfied customers.

They’d be back.

She counted the banknotes and folded the untaxed earnings into her wall safe. She allowed Lucy a few minutes then walked into the room. Her slut was naked on the bed, curled into a ball. Sheets, sex toys, used condoms littered the vinyl floor. The room reeked of the mingled scents of aftershave and after-sex.

“Get up !” Alice snapped. “And tidy this bloody mess. You never know when another visitor may arrive !”

It was obvious that Lucy was addicted. She was like a drug user, torn between her dwindling desire for self-preservation and her craving for just one more hit, while Alice fed her needs like a pusher-pimp. Their symbiotic relationship progressed until it was impossible to draw the line between indulgence and exploitation. Each woman used the other to satisfy her own uncontrollable lust.

“I’ve been thinking.”

Alice let her words hang in the chilly, morning air. Her breath billowed like cigarette smoke. Lucy was squatting in the rear yard performing her ablutions while Alice hovered in the doorway sipping coffee.

Lucy’s teeth chattered as she hunkered on her toes and urinated. Her knees were splayed wide apart so that Alice could see the steam that rose from the ground. Despite the cloudless, azure sky, the temperature had plummeted. Lucy was totally naked and her skin was mottled blue with cold. Her spread thighs swayed as she struggled to maintain her balance without using her hands.

“Instead of renting you out,” Alice continued, “and earning all these tiresome little amounts, it would be far better to sell you.”

A small spiral of warm air emerged from Lucy’s mouth as she gasped.

“I think a mature Arab or African gentleman would pay good money.” Alice mused. “Or a South American. Maybe one of those drug lords ?”

Lucy’s lower lip trembled. Her face turned puce as she grimaced and began her bowel movement. She kept her brown eyes staring forwards, with her hands clasped behind her head. A blue vein on her forehead pulsed.

Alice chuckled. No way would she be selling Lucy yet. But the girl didn’t need to know that. It just kept her on her toes, so to speak. She watched her rocking slightly. The shivering cold made it harder to keep balance when performing bodily functions outdoors. Vapour floated between Lucy’s thighs like dry ice as her waste piled up beneath her.

Sadly, as far as Alice was concerned, Lucy was over the worst of the destruction of her dignity. After you’ve been denied any privacy for a few weeks, toilet trained and forced to beg permission, and then been watched, photographed and even filmed, it slowly ceases to provoke the desired level of disgrace. For a while, tricks such as audiences, diarrhoea, constipation and enemas injected a fresh blush of shame, but human beings are highly adaptable. Especially submissives.

Hence the move outdoors, replacing drawn out embarrassment with simple cold, discomfort and utilitarianism, treating Lucy like a domesticated pet.

Alice pushed the door ajar and walked back into the centrally heated warmth of her kitchen. Beck was chopping ingredients for Spanish omelettes. An aroma of onions and garlic mingled with the pine scent from the Christmas tree. Alice teased her fingers up the silk of Beck’s gown and both women kissed.

A minute later, there was a knock on the door. Lucy was asking to come in. Alice walked over and peered out of the window, checking the muck had been shovelled into the composting box. She shook her head.

“Do some exercise to warm up. Running on the spot.”

She walked back to Beck and watched her place the sliced potatoes and onions in the frying pan. They sizzled in the olive oil.

“Why don’t you get rid of her ?” Beck asked.

Alice frowned. “Why should I ? I like having her around. She’s fun.”

“She was at first.” Beck fetched a carton of eggs and a chorizo sausage from the fridge. “But I’m bored of her now.”

“Bored ? Or jealous ?”

Beck glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Alice smiled, delighted.

Beck served up the omelettes.

“You can come in now.” Alice said, tapping on the window. Lucy tiptoed through the back door, red-cheeked, blue-lipped and stiff-nippled. Her teeth were chattering and she was out of breath.

Alice filled a steel bowl with a large helping of crushed dog biscuits and poured congealed gravy of liquidised offal over the top.

“Tuck in.”

She waited until Lucy was on all fours and eating like a bitch. The phrase ‘wolfing it down’ was appropriate; Lucy’s head bobbed as she snaffled her cold breakfast greedily, as she’d been taught. Her bottom wiggled from side to side appreciatively. The rim of her anus was still dirty where she hadn’t wiped.

Alice joined Beck and sat down to her own breakfast. They ate in contented silence, reading the papers. Alice studied the business section and checked on her investments, while Beck always turned to the celebrity gossip and TV pages.

“Come and stand here.”

Alice pushed her plate aside and stared at Lucy as she stood to attention by the side of the breakfast table. Alice had been careful to leave her breakfast half-eaten, and she smiled inwardly at her slave’s ravenous glance at casually wasted omelette.

“Pick that up.”

Alice gestured at the chorizo on the table. Lucy’s trembling fingers reached for the deep-red sausage. It was imported from Spain; wrist-thick and as long as Alice’s forearm.

“You know what to do.”

Lucy obediently spread her feet apart and fingered open her labia. She reached her right hand down and eased the end of the sausage inside her hairless cunt. All the time her beseeching eyes never left Alice. Beck didn’t even look up, just kept reading the paper.

“Faster.”

Lucy bit her blue-lip and hurriedly began to piston the sausage in and out.

“Get yourself to near the edge then stop.” Alice said matter-of-factly. She picked up her paper and continued studying the stock market prices.

The kitchen was silent, but for the sounds of the masturbating girl and the occasional swish of a page being turned.

“M ...” Lucy eventually moaned, stilling her hand.

Alice looked up. Her slave was mad-eyed, mouth ajar, silently panting.

“Hold that position.”

She smiled inwardly. It had been over a month. Lucy was only allowed to climax with her male visitors and, even then, only with prior permission. And even if she’d been given permission, it was something Lucy found very difficult to achieve.

Alice had no interest in ‘curing’ Lucy of her lesbianism. But she knew that climaxes with men were more humiliating and distasteful for her.

“Stop fidgeting.” She admonished, when Lucy shifted slightly.

Eventually she looked up again and put on her best smirk.

“Okay, a little more now. Just back to the edge.”

Lucy blinked then began pumping the sausage, twisting her wrist so that she slid it across her clitoris. In moments, she was whistling staccato whimpers, before frustratedly halting her arm movements again.

“That’s enough for today, I think. Time for a shower.”

Alice looked across at Beck. “You do the washing up, my dear.”

Alice watched Lucy standing under the warm spray, soaping her skin, shampooing her hair. She trusted the girl not to masturbate but nevertheless she preferred to keep a keen eye on her for the half hour or so after taking herself to the edge.

She reached for the temperature control mounted on the wall outside the shower and rotated it anti-clockwise to cold. She smiled as Lucy emitted an involuntary squeal, hurriedly rinsing her hair out under the freezing jet.

After Lucy had towelled her body and hair dry, Alice told her to sit down on the dressing table stool. Then she picked up her hairdressing scissors.

“It’s time for a new look, my dear. Matching collar and cuffs. You’re going to go bald on top for a while.”

Lucy looked up at her in shock, lips forming a silent plea.

Alice simply tut-tutted and chopped a huge wet chunk of hair off.

“Look in the mirror.”

She worked fast, wordlessly hacking away Lucy’s brunette locks and letting them fall to the floor. She glanced in the mirror and winked at her glistening eyes.

“Don’t worry. This look will really suit you.”

The next stage was using a smaller set of nail scissors to cut the remaining tufts down to soft stubble. Then Alice set to work with shaving gel and a razor, removing the last vestiges of Lucy’s hair. It took three new blades as, one by one, they clogged up with tufts but finally the girl’s scalp gleamed like a pink snooker ball.

“Perfect.”

Lucy stifled a sob as Alice wiped away the surplus gel with a flannel.

“Now let’s complete the job.”

She applied a generous coating of hair removal cream that she used for her own legs. It had a chemical additive that delayed re-growth. While it set and did its work, Alice nonchalantly brushed her teeth and then combed through her own hair.

“All done.”

She washed away the cream and held up a hand mirror, imitating a hairdresser, so that Lucy could admire the back of her gleaming head.

“Pleased ?”

“Yes.” Lucy sighed in a soft voice, fingering her head.

Alice patted her shoulder.

“Let’s go take a photo we can upload onto your web advert.”

*** *** ***

On the afternoon of Christmas Eve, Lucy was scrubbing the bathroom clean when she heard the doorbell ring. She listened to voices and laughter.

“Lucy !” she heard Alice call up the staircase.

Wiping her fingernails clean on her apron, she walked downstairs.

A bearded man was in the hall. He looked a Hells Angel type, dressed in black, covered in heavy jewellery, studs and tattoos. He was carrying a holdall bag. He grinned, revealing several gold teeth.

“This is Sam.” Alice said, with that expression Lucy recognised as trouble.

The man’s grin switched to a leer as he sized Lucy up. She gulped, praying that Alice didn’t intend to loan her to this awful, paunchy slob.

“Sam is going to decorate you, my dear.”

Lucy lay back on the couch. She was totally naked with her thighs parted. Alice sat in an armchair, chatting on the phone to her friend Jody, but keeping one eye on Sam.

He had finished setting up his kit. He smiled down at Lucy and took a syringe from his bag, flicking it and staring at the needle.

He straightened Lucy’s arm and rubbed her vein a moment.

“Just a small prick, little lady. Not how you like them, I’m told.” His accent was rough and uneducated.

She winced as he inserted the tip into her skin and slowly pushed in the plunger. At least, he was gentle, seemingly skilled in his work.

He smiled reassuringly. “Shh … go to sleep.”

Too late ! She’d thought it was some kind of pain relief. But it was an anaesthetic. She started to speak. A dark curtain descended over her eyes.

She blinked.

There is a huge difference between emerging from natural sleep and coming round after an anaesthetic. She hadn’t dreamed at all. She felt vulnerable, completely out of it.

She opened her eyes but couldn’t move her head at first. She saw Alice, sat in the same spot she remembered, no longer speaking on the phone. She was reading and looked up suddenly, when she sensed Lucy’s eyes on her.

“Ah, Loose. Welcome back.”

Slowly Lucy shifted her neck, feeling her body awaking. Her head throbbed. Her body ached. She licked her lips, moistening her dry mouth. She felt so lethargic.

“Wh …”

“Shh. No need to talk yet. Take your time. You’ve been out a while.”

She let her head fall back. The lack of hair cushion reminded her. She was bald. What else had they done to her ?

Alice slowly climbed out of the chair and came and stood by Lucy’s head.

Her hand reached out and patted Lucy’s cheek.

Lucy swallowed nervously as she felt Alice’s fingernail slide up past her temple and onto the front of her head. It felt tender, throbbing.

“It suits you.” Alice grinned down at her, pulling a vanity mirror out of her pocket. “Look.”

Lucy felt as if she was watching a horror movie, that she should avert her eyes from the screen. She peered into the small mirror, focusing.

She managed to gasp.

The words were written onto the front of her bald scalp, above the hairline. They seemed to have been tattooed in dark red ink.

I AM A SLUT

“Don’t worry.” Alice pulled the mirror away. “When your hair grows, it will cover them up. But you’ll carry that sign forever.”

Lucy blinked back a salty tear. She let her head fall to one side as Alice’s teasing finger traced its way down the side of her face, her neck to her chest. She jerked her head in shock.

Alice was toying with her nipple. Lucy looked down and saw the pair of large gold hoops laying across her breasts. She squinted and realised that, in fact, each nipple had been pierced and had a smaller ring inserted, then larger hoops hung through the rings. Each hoop was the diameter of her boob and made of metal, about as thick as a pencil. They felt heavy on her skin.

Alice didn’t speak, just simply gloated down at her, and held the mirror above Lucy’s hairless pubic mound. She tilted it.

This time Lucy groaned.

The letters were tattooed in a dark red triangular layout into the pale mound directly above Lucy’s hairless vagina.

FUCK ME

  HARD

And at that moment Lucy realised that somebody had taken the invitation up. Her labia were puffy and pouting open.

“Sam did such a good job, I was sure you’d want to give him a tip. He just left. You only missed him by five minutes. He wanted to use you bareback but I never know where his dick’s been. I insisted on a condom. Don’t say I don’t protect your interests, my dear.”

Lucy’s head fell back again. She screwed her eyes shut in shame.

“Don’t worry.” Alice’s voice taunted. “If you grow back a big hairy bush one day, it should hide most of the letters. When you’re sixty, it’ll make a nice souvenir of your young, wild days.”

Lucy exhaled, unable to think of anything to say.

Alice leaned down and whispered into her ear.

“Happy Christmas, my dear.”

*** *** ***

On New Year’s Eve, Beck moved out.

Lucy never knew why. Alice never mentioned it. There had been a bit of an atmosphere, a few cross words, not much more. Then suddenly, Beck’s suitcase and bags appeared in the hall one morning.

She never even said goodbye to Lucy.

That afternoon, Alice called Lucy into her bedroom. She was lying on her double bed in the sweats, track pants and socks she’d been wearing all day. She curled a finger at Lucy.

“Pull my socks off.”

Lucy knelt and gently tugged off the white sports socks. She felt a surge of longing. It was the first time that Alice had asked her to do anything intimate for weeks. She ignored the slight aroma as Alice flexed her pink toes. Her toenails were chipped and needed a fresh coat of varnish.

“You may kiss them.”

Lucy lowered her head and opened her lips, sucking tenderly on Alice’s big toe. She puckered her lips into a kiss and slid them along to the next one, pausing to slide her tongue out into the sweaty crevice between toes.

Forty days and forty nights.

It was exactly forty days since she’d climaxed. Without doubt the longest period since she learned how.  She’d heard that men talked about blue balls of frustration. Well, she was suffering blue clit, or whatever. Big time.

And yet she knew that she would wait until Alice gave her permission, even if that wasn’t today. Or tomorrow, or next week.

She tongue-kissed each toe in turn, staring up at Alice, who was propped up on the pillows watching her disdainfully. She moved her mouth to the other foot and repeated her worship in silence. The heavy hoops hanging from her nipples jangled together awkwardly as she shifted position.

“Slut.” Alice hissed, gesturing with a tilt of her chin at Lucy’s tattoo.

“Mmm.” She murmured in agreement.

“Do you expect me to let your filthy whore’s mouth anywhere near my cunny ?”

Lucy grimaced a sigh. “Uh-um.” She shook her head to emphasise ‘no’.

Alice nodded approvingly. “Pull my pants down.”

Lucy knelt back on her haunches while Alice flipped over on the bed, into a press up position, so her hips were in the air. Carefully, Lucy tugged down the elastic waistband of the track pants and slid them down Alice’s legs and over her feet. She watched as Alice sunk down into the bedclothes.

“But I’ll let you lick my ass instead.”

Alice spread her legs wide, lifting her bottom.

Lucy perched on the edge of the bed between Alice’s ankles and leaned down. She delicately used her thumbs to caress open Alice’s buttocks, just enough to give her access to her Mistress’s dark portal.

Sometimes, in the dead of night, Lucy had a sick habit of interviewing herself, imagining she was on some TV chat show and the host was asking her deeply personal questions. Always a female host; some typical daytime television woman with a bun of grey hair and an indignant, supercilious manner. Her imaginary studio audience provided the laughter, the gasps.

The host always returned to the same crucial question; why ? After she’d titillated the spectators with impertinent enquiries about specific sexual acts and humiliations, she would demand to know why. Why do you enjoy such treatment ? More than enjoy, need. Why do you need it ?

And lying in the dark silence, Lucy would try to answer. She’d cough and buy time, congratulating the woman for posing such an interesting question. She’d fumble for the right words. Well, you see, it’s just the way I am. Perhaps nature, perhaps nurture, maybe both. Being treated as a slave by another woman, loaned out to others, made to work 24/7 without respite, was like food, or like drugs to an addict, as necessary to her as … oxygen.

But her own answer never satisfied her. She’d shrug apologetically at the end, hoping to see understanding in her host’s eyes. She never did. The woman would look at her, unsatisfied, uncomprehending, lips curled in a sneer of distaste. Any explanation to ‘normal’ people was always doomed to fail.

“Now lay your cunt down across my heel.”

She was brought back to the present by Alice’s murmured command.

Lucy shifted position, so she was riding the back of Alice’s right foot. She could feel her own body, hot and open, moist with her secretions. She lowered her tongue to Alice’s bottom and simultaneously pressed her clitoris against the hard heel beneath her. She gasped warm, excited breath into Alice’s fragrant anus.

“Tch. That tickles !” Alice giggled.

*** *** ***

Alice nuzzled her cheek into the cushions, twisting her head so she could breathe. She enjoyed Lucy’s tongue slavishly bathing her back passage. Beck was an accomplished cunnilinguist but the stroppy bitch had been less keen on the dark art of analingus.

Lucy’s pathetic humping against her foot made her smile inwardly. She’d let the girl have a climax today. Just the one. Her last of 2008.

Her last until the Spring. From now, it would be a long, dark winter for Lucy.

But an orgasm today would do wonders for their relationship. Even a masochist slut like Lucy needed her occasional treat. She’d bask in the glow of release and believe that Alice did, maybe, love her after all.

Later this evening, they’d go off together to Wonderland’s special New Year’s party where Lucy’s tattoos and jewellery would be admired. She’d secretly preen and be proud of her life as Alice’s slave.

Which would make the shock at midnight and the next part of their union all the more amusing.

End of Part Three

LOANING LUCY

PART FOUR

It was a private party for about 40 guests, held at the spacious home of one of the Wonderland Club’s wealthiest patrons. Lucy and several of the invited slaves were serving trays of canapes and refilling drinks. Their Owners were all standing around socialising or sitting in groups discussing everything from the state of the economy to New Year resolutions. A few slaves were kneeling at the feet of their Masters and Mistresses, either listening silently or diligently performing a task.

One middle-aged female slave was on all fours between the boots of a long-haired, leather clad, rock musician. She was topless, dressed only in a pair of PVC hot pants, fishnet stockings and high heels. Her pendulous breasts were hanging down like udders. His zip was undone and she was bouncing her head up and down in his lap.

He was totally ignoring her efforts, chatting away to the portly man that Lucy had earlier noticed the woman arriving with.

Lucy held a tray of smoked salmon blinis out to both men.

The musician took one, his coal black eyes staring at her. She knew he was the lead guitarist in a successful band and was only in his mid twenties. His jaw was unshaven and acne-ridden. She blushed as his gaze lingered on her tattooed forehead.

“So, you’re a slut, huh ?” His accent was cockney.

She curtseyed, as Alice had taught her. “Yes, Sir.”

The other, older man smiled like a reptile, taking a canape. His fleshy red face was shiny with perspiration. He looked about 60, with one of those patrician faces that might once have been handsome, before decades of indulgence and excess.

“You belong to Alice, right ?”

Again, she bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, Sir.”

He reached out and pensively gauged the heavy hoops dangling from the rings in her nipples. She winced as he gave them a gentle tug.

“And you’re lesbian ?”

“Yes … well, bisexual, Sir.”

“But you prefer women ?”

Both men were staring at her; the blue eyes of the older man twinkled with amusement, the black eyes of the musician were narrowed, his breath quickening. She could tell he was finally responding to the woman’s blowjob, building to an orgasm.

“Yes, Sir. I prefer women.”

“But Alice loans you out to men ?”

Lucy couldn’t meet his gaze. She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“How delightful. Look at me !”

She jerked her head up. He surveyed her coldly. At that moment, the musician grunted and threw his head back against the sofa.

The older man turned his head, whilst still studying Lucy out of the corner of his eye. He tilted his chin at the topless female slave who was guzzling the musician’s load.

“My wife.” He said, turning back to Lucy. “My fat pig slave wife.”

He lifted his foot and poked his toe into the tyre of flesh bubbling over the rim of the woman’s overly tight PVC pants.

Lucy watched his wife slowly raise her head. Her cheeks were flushed and she tentatively wiped the back of her hand against her lips. Her eyes met Lucy’s and she flashed the shared recognition of one slave to another.

Around them, nobody else paid the moment the slightest attention. Clusters of people talked, laughed, like at any normal social event. Alice was nowhere to be seen. She’d disappeared off into another room.

“What do you think of my wife ?” the man enquired.

Lucy blushed. The woman was maybe late forties. Like him, she’d seen better days. She had auburn hair with flecks of grey, worn in a loose tousled bun, and too much makeup. Her lipstick was smudged. Her skin was pale and slack under her arms and across her bare stomach. All in all, she looked more ridiculous than sexy in her hot pants and stockings.

“She’s … lovely, Sir.”

Both men burst into hoots of laughter, causing a third man to turn round and join their group. He was black, tall and striking. He grinned and raised an eyebrow at Lucy.

“Lovely ?” the husband smirked. “She’s a fat cow only good for giving blowjobs. Aren’t you my dear ?”

The woman’s pale blue eyes never left Lucy’s. She nodded.

“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper.

“So my wife prefers me to fuck younger, hotter women than her.”

Again, the woman nodded. Her eyes blinked with humiliation.

“How old are you, slut ?”

“Twenty two, Sir.”

“Hear that ?” He taunted his wife. “I bet her cunt is tight as a fucking glove.”

“Oh, it is !” the black man interrupted.

Lucy gasped. The man’s voice was deep like Barry White’s, amused. His eyes twinkled and he held out his hand to her. She transferred the tray to her left hand and took his in her right. His grip was gentle but firm.

“Pleased to meet you Lucy, face to face at last.”

He turned to the others in explanation. “The last time I saw Lucy, her bottom was sticking up out of Alice’s floor. I took her virginity, so I’m told.”

Lucy dry-swallowed, feeling a heat rash mottling her neck and cheeks. She remembered the moment. She’d been forced to watch the film of her own deflowering but the man’s face had been kept out of sight throughout.

“And I can thoroughly recommend her dyke cunt.” He continued, turning from Lucy to the other men. “Although I’d get in there early, if I were you, as Alice has been loaning her out pretty frequently since then, I’ve heard.”

“And I’ve barely started !”

Alice’s voice startled Lucy, as her Mistress joined the huddle from behind.

Lucy stared at her in shock. She was holding a leash. On the floor at her feet trailed a naked boy. He was olive-skinned, Latin-looking, early-20s at the most. She winked mischievously.

“Look at Giorgio. My beautiful new boy slave.”

Dumm !

The distant, muffled chimes of Big Ben over the radio signalled midnight.

Lucy was on her knees in one of the private bedrooms, although the door was open and she could hear the raucous party sounds down the corridor. She was aware of people wandering into the room occasionally, coming and going freely.

She was kissing Alice’s boots, smacking her lips against the red leather in time with the sounds of Big Ben. Above her, Alice was lying back on the bed next to Giorgio, kissing to each chime, like two lovers.

After the twelfth peal, a huge cheer went up in the main room and Lucy heard party poppers and the skirl of bagpipes from somewhere.

Suddenly Alice’s fingers slid over Lucy’s bald head. She twisted her earlobe sharply, directing Lucy’s head towards the door.

“Happy New Year, darling.”

Lucy blinked. The podgy-faced older man from earlier was standing in the doorway. He held out his hand and beckoned her with his crooked little finger.

“Go and see in 2009 properly.” Alice said.

He locked the door of the bedroom suite.

Lucy saw his wife sitting in a chair by the window. The woman’s cheeks were bulging, stuffed with some kind of gag and silver masking tape over her lips. Lucy noticed her arms were behind her back. They’d presumably been tied or cuffed there. Wet splodges glistened in the lamplight on the woman’s forehead, cheeks and breasts.

“Go and stand in front of her.” He said.

Lucy took a few paces and stood facing the woman. Close up, she could see her mascara and lipstick were smudged and there were damp patches in her tousled bun of hair.

Lucy felt his hands curling around her waist as he stood behind her, panting obscenely in her ear.

“Slap her face.” He murmured.

Lucy inhaled. No. She couldn’t do that.

“Nmm.” She shook her head.

“Do it.” He snarled. “Slap the fat cunt’s face.”

Lucy stared into the woman’s upturned, bulging eyes.

“Do it now ! Or I’ll go fetch Alice.”

Lucy shut her eyes, grinding her teeth. Slowly, she raised her arm and opened her palm. Then she cracked it across the woman’s swollen cheek.

The shrill snap echoed round the bedroom.

She heard him breathing excitedly as his hands moved to her breasts, tweaking the heavy nipple hoops.

“Tell her again how old you are.”

“I’m twenty two.”

“Young enough to be my wife’s daughter.”

Lucy didn’t speak. She shut her eyes again to avoid the woman’s blush.

“Open your legs.”

She edged her feet apart, feeling his sausage-like fingers lifting her mini skirt. Lucy was wearing no underwear. His fingertips probed and teased her labia open. In spite of her disgust, she felt her body moistening.

“Step forwards.”

Lucy inched her feet toward the woman.

“Now bend down until your forehead touches hers.”

She smelt semen on her skin as they came together.

“Tell her what’s happening.”

Lucy whimpered as the man’s heavy stomach rubbed against her buttocks. His pubic hair tickled her shaved parts and his fingers guided his crown inside her.

“Aahm.” She gulped. “You’re … in … side … me.”

She felt him thrust, while his left hand sought out her clitoris.

“Ugh.” Her own breath exploded into the woman’s gagged face.

“Your cunt is sooo tight. Tell the bitch how good that feels.”

Lucy grimaced. “It … f … feels good.”

He pulled back and slammed into her.

She grunted and pushed back against him.

He laughed. “That’s my girl. Spit into her face !”

OMG. Lucy recoiled, pulling back until she could see the woman’s blurred face. She groaned as his length sliced through her again.

“Do it !”

Lucy half heartedly spat a few drips of saliva.

“Aaaouch.” She wailed as the hoops in her nipples were tugged roughly.

“Hawk up a really g … good mouthful of g … gob.” He grunted.

Lucy snorted and sucked up a ball of phlegm. The woman was facing her only inches away. Their eyes met in distorted acceptance. Lucy spewed the thick mucus into her eyes.

She felt him pull out.

“Now get on the bed. Quick !”

She hurriedly clambered across the bed cover. He guided her so that her head hung, face up, off the end of the bed nearest the window. She blinked and had an upside down view of his wife watching them.

He climbed above Lucy and lowered his mouth to hers. His thick tongue stabbed between Lucy’s lips as he kissed her. Then he broke off and she saw him looking up coldly into his wife’s eyes.

“Put me inside you.”

She reached underneath his paunch and guided his shaft into her.

“Oh yessss.” He hissed. She tasted garlic on his breath. “Fuck me.”

She began jerking against him, squeezing her thighs, seeking his kisses.

After around one final minute of humping, his moans got louder and then he uttered several staccato ‘yes’ sounds. She felt the warm wetness invading her as his weight collapsed onto her chest.

“Don’t you even think about having an orgasm.” He muttered to her eventually, pushing his body up on one elbow. She stared up into his piggy eyes.

He slowly turned his head and looked over at his wife.

Lucy detected an immediate change in the atmosphere. She saw him wink kindly at her and blow a kiss.

Evidently, their game was over.

*** *** ***

Alice smiled in the darkness.

The three of them were riding home in a cab; herself, Giorgio and Lucy.

It was past 3 o’clock in the morning. Lucy was quiet and tense.

“Did you have a good time at the party ?”

Lucy’s head turned slowly, before giving a non-committal nod.

Alice slid her hand between Lucy’s knees under the coat she’d worn to travel in. She eased her fingers up her slut’s soft skin until she reached the sodden folds of Lucy’s cunt. She pulled her hand out and held her fishy fingers under Giorgio’s nostrils.

“It sure stinks as if she had a good time.”

He sniffed appreciatively. Lamplight flickered through the window of the taxi as they turned a corner. He really was the most beautiful boy. Under the black winter cloak he was wearing, he was naked. Her new toy.

Quite what she’d do with him over the next few weeks she wasn’t sure yet.

But what to do with Giorgio was not her primary concern.

Lucy was.

NINE MONTHS LATER

Somewhere in Asia - she wasn’t sure which country - Lucy was dripping with sweat. It covered her forehead, dripped off her chin, ran down her spine and lay damp in the cleft of her bottom. The factory gauge said it was over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit yet again today, with more than 95% humidity. The contrast with the freezing temperatures she’d left behind last January couldn’t be more stark.

She was a single cog in a production line producing beaded apparel for fashion chains in America and Europe. Lines of concentrating, perspiring women worked on the garments for 12 hours a day.

But at least they were paid.

At least they could return to their homes and families after work.

The hum of the machinery made conversation impossible, even if she were able to speak their language. But the sons of the factory owner who supervised the workforce frowned on chatter anyway. Anything that distracted attention from peak productivity was not allowed. Even her co-workers had to raise a hand to request permission for toilet breaks. The production line never slowed, never paused for any reason. Absences had to be compensated for by the remaining labourers redoubling their efforts.

Lucy’s fingers were coarse, blistered, her nails split. Her hands were large and cumbersome compared with the delicate fingers of the locals. She had to work desperately to keep pace with the production line, threading beads and semiprecious stones into the silk fabric.

Her mouth tasted foul from the spices in the slop they served on the sticky rice. Her guts churned from the cloudy water and rusty dripping tap where the drinking pot was filled. Several times she had contracted diarrhoea, but had simply been given potent antibiotics and forced to continue working. She remembered how she’d happily browsed mounds of clothes in fashion shops in London, enjoying their low prices, never realising the poverty and mistreatment suffered by those at the bottom of the pile.

Alice had simply gone out one morning. It was January 4th. Shopping in the New Year Sales. With Giorgio. She never even said goodbye to Lucy. Just left a note instructing her to go with the two burly men who arrived at midday.

A few weeks later, there was one final postcard.

Three sentences in Alice’s scrawl. Here was a chance for Lucy to live out the irreversible fantasy she wanted, to everybody’s benefit. Alice had sold her as an indentured labourer. When she saw her own price, Lucy wept.

The factory owner who purchased her was a short, rotund man with an even shorter, skinny wife. They both had black hair, slanted eyes, brown teeth and pockmarked skin. Business seemed their only interest in life.

Or that’s the way it had seemed to Lucy at first.

The two of them lived alone in a wooden house built on stilts within the factory compound. There was a trap door leading to an under floor hut below the stilts. She gathered from their grinning gestures that it had originally been the family toilet. However, since their children had grown up and a sewage system had now reached the village, they used a new plumbed bathroom at the back of the house instead.

Lucy slept on the hard floor of the old privy. It was a 5ft x 5ft square of packed earth, except for two wooden footprints and a circular hole over which the family had obviously once squatted. The dark void of the hole was extremely deep. She was often forced to use the hole and she could barely hear the sound her own ablutions hitting the bottom of the pit.

The walls and low ceiling were made of wood and dried mud as solid as concrete. There were no windows, just a single slit-vent in the roof through which a thin ray of daylight sometimes shone, illuminating the hole.

Insects and flies were a constant menace. Mosquitoes, mice and occasional bats would sometimes wake her out of her uneasy, uncomfortable sleep, making her scream, slap and sob, often all three at once.

The owner, whose name sounded to Lucy like Gway-fun, spoke almost no English or any other Western language. She’d tried her poor French on him and even the couple of Spanish words she knew. He simply grinned and gestured.

Then, out of the blue sky, one hot evening, she heard him say “fuck.”

It was after her first week and she was an exhausted, weak, mosquito-ravaged wreck. They had given her one single grimy, second-hand cotton top and wrap skirt to wear. Both were too small for her western body. Those two garments and used toothbrush with splayed tufts were now her only possessions.

She shook her head and replied “no” as firmly as she dared.

Ten minutes later, two young men arrived in the house. Lucy was sweeping the wooden floor. The men turned out to be Gway-fun’s adult sons. It was clear he would not be taking no for an answer.

It was equally evident she had to learn a lesson first.

The younger son, in his late teens, spoke some English, with a curious accent, part Hollywood-film and part-BBC radio. He was flat featured and cold eyed like his father and brother.

“We show you Missy.”

They strung her up by her wrists to the central wooden beam of the hut. Gway-fun pulled on the hemp rope until her arms were almost out of their sockets and she pleaded for mercy.

Then they used a broom handle to form a leg-spreader and tied her ankles cruelly wide open, straining her thighs and calves.

Her cotton top and skirt were sliced off her and shredded as if she had a wardrobe of clothes to fall back on.

Back then, Lucy still only had a little stubble on her head where her hair had started growing back. The men were fascinated by her large, pale breasts and nipple rings. In contrasts, the local women were all dusky toned and flat-chested.

“I am a srut.” The younger son used his stubby finger to trace out the red letters above Lucy’s forehead. He translated for the others.

“Fuck me hard.” He pointed at her vaginal mound. That tattoo didn’t need decoding. They all laughed and nodded.

Lucy groaned as the owner’s wife appeared with a tray of beer and nuts. Her final hope had been that the woman might save her. Some chance !

It appeared that it was a party and Lucy was the live entertainment.

*** *** ***

Alice sat, gently grinding her hips, enjoying the feel of the hot, wet tongue up her bottom. She’d always loved rimjobs.

A voice answered.

“Hi there.”

She’d dialled her friend Jodi on the cell she was holding to her right ear. They still called each other frequently.

“Mmm.”

Jodi’s chuckle was audible. “That good, huh ? As good as Lucy was ?”

“Lucy ?”

“Duh ! You remember. Last year.”

Alice shut her eyes, distracted a moment by the rippling sensation in her bottom. She adjusted her angle slightly, increasing her weight.

“What was that, sorry ? Lucy ?”

“Yeah. Cute thing. Around the time of Beck and before that Italian boy I think. Honestly I don’t know why I’m expected to remember your subs.”

“You’re not dear. Be like me. Just forget them.”

Actually, Alice did recall Lucy now. Mind you, the pittance the girl fetched had long been used up. Alice had spent most of the Summer 2009 Season cruising round the Med on wonderful Bdsm boat orgies. Her leather domme-wear and floaty beaded dresses didn’t come cheap. The luxury fashion brands all seemed to be putting their damned prices up.

“You still there ?” Jodi’s voice was faraway.

“Of course. I’m hardly going anywhere right now, am I !”

“So, is this one then ? As good as Lucy was ?”

Alice frowned, glancing down. She really had no idea. After a while, they were all the same. Lucy ? An image drifted into view. A biggish girl, well endowed, quite pretty, a bit of puppy fat. She’d had some tattoo work done.

“I think this one’s better.”

“Mmm, really ? Then I can’t wait to meet her.”

Alice lashed the crop she was holding in her left hand across the new girl’s inner thighs. She was spluttering annoyingly as if she couldn’t breathe.

“Stop making a fuss.”

“Did you ever get any news of Lucy, by the way ?” Jodi asked after a pause.

“What’s it with Lucy ? Lucy this ? Lucy that ? Anybody would think it was you who’d been her fucking Mistress !”

“Calm down. I just enjoy knowing about our alumni.”

“Alumni. Whoo. Where’d you learn a fancy word like that ?”

“My new Yankee doodle.”

As usual, both women chit-chatted to and fro. Lucy was forgotten. A brief part of their conversation. A fading memory. Barely even a name now.

*** *** ***

The bamboo switches made Lucy’s grubby flesh ripple. Her tits jumped and her buttocks bounced as the boys double-teamed her. One stood behind her back and the other faced her, taking turns to swing the canes.

Her howls were lost in the oriental night. Even had they been remotely interested, the nearest police were in a town 20 miles away. The factory was on the edge of a village and even Lucy’s loudest shrieks were quickly swallowed up in the soupy jungle air. Besides, corporal discipline was a common occurrence in households and huts in this region of the world.

Not satisfied by turning her western globes into striped spheres, they swung the bamboo up between her open thighs from both directions. It was only once she was silently wheezing, head slumped forward, that the beating ceased.

They left her hanging there while they ate garlic chicken broth with spicy noodles and beansprouts, washed down by rice wine. Gradually Lucy regained full consciousness, hearing their unintelligible chatter and laughter, the background of crickets and bullfrogs in the tropical night.

She put up no defence when they raped her for the first time. She lay there on the rollout mattress while first Gway-fun, then his two sons, each climbed aboard her smarting body and rutted away like pigs. All the while she glimpsed their wife and mother over their shoulders, in the background, watching studiously, apparently mesmerised.

“You un-stand fuck now Missy ?”

She nodded, covering her naked breasts with her arms after they’d finished.

“Work day, fuck night. Yeah ?”

She slowly moved her head up and down like a wooden puppet.

They threw her into her ‘bedroom’ that night without any food.

That had been many months ago. Seven ? Eight ? Nine ? At first, she had believed that it was all just a test. And one day, Alice would arrive at the factory to rescue her, like a knight in beaded armour.

But like the drip, drip of sweat from her brow, she slowly but surely realised that nobody was coming for her.

Her fate was in her own hands.

END OF PART FOUR