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Chapter 5 – Mule
The card Kate had left on the bedside table had been amended
in manuscript.
In print it read: ‘Professor Kate I. S. Godsgift, Faculty of
Women’s Studies,
As she picked up the card clipped in the pocket-clasp of her
borrowed fountain pen, Seraphima smiled, and then quietly laughed. Rising
gracefully from her bed, she swept her beautiful black body to the shower and
turned the water on, feeling with her right hand to check, before adjusting its
temperature, and slipping under the reign of its rain.
The shower had obviously not been used before that morning,
so the deduction that Kate must have commuted for the card, before finally
returning to her next-door room to prepare for her day, was clearly proven.
There was just a half-day of the course to go: then the
journey home.
Returning fresh from her shower with a
towel as cowl on her head, Seraphima patted dry her long pubic hair with a
second towel, as she contemplated what to do next.
Nothing had happened with Kate during the night. Both girls,
all three girls, if Mandy was included, had shared the same bed; but about that
event there is no more to be said.
Okay, so the two girls had wrapped their lovely arms around
each other; but Mandy had thus been cuddled between them, and ensured that
there had been naught naughtiness.
Guilt had come on the scene. Seraphima knew she had betrayed
Seraphima determined she would start her day with a jog to
jolt her. She was no fitness fanatic, but had kept an acquaintance with the
gymnasium and running, and had increased her familiarity as her sexual
frustration, from the cooling marriage she now knew, had gradually grown.
Donning trainers latterly, Seraphima wound her pubic hair
into plaits now wrapped and tied tight around her strong thighs, and wore a
restraining training tank-top, straining to do its best in requesting her
breasts be at rest, at its hopeless request; and a pair of shorts, both in
close-clinging cerise rubber.
Unfamiliar with the streets of Enabe, she put the room key
in a pocket of her shorts, as she gave grace to the corridors of the brownstone
Titular Hotel, and swung her sexy rear and bare midriff to near its doors, to
escape for her run, determining to note landmarks, so as not to lose her way
back.
Even running on the spot outside to warm her muscles for the
run to come, gave the new day a dance and prance glance of Seraphima’s advanced
chest, as her breasts flicked up in unison when she powered down, and then down
when she kneed up, as if they were determined to be conspicuous by their
completely contradictory capering.
…………………..
Kate looked at the watch that she had to haul back around
her delicate wrist to see its face, and worried that sweet Seraphima was not in
her place.
She had stalled for almost twenty minutes, and the other
pupils were becoming restless.
She asked again: “Are you sure none of you has seen
Seraphima, not even at breakfast?”
“No. Sorry Kate. ……I expect she overslept or went home, or something…. Can we get on please?”,
the ‘blue stocking’ insisted.
“Yes. Yes, of course. We have a lot to pack into this
morning ladies. Lunch will be at
…………………..
Not far from the hotel, Seraphima was regretting having not
taking more notice of the eye signal.
She had gone no more than one-hundred yards when she had
come across the pony-cart with two Petian girls in towing harness at its front.
Of course she knew that the light-blue thongs the statuesque
honeys wore, marked them, and thus their vehicle, as
Girl-Police ponies and their cart. But she had taken the signal from the
blinkered eyes of one of the two mouth-bit gagged ponygirls, as signifying that
she should run on the sidewalk pavement rather than risk the road.
The signally swift signal sidling of the ponygirls lovely
ruby red eyes, to indicate impending danger in the direction behind her, had
not been read as a warning. Of course neither girl knew the other. Both were
strangers. But the ponygirl was no stranger to the risk she was trying to
signal to sweet Seraphima.
Around the corner Seraphima flew, and then almost cried out
with horror, as a voice called out behind her, not recognising her,
momentarily:
“Nah den! Nah den! Let’s ‘ave a bit of an ‘alt from you young lady. Just what yer runnin’ away from den. You bin robbing dat
dare ‘otel? Eh?! …
Well…. Well….. Well, and bloody ‘ell too. If it ain’t Mrs
Ntebeli”, Sergeant Pat Butt suddenly realised.
Seraphima stopped on the
spot. She knew it was useless to try and escape. She knew only too well that
she had to await the sergeant’s permission for her to continue her mission.
“Constable Critic!” the
sergeant called: “Come over ‘ere. There’s a girl ‘ere in need of a serious
talking to by you and me.”
If Seraphima had guessed
that Sergeant Butt ruled the area of Enabe she was presently in, by force of
shear terror, she would not have been wrong.
Critic, was just her dullard follower. Butt worked her patch
with ruthless despatch. Crime in the precinct she patrolled was very low, not
because it did not take place, but because it was never reported, unless Butt
failed to get a slice of the proceeds, or some other form of pay-off.
The Titular Hotel was not
alone in paying her protection money. Reporting her to her seniors was also a
waste of effort, since Butt paid them handsomely to keep off her back.
“Constable Critic!” Sergeant
Butt called: “Come over ‘ere. There’s a girl ‘ere in need of a serious talking to
by you and me.”
“Come in ‘ere you gorgeous black tart”, Butt beckoned, after
barging open the doorway of a derelict shop with her shoulder.
…………………..
“I think Camilleona has got
a girlfriend”
No: that wouldn’t do.
“I think our Camilleona has
got herself a girl”
Not much better.
“You’ll have noticed that
Camilleona has gone? I think she’s got a girlfriend”
If that was the best
…………………..
Kate tapped on the door of
room 67. There was no answer. She turned to the desk clerk.
“Would you mind awfully? You
see she’s almost an hour overdue, and I feel responsible for her, even if she
is just one of my students….”.
…………………..
“Come over ‘ere” the
sergeant beckoned to Seraphima, indicating a rubble-strewn corner of the former
butcher’s shop.
“You and
‘er. ‘Er what you was wiv last
night. ‘Er wiv no tits. You and ‘er; are you lezzies?”
…………………..
The clerk turned the passkey
and opened the door of number 67, calling: “Mrs Ntebeli! Are you okay madam?”
Both girls finding the room
empty: “Are you sure she came back from her run?” she asked Kate once again.
…………………..
“You see, me and the
constable ‘ere, we don’t like lezzies”, Butt sneared. Do we Critic?”
Critic grinned inanely: “No
sarge, we don’t like lezzies do we sarge?” she echoed.
To Seraphima’s terror, the
sergeant drew her baton, and held it up to Seraphima’s face, before putting it
down, thrusting upright from her own groin, and waggling it, as if it were a
rampant erect penis.
“What you lezzies need is a
bit of dis”, she sneared, as she masturbated the mock cock’s absent foreskin,
with her left hand.
“Yea ‘a bit of dis’; I mean
a bit of dat”, Critic echoed, latterly pointing.
…………………..
The room being empty: “Do
you think there might have been an accident?” Kate trembled. “Would you call
the police: please!” she almost begged.
“Excuse me madam, but I’m
afraid there is not much use in calling the police around here. They are….
shall we say…. a little unreliable?”
“Oh god! We must do something!” Kate cried in voice and
tears.
“I will organise a search
for you madam. Mrs Ntbeli was the lovely black girl with the gorgeous lips?”
“Yes. Oh
god yes!” Kate cried once more.
“Please don’t worry madam:
the staff know the locality well. We’ll search the
hotel and around all the nearby streets, and ask too if she has been seen.
These things usually have a simple explanation, and a happy outcome”, the clerk
tried to reassure the distraught angel.
…………………..
“Fancy a bit of dis, do
yer?” Butt snarled as she waved the twelve-inch-long baton under Seraphima’s
nose again.
“Please don’t hurt me”,
Seraphima begged.
“Get ‘em off lezzie. Let’s
‘ave a good look at what you got that gets all the girls going goggle-eyed for
yer”.
…………………..
“Did you know that little
Camilleona has found a steady girlfriend?”
It was getting worse.
“Camilleona has left us to
live in an apartment near where I work: near the boathouse, as it happens”.
God no! That was just awful.
The ‘girlfriend’ needed mention in there somewhere.
“Isn’t that just like
slaves? You take them in, you treat them as one of the family, you could
legally thrash them, but you don’t. And what reward do you get? They go off
with the first girl that seduces them, and live in a paid for apartment……. It’s
Camilleona I’m talking about of course. She’s only gone and left us would you
believe! ….”.
That was the best so far,
but even if it would win no Oscars.
…………………..
“Fwarrh! You’re a big girl ain’t ya”, Butt almost slavered as
she gazed excitedly at Seraphima’s slowly swinging bared breasts, with their
huge pink-brown nipples.
Seraphima was shivering with
fear, and her lovely bosom quivered a quiver of Eros’ arrows toward the hard
hearts of the two Girl-Police, who lasciviously watched her shaking struggle to
undress, even out of as little as she had been presently wearing.
“’Ere
lezzie! By making your tits dance
about like that, you ain’t giving us ‘the old come on’, is you?” the sergeant
mocked.
“Oh! Please!” Seraphima
cried.
The shorts were lowered over
Seraphima’s gorgeous bum and down her incredible thighs, and she shaped her
lovely legs unavoidably erotically as she stepped out of these trunks, leaving
herself nude bar her trainers.
At the sight of the pubic
hair tied around Seraphima’s thighs, Butt went but wild. Her eyes shone with
viciousness as she urged Constable Cretina Critic to grab hold of the other of
the two plaits she had untied and was unwinding.
“Oh gawd! What ‘ave we got ‘ere den lezzie? You forget to
shave did yer? You forgot yer razor for fuckin’ years by the looks of it. Cor,
fuckin’ ‘ell. Where’d yer get so much of an ‘airy Nellie.
You must be some slag to have let it grow like that! But den all lezzies is
slags ain’t dey?!” the sergeant chortled as she snided.
As the two Girl-Police made
her run crabwise in a circle, sidling around in the room, grabbed by the
six-foot long tresses of her dark brown pubic curls, pulling on her sensitive
lips as she enforcedly whirled, Seraphima’s screams were as in dreams, if all
dreams are nightmares.
“Like dis do you lezzie,
eh?! Raand and raand we go. ‘Ere, dis is great lezzie, int
it? ‘Ope it don’t ‘urt: least not a little bit, you fuckin’ lezzie cow!”
Now they took one each of
her plaits out front and rear of her, and made Seraphima screech as they played
seesaw, pulling her back and forth by her pubic tresses, and laughing fit to
give sewage drains a good name, in their savage cruelty, torturing Seraphima’s
cunt lips more and more: and yet.
“To you
constable! No? Back
to me den. Your way! Now back ‘ere. You’d fink the fucking lezzie slag
would mek ‘er bleeding mind up, wever she’s coming or fucking going wouldn’t
you constable: eh?!”
Making her kneel, they
pulled Seraphima up to a half-stand on her pretty hands, as she howled from
being hauled aloft by the soft hair of her Venus mound: and yet.
“Ups-a-daisy. Up we comes lezzie. Does that
‘urt? ‘Ope so, you fucking slag.”
And now Seraphima must crawl wheelbarrow on her palms, lifted aloft by the soft
curls that denoted her as the supreme among the cream of girls, as she screamed
and begged for mercy: and yet.
“Look at the fuckin’ lezzie go eh! All lezzies shud be ‘ung by their tits till they die.
Still yer couldn’t ‘ang this ‘ere lezzie’s slag girlfriend by ‘er tits, cos she
don’t ‘ave none!!” the sergeant sneared between
gritted teeth, as she pulled Seraphima up higher by her pubic locks: and yet.
“This ‘ere
lezzie’s got fucking tits big as church bells though!”
“‘Ere….! Ere….!! Hey, grab
an ‘old of her constable, and let me see if her bells go ding-dong eh!? Fucking
lezzie wiv ding-dong-bells, nar dat ud be summat to write ‘ome abart wouldn’t
it.”
Grabbing hold of Seraphima
by her right wrist twisted and hammered hard up her back, and her left wrist at
her side behind her, the dullard Critic grinned
Cheshire cat, watching, as was the terrified Seraphima, the savage sergeant
draw her cosh.
“Ding fucking lezzie dong!”
the sergeant sneered as she smacked her truncheon down onto Seraphima’s left
nipple, and smashed her gentle breast into her chest, beating the wind out of
the poor negress, who doubled up in an instant, gasping in agony, whilst
incidentally grinding her lovely bare buttocks into the constable’s groin.
“’Ere! You wanna watch it constable! This fucking lezzie is
trying to seduce you!”
With tears running down her
sweet face and changing course as they met the upper of her succulent soft
lips, Seraphima, the black rose, straightened, only for the sergeant to thrash
her right tit harder still than the left she had just now brutally bruised.
“Nope! Didn’t ‘ear no ding or lezzie
fucking dong dat time. Did you constable?”
“No sarge. No ding or dong
sarge”, Cretina Critic sniggered.
“Better ‘it ‘em a bit ‘arder
den ‘adn’t us?” the sergeant spat out with clear glee, before smashing
Seraphima’s left breast so hard, that Seraphima fell to the ground, crying and
begging for mercy.
“What’s the fucking lezzie
slag saying? ‘Mercy’? What’s dat?”
“Nah den. I got it! I reckon dats yer actual French. It means
‘yes please’ don’t it? What the fucking lezzie slag is saying ‘ere constable,
is that she wants a truncheon cock up ‘er, so as to cure ‘er of being a fucking
lezzie, see!?
At that, the sergeant
beckoned for the constable to hold Seraphima kneeling, and she slid all twelve
brutal inches of her wooden baton up Seraphima’s cunt, as Seraphima howled and
hollered and bellowed her pain: and yet it slipped in without resistance to its
insistence. And Seraphima knew she was coming: she knew she was on the verge of
a massive cum; but that if she came the Girl-Police would have won this
horrendous game.
“Dare you is den lezzie.
You’ve bin given de injection, and you ain’t not no
lezzie no more!” the sergeant cruelly laughed.
As she kneeled on all fours,
they pulled Seraphima up by her pubic hair pigtails once more, till she touched
ground only with her palms. And the intense pain of her stretched sex lips, and
the deep penetration of the truncheon, gave Seraphima a pre-eruption cum. But,
against the exposure of the explosion that her beautiful body was budding and
bidding she endure and enjoy, she still fought and won.
The police women then
dropped the flawless angel to the filthy floor.
“Seems to
me constable, as ‘ow dat gang of girls from the local school, ‘the Tarts Wiv
‘earts Gang’ or whatever dey calls demselves, ‘as bin attacking lezzies
‘ereabouts. They owes us a wad of dosh. They ‘asn’t paid into my charity for
a week or more. Let’s go and report this ‘ere crime, and put it down to dem,
where it belongs: since they’re all lezzie slags as well!”
…………………..
“I’ll be alright thank you.
You have been very kind.”
“Let me just turn the shower
on for you then Mrs Ntebeli”.
…………………..
“I think Camilleona has got
a girlfriend”
No: that wouldn’t do.
“I think our Camilleona has
got herself a girl”
Not much better.
“You’ll have noticed that
Camilleona has gone? I think she’s got a girlfriend”
If that was the best
What was the use of turning
this over and over in her head this way?
As
…………………..
As Seraphima lay panting
with pain on the ex butcher’s shop floor, her back bore the bloody scratches
from her fall during her brutal beating.
…………………..
“’Ere shall us book this
lezzie for stealing police property?” Sergeant Pat Butt sarcasmed, as she looked
down on the patently passionately perfect Seraphima, gasping with pain, with
her cunt ripped wide by the truncheon deep inside its insides.
Putting her boot on
Seraphima’s beautiful thigh, she tugged the baton out of the tortured girl. And
Seraphima screamed with the pain again, and rolled on her front on the filthy
floor.
“Musn’t leave dis in yer,
must us. Yer can get yer own cosh, to continue your cure: lezzie slag!” the
sergeant growled, before she spat on the floor next Seraphima’s face, and then
left her, before trying to slam the old shop’s rickety door as final
punctuation.
…………………..
As the desk clerk put the
key in the door of bedroom 67, and turned it, its lock bore the many scratches
of so much prior usage.
“I’ll be alright thank you.
You have been very kind.”
“Let me just turn the shower
on for you then Mrs Ntebeli”
Alone in the shower
Seraphima sobbed as she came. And her tears poured as she came and sobbed and
cried over and over again.
…………………..
Seraphima sat in her
bathrobe in a chair beside her bed, feeling her bruises, her mind in the
torment of turmoil.
The bedroom door opened and
a crying blonde angel, accompanied by a clerk, whose face showed she was the
soul of discretion, came hurtling into the room, before kneeling and putting
her sweet head onto Seraphima’s lap.
The clerk’s face gave an:
‘I’ll leave you then’ look, as she pocketed her passkey, and turned to let the
two pretty girls comfort each other.
“Thank you”, Seraphima
called to the clerk.
“It’s an honour madam”, the
clerk assured, with self-evident sincerity.
“Where had
you been Seraphima?! You had me
so scared! Oh god don’t ever do that to me again!”
Kate cried as she cried, and as she brought her lovely face, distorted by her
sobbing, up to Seraphima’s, and then hugged the negress
rose as if she would never ever let her go again.
“I love you”, Kate
whispered.
“Does Mandy love me too?”
Seraphima answered, trying to bring a lightness to the
scene.
“I’m being serious”, Kate
answered with her crying giving her voice a distorting croak.
“I love you too Kate: you
and Mandy both. But I’m a married woman…” Seraphima whispered aloud, wistfully,
as a preliminary to the kisses about to come.
Thereafter: “What happened
to you my love?” Kate smiled sadly sympathetically.
“I got beaten up by the
Girl-Police”, Seraphima answered quietly. “It was the two that were here last
night: early this morning that is: the nasty sergeant and her companion in crime”.
“We’ll damned well report
those evil bitches and now!” Kate bristled.
“No use. No witnesses. I
heard them say they’d blame it on a local girl-gang…. Let’s go home to Ntobi”,
Seraphima whispered wistfully.
“Only if you promise to hold
my hand all the way”, Kate demanded and commanded, with her loveliest of so
many lovely smiles.
…………………..
All the
way home Seraphima wracked her mind. She just had to see Kate again. Her life would be incomplete now
without this heavenly honey.
…………………..
“Hi
Seraphima!”
“Thank god you’re okay my
love”, she added distractedly, but entirely sincerely.
“I very nearly threw this
away unread. It’s this evening’s paper…”
“Where’s Camilleona? I’d
like her to do my unpacking”, Seraphima answered, as she struggled with her
suitcase.
“Oh that”, said
Seraphima set her case down
and dumped her bag of soiled clothing alongside it. She then tiptoed into the
kitchen in her balletic shoes, to see whatever it was that her wife was going
on about.
“Oh the
poor girl!
Seraphima took the crumpled
copy of the ‘Ntobi Courier’ proffered by Marina, who put a comforting arm
around Seraphima, as she pointed out the distant-page news snippet that both
girls now read together.
‘Girl-Court Judge In Guilty Verdict’ ran the headline. Seraphima looked
momentarily at
‘From our
Deadline
The sentence was handed down
to Loveschild after she admitted stealing a white, robe-style, dressing gown,
during her recent holiday foray into movies, here in Ntobi.
The robe, the property of
the famous starlet Glorinda Gramoldi, has been returned to its rightful owner.
A spokesgirl for Ms Gramoldi
said that the rising star was grateful for its return. Adding that Ms Gramoldi
had forgotten she had ever owned it, and assumed it had been lost in her
laundry, along with the soiled panties her many girl fans are so notorious for
stealing.
Loveschild’s punishment will
begin with one-hundred lashes of the bullwhip, to be administered in public, in
the marketplace of the busy industrial and mining town of
The disgraced Loveschild has
been stripped of her judgeship, and her university teaching post. Her academic
qualifications have also been rescinded.
As Loveschild confessed
under torture, no witnesses needed to be called for the prosecution, thus
saving the English taxpayer much unnecessary expense, and enabling the trial to
be curtailed.
The Girl-Police officers
engaged on the case in Senabre, were present in court via video-link this afternoon
(
‘The Courier’ understands,
from sources close to the family, that John Loveschild, the guilty woman’s
husband, has insisted that their marriage will be dissolved, concomitantly with
the final stroke of the introductory whipping.
Loveschild has been refused
permission to appeal against the sentence. Her plea that she had never used,
nor even seen the gown before, and that it was: ‘just hanging, apparently
forgotten’, in the changing caravan she used during the movie making, was
rejected out of hand, because it contradicted the confession she had had
written for her during her interrogation, and which was provably sealed with
her nipple print.
In her summing up, the judge
for the case praised the superb work of the Girl-Police,
and two officers of the Ntobi Police Service in particular, for their
indispensable contribution to the detection and resolution of this crime.
Sergeant Patricia Butt, and
Constable Cretina Critic, of the Ntobi Girl-Police’s Lake Charlotte South
Precinct, the video-link witnesses, were praised by
the judge in court. As a result, both these fine officers will be commended,
and recommended for the Police Medal.
If she is so awarded, it
will be the third time that Sergeant Butt, known loved and trusted by the Lake
Charlotte community for her gentle but firm ways, and her deep-seated humility,
will have won the Police Medal.’
[to
be continued]
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