Amber

 

Amber Jones was roused by the toe of a boot prodding her side.

“Wake up, girl. I’ve brought you breakfast.”

Amber squinted through bleary eyes. Narrow slots of low morning sunlight slipped past the sacking hung over the windows of the old loft, illuminating the disused three-sided planking storage bin she was lying in. Standing over her was a well-scrubbed and freckle-faced young man carrying a covered bowl.

Still half asleep, she mumbled: “Go away, Nigel. I’ss too early... You know I had a busy time last night.”

Nigel Gosset prodded her again, this time less gently.

“You do what we tell you, girl. That was the agreement.”

Amber came to her senses with a start, remembering where and what she was. Hastily throwing back her blankets she rolled onto her hands and knees and bowed her head over the young man’s feet. The heavy chain padlocked around her left ankle jingled.

“Sorry, master,” she said. “Your slave was not thinking - she really did have a busy night. Please forgive her.”

She felt his eyes pass over her naked body, perhaps lingering on her buttocks which bore the crimson stripes of a recent caning. Gosset had helped put some of those stripes on her flesh. He was also responsible, together with four of his friends, for the well-used soreness of her vagina. She shivered at the memory even as a familiar tingle began to grow in her lower stomach.

“Sit up,” he commanded.

Amber obeyed, sitting back on her heels and automatically clasping her hands behind her neck. The posture thrust out her neat, shapely breasts, which were also criss-crossed with cane marks. More stripes decorated her stomach and upper thighs. She felt the blood pulsing into her nipples, causing them to smart even more fiercely. Gosset watched her teats harden with open fascination, then reached down and squeezed a hot breast.

Amber bit her lip.

“Does that hurt?” Gosset asked.

“A bit, master - but in a nice way. Don’t stop.”

“You like what we’re doing to you, don’t you?”

“Most of it,” she admitted. “More than I thought I would.”

“You really wanted the cane last night.”

Amber blushed but could not help replying frankly. “I know. I don’t normally go out of my way looking for pain. But when it’s mixed in with sex... well, it’s different. It makes the pleasure more intense somehow - even if it is pretty exhausting.”

Gosset put the bowl down and took off the lid to reveal a steaming helping of porridge. “You’d better keep your strength up then - because we’re planning a lot more of both for you later.”

With a fluttering stomach Amber ate. Gosset watched her with frank interest, as befitted the young master of an attractive sex-slave. She felt a warm slickness growing between her love lips.

How had she got herself into such an incredible situation, she wondered? But then who could have guessed what the puzzle box would contain. And it had been sheer bad luck that PC Kingston had turned up just when she’d discovered the box’s concealed lock. What power within it had compelled her to use one of the phalluses contained inside when she should have been making her getaway? Of course she had got away, but rather further than she had planned! Using the phallus had somehow shifted her into a parallel England where outsiders had no rights and were considered fair game by one and all. Soon after arriving she’d been captured and gang-banged by three of Gosset’s friends. Escaping from them she’d run straight into the arms of Constable Bailey, who proved only too adept at dealing with young female lawbreakers. Convicted as a vagrant and illegal alien, she’d been sentenced to public flogging and pillory in the police yard, then sale as a bondslave.

Amber finished her porridge. Taking a deep breath she shuffled over to her waste bucket and squatted over it. She didn’t try to hide anything and kept her splayed legs facing Gosset, who watched intently as the pee spouted from her cleft. A bulge began to grow in the front of his trousers.

Gosset, together with the others who had first waylaid her, had sneaked into the police yard one night with the lockpicks they had found in her bag. They offered to give her the tools to break out of her cell if she agreed to be their sex-slave. Amber had accepted, thinking she had more chance of escaping from them than official captivity. Besides, they had the phallus which might hold the key to returning home.

Amber finished wiping herself with the crackling, school-issue toilet paper and began to wash. She saw Gosset was getting impatient, but she knew she had to keep him waiting just a little longer. Part of their agreement was that she should be housed in reasonable conditions and be allowed to keep herself clean and tidy. This old disused stable loft was dry and reasonably warm, and she had food and basic toilet facilities. However, the rest of her scheme hadn’t gone quite to plan. She’d thought she could play along with them, putting up with their demands while gradually turning their adolescent lust to her advantage. But an unexpected development had occurred - she was beginning to enjoy being their slave!

Gosset’s eyes were locked onto her every movement as she quickly soaped herself over, causing the pliant globes of her breasts to glisten, working lather into the cleft of her buttocks and the silky hair-rimmed furrow of her love mouth. A hot bath would be delicious, but all she had was a flannel soaked in a pail of cold water. She shivered as she rinsed herself down, causing her nipples to crinkle and harden once again, then began vigorously towelling off. Gosset’s breath rasped in his throat. He pulled off the old jersey he was wearing and ran a finger around his collar.

Amber had dabbled in a little S&M back home, a world away. But here slavery was an accepted part of everyday life. And her captors, though rank beginners, were learning fast.

The five young men had turned out to be senior pupils at Cranborough House, a local minor pubic school. At the moment the boys were alone in the school apart from Sister Newcombe, the school matron, having had their Easter holidays curtailed as part of the punishment for an offence for which they believed Arabella Westlake had framed them. Amber had already suffered an uncomfortable encounter with Arabella while she was in the police yard pillory, and the desire for revenge on that cruel and spoilt young woman was something she and the boys held in common. Amber had planned a means of achieving this and securing her own early release, but it was getting harder to keep focused on her objective. The boys were each having her individually two or three times a day, when they could slip away from the odd-jobs they were doing round the school which Sister Newcombe was overseeing. Then at night they were sneaking out for an enthusiastic gangbang, sustained by raw lust and the recuperative powers of vigorous youth. It seemed that however many times they emptied their balls into her they kept coming back with more.

Amber finished combing through her short-cropped hair and turned to Gosset. The poor boy was half bent over, shuffling his feet awkwardly and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“There, I’m nice and clean and fresh for you,” she said with a smile, knowing what was to come. “Now, how do you want me?”

With a grunt of barely contained need, Gosset took her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards onto the pile of blankets and sacking that formed her makeshift bed. He straddled her chest, making Amber gasp as his weight drove the breath from her.

The sides of the stall were studded with metal rings and hooks, from which hung lengths of rope with ready-looped ends. With their aid Gosset quickly secured Amber’s wrists so that her arms were drawn out from her body. Extra tugs pulled them taut until Amber winced. Only then did Gosset loop the rope ends about their securing hooks, opening up the hollows under her arms to his gaze.

For a moment their eyes locked and Gosset bent over and kissed her fiercely, as she had encouraged all the boys to do, probing her mouth with his tongue, allowing her to savour the fresh cleanliness of his hot breath. Then he sat back and, grinning maliciously, pinched her sore nipples so that she yelped in pain.

But it was all right.

She would take almost anything from them once they had kissed her; as long as there was that moment of true intimacy that reminded them she was a person. Now she was happy to be used casually, even selfishly.

He stood up again, the bulge in his trousers like a tent pole, and kicked her thighs.

“Spread yourself... no, wider than that.”

Amber strained to obey, splaying her legs until they made a right angle. More loops of rope went about her ankles, leaving her heavy ankle chain in place. The boys were determined she would not escape from them a second time. Gosset hauled on the rope ends, pulling her tighter and wider until the big tendons on her inner thighs stood out.

Now she was ready for him, bound in the most basic and blatant position of sexual display and availability a woman could be made to assume, her crinkled pink cunt lips glistening and gaping so that the dark mouth of her vagina was exposed to his view. Amber thrilled as her instinctive feeling of helpless outrage clashed gloriously with her sexual arousal.

Gosset drank in her spread-eagled naked form for a second, then feverishly stripped off his trousers and underpants. She had a brief glimpse of purple-tipped penis standing out so hard and firm that it almost seemed to touch his stomach, then he fell upon her.

His silky-skinned iron-hard young cock penetrated her waiting hole and slid up into the slick ribbed passage beyond until his full length was lodged within her. Amber gasped as she was perfectly filled, then Gosset’s pale buttocks lifted as he withdrew. He lunged into her again, rapidly building up a frantic rhythm, ramming in and out of her like a piston, his eyes screwed up, using her without any thought for her pleasure; his only concern to release the aching pressure in his balls.

As always with the boys it was over too soon.

With a shiver and shudder Gosset spermed inside her. He managed a couple more reflex thrusts, then collapsed over her bound body, head resting between her breasts, his hot breath tickling her swollen nipples, leaving her internal muscles contracting desperately around his shrinking cock as she tried to draw the last particle of pleasure from it.

After a minute Gosset recovered. He withdrew from her clinging cunt, climbed off her and reached for his discarded clothes.

“Please finish me off!” she begged him. “Just rub your fingers up and down my slit!”

Gosset shook his head. “Jackson said we should leave you wanting more. He thinks it’ll make you more ready to please later.”

Amber groaned and tugged futilely at her bonds. “Aren’t you going to untie me?”

“But then you’d only bring yourself off. We know girls can do that just like boys. Don’t worry, we won’t leave you very long. Harris will be along soon. He’s next on the rota.”

“The rota?”

Gosset finished dressing and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Unfolding it he pinned it to a post of her stall. It was a list of her five joint masters’ names with periods of the day set against them. “This is to make sure we all have you the same number of times,” he explained. “And we can put down marks for how well you pleased us.”

I’m on a fucking list! Amber thought. With marks out of ten!

But she had to ask: “Er... how well did I do just now?”

Gosset wrote a figure in a column with the stub of a pencil then grinned at her. “I’m giving you a minus.”

“‘A minus!”

He stepped between her splayed legs and slid one foot forward. The toe of his boot nuzzled into the split pouch of flesh at the junction of her thighs from which a sticky trickle of fluid was seeping. Amber immediately dipped her hips and squirmed desperately on her bottom, kissing the tip of his boot with her cunt lips as though trying to suck the leather into her so it might bring relief to her hardened love bud.

Suddenly Gosset pulled his foot away, leaving her rubbing on empty air.

“You got a minus because you kept me waiting too long,” he said.

With a whimper Amber dropped her head back onto her blankets. She heard Gosset climb down the trap door and pull it shut, then his steps faded away on the ladder below.

This is what I’ve been reduced to she told herself bitterly, trying to ignore the terrible ache in her loins - being left so frustrated I’m ready to work myself off on a shoe! And she’d been worried at first that the boys’ apparently insatiable intentions would wear her out! She’d happily take a caning again rather than be left feeling like this. But then that was the idea. And tonight, no doubt, caning was exactly what she would get. Did all boys in this world have such a natural talent for torture?

Miserably Amber tried to distract herself by thinking of her revenge on Arabella. Yes, that would be sweet. As long as they could find the girl from her own version of England that she had deduced Arabella was keeping captive somewhere. The girl must have found and used the last phallus in the puzzle box. Amber wondered dryly if she was having as much fun as she was.