By the Book

 

Amber was sitting up very straight with her back against one of the loft’s stout timber posts. She had no choice. Her hands were tied behind her and ropes crossed over her chest between her breasts. Her splayed legs were tied at the ankles to a length of two by four, making it impossible to bring them together.

She looked down at the pouting, hair-fringed cleft of her love lips. Rising from it she could still smell the lingering, almost chemical tang of the boy’s sperm, mingling with her own musky exudation. It was a hungry little mouth that had been well fed but wanted more. But bound as she was there was no way that she could satisfy its deep, needy ache; which was obviously how the boys wanted it to be.

At least they’d allowed her a folded-up blanket to sit on.

Amber knew she was losing her influence over the boys. They were still living up to the letter of their agreement, but they were treating her much more strictly. They’d discovered the simple fact that they could take what they liked from her as and when they chose. What was worse, they now knew that she quite liked to be treated harshly. It was her own fault. Hadn’t she virtually begged for the cane the previous night?

She should have recognised the signs earlier. When she’d been in the stocks in the police yard - stark naked and a target for all the pillory shot people cared to throw at her - she’d begun to get turned on by the experience. Even in the agony of Arabella’s sexual torture she’d succumbed to an orgasm. Had this latent masochistic streak always been in her, or was it due to something in the air here?

Whatever the reason, she’d surrendered to the urge without thinking of the consequences. She had to focus. She had to manoeuvre the boys into stealing from Arabella the outsider girl Amber had deduced she was secretly holding. Then perhaps she could also talk them into enjoying the charms of her ex-cellmate Sally Potts, when she got out of jail.

They’d soon learn that keeping a harem entailed a lot of responsibility and, hopefully, give up the idea. Otherwise Amber would be kept here for however long their school summer term lasted - assuming she wasn’t discovered by somebody in authority before then and returned to jail to serve out her sentence.

But she was losing the initiative. At lunch, when Jackson had spoon-fed her without releasing her hands, he’d looked at her almost resentfully, as though she’d displeased him in some way. When she’d tried to talk he’d said nothing.

Once again she heard the sound of hammering from the old tack room below her. It must be the boys. They’d cleared and sorted a lot of material there as part of their penitential odd-job work. But what were they up to now?

Finally she heard footsteps on the ladder and the trapdoor opened. The boys climbed up through it into the loft, dragging something behind them. Amber’s frustrated desire was replaced by a terrible sinking sensation as they set it out before her.

A length of thick planking about nine inches wide had been nailed to the top of an old wooden trestle, so that it ran along its length and overhung the ends a little. Fixed transversely to the underside of one end of the trestle was a four-foot wooden beam. Dangling ominously from the beam ends were two old brass pulley blocks threaded through with rope. Beside the device they placed a galvanised bucket with a coil of hosepipe showing over its rim.

Amber said, in a slightly strained voice: “That all looks interesting. I suppose it’s for me.”

Jackson looked at her coldly. “That’s right. We found the design in this.”

He held out a book for her to see, showing her the cover so she could read the title: ‘THE CARE AND TRAINING OF BONDSLAVES’. He opened it at a marked page. It held line drawings of several strange devices, including the blueprint for the thing before her.

It was labelled: ‘Training Horse’.

“But I bet you know all about that sort of thing,” Jackson continued. He fanned the pages of the book in front of her eyes, giving her flickering glimpses of every kind of sexual position, restraint and posture.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Amber said, utterly bewildered but trying not to sound too concerned. “You don’t need that thing to enjoy me. Why not put me back on my bed again, nice and tightly stretched out?”

Bickley said ominously: “You’re going on here and we’re going to ask you some questions.”

Amber shivered. “Just tell me what’s wrong, boys... I mean, Masters. Your slave wants to know how she has offended you. She’s done everything you asked, she’s given you pleasure whenever you wanted it...” She was sounding desperate now. “How can she do more?”

“You could have done lot’s more,” Harris said accusingly.

“But you didn’t tell us,” Parsons added.

“You wanted it easy for yourself,” said Gosset.

“You agreed that we could do anything we wanted with you,” Jackson reminded her. “Now you’ve displeased us we’re entitled to punish you.”

They untied her from the post, freed her legs from the spreader bar and lifted her onto the training horse. Amber struggled futilely as they laid her on her back on the plank, her buttocks resting above the transverse beam, and an old leather strap was buckled over her waist. Her arms were pulled downward and drawn straight and the wrists tied to ropes running up from the feet of the trestle. Leather straps fitted with dangling metal rings were buckled about her mid thighs and ropes from the pulley blocks were fed through the rings and then tied about her ankles. The boys hauled on the pulley ends of the ropes. The blocks rattled and squeaked while Amber’s legs were wrenched apart and bent double. Her ankles were inexorably drawn up under her thighs, while the thighs themselves were pulled in opposite directions towards the pulley blocks. Inch by inch she was pulled apart until the sinews on her inner thighs stood out on either side of her splayed sex.

“No!” Amber gasped. “Masters, please stop... that’s too far!”

But they continued hauling on the ropes.

Her pubic mound was standing out from thighs that were being pulled flat on either side of it. The stretching skin was drawing her outer lips apart. Never had she been exposed to such a degree before. Her supple body was being bent to its limits. Amber thought they were going to snap her like a wishbone. A shriek of pain erupted from her only to be stifled by a balled handkerchief stuffed into her mouth.

Just when the strain was becoming unendurable they tied the rope ends off.

Amber vibrated in her bonds as taut as a bowstring.

The pressure on her legs was sliding her body up along the plank top, while her straining arms anchored her in place. Between the two forces her back arched as far as her waist strap allowed, lifting her firm breasts up in the air, her nipples perversely hard and pointed.

She rolled her head from side to side and gazed imploringly at the boys, but they were just staring at her trembling, contorted body in fascination. The glistening pink grotto of her labia was open so wide that the mouth of her vaginal passage showed as an almost perfect circle. Below it the taut skin of her buttocks caused the pucker of her anus to gape, revealing the dark tunnel beyond.

Jackson took the cane they had used last night down from its hook and took up a position to deliver a backhand blow.

Swish - crack! A red line appeared on Amber’s flesh, crossing from one thigh to the other and kissing the parted lips between them.

Amber’s eyes bulged as her shriek of pain was muffled by her gag. Her soft inner thighs, the tender mound of her sex, her clitoris under its inadequate hood of flesh were exposed to the full force of the cane as never before.

The shock on top of the agony she was already suffering was too much for her self-control. Her bladder cut loose and a stream of pee jetted four feet across the loft floor.

“We’ve made her wet herself!” Harris exclaimed.

As they laughed at her enforced display of incontinence, Gosset impatiently snatched the cane away from Jackson and swung his own blow. Amber jerked wildly as another line was blazed in her flesh. On her drum-tight immobile thigh skin it felt like a line of fire. Another explosive discharge of urine was forced from her, then the flow slowed to a dribble.

Harris took the cane from Gosset and raised his arm...

By the time the cane had gone round a second time, the flesh of Amber’s inner thighs and pubis was crimson and she was lost in a haze of pain: her head lolling on its side, her eyes closed and her cheeks tear-streaked.

Jackson grasped her hair and pulled her face round towards him, wrenched out her gag and slapped her cheeks until her eyes flickered open. Again he held up the book accusingly.

“Why didn’t you tell us about all these other ways we could have had you?” he demanded. “You must know about them.”

“What are you talking about?” Amber sobbed, her voice shrill with pain and real fear. “I don’t know what you know. You want to have me up my bum? Do it! I’ll suck all of you off if you want. I’ll do anything, but for God’s sake loosen the ropes! They’re cutting off my circulation. I can’t feel my hands anymore. You want to give me gangrene? Your bloody book doesn’t say do that, does it? Does it!”

Blinking though her tears she saw the onset of doubt in their expressions as they took in her obvious distress. Bickley said hesitantly: “Maybe this is a bit mean on her.”

“But she’s got to remember who’s in charge,” Jackson persisted.

“Look at me!” Amber almost shouted. “I’m your slave... but I’m not a fucking mind reader! You could have shown me the book first. You promised you’d treat me responsibly...” Her hands and feet had gone quite numb and she groped desperately for some further lever. “This is the way Arabella Westlake would treat a slave!”

The accusation struck home. The last person they wanted to be compared to was Arabella.

“All right. Loosen the ropes,” Jackson said.

Amber gasped as her body unbent. Harris stooped down and examined her hands. “They do look dead,” he admitted. “And they’re rather cold...”

Hurriedly they untied her and Amber rolled grotesquely to the floor, her legs still locked in their splayed position, the skin between her thighs scorching. They carried her over to her makeshift bed and began massaging her hands and feet. Amber groaned as the blood began to flow back to her extremities. Harris took out a pot of petroleum jelly from the bucket they had brought and began rubbing some into Amber’s thighs and reddened pubic flesh. While the others worked on her Bickley took the book from Jackson and flicked through to the index. After a minute he said:

“It does say if you’re using a restraining device, the slave should be secured with leather or rubber cuffs. If you use rope, it mustn’t be too thin, and the skin should be protected with strips of cloth.” He looked down at Amber. “We didn’t see this. Sorry.”

Amber groaned again, but her mind was racing as the boys massaged the life back into her. They must never realise how close they had been to breaking her spirit. She must turn the situation to her advantage and regain the initiative. Time to be magnanimous and win herself a few brownie points.

She wriggled gently and sighed with obvious relief.

“Oh... that’s so much better. Do keep rubbing... yes, especially there.”

“Look, we really are sorry,” Jackson said.

“I know you didn’t mean to really hurt me,” Amber said nobly. “It was just a misunderstanding. Keeping a slave must be as new to you as being one is to me. I’ve never been on a device like that before.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made it,” Bickley said.

“Oh no!” Amber said quickly. “It was clever of you to make one so well. It’s a really ingenious device. I’ll be just at the right height and position for two of you to have me at the same time.”

“You mean... you’d go on it again?” Harris asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” Amber said. “I’m your slave. I can’t stop you doing whatever you want with me. That is what you find exciting, isn’t it? But try to ease up a little. I can please you a lot better if you’re not trying to tear my arms off or split me in two at the same time!”

The boys laughed, looking more cheerful again.

“While I’m getting over that first session, why don’t you take a look amongst the junk downstairs?” Amber suggested. “There’s bound to be some leather strapping on those old harnesses that you can make into cuffs.”

The boys obeyed eagerly.

Some broad strips of leather were found. As the boys worked on them, cutting and piercing holes for ropes with the collection of old tools they assembled, Amber said: “I’d be interested to read that book of yours to find out what else you have in store for me. To avoid any more misunderstandings.”

They looked slightly shocked at the idea.

“You’d really like to read it?” Jackson said.

“Why not? I might be surprised at some things, but I doubt if I’ll be shocked. For instance, I saw a rubber hose in that bucket and Martin nicely used some vaseline on me. I guess you were planning to have anal sex with me, right?”

They blushed. Harris said: “The book said it was different from the normal kind...”

“Vaginal sex,” Amber prompted gently. “Yes, you’ll find my bottom’s hotter and tighter that my cunt. Men often like that. I’m sure you will.”

Amber felt the familiar stirrings beginning within her loins as she spoke. These strange naive yet intimate conversations with the boys seemed to have that effect on her. It was probably best that she started to warm up anyway, knowing what was to come.

“You’ve done this anal sex before?” Jackson asked

“A few times. I didn’t know you hadn’t heard of it until now.” They suddenly looked embarrassed and ashamed. “But you’re learning now,” Amber said quickly. “What are you going to use as a douche bag to clean me out first?”

Bickley took a hot water bottle from the bucket.

“How clever!” Amber said. “Has it got warm water in it already? Good.”

The improvised cuffs were ready, and Amber meekly extended her wrists and ankles for them to be fitted. The cuffs were tight, but the leather was pliant enough not to cut and broad enough to spread the pressure on her skin. Amber took a deep breath and said brightly: “Right, I’m ready now.”

They helped her up, two boys holding an arm each, half supporting, half controlling her. Bizarrely it felt almost as though they were escorting royalty. She was a slave to be used and abused, yet also a valuable prize to be guarded. A sex princess?

They fastened her to the training horse and pulled on the ropes until she was splayed and stretched wide enough for their purposes but not to the ligament-tearing extent they had before. It gave Amber a tolerably degree of discomfort and a terrific sense of helpless exposure. She felt her slit growing slick and sticky.

“We also made this,” Parsons said, holding up a length of rope about fourteen inches long, it was already tied in a loop and knotted at each end to hold on two rubber washers that had been threaded onto it. Amber blinked at it in incomprehension.

“It’s for when we do this,” said Harris, reaching under the head end of the training horse and drawing back a bolt that had been fastened lengthwise to the underside of the plank. The end of the plank hinged downward some 45 degrees, tilting Amber’s head back with it. Suddenly she was in the ideal position for oral penetration.

Amber fought to maintain her composure even though everything was suddenly upside-down. “Of course, the rope is a teeth-spreader, isn’t it? It wouldn’t do for me to accidentally bite you. But please remember you’ve got to pull out every few seconds to allow me to breathe.”

They nodded distractedly. As the growing bulges in their trousers showed, urgent need was overcoming them. They would not be denied their relief a second time. In a moment she would be silenced; reduced to a living sex toy for as long as they cared to use her. Parsons bent over her to insert the spreader.

“I expect a lot of tit-squeezing when you’re using my mouth,” Amber said quickly. “And whoever’s up my bottom must play with my cunt - gnhhh!”

Parsons pushed the washers into the sides of her mouth so that the rope passed between her teeth, and pulled the loop over her head, drawing back her lips into a rictus of a smile and baring her teeth. For a moment it felt as though it would tear her flesh, then the loop passed over to the back of her neck and the strain eased slightly, leaving her mouth gaping invitingly open.

Jackson had vaselined the rubber hose and now he slipped it into her bottom. Amber shivered as a foot of tube slid into her entrails. Bickley held up the water bottle with the hose end screwed into it and tipped it over and squeezed.

Amber gurgled and rolled her eyes as her stomach swelled with the water being forced through her, which then gushed out into the bucket placed between her legs. The flow ceased and the tube was withdrawn. She had been flushed out for her masters’ use. A finger replaced the tube and teased and tickled as it lubricated her orifice ready for penetration.

About her, trousers were dropping and hard young cocks were springing up to attention. The boys crowded close until all she saw were their erect organs. Which of her holes would be used by which boy?

Hands grasped her spread thighs and a cockhead nuzzled against her anus even as somebody clasped her chin. Her tongue lapped eagerly at the purple plum driving between her lips and towards her throat. A hairy ball sac brushed her nose. With a thrust from below her anal ring was stretched wide and her rectum entered. Urged on by her sucking lips, the shaft in her mouth slid down her throat.

Pistons of flesh were driving into her from both ends and she was ascending to heaven.

Her breasts were being slapped and wrenched in time with the thrusts into her gullet. Prying fingers had found her hardened clitoris and were rolling and pinching it just a little short of cruelly.

It was perfect.

With grunts of delight the first two boys spent themselves liberally within her. Her bottom received the gift of sperm with desperate clenchings, while her lips drank thirstily as of a rare nectar.

The training horse had become her throne of sacrifice and reward. Its worst excesses were now safely reserved for somebody who would appreciate them.