Chapter Twenty Seven

 

Next morning Cyril was told to put on his best maid’s uniform and report to Lashley. Wondering about the reason for these instructions, he tapped timidly on the Head Dominatrix’s door.

Inside the room, the elderly severe woman who had bought him at the auction was sitting erectly on the settee. Lashley had a faint smile on her lips, showing gratification and approval of arrangements that had evidently been discussed between them.

‘You know who I am,’ said the severe mistress to Cyril.

He went down on one knee as he had been taught.

‘Yes, mistress. I am your bought slave. ’

She grunted.

‘The slaves’ quarters in your new home are not yet ready,’ she said, ‘but I have a party tonight and I’ll need more slaves to please my guests. You’ll be sent there now and returned tomorrow when your entertaining duties are finished. ’

Cyril bowed his head in the approved manner.

‘Mistress!’ he breathed to show he understood.

‘Hasn’t he got ANY will of his own?’ the severe mistress snorted.

‘He’s too well trained to show it, even if he has,’ Lashley replied. ‘It’s all been thrashed out of him. ’

‘Come here,’ said his new mistress.

She placed her hand under his cock which started to stiffen immediately.

‘Good reactions,’ she said approvingly. ‘He’ll be a nice centre-piece. I can’t wait to see him perform . . . ‘

She looked at Cyril and gave a slight laugh.

‘Right,’ she added briskly, ‘you’ve already been bum-ringed so you can get straight on to the transport waiting outside. Show the driver the Owner’s Mark and you’ll be told what to do.

‘Turn round and bend over,’ she ordered.

She pulled down his knickers. He jumped as he felt a sharp sting on his left buttock. A sharp slap on his naked bum followed.

‘Be still! You’ve been marked with my sign. Wherever you go in future your pedigree will show you started with me. If I sell you, your new owner will add her own mark beneath mine.

Now go to the lorry waiting outside. ’

He looked at Lashley who nodded her consent.

 

The tarpaulin-covered lorry was waiting outside the back door when Cyril emerged from the house. A fat young girl in greasy overalls stood beside the vehicle, polishing her nails. She looked up as he came through the door.

‘Lady Swisher’s party?’ she asked.

Cyril nodded. He had not heard his owner’s name before, but he had no doubt she was Lady Swisher.

‘Show me your mark?’

Wordlessly he pulled down his knickers and showed the girl his bottom.

‘Right! Get in the back and wait there. ’

Her voice was cold as she spoke. A feeling of self-pity came over him. Was this how he would be treated in his new mistress’s household?

Not daring to say anything, he obeyed the girl’s instructions.

It was dark inside the lorry. He sensed rather than saw there were other men standing in the lorry. A hand came towards him as he raised himself on to the platform and heaved him aboard.

As he recovered his balance he heard a low voice say,

‘ANOTHER one! How many more bleedin’ maids ‘as she got?’

‘Stuff it, Winnie. Give the kid a chance. ‘T’ain’t HIS fault. He’s doin’ what he’s told, like all of us. ’

The voice came from the depth of the gloom.

‘I know that, but we got enough maids already. What we need is more ‘elpers. We got enough poncey prick-suckers. A few more muscles and fewer arsec rawlers ‘d make all the difference. ’

‘Shut up, blabbermouth. Her outside ‘ll hear you and we’ll all get the cat. ’

The new speaker sounded older and wiser than the two who had spoken before. There was no reply to these words.

The drop curtains at the back of the lorry parted.

‘Hasn’t that maid been chained up yet? Or do I have to come among you with my crop?’

There was a clinking sound as Cyril heard a movement coming from the interior.

A hand ran round his bum. Coming to the bum-ring in his right buttock, the hand pulled his knickers down and a chain was run through the ring. The chain was tightened, drawing him close to a body that he could smell was sweating with fear.

‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I haven’t got much room. ’

‘None of us have,’ came the gentle reply. ‘We’ll be lucky if we get away with the space we have already. ’

Cyril began to feel a number of hands running over his body, probing his anus and searching between his legs. Fingers started to rub him around his balls. His cock rose.

‘What’s your name?’ asked the gentle voice.

‘Cyril. What’s yours?’

‘Alex - but everyone calls me Annie. ’

‘Cyril, eh?’ The voice came from behind him and was distinctly rougher in tone. ‘Reck’n you’ll be Cissy to us. I’ve got me ‘and on your cock. Feel it?’

Cyril nodded.

‘Yes. ’

‘Well, I could make yer come any time - only if I did, the mistress’d tan the daylights outta yer fer comin’ wivout permission. Yer needs permission fer ev’rythin’ ‘ere. Permission to sit. Permission to pee. Permission to come. ‘ere - gimme yer ‘and and run it over me . . . just ‘ere. That’s it. Wha’ d’ya feel?’

Cyril felt something raised like scars.

‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘Feels like ridges. ’

The rough voice gave a low laugh.

‘Ridges? Them’s scars. Scars from the cat. Nine lashes I ‘ad. Caught peein’ wivout permission. Never agen, I tell ya.

Stick wiv me, Cissy,’ the voice went on, ‘an’ you’ll be safe. ’

The curtains at the back parted again.

‘Who was that talking? You, Brasher? Eh? Want another taste of the cat, then?’

‘No, young mistress. ‘tweren’t me. I’ve learned me lesson. No more cat. Please, young mistress. ’

The rough voice had a note of terror.

‘Well, if I hear any more talking, it’ll be the cat all round. ’

The curtains dropped again.

‘One o’ these days,’ Cyril heard the rough voice mutter, ‘I’ll get ‘er on ‘er own, ‘n I’ll shove me cock all over ‘er, you’ll see. ’

 

As the morning wore on, more and more men were put in the back of the lorry. The routine never varied. After inspecting the owner’s mark, the girl told each newcomer to climb aboard. Then the chain was passed through the newcomer’s bum-ring, increasing the pressure of still more bodies.

By the time the lorry was loaded, the sun was beating down on the tarpaulin cover making the air inside hard to breathe. A smell of stale urine rose as pressure on bladders could not be ignored any longer.

One after another the men called out.

‘Permission to pee, young mistress?’

After they had called out their names, the reply was always,

‘Permission granted. ’

But water had to be passed where they stood.

Cyril held his water as long as he could, but in the end he had to give way. He felt ashamed that he had wetted his new uniform but there was nothing he could do about it.

He heard the engine start. With a jolt which flung the chained men heavily against each other, the lorry started off.

The driving was erratic. Speeding, braking suddenly, taking bends at sharp angles, the men inside were flung heavily on top of one another several times.

The gloom beneath the tarpaulin was not entirely due to lack of sunlight. As the time passed, the occupants knew they were getting nearer to the place where they would be introduced to unrestrained female lust and cruelty.

Cyril heard a gentle sobbing coming from his neighbour.

‘Annie?’ he whispered. ‘What’s wrong, Annie?’

A hot face, wet with tears, buried itself in his armpit. At first, Cyril was unable to make out what was said. Gradually, as the sobbing calmed down, he was able to distinguish most of the words.

‘I’m afraid of the cat,’ Annie quavered. ‘I’ve seen what happened to Brasher. It’ll kill me if they cat me, I know. ’

Cyril wrapped his arms around the weeping man’s shoulders, soothing him as though he had been a child.

‘Ssh! Ssh!’ he murmured. ‘There’s no reason for them to give you the cat. Just do what you’re told and they’ll leave you alone. ’

‘No, they won’t. They always go for the weaker ones first. I’ve seen it. If they want to cat you, they need no excuse. ’

Cyril stroked the man’s bum, unable to think of what he could say to reassure the miserable wretch.

The lorry lurched as it dropped into a pothole in the road. The slaves were again thrown into confused heaps. The road had become bumpy and the occupants of the back were being bounced around like tennis balls.

Losing his hold on Annie’s bum, Cyril felt himself mounted. It was a man who smelled strongly of stale cheese.

A rigid cock was jammed into his rectum and the prick’s owner was bouncing himself on Cyril’s prone body.

‘Lie still, wanker,’ he heard someone hiss. ‘I’m gonna ‘ave yer before we get there, I can tell yer. ’

Cyril could not see any way of avoiding the attack. He closed his eyes and bit his lip with pain as the cock was pushed in as far as it would go and withdrawn again.

Whoever was rogering him was well experienced. Thrill after thrill run up his spine as the cock drove deeply into him.

Fingers now sought his own cock. The fingers began to squeeze and run along his shaft, bringing it close to bursting point.

At that moment, Annie, who had been whimpering like a puppy, felt neglected.

‘Kiss me,’ Annie whined. ‘You promised. ’

Cyril could not remember what had been promised but he felt nothing could be more important than the rogering and fingering going on at the moment.

Annie tried to push his lips on Cyril’s mouth. It was unlucky for him that at that moment the lorry dropped into another hole in the road.

Annie’s kiss fell on Cyril’s assailant.

That person swore horribly and without hesitation punched Annie on the jaw, jolting him to the end of the chain.

‘So THAT’S what yer after, is it? We’ll settle that straightaway. ’

Annie found himself lifted off the jolting lorry floor. Then he was forced to kneel between a pair of hairy knees, in which position he was spanked while his face was buried in the spanker’s crotch.

The spanking was severe. Too afraid to call out, Annie muffled his cries in the spanker’s groin. Gouts of sticky come pulsed on his face and neck, its hot liquidity blinding him.

‘It’ll be the cat fer YOU, wanker, when I tell ‘em ‘ow ya sucked me orf in the dark. ’

Annie was unable to stop a terrified shriek at that.

The lorry stopped immediately.

The back curtains were parted and the fat girl in the greasy overalls peered into the lorry.

Seeing Annie’s face glistening with come she laughed.

‘It’s the cat for you when we get there,’ she jeered. ‘Want to say somethin’ an’ get a few more strokes?’

Annie shook his head in silence.

The girl’s head withdrew and the curtains dropped.

‘Help me,’ Annie whispered to Cyril. ‘I shan’t be able to stand the cat.