Chapter Five

Sue stared resolutely at the carpet and tried to keep her mind blank.

She was completely naked, on all fours in the lounge, her legs wide so that she was fully exposed and knelt sideways on in front of Proby’s armchair, in which he was sitting, with his feet up on her back, using her as a footstool.

It was late Sunday afternoon, and the guests were shortly to depart, but they were playing a few last games with the girls. Currently it was ‘pass the spanking parcel’. Rosie and Mandy, both also nude, had to slither snake-like from one lap to the next as the guests sat in a circle. Music played, but whenever it stopped whoever had them on their lap at the time could give them a dozen meaty slaps. For the rest of the time, of course, as they slid over the men’s laps, the men took every opportunity to fondle and grope them.

The other three girls, Nicola, Erica, and Charlie, stood to one side, currently not in use, though that could change at any time. All three, too, were naked. Charlie was slightly conspicuous by her shaved crotch, the other girls all being hirsute. Sue glanced at her younger daughter from time to time and a pang of anguish went through her, but there was nothing she could do. Her only consolation was that their fate would have been many times worse had they not been rescued from Africa and would not have ended after a year.

Sue had been fucked three times over the weekend. She was fairly sure that her daughters had both been had more than that. Mandy said very little about the things that were done to her and Charlie said absolutely nothing. It was a terrible ordeal for Sue to watch her girls go through this. But they were surviving.

Monday morning, ten o’clock, Sue and her girls were stood in the same lounge once more, now dressed in their maid’s uniforms, alongside the other three slaves. ‘Feedback session’, Rosie had called it and refused to give any other information. All six females stood to attention whilst Proby studied sheets of paper handed to him by the butler, occasionally writing a note on each sheet and finally sorting them into order. A thick wooden paddle stood alarmingly near to hand.

Eventually Proby finished and looked up at the line of anxious lovelies. “Perhaps I should explain the format for our new slaves,” he said easily. “Our guests were asked to fill in assessment sheets on each of you regarding your behaviour and sexual performance over the weekend. With the help of my trusty lieutenant Forsythe here, I then decide how much correctional treatment is required for each slave.”

Charlie forced herself not to react. Wasn’t it enough that she had allowed them to abuse her young body as much as they liked? But no, she knew it wasn’t. Mere surrender and co-operation were not enough. More was expected.

“In case you are wondering,” Proby went on, “the assessments and treatment take no account of your slave levels. All the girls are judged to the same standards. It seems only fair. Now, we always start with the girl who has the fewest demerits. Once again this week, that is Nicola.” The lovely, brown-haired former athlete took a step forwards from the line. Proby studied the piece of paper in front of him. “I think just a single token stroke will do,” he announced.

Immediately, Nicola knelt down in front of a footstool and leaned over it until her hands were on the floor on the other side. Then she reached back to flick her short skirt up to reveal a thong. All six slaves had been required to wear thongs today. Now Charlie understood why. She had never worn one before and found it rather uncomfortable.

Forsythe took up the paddle and took careful aim. Charlie held her breath. This paddle looked considerably heavier than the one she had experienced once before.

Whack!

The sound of the impact was deep and fearful. Nicola’s beautifully sculpted bottom immediately turned bright red. She got up, allowing her skirt to fall back into place. “Thank you, master,” she said, slightly breathlessly. Proby made a signal of dismissal and Nicola was allowed to leave the room.

“Slave Erica,” Proby summoned. The gorgeous, glamorous blonde stepped forwards unhappily. Proby studied the sheet, letting her sweat. “Reasonable report,” he said at length, “but still lacking real enthusiasm. Six strokes will do, I think.”

Erica knelt and bent over the footstool without protest, flicking her skirt up as Nicky had done to reveal her beautiful tanned bottom. If she’s getting six, Charlie thought nervously, I’m in for a whole load. Life here was becoming one long interminable nightmare.

Erica took her six strokes, gasping a couple of times. Her bottom, already well tanned, turned a darker shade. She was dismissed and Rosie called forward next.

“Also reasonable, just a little hesitant occasionally,” Proby told her. “Also six, I think.” Rosie took her six whacks, her paler bottom reddening very clearly, and was also dismissed. The three experienced slaves had all now left - or escaped - the room.

“Slave Sue.” Charlie watched her mother take a hesitant step forward.

Proby studied for some time. “A fair start,” he said at length. “Some hesitation, perhaps more to uncertainty than anything else. Yes, not too bad. I think eight strokes will suffice.”

Charlie closed her eyes for a moment. Her poor mum! But Sue knelt over the footstool without argument and, following the others’ examples, lifted her skirt to show her shapely posterior. She whimpered as each of the eight strikes landed, but held her position. Perhaps worst for her was being dismissed afterwards, and wondering what her daughters were going to get. She looked at them in aguish as she reluctantly left the room.

Charlie was now having to work to stop herself from physically shaking. But she knew Mandy would be next and she last.

“Slave Mandy.”

Charlie watched her older sister take a step forward and try to remain at attention. Once again Proby let her sweat for some time. At long last he looked at her.

“Well, you are inexperienced sexually as well as in slavery, so we couldn’t expect too much at first. However, there are one or two comments that suggest you will improve. And of course the paddle will help encourage you, won’t it?”

“Yes, master,” Mandy said, trying to sound polite and submissive.

“Twelve strokes.”

Mandy knelt over the footstool and also revealed her bottom, well rounded and pale-skinned apart from a number of clear bruises from the weekend. Charlie watched in desperation and dread as she took twelve whacks. By the end of it not an inch of her skin remained pale. She rose to her feet stiffly and kept her eyes firmly in front of her as she left. Charlie, though, could see the tears rolling down her sister’s cheeks.

Now it was just her left. She took the obligatory step forward, feeling faint.

“Very inexperienced,” observed Proby as he read the sheet. “Shy, too. No real enthusiasm or forwardness, in fact sometimes clear reluctance. Hmm. Not good.”

I’m eighteen, Charlie thought to herself. Less than a week ago I was still a virgin and no man had ever seen me naked. This weekend I’ve let four middle-aged, fat and unattractive men do whatever they like with me. I’ve not drawn the line at anything. Isn’t that enough? But she knew the answer.

“I have set a rule that the maximum number of correctional strokes is twenty-five,” Proby told her. “Obviously outright disobedience would be dealt with in a more serious way but at least that isn’t the case here.” Obviously, thought Charlie grimly. He studied the sheet again. “You will receive twenty-four.”

Charlie was expecting the full twenty-five. One less wasn’t much relief. She knelt over the footstool and lifted her short skirt, in effect baring her bottom and waited, trembling slightly.

“Normally slaves are expected to take their correction properly,” Proby observed, “but for this many strokes I think it better that you be tied down.”

Charlie found herself saying, “please, master, I don’t need to be tied down. I know I’ve been a bad girl.” The statement surprised her as much as anybody. Proby shrugged and said, “very well. Proceed, Forsythe.”

When the first strike landed, Charlie could not believe how much it stung. It was very different to the other instruments she had experienced over the last week: the sensation was over a much wider area, less sharp, but still awful. Her already much-abused bottom immediately began to throb unbearably.

Each successive stroke was just as painful by itself, but also increased the throbbing and made her cheeks more tender so that the stroke after that was always even worse. By the fifth, Charlie was gasping with each stroke. By the time the dozen came up, she was crying. By fifteen, she was twitching and writhing continuously.

At this point, Proby’s voice cut through the mist of pain in her mind. “Would you prefer to be held down for the remainder?” he said, almost politely. She could only nod, no longer capable of speaking but aware of how close she was to getting up and running away. She expected to be tied down in some way, but instead Proby simply came over and lay down on her bare back, his weight effectively pinning her down and making it impossible for her to get away.

Another nine strokes landed before she felt his weight lift off her. Charlie had long since lost count. It didn’t matter: nothing mattered except the pain. Sobbing and crying uncontrollably, she hauled herself to her feet and, barely aware of his dismissal of her, staggered from the room.

It was over an hour later when she returned to the dungeon which was now her home. Mandy was on domestic duty, her own bottom still throbbing, but Sue had been allowed to wait for her younger daughter. Charlie had spent the hour curled up in a little ball in a secluded corner of one of the closets, just wanting to be alone.

Sue was shocked to see the state of Charlie’s bottom, which had turned purple and blue with bruising. “How many?” she asked fearfully.

“Twenty-four,” Charlie replied emotionlessly.

“My God!” said Sue. “Come and lie down on the bed and I’ll put some of the witch-hazel on it.”

Charlie shook her head vigorously. “I’ve got to learn my lesson and improve,” she said doggedly.

Sue argued, but Charlie stubbornly refused any treatment. She only wanted to know what duties she had been assigned for the morning. Sue told her and Charlie went to perform them, walking very stiffly.

Sue sighed, fingering her own bruised bottom, and went to her own workplace.

Life settled into a pattern. During the week, all six girls worked as domestics, keeping the mansion and grounds immaculate and preparing meals and doing the laundry. With six of them, the hours were not too onerous. There was always the possibility that the butler, Forsythe, or one of the two younger men, Joe or Fred, might simply take a slave and ravage her there and then. It happened sometimes. Proby summoned a girl to spend the night with him most nights. Nicola was his favourite, but over about three weeks each of the others was used at least once. At least one of them was always required to wait on Proby during his meals, which meant they could expect a groping at least.

But the weekends were worse. Each weekend saw a group of male visitors, different ones most times, making full use of them. Then on Monday morning would come the dreaded assessment and correction. Sue coped the best: by the third week her number of correctional strokes was down to the same as Rosie and Erica and she was also promoted to Level Two slave. Mandy struggled more, but after five weeks she was down to single figures and had also gained Level Two status. But Charlie struggled. She obeyed orders but was too shy, too hesitant, too clearly reluctant, too easily repulsed by what she was made to do. “Too prissy,” was Mandy’s cutting verdict. Each Monday morning she would get another substantial paddling, occasionally getting it down to eighteen but more often taking twenty.

It was a source of considerable friction between Charlie and Mandy. Proby had decreed that they would only get Level Two privileges - which basically meant moving out of the sparse dungeon with its cold showers - to a decent room, or even separate adjoining rooms, when all three had attained that level and Charlie was as far away as ever. The four categories needing to be passed for Level Two were obedience, pain taking, fucking and sucking: Charlie was considered good at taking pain but, whilst good at obedience in domestic terms, not good enough when sex or nudity were involved and in the other two she was miles away. In fact, when doing oral sex she was now made to wear a mouth clamp to stop her accidentally causing damage to the men’s treasured tools. Mandy herself had only barely scraped by in all four, but she had done it and was frustrated by Charlie’s lack of progress. She was reminded of it every time she had to have a freezing cold shower. Sue had actually settled to slavery reasonably well: naturally diffident, she found submission reasonably easy, could cope with the spankings and so on and after years of a lack of sex she, well, it would not be fair to say she welcomed it but at least she didn’t mind too much. Her biggest problem was watching the suffering her lovely daughters were often subjected to and Charlie was a constant worry.

But then, one weekend, things changed.

His name was Harry Evans and at first sight he was no different to all the other guests: middle aged, somewhat going to seed, certainly not handsome or endowed with a good body. He was also clearly a lot less affluent than the other guests and they understood he had been invited for the weekend because he had helped Proby out in some way.

To begin with, he was hesitant and unsure, but soon got into the swing of things, which meant the girls were used, spanked and treated as property just as every other male treated them. But somehow he did it differently. He took a shine to both Rosie and Charlie and somehow turned Charlie around. Mandy also found him one of the best of the men, but he had the greatest effect on Charlie. Based on his assessment of a night she had been made to spend with him, Charlie received just two strokes of the cane (Proby had decided on a change from the paddle for a week) rather than the usual twenty. After his departure, Charlie made strenuous efforts, helped by Rosie, and gained her Level Two within the week. Harmony was restored to the family, and the much better living quarters were a big boost to their morale. Life became, if not pleasant, at least bearable.