Chapter One


Liza, completely naked, was strapped against a panel of padded black vinyl that was tilted slightly back from vertical.  Heavy rubber straps, fed though slots in the back of the panel, encircled her neck, upper arms, wrists, her chest just under her breasts, her stomach, thighs, knees and ankles.  Her feet rested in stirrups, which took most of her weight.  Her teeth were clamped about a rubber-covered metal hoop whose prongs were slotted into the panel close to the sides of her head so that her cheeks pressed against them.  Except for wriggling her fingers and toes and rolling her eyes about, she was almost completely immobilised.  

But Liza did not fight any of these restraints.  She had gone beyond such a futile show of resistance what seemed like a very long time ago.  They were simply part of her everyday life and their presence was by now almost comforting.   She even accepted the steady stinging pain of the sets of crocodile clips that were pinched about her nipples and inner labia as normal.  Electric flex trailed from the sprung bases of the clips and curved around behind the vinyl panel. She was where He wished her to be: that was all that mattered.

Liza was not alone.  A man she had been told to call “Pickering” sat facing her.

He was somewhere in his late fifties, greying, smartly dressed and softly spoken, radiating an air of interest and understanding.  A note book rested on his lap while his other hand hovered over a small electric button pad mounted on one arm of his comfortable leather chair.  This was positioned between two full-length mirrors that were angled slightly to reflect the image of her body back into her eyes, so that she could see what he was seeing.

Liza had a heart-shaped, slightly girlish face, with deep blue eyes and rounded cheeks that also softened the line of her neck under her chin.  Her hair was brown and shoulder-length hair but was currently combed and tied severely back into a ponytail to expose her neck, about which was locked a rubber-line steel collar, which did not belong to the restraints of the couch.  Her nose was slightly flared and fleshy at its end and tip-tilted.  She had a neat mouth with shapely lips, which were currently stretched about the bar clamped between her teeth.  Her expression in repose was normally lively and playful. 

Her natural complexion was pale, but she now wore a light all over golden tan that showed no signs of swim suit shadows.  She had a compact build that accentuated the weight of her full D-cup breasts, which were tipped by prominent pink nipples, pierced by silver rings.  Her hips were womanly and the muscles of her buttocks were sheathed by soft chubby flesh.  Her smooth shaven deep-cleft vulva pouted; its soft lips pierced by more silver rings.  Her legs were shapely and well toned.  She was very proud of them…

Pickering pressed a button on the chair pad.

Liza jerked convulsively against her many straps, biting hard on the rubber sheathed bar between her teeth, while a yelp of pain escaped about it.  Stabbing needles of electric fire had been driven deep into her nipples and labia.  Yet even as her eyes filled with hot tears, her nipples throbbed even harder in response, while her pussy grew hotter and wetter.  A cloudy white dribble of fluid trickled out of its depths and down between her buttocks onto the vinyl padding.

‘Now I want you to tell me your story from the very beginning,’ Pickering said in kindly tones, as if he had not just infected such intimate pain upon her. ‘Leave nothing out, however personal or embarrassing it may seem.  If I think you’re not being entirely truthful with me, then I will encourage you to think again…’

‘Yes Mr Pickering,’ Liza said quickly, speaking about the bar between her teeth.  ‘I’ll tell you everything...’

But it seemed so long ago and far away now.  In a way, she supposed she had been living in another world, which she had then been torn out of it by fate.  But she did her best.

‘It was late at night…well, early the next morning, really.  I’d been out celebrating my birthday with my friends Pru and Joss and Zak.  Zac was driving us home.  Maybe he’d had too much to drink… actually, we all had.  I know it was stupid. I was stupid then.  Anyway, that was why he was on the back lanes, so there was less chance of being stopped by the police.  You see, he’d sort of borrowed the car we were in from a friend without asking.  Still, it should have been all right.  There shouldn’t have been anyone on that road at that time of night.  But there was…’ 

* * *

The rusty red Fiat Punto grazed the side of the larger oncoming car with a screech of metal, skidded and bounced widely and then came to rest with his nose down in a ditch.  Its engine cut out, leaving a single unbroken headlamp shining into a tangle of weeds.

For a moment, there was stunned silence in the car, then Pru sobbed and Joss cursed and Zak shouted: ‘Everybody get out… run, run!’

The others scrambled to obey, Pru unclipping her belt and pushing forward Zac’s driving chair as he left it so she could follow him, while Joss tumbled out of the passenger seat.  But Liza was slower to respond.  The impact had shaken her up so that she could not think.  Her head was pounding and her stomach was churning.  Even as the others were vanishing into the night, she was still fumbling clumsily with the buckle of her seat belt.  Finally, she got herself loose and pushed at the passenger seat in front of her and half fell out of the car into the ditch.

She tried to get to her feet only to hunch over again as she was violently sick.

She was still on the hands and knees, groaning and retching, when a strong hand took hold of a fistful of her hair.  Dizzy, dazed, and totally confused, she was quite unable to resist as she stumbled after the owner of the hand as he dragged her into the brilliant twin fans of light issuing from the headlights of the other car.  By their glare, she could see a burly man in a chauffeur’s uniform was holding a torch and examining the side of the car, which she now saw was a silver Rolls Royce.

‘She’s still roadworthy, Sir, but it’s going to need a proper workshop job to make it good, I’m afraid,’ he reported.  ‘Some of these gashes in the bodywork are deep…’

‘Not your fault, Riley,’ the man who had hold of her said.  ‘Check out the other car, please.  Make sure it’s safe and see if any of those blighters who ran off like rabbits are still lurking around…’

Obediently Riley jogged off towards the stricken Fiat.

The man twisted Liza around so that she faced him and sniffed and then wrinkled his nose disapproval.  ‘Drunk!  I might have known!’ 

He slapped her cheeks briskly, as if bring her to her senses, until she whimpered and focussed her bleary eyes upon him.  He was perhaps somewhere in his late forties: well dressed, slightly greying but lean, with a neat moustache.  For an old man he was not bad looking…

He slapped her again.  ‘Now, what’s your name?’ he demanded.

Liza tried to pull free of his grasp but she was still feeling groggy and only succeeded in tearing her hair. ‘Oww! Don’t you dare hit me like that again you fucking old sod or else I’ll … awwww!’

He had slapped her again only much harder, making her cheeks burn and her head ring.

‘You will never use foul language in my presence again, do you understand?  Now I repeat: what is your name?’

Shocked by his words and blinking back fresh tears, Liza snivelled indistinctly. ‘Uh… Liza Jones.’

He looked her up and down with fresh interest and curious intensity.  ‘Really?  Eliza… that’s an interesting name…’

Had he mistaken her “Uh…” for an “E”?  ‘No… no, just Liza!’ she choked.

But he didn’t seem to take any notice.  ‘Well, Eliza, what are you going to do about the damage to my car?  You were going too fast and on the wrong side of the road.  Were you driving?  Are you insured?’

‘No… no, it wasn’t me, it was…’ but she couldn’t give him Zac’s name.  You didn’t drop a friend in it.

‘So you’re going to take sole responsibility for the damage?  Are you old enough?’

She felt panic begin to overwhelm her.  ‘No… yes… I mean… it’s my eighteenth birthday today.’

He smiled.  ‘Really.  Well, I think it’s going to be a memorable one…’

At that moment Riley emerged out of the night. ‘The car will need to be towed away, Sir.  Looks like the front axle’s bust.  There’s no sign of the others.  Think they’ve legged it.’  He held up a bag.  ‘I found this on the ground.’

‘That’s mine!’ Liza said feebly.

The man holding her hair looked back at Liza. ‘So, Eliza, you are all alone and your friends have abandoned you.  Can you afford to pay for the repairs to my car?’ 

A fresh knot of fear began to twist itself in her stomach.  Mutely she shook her head.

‘What about your parents, then?’ 

‘There’s… there’s just my mum… we live on the Madderslea Estate in Snelford.  She hasn’t got any money!’

‘Then you’ll have to pay.’

‘I can’t!  I haven’t got anything!’

‘Then I’ll have to turn you over to the police.’ 

Sick fear was filling her now.  That would ruin her chances of getting work, or maybe even signing on.  ‘No, please, you can’t.’

‘Then we’ll have to think of some other way for you to compensate me.’ He looked her up and down again. ‘Drunk and abusive as you are, you’re not quite without assets.  Suppose I say that if you strip off for me right now, I won’t tell the police you were involved in the accident?’

She gaped at him disbelief.  ‘What?’

‘You heard me, Eliza.  You strip off for me so I can have a proper look at you, and I won’t tell the police you were here.  That’s a simple enough bargain, isn’t it?’

‘You must be fucking mad… awww!’

He had slapped her cheek again, very hard.  She sobbed and squirmed, but she still couldn’t break free of his grasp.

‘You’ve only yourself to blame.  I warned you against using bad language, didn’t I?’

‘You… you can’t make me do anything like that…’ she choked.

‘I’m not making you do anything, I’m simply making an offer.  It’s up to you whether you take it up or not.  It may not be fair, but that is the way things are.  I am Sir Henry Harrison, and I am both rich and influential.  You are plain Eliza Jones, and, by your own admission, you are neither.   If I wished to, I could ruin you life or your mother’s.  Now you will strip or you will suffer the consequences…’

He let go of her hair and pushed her a few steps into the crossbeams of the Rolls-Royce’s headlights.

‘If she tries to run, you can catch her, can’t you Riley?’ Sir Henry said.

‘The state she’s in?  No problem Sir.’  Riley said, confidently.

Liza stood there in the light swaying and feeling sick and numb, hardly able to believe what was happening.

‘She seems to need help undressing, Riley.  Perhaps if you were to assist with some of the buttons…’

Riley took a step forward. Liza whimpered and fumbled with her dress.

So she stripped on that lonely back lane in the glare of a Rolls Royce’s headlights, kicking off her shoes, peeling off her dress, rolling down her tights and wriggling out of her underwear.  And as every piece came off, Riley silently gathered it up again.  In a minute, she was totally naked and trembling violently, although not from the mild early summer air.

‘Place your hands together behind your neck and turn about slowly so I can have a proper look at you,’ Sir Henry commanded.

Numbly she obeyed.  He walked around her looking up and down with a strange almost professional interest.  To her shame, she felt her nipples pricking up under his gaze.

‘A pretty face and excellent breasts,’ he said half to himself.  ‘Nice fleshy haunches… your legs could do with some work, but they show promise.  Your manner and diction are in need of a complete overhaul, of course, but I think you’ll do…’

He took hold of her hair again and she did not resist.  This could not be happening to her…

‘Open up the boot, Riley.  I think we may have found a girl for the yoke after all…’

Sir Henry led Liza round the back of the Rolls where Riley was opening up the boot.  Its door split in two; the upper half hinging upwards while the lower half folded down flat, jutting out over the rear bumper.  Its internal lights came on automatically revealing folded blankets and a lot of bungee cords hooked to recessed rings in the boot interior.  Protruding from a pouch hung on the side of the interior was what looked like the paddle of the table tennis bat, but with an unusually long handle.  Resting on the carpeted floor was a curiously shaped aluminium strut with a row of open rubber-lined clamps fastened to it, the middle one being bigger than the ones on the end.  It seemed to have an assortment of hooks, clips and rings on rubber cords fitted to it.

Sir Henry picked the device up so Liza could see it properly. ‘It should have been filled by now but the girl I was interviewing was not suitable.  Perhaps I was fated to find you instead.  Now turn around and hold up your hands so I can put it on you…’

Only then did she realize what it was for.  But before cold fear could break the dazed spell of her compliance, Riley took hold of her forearms and twisted her round to face him with her hands level with her head and elbows tucked down to her sides.

Sir Henry pressed the row of open clamps up against the back of her neck and wrists and they snapped shut about them.  She was yoked!  Riley pulled a spongy rubber ball strung on a rubber cord up from the front of the device and pushed it into her mouth as it opened, stifling her scream.  Sir Henry took hold of the handle at the back of the strut and pushed her forwards over the projecting back lid of the boot.  He and Riley took up some of the boot’s array of bungee cords and hooked them onto rings set on the ends of the yoke arm.  The tension pulled her upper body down so that her breasts mashed against the boot floor carpet, while her bare bottom jutted out invitingly.

She shrieked into her gag ball and twisted and strained and kicked wildly, but she could not pull herself free.

Leisurely, Sir Henry took the tennis bat like device out of its pouch and swished it through the air.  ‘Now you will stay still…’ he told her.

Swish, smack!  The rubber paddle blade struck her right buttock hard enough to make her flesh ripple and send shockwaves through her body.  She screamed into her gag ball, and jerked against the rubber cords holding her down, but only succeeding in rasping her bare breasts across the boot floor carpet.  Swish, smack!  The paddle struck her left buttock with the same effect.  She jerked and screamed again, her tears falling onto the folded blankets in the back of the boot.

From almost a minute, a steady hail of blows beat down on her buttocks until she could feel them burning in the night air.  Then Sir Henry rested his arm and stroked her hot bottom with his fingertips.

‘You have another choice, Eliza,’ he told her.  ‘I can either paddle your pretty bottom until you faint, which is quite a pleasant prospect its own right, or else…’ he slipped his fingers between her thighs and teased the furrow of her cleft, which was inexplicably hot and wet ‘… you beg me to couple with you.’

By now, Liza was sick and dizzy and could hardly think.  All she did know was that she wanted the pain to go away.  What did it matter how?  She was all alone and in his power.  He could take her anyway.  With a sob she nodded and dipped her back and spread her trembling legs a little more and offered her pussy to him. 

‘That was very nicely done,’ said Henry said warmly.

She felt him take hold of her hips and then felt the silky bulb of his stiff penis rubbing through her slot until it found the mouth of vagina.  It slid forward until it met resistance…

‘Oh… you’re a virgin!’ Sir Henry exclaimed, sounding surprised for the first time.

Liza whimpered.  She’d been saving it up for Zac.  That was how they were going to finish the night.  But he had run off and left her for this old man to screw…

‘How very delightful,’ Henry declared.  ‘This was fated…’ and he thrust hard into her. 

Liza screamed as her maidenhead was ruptured and torn aside, letting his hard shaft slide up into her passageway. This was not how it should have been…

He pumped away with assured power and experience up inside her, introducing her to the strange, terrifying and yet thrilling sensation of having other living thing within her most intimate parts, demanding its pleasure.  And, although it seemed impossible, pleasure was what she was feeling: a kind of mad, desperate pleasure that was her only relief from total despair.

She felt his hot sperm spurting inside her with wonder and revulsion, and then her lower belly clenched up.   A shock wave of raw sexual delight tore through her and exploded deep in her brain, while a jet of her own juices squirted out about his pumping shaft…

A timeless interval passed.  She realized her newly opened and aching vagina was empty.  Then, distantly, Liza heard Sir Henry speaking as he patted the back of her head.  ‘I think you’ll do, Eliza very well,’ he said.

And just for a moment, before revulsion cut through the blissful haze filling her mind, she felt a surge of relief that he approved of her.

Sir Henry spoke to Riley.  ‘Now I think you’d better get on the phone and report that we’ve have an accident…’

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Liza lay face down on the blankets inside the closed boot of the Rolls-Royce.  She was still yoked and gagged.  A cloth hood had been pulled over her head, and her legs were doubled up behind her so that her heels were pressed into her sore buttocks, held in place by more bungee cords.  So Henry’s sperm was seeping out from her sore and aching cleft and soaking into a couple of wadded paper handkerchiefs that Riley had thoughtfully stuffed up inside her.

‘You’ve damaged the side of my car, girl, so I’m not having you messing up the inside as well…’ he told her gruffly.

She heard the muffled sound of a police car drawing up close by and then an officer talking sympathetically to Sir Henry.

‘Yes, there were three or four of them in the other car,’ Sir Henry said. ‘At least one was a woman but we can’t be sure about the rest.  It was all over so quickly, you understand, there was no chance to get any detailed descriptions.  Then we wasted some time hoping they’d come back so we could sort all this out in a civilised fashion.  But when it was clear they weren’t, we called you…’

‘Of course, Sir. Very upsetting for you.  Are you all right to get home?’

‘Oh yes, my car is still fully mobile.  And I don’t live that far away from here.  Wyvenhoe Hall, you know…’