Chapter
1
Mr Bedford and Mr Cavor Purchase a Pair of
Slave Girls
As I sit down to write this narrative, it
comes to me with a certain quality of astonishment that my participation in the
amazing adventures of Mr Bedford and Mr Cavor was after all the outcome of the
purest accident. It might have been any woman in my circumstances. I fell into
these things at a time when I was at my lowest ebb and thought nothing worse
could possibly happen to me. Indeed, I
was a very different person then and it almost seems as if these events happened
to somebody else who chanced to share my name.
And so, it is in just such a detached manner that I have determined I
will relate this remarkable tale. When
or if anybody else shall ever read these words I cannot say, but I feel
compelled to set down an accurate record of these events while they are still
fresh in my mind.
How Mr
Bedford and Mr Cavor became first became involved with each other and conceived
of their extraordinary project will be revealed in due course. For myself, the
beginning was in the year 1901 and the place was the Folkestone Trade Hall in
the county of Kent, where a sale of chattel slaves was in progress…
* * *
‘Lot number 27,’ the auctioneer announced. ‘A
female by the name of Nancy, aged twenty- three, originally of good
upbringing…’
Sick with
fear and shame, Nancy Peckham was stood on the block. She was naked except for
a broad leather collar, flimsy slippers and the boldly printed numbered tag
hung about her neck, together with a handwritten card bearing her Christian
name. Her wrists were strapped together
behind her back. She had a compact build which might be described as curvaceous
and lightly olive-tinted skin. She had dark full brows, deep brown eyes and a
firm, slightly tip-tilted nose. There was a buxom quality about her bosom and
her breasts were tipped by brown nipples. She had womanly hips, fleshy buttocks
and sturdy thighs. The rich growth of pubic hair between her thighs was as dark
and glossy as that on her head.
And all
these intimacies that had so recently been private, were now being taken in by
so many strange eyes. Nancy screwed up
her own eyes and swayed, thinking she was about to faint. A sales assistant
standing behind the block smacked her buttocks and propped her up until she
steadied herself again.
‘I shall
start the bidding at ten guineas…’ The auctioneer said.
Numbered
cards began to be held up in the hall by interested bidders.
Fifteen
guineas, twenty… twenty-five…
How much
was she worth as a piece of female flesh? She had been reduced to a piece of
livestock, there to be bid for as a farmer might in the ring. The shame of it
was overwhelming and yet a streak of pride caused her to hope she would not be
sold cheaply. After all, it was all the
worth she had left.
‘Sold!’ And the gavel banged.
Lost in
the depths of her despair, Nancy had not heard the winning bid, nor seen who
had bought her.
* * *
After the auction was concluded, those
successful bidders waited at the sales office to collect their purchases. Nancy was taken out of the slave pen along
with another woman to be handed over to her new owner.
The other
girl had the name card “Hazel” hung about her neck. She was of a lean build,
with blonde hair and an innocent face with somewhat pouting lips. She had
high-set, neat breasts tipped with small pink nipples. Her hips were slim, her
pale buttocks were well rounded, and she had a golden pubic pelt. She also looked terrified and her face was
tear-streaked.
Nancy
found not one but two men waiting for them, who made an oddly matched pair. One
was perhaps twenty-five years old and of a solid build with dark hair and a
moustache and bright eyes. He had about
him an air of vigorous enthusiasm. The
other was a little older and shorter with a rather round body and thin legs. He
had a chubby rubicund face and radiated an air of absent-minded amiability.
The women
were handed over to them, and their auction house collars were exchanged for
the collars and leashes the men had brought with them. Nancy shuddered as these restraints were
exchanged. Her instinct was to shrink
back from them and somehow seek her freedom, but she knew that was no longer a
choice. By the law of the land, she and
Hazel now belonged to these men, and any attempt to escape would lead them to
being hunted down and punished.
Once they
were both leashed, the young man pushed rubber ring gags into their
mouths. The rings projecting side spokes
with smaller rings on their ends to which the gag straps were tied. These were wedged between their teeth,
stretching their lips back and holding their mouths open.
‘Keep them
muzzled and don’t let them chatter, or else they’ll try to soften your heart
with sad stories about how much they have suffered,’ he advised his
companion. ‘There’s only one use for
slave girls’ mouths that you should be interested in, and we’ll soon teach them
what that is.’
How
lightly he had dismissed her past life, Nancy thought wretchedly. Yet in a selfish way he was right. It was no concern of his how she and Hazel
came to be in this situation, as long as they gave him the service he required.
Perhaps it would be as well for them to
forget their past. They could never go back to how things were.
They were
led out of the trade door of the hall onto a backstreet. Hazel gave a moan of shame as she was
suddenly exposed in the open to the gaze of passers-by, while Nancy felt her
cheeks burning. This was inhuman! But
this was her life now.
They were
led along to a taxi rank where the men engaged a closed four-seater carriage.
‘White
Chimneys, Marsh Lane, Lympne,’ she heard the older man tell the driver.
The women
were dragged inside and sat on the seats facing the men, instinctively huddling
together. The carriage pulled away and began winding through the streets of
Folkestone until they struck the coast road leading towards Hythe.
The
younger man grinned appreciatively at his two new purchases, looking them up
and down closely. Nancy saw a bulge forming in the front of his trousers. Hazel whimpered and squeezed her thighs
together. The man leaned forward and slapped her knees.
‘You
don’t hide anything from us,’ he warned her.
Miserably
she spread her thighs, exposing the fluffy delta of her pubic curls.
‘You
too,’ he told Nancy.
Feeling
sick she opened her thighs to them as well.
The bulge
in the front of his trousers grew larger.
The older
man was looking doubtful. ‘This is
another expense, Bedford. Are you sure
this was wise?’
‘They are
a sound investment, Cavor. We’ll need travelling companions and helpers who can
also provide as with all the comforts of home. Like this…’
He
reached forward and took hold of Nancy by her hair and pulled her down onto her
knees in the well between the seats. With his other hand, he unbuttoned his
flies and freed his straining direction. He pushed her face down into his groin
so that his penis slid up between her parted lips.
Even
though she had never performed such an intimate act before, Nancy knew what was
expected of her. Miserably she pushed
her tongue through the rubber ring holding her mouth wide and lapped it about
the shaft of his penis. The raw male scent
of it filled her nostrils while its texture was so strange: hard and soft at
the same time. He began to bob her head
up and down, impaling her mouth upon his manhood while she tried not to choke
as his shaft slid down her throat.
‘You
see,’ he said to Cavor. ‘Now you try yours out…’
Cavor
looked uncertain from moment and then he pulled Hazel down onto her knees in
front of him and freed his own flies. She coughed and choked as he penetrated
her throat and fresh tears ran down her cheeks, but with his hand holding a
fistful of her golden hair, she had no choice but to pleasure him.
And so,
as the carriage made its way along the coast road and then turned inland
towards the village of Lympne, Nancy and Hazel gave lip service to their new
masters. When the men’s climaxes came,
they tried not to choke as hot seed was squirted down their throats, which they
swallowed dutifully.
By the
time the taxi-carriage pulled up outside the gates of a large country house,
even Cavor was looking happily relaxed.
‘I must
admit that was quite pleasant,’ he said.
‘I told
you so,’ Bedford replied. ‘It perfectly normal and healthy. One’s passions must not be bottled up.’
Suddenly
Cavor’s reverie melted into a look of panic and hastily he and consulted his
pocket watch. ‘Oh my! We’ve been away
for some time. I hope Gibbs has kept the furnace well stoked.’
‘It’s
only been a few hours, Cavor,’ Bedford reassured him. ‘You can afford to take
some time off…’
They
disembarked, leading the women after them through the gates and into the
gardens of the house. It was slightly dilapidated, with four tall white
chimneys that gave it its name, and it was situated on a low rise so that it
could look out over the expanse of the Romney Marshes. But the oddness of the
place soon became apparent. There was a small gasometer in the garden and
carelessly scattered piles of nameless equipment gathering weeds, together with
a large outdoor shed which looked newly made.
The
interior of the house was even stranger.
All the
carpets on the ground floor seemed to have been removed and it now accommodated
furnaces, boilers, dynamos and benches of machine tools and chemical
apparatus. The air was heavy with
strange scents and the tang of steam and coal smoke.
All this
was being tended, in a rather desultory fashion, by three workmen in aprons
grimy with coal and grease. They turned
to look at their employer with this new naked slave girl absentmindedly in tow
as he made a hasty inspection of the boiler temperature and pressure
valves. As Bedford followed in his wake,
leading Nancy after him, smiles of curious approval appeared on the men’s grimy
faces.
‘I see
you made some purchases, Sir,’ one of them volunteered.
‘Are they
part of the experiment, Sir?’ another asked.
What
experiment, Nancy wondered, feeling a frisson of alarm?
‘There is
no concern of yours, Spargus,’ Bedford said. ‘Now get back to your work,
there’s a good fellow…’
‘Yes,
Sir,’ the other glowered.
Bedford
and Cavor led the women through to another room and shut the door. It was piled
with more complicated apparatus arrayed about its workbenches, together with a
drill press and lathe.
‘Your men
are getting curious about what all this is leading up to, Cavor,’ Bedford said.
‘Seeing these women will puzzle them, though. Still, it’s just as well we’re
nearly ready to go.’
‘Is it
really wise to take them along, Bedford?’ Cavor pondered.
‘We
agreed all this already,’ Bedford said.
‘They will be very useful.’
‘But what
if they panic or misbehave?’
‘That’s
why we’re going to teach them some discipline.
I worked in the flesh trade for a while. It doesn’t take long to break a
woman in. Neither of these are virgins
so they have some experience. They’ll
soon learn who their new masters are, and I guarantee you they won’t give as
any trouble. Have you got the device ready?
In
response, Cavor went over to an object in the corner covered by a dust sheet.
He wheeled it into the centre of the room and then pull the sheet off. It was an old hand-cranked “Spank and Riddle”
machine built for two women, to which an electric motor had been added.
Triangular
iron side frames supported between them a rotating rod with leather flails
fixed to it, that was positioned above a padded horizontal bending bar. Beneath and behind this, a pair of vertical
rods, capped with large greased rubber dildo tips that bristled with curving
prongs about their shafts, were connected to a gearing system that also drove
the flail rod. This was in turn driven by a chain drive connected to the shaft
of a crank handle on one side of the device, which had been replaced by a heavy
electric motor. A thick electric flex
ran across to a large switch box on one of the benches. Sets of cuffs were
fitted to the base of the frame on either side.
‘Let’s
get them in position…’ Bedford said briskly.
The women
were bent over the padded bar and their legs were spread and secured to the
cuffs on the base of the frame. Their wrists were unstrapped from behind their
backs and their arms were stretched down the front of them and secured to more
sets of cuffs. Now their bottoms were raised up so that the limp leather straps
of the flail above them just brushed their bare cheeks. Bedford adjusted the ends of the plunger arms
so that the tips of their dildos lodged in their vaginas.
Hazel
twisted her head round to look at Nancy. Her eyes were filled with fear and
desperate pleading that Nancy could do nothing to ease.
‘Go on,
switch it on, Cavor.’ Bedford prompted.
Cavor
threw the switch and the motor hummed into life. The flail rod began to spin,
and its leather straps were flung outwards.
At the same time the vertical shafts began to pump up and down, driving
the rubber dildos into their vaginas.
Hazel and
Nancy gasped as they were penetrated deeply, at the same time as their upturned
buttocks began to receive a vicious lashing.
Their buttock cheeks shivered and rippled even as their soft sex lips
were parted by the thick pumping dildos and teased by their many radiating
prongs, that dug into their furrows and taunted their most secret organs of
pleasure. They yelped and dribbled
through their wedged mouths and their eyes filled with tears.
Bedford
and Cavor walked around them, observing their distress with evident approval.
‘Tell me
that’s not a pleasant distraction from all your concerns,’ Bedford said.
‘I
suppose it is quite amusing,’ Cavor conceded.
The
machine was relentless. Pain and carnal pleasure grew within them. Neither could be avoided but one could be
embraced. Even as their bottoms burned, their sexual organs were inflamed and
began to drip with helpless excitement, while the nipples of their almost
inverted jiggling breasts stood up hard.
‘You see,
it’s working on them already,’ Bedford said. ‘It’s natural for them to respond
like this. A few more sessions and they’ll be perfectly obedient. They’ll be as
good as gold by the time we set off for the moon!’