Prelude
Saturday 6th September 2008 5.00pm
The bar of a large well attended rugby club on the outskirts of London.
“David Hi, you played a blinder my friend no mistake”
“Thank you Gerry. You were seriously on top of your game as well. Pint is it?”
The man addressed as Gerry smiled and spoke again in his soft Irish voice.
“That’ll be just fine now, just fine. I’m thinking that a little stroll around the
park to take in some air would be a fine idea as well.”
“Good idea, the seconds are still playing, we could take a look while the bar calms
down and then come back for some more beers.”
They push their way gently to the bar exchanging slaps on the back and joshing with
those other members of the team who are badgering the harassed bar staff for drinks. A
few minutes later they are walking across an empty pitch to where the second team game is
in progress.
“This game isn’t the only one on the up and up my friend.”
“Ahhh yes, I was rather thinking that myself. I was talking with the human
resources contractor for our little venture, she tells me it’s all ready to run, also the
contractor working on the financials and legals says that his work is done and the
principal has agreed the terms and it’s to be 15 in Euro on delivery.”
“Indeed, that’s most gratifying, to be sure, most gratifying. My own small
contribution is all in place so it would appear that we are ready to roll.”
“We are indeed. Oh good man, good man, excellent tackle. Did you see that Gerry?
That lad’ll be in the firsts soon enough.”
“I did, I did indeed, as you say definitely first team material. Like our
material, really definitely first class with a bit of training I’m sure they’ll both whip
into shape admirably.”
Both men smiled at each other and raised their glasses in a toast.
“Now if you’ll just leave the choice of date to me I think all will be well. Will
you be having another jar then?”
“Of course and maybe another after that.”
“Indeed, it is rude not to I think.”
“Quite so.”
The two large fit young men walk slowly back to the camaraderie of the club and a
few more beers, exchanging jests and comments with all whom they met on the way.
Initiation
Friday 12th September 2008 8.30pm
Amanda came around slowly, her mind fuzzy, she was having great difficulty
understanding where she was and, more importantly, how she was. She blinked several times
and realised that she wasn’t blind, just in a very dark place. She tried to move but
found that to be impossible, her arms seemed to be restrained behind her back and
something was pulling on her hair. Even worse was the feeling that something was cutting
into her chest immediately below and above her breasts and in two places on her thighs.
Worse of all was that something appeared to be pulling at her anus.
Slowly her mind, which was highly intelligent, began to make sense of the
situation and when it did she panicked and began to scream. As her howls echoed around
the room, a light immediately above her began to slowly brighten until she was hanging in
a pool of light. That was it, confirmation of the assessment her brain had arrived at
only seconds before.
She was hanging; naked, suspended horizontally face down a little less than a
metre above the floor. Her legs, she realised were spread wide open, bent at the knee
with a rope attached to each of her ankles. She had just come to the conclusion that the
discomfort in her anus and the fact her head was held back were in some way connected when
a laugh caused her to jerk her head from side to side.
She couldn’t see the source of the laughter but the realisation that she thought
knew the voice sent a cold chill through her already chilled body. A hand caressed her
buttocks and then the voice spoke. She was right it was him.......
“So, Amanda here you are hanging about and at our mercy.”
Our???
Another hand stroked the soft sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs.
“Yes Amanda, still so lovely, nice presentation as well. So spread,” the fingers
brushed her labia, so moist, so available.”
It was a woman’s voice and that, if possible, frightened her even more than the
first voice.
She felt a body against her left side by her waist and a hand squeezed her left
breast. She tried to move her head far enough to see behind her but it was impossible.
The body to her left was joined by one on her right and a fourth pair of hands caressed
her body, this time it was her right breast. Two more male voices added their comments,
the first a mocking English public school trained voice.
“Amanda, your tits are just as firm as ever and this position suits them. Makes
your nipples stick out so well.”
The second a soft, lilting, Irish brogue.
“He’s quite right darling, it does great things for a girl’s tits hanging her up
like this. David and Jane have to be congratulated don’t you think?”
Her mind raced, David, Jane, Mark and Gerald. Her three former lovers and her
current lover. Clearly their presence in this room together with her bound and naked
boded badly for her. She screamed as her thoughts were interrupted by a searing pain
flaring across both her buttocks. There was a click of a woman’s heels on the floor and
Jane came into Amanda’s field of vision. Amanda gasped, this was not the soft gentle Jane
De Vries of her memories, this was a black leather clad Dominatrix carrying a vicious
looking riding crop. She pushed the crop against Amanda’s lips.
“I hope you liked that slave, you’re going to get used to the feel of it. Now kiss
it before it kisses you again.”
She tried to turn her head but the hands caressing her breasts suddenly moved to
take her nipples between finger and thumb and then squeezed. Gerald’s Irish brogue
whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
“Best do as she says slave, obedience is your only chance to avoid even more
pain.”
Even as he said this the fingers squeezed her nipples sending shafts of pain though
both breasts. She screamed with shock and then as the use of the word ‘slave’ worked its
way into her still woozy mind, she swore at them all.
“You bunch of fucking lunatics. I’m no one’s slave. Let me down fuck it, let me
down you bastards.
Jane moved quickly out of Amanda’s field of vision. The heels of her boots
clicking on the floor. There was a swish of air and Amanda howled once more as the crop
seared her unprotected buttocks. It didn’t stop at one stroke this time; Jane began to
deliver a series of brutal strokes. She didn’t deliver them in a flurry of rage, this was
a slow measured punishment, hard, merciless and accompanied with a monologue.
“So Lady Amanda thinks we should let her down.”
The crop bit deep into well rounded buttocks leaving a bright red weal in its
tracks.
“She is no one’s slave, she says.”
The crop slammed down again.
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