CHAPTER ONE
'A day at the Manor'
It was bound to be a disappointment, thought Bob. How could it be anything else? The
picture he had been painted sounded so much like heaven that the reality was bound to fall
short.
"Bob, mate, you'll love it," Tom had said. "You can pick whichever
one you like, and make her do whatever you like, and do to her whatever you like. It
doesn't matter what she likes at all, she gets no say in it. And they're all
lovely; really beautiful. Sure, it's not cheap, but believe me it'll be a night
to remember."
Well, he wasn't short of a quid or two, so he paid his money and went, but even now
he couldn't quite believe it. Beautiful young slave girls - real slaves, not pretend
- in a large old house in England, only an hour or so's drive from London? Robert,
old pal, he said to himself, someone is pulling your leg. This just can't be true.
But it was!
He arrived at the entrance to the estate, high walls and a solid wooden gate in an
isolated part of Sussex, just as it had been described to him. His ringing on the bell
was answered, as Tom said it would be, by this man in a sort of butler's outfit.
Polite and urbane he might have been, but there was something quietly sinister about this
short but plump little man: his baldness, the roundness of his face and the treble chin
failed to make him look weak or harmless, but the moustache succeeded totally in giving
him the look of someone it would be unwise to cross. His manner, however, was decorum
itself. He checked Bob's identity, confirmed that he was expected, invited him to
park his car just inside the gateway - Bob noticed that the gate was securely locked
behind him, with the key immediately removed so that it could not be opened from the
inside - and informed him that a "pony and cart" was on its way to collect him.
It was just returning from delivering tonight's other visitor to the house - Bob had
noted the other car which his was now parked beside.
He got quite a shock when he saw the "pony and cart." The cart was an
unexceptional, very lightweight two-wheeler; but the "pony" was a striking
flame-haired young woman of Amazonian proportions harnessed to it. She was almost six
feet tall, with muscular yet feminine arms, a large and firm chest with a flat tummy and
excitingly sculpted legs rising to an inviting love nest guarded only by luscious curls of
red-blonde hair. All this he could tell quite easily, since apart from the harness and
boots she was totally nude.
Somewhat hesitantly, Bob climbed up into the cart and took hold of the reins. The girl
showed no signs of moving. Clearly a command was called for. A polite invitation to her
to lead on was on his lips, but it would surely be the wrong thing to do. Instead, still
rather uncertain, he flicked the reins. Immediately she began to push herself forward and
the cart soon gathered pace. Her muscles rippled under her smooth and sensuous skin and
she pulled the contraption as if it weighed nothing, although he could see a tiny trickle
of sweat running down her back despite the coldness of the February evening. The harness
made her bend over at the waist and her bottom filled his horizon: she was a big girl, but
nevertheless there was not a trace of fat on her buttocks or thighs. If she had anything
to say, she was unable to say it: a metal bit blocked her mouth, preventing her top and
bottom lip from meeting but not impeding her breathing, which was deep but steady. Bob
fingered the reins, hesitated, and then could not resist the impulse to flick the girl a
second time with them. The two parallel leather straps slapped into the bare back with
more force than he had intended, but there was no complaint; however, there was an
immediate quickening of pace, despite the fact that they were already moving quite
quickly.
The driveway widened into a courtyard, and the manor house came into view. It looked
like an old vicarage, although he gathered that the goings-on there were certainly not the
sort of thing that the local reverend might approve of. The girl pulled the cart right up
to the entrance steps, and stopped. He stepped down, deliberately alighting on the wrong
side of the house to give himself the excuse to walk in front of her and ogle her. Her
chest rose and fell steadily, and her breathing was still even despite the impediment of
the bit. A layer of perspiration made her breasts gleam, and he noticed a name stencilled
neatly on her left breast in inch-high marker pen: Hercules. As he walked up the steps,
she began to move off, heading down the drive once more. He watched her go, fascinated,
and only when she was out of sight did he turn and ring the bell.
When the door was opened, he got another eyeful. Another naked young woman stood there.
"Good evening, master," she began, and then, seeing that his attention was
focused entirely on her body, patiently waited for his eyes to drink their fill before
continuing, making no effort to hide herself, although he had the impression that she did
not enjoy the attention. She was as elfin and petite as the first girl had been
statuesque; fine blonde hair tied in ribbons emphasised her youth - she looked as if she
was only sixteen - and framed a face that was both lovely and looked serenely innocent, in
total contrast to her nudity. Apart from the ribbons, her only adornment was a
lightweight black leather collar fastened loosely around her neck; below that nestled two
still developing breasts pushing firmly upwards, the left of which bore the name
"Egg". This, he later found out, was in reference to the bald state of her
mound of Venus, she being the only shaved girl in the household. He was far too busy
taking her body in to notice the slight flush of her cheeks as she stood there for his
inspection. When she judged that he would now give sufficient attention to her voice, she
said "Please follow me, master" and turned and walked off. Bewitched by the
unconscious gentle sway of her bottom as her bare feet padded over the sumptuous carpet,
wild horses could not have prevented him from moving after her. Only faintly was it
registering in his mind that she had twice referred to him as "master".
She led him into a lounge and turned to face him once more, indicating an armchair into
which he sank.
"My fellow slaves will be with us momentarily, master, and then you may choose
which of us you want," she said in a beautiful light voice. "There is a file
giving information on us on the table by your side which may assist your choice. I regret
that Longlegs is unavailable, as she is being used by another guest, but if you would like
Hercules then she can be available shortly, and one of us will take over the cart."
He looked at her slight form, unable to imagine her being able to pull that cart with a
fully grown man in it.
"And don't think for a moment that she can't do it," said a male
voice behind him, easily reading his thoughts. Bob turned and struggled out of the deep
armchair to shake the offered hand of (he correctly assumed) his host. The newcomer
introduced himself as Charles and identified Bob, explaining that only first names were
used here.
"Of course, Hercules can beat her in a race, but Egg here can still take you
anywhere you want in the cart at a quite reasonable pace. She just needs a bit more whip
for encouragement sometimes, don't you girl?"
"Yes, master." Incredible that the girl accepted without argument the
possibility of being whipped!
"Anyway," continued Charles, "I just popped in to make sure that they are
taking good care of you. If the one you choose is not completely satisfying, do please
let me know and we'll replace her with another of your choice and, of course,
suitably deal with the faulty one. Have a good evening." With that, he departed.
Bob sank back into his chair just as another door to the lounge opened. Still
struggling with the other shocks he had taken so far, Bob's jaw dropped as three more
girls, each totally unclothed and apparently unconcerned about it, walked in and lined up
in front of him. Egg moved to stand beside them to make the line four wide. At first
Bob's eyes roved almost frantically, then he calmed a little and began looking at
each girl in turn. The first was another blonde, with pale skin and just a hint of
freckles. The word "Virgin" was printed on her firm pear-shaped mammary,
although Bob, quite correctly, couldn't see how she could actually be virgo intacta
if she was regularly "on offer" as she was tonight. She had the supple grace of
an athlete, but just a hint of innocence. Next to her was a brunette, with curly
uncontrolled hair, small but firm round breasts and, as Bob could not help but admire when
he got them all to turn round, the most superb bottom he had yet seen. Her name,
according to her bosom, was "Hot Lips". The third was rather older, auburn
haired with an air of sophistication and evident class, rather mocked by the name
"Milady Cunt". She looked somewhat crest-fallen, as if she had fallen a long
way from aristocratic origins - which, in fact, she had. Actually, none of them looked
wildly enthusiastic, but they were undoubtedly totally co-operative.
When he could at last wrest his eyes away from their exposed charms, Bob consulted the
file. Each girl had a page of data, in addition to full frontal nude photos, which were
rather superfluous given that they were displaying themselves before him at this very
moment. Egg was just sixteen, Virgin seventeen, Hot Lips was twenty and Milady Cunt
twenty-six. Measurements, weight, details of slave experience and all sorts of private
information, including sexual prowess, was here. Virgin had been a virgin when she
"joined", hence the name, and consequently had only ever known sex as a slave.
When roused, she would get deliciously embarrassed. Egg was keen to please; all of them,
he had been assured, would make every effort to satisfy him, but she seemed to have the
idea that since he was paying for this, he deserved the best she could give. Hot Lips was
a specialist in oral sex. Milady Cunt, who was indeed a former member of the aristocracy,
was quite a nymphomaniac: in her former life she had screwed around a great deal and,
although she could no longer choose either the time or the partner, still needed regular
doses of sex. Hercules' file was also there: she was nineteen, a former female
body-builder with what was described as a firm body and, of course, plenty of stamina.
Longlegs' curriculum was also worth a look: the photo was that of a poised model, as
the file confirmed she had been. She was twenty-two. Bob sighed. What a choice!
In the end he opted for Egg, who sent a shiver through him every time he looked at her.
The others departed obediently, one or two looking relieved that they hadn't been
chosen. Egg remained standing before him, and for a moment he did not know what to do
next, but she quickly guided him through the choices.
"If you want to beat me a little, master," she said in that thrilling voice of
hers, "there is a choice of instruments in the bureau over there. There are some
bondage rooms elsewhere in the house if you want, or a dungeon if you want to do it
hard." She sounded unenthusiastic about the prospect, but clearly prepared to obey
if need be. However, he chose the bedroom instead. He had a wonderful time: she
skilfully built him up whilst keeping him from going off for as long as possible; when he
finally did explode into the condom the house rules insisted upon, she cleaned him off and
gently caressed him until he built up for a second climax.
It was quite late when he almost staggered out of the house; Hercules was waiting in the
floodlit courtyard, goose pimples now evident on her flesh in the cold, to take him back
to the gate-house and his car. The sight of that magnificent rear pumping away as she
pulled the cart revitalised him once more, and when they reached their destination he
alighted and then nerved himself to reach out and stroke her lovely flanks. She made
absolutely no move to resist him, and so he explored further. She was totally docile,
staring out expressionlessly into the darkness. The butler appeared and discreetly
mentioned that there was a supply of condoms in the gate-house, and Hercules could be
quickly and easily unharnessed. The young woman made absolutely no reaction to this
offering of her body without consultation with her. Bob was tempted, but he sorely doubted
his ability to come again after Egg had drained him so thoroughly, and he did not want to
risk failing. On the other hand, this incredibly succulent creature was completely and
freely available. Still hesitating, he looked into her eyes, and saw that the possibility
of being used had intensified the unhappiness behind the blank expression. A thrill of
power surged through him, that she was his despite her own wishes, and that settled it.
He nodded, and the butler began freeing the girl of her harness. He could feel his
manhood rising once more, and felt confident now that he could give her a good seeing-to.
And one day very soon he would be back here again. Oh, yes, indeed!
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