CHAPTER 1

 

"Get them off," he growled, moving his face even closer to hers.

"Get them off before I rip them off!"

Sir Robert Charles, recently knighted for services to the Bar and the Legal Profession, glared at Doctor Phyllida Clarke, newly qualified medical doctor.

She was shaking with fear and misery.

With trembling fingers and quivering bottom lip, she slowly began to unfasten her blouse.

She could feel his breath on her face.

He was so close that she could not lower her face without touching it against his. The backs of her hands brushed his shirt as she continued down her line of buttons. When the moment came for her to peel off her blouse she realised her lace encupped breasts would also brush against him as her shoulders and elbows reached back to unfasten the clasp of her bra, pushing her chest forwards.

All her buttons were now unfastened, her blouse hung loose, ready to be shrugged off and reveal her bra to these strangers.

"Stop!" he said. "Wait!"

She dropped her hands to her side, far too intelligent to imagine that this was a reprieve, but fervently hoping it might be.

'He's going back to his chair to get a better view' she thought bitterly, and she was right.

Her tiny spark of hope faded.

She was trapped in a web she couldn't begin to understand.

Sir Robert Charles settled himself back in his chair behind his broad antique desk. He smiled at Phyllida and made a gesture with his hands that said, "Carry on!"

Either side of him were a Mr and Mrs Griffon, she a Justice of the Peace and Chair of Magistrates, he a local councillor and chair of the Chamber of Commerce.

All of them looked grim.

To one side of the room stood Sally, the little bitch of a solicitor who had conned her into this mess, and behind her was Alan York, the private detective who had brought her here.

Shaking uncontrollably she unfastened the cuff buttons and slid her blouse off completely, leaving it to fall to the floor.

Her breasts quivered like jellies inside her expensive bra. Soon even that flimsy illusion of protection would be gone.

She looked down at her feet, placed apart, almost on the edges of the low, carpeted platform upon which she was standing.

'All the better to see me with' she thought wryly, remembering the Red Riding Hood tale.

 

***

 

Apart from that one, single, awful night, she had never been nude in front of anyone since she was a child.

Her unrelenting application to her studies had precluded boyfriends. She thought she might have lost her virginity during a heavy petting session once, when she had felt a sharp pain as the inexperienced boy had pushed his fingers inside her, but she wasn't sure.

Again, her intelligence told her that they didn't want her naked and defenceless just to look at her. They were going to hurt her.

And she also understood she would certainly not be a virgin by the time this was all over, even if she was now.

All that remained was for them to decide how the pain was to be applied, and how much would satisfy them!

Without waiting to be told Phyllida reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting it fall to join her blouse. Her breasts bounced into view, heavy and globular, the nipples pointing slightly upwards.

She stood straight, staring over their heads, letting them get a good look at her rather generous tits. She's always been rather proud of them. Large and round, full and firm. They swayed as she moved. Her nipples were a deep pink, her areolae paler and unusually sensitive, swelling with that 'cottage loaf' effect that the boys seemed to like, instead of just lying flat.

'No point trying to hide them' she thought. 'No point trying to hide anything!'

She fought back her tears. It was a price she had to pay.

Taking a deep breath she slid her zip down and dropped her skirt, then peeled off her knickers.

She parted her legs again and stood naked before her tormentors, awaiting her fate.

The thin line of pubic hair she had spent so long shaving to perfection seemed to be laughing at her now.

Running down the centre of her mound and ending at the cleft between her legs, it pointed the way for her tormentors to the most sensitive part of her body. The most fruitful tormenting grounds!

She heard Alan York step closer to her. He took one of her wrists and deftly cuffed it to the other, behind her. She was taken aback by the difference it made just having her hands taken away from her. She was suddenly completely vulnerable. Her whole front, all the important and sensitive bits, were readily available for anything they wanted to do to them. She had no defences left. She was at their mercy and they didn't seem inclined to show her any.

She almost began to plead before they had even touched her.

The trio stood up and came around the desk. They gathered in front of her.

"Keep still, keep your head up. Part your legs further!"

Phyllida spread her ankles wider and found a point on the bookcase to focus on.

The woman began.

She lifted each of Phyllida's warm, full breasts, weighing them in her hands, then batted them side to side with soft slaps, as if gauging her golf swing. She squeezed and kneaded them, and finally twisted hard on the nipples, bringing a low gasp from behind Phyllida's gritted teeth.

Then she ran her hands over Phyllida's abdomen and slid her fingers along the cleft at the junction of her legs. A hiss escaped from between the same clenched teeth and a slight shudder travelled throughout Phyllida's body.

"Are you fit? You look and feel fit. Do you ride?"

Nonplussed, Phyllida stuttered, "Er, yes Ma'am. I was brought up riding. I do keep myself fit."

Running one thumb over a nipple, while delving for a clitoris with the other hand, Mrs Griffon said "I think she'll do. Seems fit enough to take it. Good strong tits!"

She turned away and sat down, wiping her now slippery fingers on a tissue. She began writing notes.

The two men were more thorough.

They both examined Phyllida in great detail, making her turn and spread her legs to the opposite corners of the platform, opening her labia to deeper examination. They pulled her slippery outer lips in all directions, pinching them to gain a firm grip then stretching them until she squeaked. They pulled on her inner lips too, spreading her wings until her clitoris popped out of its little shelter. They both masturbated her, trying both deep vaginal massage and clitoral stimulation.

Phyllida was panting with arousal, trying hard but failing in her efforts not to respond. As her arousal grew she began panting hard, doubling forward in an effort to escape the merciless teasing of both pairs of male hands.

They stopped.

She groaned with both relief and frustration.

"This is no good. She cannot be allowed to move away like this," then turning to Phyllida. "You must learn to keep still while under examination. How will you be when the real pressure begins?"

Robert Charles sounded perfectly reasonable. The girl couldn't help apologising.

"I, I'm sorry Sir. I'll try harder, but you were making me come and I couldn't stand it, I just couldn't!"

"Very well," soothed the tormentor. "We'll help you, but we can't excuse you any of our treatment, you must know that. You must take it all!"

Phyllida stood in a twisted, half bent over position, her knees tightly together. Her body shuddered every now and then with pulses of spoiled orgasm. She sobbed softly.

"Thank you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Thank you!"

Allan York stepped forward with a sort of rubber harness. He strapped it around Phyllida's shoulders and buckled it tightly. It was almost like a bra in reverse, pulling her shoulders back until her shoulder blades almost met in the middle. Her breasts rose and pointed far out in front of her under the pressure of the harness, making them feel even more vulnerable and defenceless.

"Downstairs, I think!" said Sir Robert, and they all nodded.

Phyllida felt Alan York grip one of her arms and propel her towards the door.

Leaving her clothes and bag behind, Phyllida was frog marched, breasts bouncing, along a corridor and down several flights of stairs. The temperature dropped as they descended, giving her nipples even more reason to stick out and pucker.

They entered a dimly lit room which Phyllida didn't get chance to take in before Alan produced a long length of piano wire, with a little crocodile clip on each end.

With dread Phyllida's eyes locked onto the shiny clips.

She had never seen such clips before, but was in no doubt as to their application.

"We have these specially made for us," Robert explained to the now silent and fearful Phyllida. "They have tiny teeth, quite sharp, and quite a strong spring too!"

At a nod from Sir Robert, Alan York pushed Phyllida up onto another low platform. He looped the piano wire through a hook hanging from the ceiling, then clipped her nipples, letting the wicked little teeth sink in just where the nipple joined the rest of the breast.

She squealed.

"OW! Ow. No. Please. Please take them off. Please. God they hurt. I will keep still, I will. Oh please take them off, please."

Ignoring her supplications, Mr Griffon pressed a button on a wall panel, and with a soft whirring noise the hook began to rise, lifting the piano wire with it.

Phyllida's cries rose to new heights as the full truth dawned on her. She began to beg again as the wires tightened and began to lift her breasts, the little teeth gripping more tightly as they took the strain. Her hands and wrists twisted and heaved on the cuffs in desperation, trying to drag one hand at least out of its trap, but they gave nothing. Yowling in pain and misery, she climbed to her toes and strained for more height. Anything to take the pressure off her tortured tits.

The whirring stopped.

"Now, there you are, looking nice and tall and straight. Now you'll be able to concentrate on all the sensations we give you, without turning away from the delights just at the very peak of pleasure! Wonderful! Don't forget to keep your legs spread!"

Robert turned to Mr Griffon.

"Shall we carry on?"

Mr Griffon nodded and Phyllida wailed.

The remorseless manipulation of Phyllida's cunt began again, and every time she moved the sharp tug of the teeth on her nipples shot jags of pain through her breasts.

Her eyes were streaming, her deep gasping sobs a combination of distress, fear and approaching orgasm.

She threw her head back and began to howl like a dog as she felt the devilish spasms of orgasm begin in her belly. Her toes strained and ached agonisingly as she fought for more height, and still the fingers circled and stroked and probed relentlessly.

Her cries rose higher as her uncontrolled orgasm took control of her entire body. Her nipples felt as if they would tear off, her feet cramped and all the time her body jerked and spasmed and twitched and there was no relief.

Her torturers stepped back, smiling benignly at the streaming, exhausted, sobbing wreck of a girl, still scrabbling to take some weight off her tits.

Robert Charles nodded to Mrs Griffon and she pressed the 'down' button. The motor whirred and Phyllida's breasts lowered on their wires to a more natural position.

"Take them off. Please, please take them off." she begged.

Robert Charles stepped forward again and unclipped the nipple clamps.

Phyllida sank to her knees, distraught, gulping in great lungs full of air between sobs.

The three smiled at her.

"Now you have an idea of what awaits you!" Robert Charles said. "When we warned you it wouldn't be an easy option, we meant it. Now you know!"

She nodded, sobbing in pain and misery.

"You may go now, today's introduction is over. Your real punishment will begin next Saturday. It will take several weekends and you can expect to suffer great pain and discomfort. It will be better if you book Monday's off for the next month. Arrange leave from work. You will not be fit for work on Mondays. Go with Sally, she will help you bathe and dress, then she will drive you home."

Phyllida crawled to her feet, tears still streaming. Sally released the harness, which was still holding back Phyllida's shoulders, and freed her arms. Phyllida immediately held her breasts, cradling them and crying bitterly.

She followed Sally back up the stairs and across the hall to a large and luxurious bathroom.

Sally said, "There is a little blue glass pot of cream on the shelf over the basin. It is anaesthetic. Put some on your nipples. If you perform well you will be allowed to use it after each session. If not you will just have to put up with the pain. I'll wait out here. Take your time, there is no rush."

 

***

 

A few nights earlier Dr Phyllida Clarke had been arrested and taken into custody.

With the others from her course, she had been celebrating her newly acquired medical qualification in a local 'Gentleman's Lounge'. She had drunk too much, stripped naked and joined the strippers and pole dancers on the platform.

A cat fight had broken out when the professional girls had objected to this stunning amateur stealing their audience, and Dr Phyllida had been cuffed and stuffed into the back of a police van. On arrival at the station she had promptly vomited over the custody sergeant, punched a female officer, then pulled off her clothes again and offered to fuck every man in the station.

When Sally arrived a couple of hours later Phyllida was in a terrible state.

She was filthy, stinking of vomit and stale booze, mortified at her own behaviour and heartbroken at the prospect of a career ruined before it could start.

She was desperate to somehow undo the appalling damage to her reputation and salvage whatever she could of her career.

Sally's quiet, common sense and kind practicality immediately began to calm her down and show her glimmers of hope.

Sally quickly arranged for her to use the shower and be issued a set of custody overalls. She lent her a comb, toothbrush and tooth paste, part of Sally's call out kit. Then Sally bagged up Phyllida's filthy clothes.

Several glasses of water later, Phyllida was at least able to function.

Sally arranged to collect her later that morning, and left her feeling more hopeful.

As she left the station Sally left texts for several people, smiled to herself and headed home.

Home to Sir Robert Charles.

She slid back into bed, snuggled against his warmth and whispered, "I think I have found you another plaything, Master!"

 

***

 

Over coffee and breakfast Sally discussed Phyllida's situation with her. She calmed the still hung over and distressed young woman, assuring her that there were possibilities, that all was not lost.

Already bailed into the custody of the most distinguished lawyer in town, Sir Robert Charles, Phyllida began to feel hope.

"I need to talk to some people, but maybe I can get you some sort of private Community Service, without the need to appear in court."

Phyllida actually managed a cautious smile at this.

"Really? No court? Oh please. I'll do anything. You don't know what that would mean to me. I would be so grateful. Anything! Anything at all!"

"Well, as I say, there are people I need to talk to, but we have done it before, so maybe, just maybe."

The cafe door opened and a tall, fit looking, middle aged man entered.

"Ah!" said Sally. "Here's Alan. He's our enquiry agent. Ex C.I.D., knows everyone!"

Sally stood up and introduced Phyllida to him. They shook hands and sat down again. Sally ordered more coffee.

"Any good?" Sally asked.

"Maybe. Haven't contacted all the girls yet, but the club manager is cool. Said they haven't had that much fun in years!" He grinned at the furiously blushing Phyllida. He went on. "So he won't be pressing charges as long as Phyllida takes some punishment, just to discourage her from doing it again! She's barred, but at least he won't prosecute."

He beamed, pleased with his results so far.

Phyllida gushed again about doing anything, absolutely anything, and being so grateful and so on.

Sally held up her hand. Phyllida fell silent.

"There's just the question of assaulting a police officer and throwing up everywhere. Unfortunately the charge sheets have already been processed, so we have to find a legal way around that, or perhaps approach the Bench and see if they will agree to deal with you off the record. You know, asset to the community, sad waste of talent and qualifications etc. Might help if you issue an apology and offer to pay for the cleaning."

Phyllida nodded and looked anxious. Sally went on. "My boss is very senior, and he is not without influence. I'll ask him to have a word with Mrs Griffon. She's the Chair of Magistrates locally. Perhaps she will agree to some arrangement. I'll do my best. Don't worry, we are making progress!"

Somewhat reassured, Phyllida left with Sally's promise to ring her as soon as she had anything to tell her.

Now began an anxious wait for the young and chastened doctor, while Sir Robert Charles, Sally, Mr and Mrs Griffon and Alan York decided on their course of punishment for her, and selected the team who would administer it.

Some days later Phyllida picked up her ringing phone.

"Phyllida? It's Sally. Yes. OK, I have some news for you. I can't give you too many details, but the Magistrates have agreed to deal with you privately. We have a meeting with the team on Saturday. I've been told to warn you not to expect a soft option. I am assured you will be punished, and it won't be pleasant, but at least you will have no record, and when it's finished you will be able to forget this whole thing!"

Phyllida broke down in tears of grateful relief, again proclaiming "Anything, Anything!"

Sally smiled wryly as she put down the phone.

They arrived in Sally's car at eleven o'clock on the following Saturday morning. Sally refused to tell her passenger anything about the meeting, except to say that they would outline the punishment regime, and perhaps put Phyllida through some preliminary tests.

She showed the nervous and contrite Phyllida into the library and introduced her to the three people sitting behind the desk.

Phyllida frowned slightly as Sally told her to slip off her shoes and stand on the low, carpeted podium.

"Miss Clarke," began Mrs Griffon. "I am the Chair of Magistrates, and from this moment I have control of your future. These are your charge sheets."

She waved a sheaf of papers in the general direction of the accused. "Please bear in mind that if you came before me in open court I would give you three months for the assault on a Police Officer. Think of that as we outline the alternative punishment we are about to offer you!"

She looked and sounded stern. Phyllida blanched and muttered apologies and grateful thanks. Mrs Griffon cut across her in an official sounding voice.

"We are about to offer you an alternative punishment for your disgraceful behaviour. It will be hard and difficult, but at the end your record will be clean. If at any point you wish to retire from our course, you have only to say, and I will have the Custody Sergeant collect you immediately. We will then proceed with the normal process of the law. You will be held in custody during that time and your case will feature in local papers. There is nothing I can do to prevent that. Do you understand?"

"Yes, er, Madam. Sirs. Thank You. I will accept any punishment. Anything at all! Thank You!"

She looked at all three of her judges.

"Very well. Now I'd like you to sign this. It is a full confession and an agreement to accept without question the punishment we think fit. You also agree, as this is an unusual option not available to everyone, to keep this entire episode secret. None of this ever happened! Do You Understand?"

She handed a sheet of paper to Sally, who held it while Phyllida signed it, then placed it back on the desk, in front of Mrs Griffon.

"Today we will have a short introduction to the sort of thing you can expect over the next few weeks. When it's over Sally will take you home. Are you ready?"

Phyllida nodded.

"Very well. Take off all your clothes!"

Phyllida looked stunned, her mouth fell open.

"Is there something you don't understand?" Mr Griffon spoke for the first time.

"I, er, I, no. But, I..."

"Take Off All Your Clothes! It is a simple enough command!"

"But I don't, er, I don't."

"You have agreed to a course of punishment, and you have signed an agreement to that effect, have you not?"

Robert Charles spoke quietly, but with command in his voice.

Phyllida looked frantically around at Sally, who simply raised her eyebrows and nodded.

"But why, I..."

Sir Robert Charles stood up and walked around his desk, eventually standing very close to a now trembling Phyllida.

"Get them off," he had growled, moving his face closer to hers.

"Get them off before I rip them off!"