Excerpt from: Thrall of the Pentacle: Part Two

 

Silently the entire podium began to roll forward on hidden wheels, carrying the girls and Durand seated grandly in his chair, along with it.

To the girls' horror there was a swell of applause as they emerged into what seemed to be a small sand-floored amphitheatre with an open floor area about the size of a tennis court. It was enclosed by half a dozen tiers of seats, the lowest of which was contained behind a parapet wall with a top three metres above the sandy floor. This was accessed by twin flights of gated stairs on either side of a small theatre box-like projection in the centre of the lowest tier. The stair gates and the parapet edge were all capped by inward facing spiked railings, and the whole space was covered by a lofty glass roof.

The seats were packed with ranks of strangely dressed people, many wearing odd hats, as though playing parts in some costume drama. There might have been two hundred faces all staring down at their naked bound bodies. A handful were women, but most were men. But amongst them was also bare flesh.

There were a dozen or more naked collared women on the ends of leashes kneeling by people's sides like attentive dogs. They had muzzles over their mouths. Some even seemed to have doglike ears...

Confusion, shock, and embarrassment hit the four captive girls like hammer blows, and they turned their eyes aside, wishing that they could wake up from this nightmare, that they could be anywhere else but here. But every detail of their shame was being documented in pitiless detail. There were more of the audivid arms and camera eyes set around the walls of the amphitheatre and all were turning towards them. What was infinitely worse they were sharing what they saw with the crowd.

On the flat wall above the double doors through which they had emerged was an oval screen as wide as the doorway itself. On it was a split screen showing their confused and terrified features magnified so that the whole audience could see. On either side of the screen were bold signs bearing the words: ULTRADOM: The Ultimate Challenge. There were two smaller screens mounted at angles to the big one on the side walls of the amphitheatre just above the lowest tier of seats. This meant that everybody, including the girls, could see each lock of pubic hair as the lascivious cameras lowered their gaze to focus on their exposed groins.

The podium stopped in the middle of the amphitheatre floor. Durand rose from his chair and held up his hands in a solemn, calming gesture and the audience quietened.

'Good day, Gentlemen and Ladies. Welcome to this first day of a unique pubic demonstration. I venture to suggest that there has been nothing quite like it in the entire history of alchemic thaumaturgy. When it is concluded you will see the efficacy of Ultradom demonstrated beyond doubt and understand how it will enhance the quality of your daily lives. Now if you think that is an extraordinary claim then you would be correct, but I intend to demonstrate its validity before your very eyes by a series of tests and physical demonstrations that you yourselves will have the opportunity of participating in directly.

'These trials will be overseen by distinguished Mages from the Guild of Thaumaturgists and Alchemical Metamorphologists, who will be acting as independent adjudicators. Gentlemen, please...'

Four men in similar robes to Durand's rose from a block of seats in the lowest tier to the right of the box and gave tight bows to the audience, who welcomed them with a polite round of applause.

'And of course, the event will also be documented by representatives from our major newssheets...' Durand indicated half a dozen men in broad brimmed hats who were seated on the opposite side to the Mages. They were holding notepads or bulky looking cameras.

'And finally, I am making a full audivid recording of the experiment, the highlights of which will be made available for purchase after the demonstration has concluded.

'Now any experiment needs test subjects, so allow me to introduce you to ours...' The girls felt all eyes turning to them and burned with fresh shame and anger. 'Here they are, four attractive young females from the parallel dimension land known as "Great Britain", who have been specially chosen by competitive selection for their qualities of physical fitness, intelligence and determination. These were only brought to Albion a few hours ago and, as you can see, they are still confused by their surroundings and have no idea of the part they are going to play in our great experiment. In other words, they are perfect natural subjects. Apart from the standard thrall combined inoculation and contraceptive and, for the sake of cleanliness, the normal rectal alterations, they are totally free of any submission potion or charm, as our adjudicators will now confirm. If you please, gentlemen...'

The mages made their way down the stairs to the amphitheatre floor and crossed to the podium.

From the pockets of their robes, they took out devices the size of large fountain pens with pointed tips and ends capped by small hollow glass globes. Within the globes a pale white vapour could be seen. One mage lined up before each of the girls, who looked at them in wide-eyed horror. Together they jabbed the sharp tips into the undersides of the girls' breasts, drawing gore while making the girls yelp in pain and bringing tears to their eyes. The mages pulled the tips out of their soft pillows of flesh and held the devices up for all to see. The vapour in the globes had turned green.

'Thank you, gentlemen,' Durand said, as the mages resumed their seats. 'Our adjudicators will check the girls every day. The only medication that will be administered to them will be normal healing cream, ensuring that they start each new session, out here or in the dungeons, fresh and fully fit with unblemished skins ready for a new set of lash stripes.

'Now, we in Albion have obtained women for thrall service from our sister parallel land for many years via expeditions made through pentacle gateways. No doubt you have all come across them and would agree they make fine thralls. But you have only seen women chosen from already tractable and vulnerable specimens, who are easily dominated and who have been prepared with potions and conditioning before they are offered for sale. Whereas I have journeyed into the parallel land and sought out their very opposites! These four are unbroken and free-spirited. They have been brought up to believe in the equality of the sexes, that thraldom is wrong, and that they have things called fundamental human rights...'

There were a few sniggers of laughter and disbelief from the audience.

'I know how odd that sounds, but it is true. And over the next five days we are going to find out how strongly they hold to those convictions, during which time there will be draws to allow some of you the chance to test their will, and bodies, for yourselves.'

There was a murmur of approval at this announcement.

'But first let our subjects introduce themselves to you...'

Durand circled the podium until he came to Hannah. All eyes focussed upon her while the big screen showed every detail of her body in loving close-up.

She had long brunette hair, bold eyebrows and narrow dark, intelligent eyes. Her waist was wasp-like which accentuated her hips and full pale pneumatic breasts, which were capped by neat bullet-like nipples, hard despite her state of misery, set in perfectly round red-brown areolas. Her pubic hair had been trimmed back into a fluffy dark wedge.

'Now, I want you to tell our audience who you are, your age and where you came from, just like you would in one of your game shows,' he told Hannah. He took hold of the ring of her ball gag, squeezed and pulled. The tongue clamp eased its grip and it slid from her mouth.

Hannah could feel the sickening fear rising inside her, rivalling her acute shame at being exposed like this, but it was anger that triumphed over both of those emotions. Whatever was going on Durand seemed to be at the heart of it.

'Let us go, you insane bastard!' she spluttered. 'Who are these perverts? Is this meant to be some sort of sick joke? You can't treat us like this!'

The audience were drawing in their breaths as though shocked by her words.

Durand grinned. 'You see how utterly uninhibited she is. She has no respect for her masters or the concept of justified enthrallment. She honestly believes she still has "rights". I'll have to punish her just to divulge the most elementary information.'

Unclipping the spiked cane from his belt he jabbed its tip into the gaping mouth of Hannah's sex.

She shrieked in pain as what felt like a hundred hot needles stabbed into the soft wet inner valley of her pussy. Unprepared for such a shock she lost command of her bladder and a stream of water splattered over the sand.

The audience laughed while Hannah's cheeks burned with redoubled shame. This could not be happening to her!

'Now who are you?' Durand asked again, moving the spiked cane tip up to her breasts and pressing it into the soft rotundity of her left mammary.

'I... I'm Hannah Reeves... aged twenty-three... and I'm a solicitor's receptionist...' she moaned. Then she recovered enough of her self-respect to add: 'Now go fuck yourself, you miserable sadist!'

She screwed up her eyes expecting further punishment while the audience gasped, but Durand only nodded tolerantly.

'Excuse her. She can't help her manner. Also note that she was only temporarily subdued, and I had to use the direct application of pain to make her cooperate at all. They are instinctively resistant to commands that the laxest thralmaid would obey without demure. Which are exactly the qualities we are after for this test. Now who do we have next?'

He made his way round to Lydia.

She was a pale blonde with blue eyes, an open friendly face, and a compact figure. Her neat high conical breasts were capped with nipples that formed plump pink cones of their own. Despite her fear they were standing up in automatic response to her exposure. Her pubic bush was a full brown delta cleft by a pink gash where the tongue of her inner lips protruded impudently.

This time Durand pressed the spiked tip of his cane into her pussy mouth before he removed her gag.

'And who are you?' he asked.

Lydia took a deep breath to steady her voice. 'I'm Lydia Horton, I'm twenty-one and I'm a checkout operative.'

'What kind of occupation is that?'

'I work in a shop... taking people's money at a till.'

'Ah, a shop thrall.'

'I'm not any kind of thrall... whatever that means!'

Durand winked at the audience. 'No, of course you're not.'

'I'm not! And you fucking well can't make me one!'

'We'll see,' Durand said.

He came to Roz.

She had a perfect even light golden tan and shoulder length dark hair. Her face was bright and alive, with a strong straight nose and firm chin, clear, direct hazel eyes, and a wide quirky mouth. She had a lithe build with small but prominent breasts, each with pronounced domelike areolas with their own snub tips. Her pubic bush was trimmed back from around her outer labia which gaped wide with the stretching of her legs, exposing the isolated pink ridge of her inner lips. Durand took obvious delight in pressing the spiked pain-tip of his cane into them, making her wince visibly.

When her gag was removed Roz said contemptuously, 'My Name is Roz Davies, I'm twenty-four and I work in a beauty salon. Now fuck you!'

By now some of the audience members were looking seriously shocked by the captives' language while others were leaning forward eagerly, almost daring them to offend them further.

Durand finally came to Megan.

She had long black hair and slightly olive skin. Her face was narrow and intelligent, with deep brown eyes and a sensuous mouth. Her breasts were full, with proportionately sized red brown nipples. Her waist was trim and her hips were wide. Her pubic bush was thick and dark with an inner tongue peeping through the curls.

When Durand freed her gag, she said crisply: 'I'm Megan Armstrong. I'm twenty-six and I'm a secretary in a county council office and I hope you rot in hell, you lying, cheating bastard!'

As the crowd winced once again, Durand stepped away from the podium so all the girls could see him on the big screens.

'For the record, although I may not have told you in advance what I planned for you, strictly speaking you did consent to this,' he said with a broad smile, pulling out a folded sheaf of papers from a pocket of his robes and holding them up for the cameras to see. 'You really should have read through those contracts thoroughly before signing. Clause thirteen part five reads: "During the course of the Ultimate Challenge event I hereby agree to wear whatever costume (or none) that is required by the organizers, and I also accept any necessary restraints, indignities, humiliations and suffering inflicted upon my person, as long as they are not life threatening."'

The girls squirmed miserably while the audience laughed at their carelessness.

Durand turned to face the crowd. 'And so there you have them. Four attractive young women who would make excellent thralls were it not for their strange, alien and defiant attitudes. Of course, they can be subdued by threats and beaten into submission, but the results are unreliable and often the girls never function properly again.

'Then why not simply dose them with regular thrall potion until they obey, you might ask? But we all know potions do not affect all girls equally and that many build up a resistance to their effects over time, or else they become dull and uninteresting creatures with less personality than golems and who are no pleasure to own. Is there not a better third way, then? Yes, there is, as you shall see in five days' time!'

'But first our subjects must be properly motivated.' He turned back to the girls. 'Listen well. These are the terms of the Ultimate Challenge. You must endure everything that is done to you in this arena or the dungeon chambers for five days. If any or all of you escape the dungeon or arena confines before the five days are up then you'll be given the opportunity to return to your home world, should they wish to take it, together with a bonus reward of a gold purse. If you survive the five days and then declare that you wish to be free you will be offered the chance to return home without the purse. If you make no such declaration, you will be kept as thralls for a year. The same thing will happen if you admit you are broken and beg to be removed from the challenge before the five days are up. If you refuse to participate in any challenge, you will also be enthralled for a year. At no time will submission potions be used on you to make you compliant. Do you understand?'

'This is insane!' Hannah said.

'You can't treat us like this!' said Roz.

'It's inhuman!' said Megan.

'We'll be missed. The police will find us!' Lydia said desperately.

'Thanks to the messages you were good enough to send, nobody will suspect anything is wrong for at least five days. And even if your "Police" were alerted, I guarantee they could not find you here, because we are in another world. Now, you don't have to like them, but do you understand these terms?'

Confused and wretched, the girls nodded miserably. They had no other choice.

'Good,' said Durand. 'Now we shall begin with an introductory mechanical penetration and lashing, just to test their responses. As you can see, they are perfectly positioned for punishment and penetration.'

He snapped his fingers at the podium.

Things unfolded from under each of the "Y" frames. They were shorter versions of the jointed arms like those that carried the cameras, but with different heads. Two arms extend from either side of their chests and hung over their breasts while one curled up from between their legs. The ones over their breasts had a fringe of rubber strips dangling from the rim of a small wheel, while the one between their legs had a realistically moulded but huge rubber penis on its end mounted on a bellows-like arrangement. They lined up with the mouths of their vaginas and began to pulsate while a bristle of rubber prongs projecting above the base of the shaft started to buzz and twirl.

'No, please, you can't...' the girls began to protest.

'Do you surrender so early and beg to serve as thralls for a year?' Durand asked.

'No!'

'Then you must endure,' Durand said. 'It will end when you orgasm. But don't imagine you can pretend or deceive us.' He took four small items out from a pocket in his robes. They resembled drawing pins with coin-sized blue heads. 'These are a little invention of mine: arousal monitors. Their heads become redder as sexual tension increases. Bright red signals an orgasm. This will only hurt briefly...'

He moved round the girls pressing the devices into the middle of their pubic bushes, bringing forth yelps of pain as they felt the needle tips plunge deep into the fatty pads over their pubic bones. But the sensation quickly faded as the pin shafts softened and the caps pressed against their skin, dissolving the hairs under them and melding with their flesh. In a minute, as they could see in pitiless detail on the monitor screens, they all had bright blue buttons nestling in their pubic hair, although even as they watched they were beginning to turn purple.

'Now we shall see how you respond to a little stimulation...' and he snapped his fingers again.

The lash wheels began to spin and hiss as they were lowered across their breasts. There came the first smacks of rubber on flesh that grew into a torrent as eight cones and globes of flesh received the full vigour of their blows. The girls screeched and shrieked as their breasts were assailed. Roz and Lydia's smaller mounds shivered while Megan and Hannah's larger globes bounced and trembled. All rapidly began to turn pink as lash after lash stung and seared across them while the girls' eyes filled with tears.

Meanwhile the pulsating phalluses slid into their helplessly inviting clefts, forcing apart their sex lips and making their lower bellies bulge as they filled their vaginal passages. In between their yelps of pain, the girls groaned as they were filled. The buzzing bristles met the hoods of skin that hid their clitorises and began to torment them. Circulation pulsed and, unwillingly, they began to swell and harden. Their arousal buttons were now a deep pink.

'Of course, normal thrall girls would find this painful but arousing,' Durand commentated over their sobs and moans. 'It will be interesting to see how unmodified girls respond. A sensitized thrall might only take a minute to orgasm, but these are also fighting their natural responses out of shame.'

The watching crowd began to chant, softly at first but with growing impatience, 'Cum, cum, cum!'

The girls were gasping and moaning as the lash wheels twisted and angled about ensuring no square inch of their breasts escaped their attention. By now their mammaries were an even scarlet. At the same time the dildos were pumping remorselessly into their pussies which were beginning to slurp and dribble. Despite the pain of their lashed breasts, they could not stop themselves responding. It was sick but it was true. They could smell their own arousal. The perverse thrill of their situation was stronger than their revulsion. The pussy buttons were becoming shocking pink. They wanted to disbelieve them, but they knew they were honest. The only way it would end would be when they let themselves cum... in front of a few hundred chanting strangers!

Eagerly the cameras alternated between their bulging, sucking, dripping vulvas and their poor trembling, burning, scarlet breasts with sweat glistening between their bouncing hemispheres. And all the time the buttons in the middle of their pubic bushes grew redder until they were almost glowing. Terrible liquid pressure was growing inside them. Now the buttons were as scarlet as their breasts. They could not stop it overflowing. It was the only way to douse the pain.

Roz sobbed and let go first, but the others were close behind.

Inside thirty seconds they had all convulsed and sprayed their juices about the plunging phalluses and over their thighs, and every droplet was caught by the golden camera eyes.

For a few seconds they were blissfully free of all cares. Then nightmare reality returned, and they screwed up their red-rimmed eyes and hung on their frames limp and trebling and wracked with shame and wishing they could die.

The crowd however applauded with delight. Durand bowed as though accepting their appreciation on the girls' behalf.