Chapter 1

 

Denis Carmichael never forgot what Sir Tristram Halliday, Bart. did to his mother. Nor did he forgive. His father had been a worker on the huge Halliday estate but had died in an accident brought on by Sir Tristram's failure to implement safety procedures and which was, therefore, largely his fault. He accepted no blame, however, and the day after the funeral, ordered Denis' mother and her three children out of the house-with nothing at all: no compensation, no holiday pay-no nothing.

Sir Tristram paid his workers very badly and there had been almost no savings. It was only the charity of the church that kept starvation away and a roof of sorts over the heads of the family. They survived somehow and Denis went on to attain a degree in computer science-and a fortune.

He had stumbled on to a wonderful new idea in computer games and, almost overnight, became a millionaire. He hadn't married. In fact he didn't even have a girlfriend as he had put every spare minute of his time and effort into developing the software and then expanding his business, now employing fifty other bright young men to keep the new games coming.

During this early period, he shared lowly digs with his lifelong friend, Evan Jones, and after he began to get ahead, employed him as his personal chauffeur and minder since Evan was totally unambitious and not really all that bright. He was handsome enough, with a good body, fair hair, blue eyes and a permanent, impish expression. In that, he was unlike Denis who was below average in height, lean and dark with a normally serious expression.

Evan knew all about the inhuman eviction, of course. He had been there when it happened and he had watched as Mrs Carmichael had struggled to bring up her son and two daughters. She had lived to see Denis graduate and her two daughters marry quite well, but had then given up the unequal task and had died.

But his nature was quite different to Denis'. He would have put the horror behind him and gone on to other things. Denis was not at all like that. He thought about the injustice of it every day and he nurtured a bitter hatred of the English aristocracy, vowing to teach them-or at least some of them, a lesson they would not forget.

This was the reason for his unswerving devotion to his studies and afterwards to the development of a product that would make him rich-very quickly. Evan went along with 'The Plan' only because he doted on Denis and would follow him anywhere.

Even after the money started rolling in, Denis did not go out and purchase a big house, hire servants and live the good life. No, he remained in the tiny apartment with Evan and planned-and planned-and planned.

He didn't share the details of these plans with Evan, only because the other young man wasn't really interested and couldn't have grasped the immense mass of detail he was building up: There were the plans of his factory; who would staff it; security arrangements; selection of victims ... All these and much more minutiae occupied his time more and more once the business was on a sound footing.

Finally he was ready and acquired a large tract of land in a remote and lonely area of Cornwall, sold his company for a very good price and prepared to devote the rest of his life to his burning crusade: to teach the English aristocracy a thing or two about the 'lower classes' ...

He and Evan abandoned their digs and moved down to the site to supervise the building of his training centre which he now habitually called 'the factory'. He used exclusively London tradesmen for the various stages of construction and ensured different ones were hired for each phase. This was both more expensive and required a great deal more organization than if he had merely commissioned one builder to do the whole job. But ignorance of what he was about was essential and he was able to disguise the ultimate purpose of the place very easily with a few well-chosen put-offs. And since they were on site only for a week or so rather than months, they soon forgot the strange complex down in Cornwall.

Next he acquired his staff. This was not at all difficult. There are countless men about who would delight in the ultimate fantasy: cowing, training and disciplining the daughters of the nobility and he was able to appoint five muscular young men to assist him and Evan as guards in their nefarious project, as well as a cook, a physical trainer and a brothel madam who would train the girls in the sexual arts.

The last appointment was James Thorburn who had qualified as a surgeon but had lasted only two years in practice before being struck off, permanently, for rather too much sexual interest in his female patients.

By this time, Denis and Evan were just twenty-six years old; none of the guards were more than twenty-five; the trainer was twenty-two and Dr Thorburn was the daddy of them all at twenty-seven.

The establishment boasted comfortable quarters for the staff and decidedly uncomfortable lodgings for the inmates who were shortly going to grace its halls with their screams and their sobbing ...

 

It was time to go looking for the first girl.

Denis had had his ear to the ground for a long time. He read the society pages of the London newspapers avidly and watched the daughters of the aristocracy like a hawk. He soon found his first victim. Regrettably, it could not be Sir Tristram's daughter for he didn't have one, but in any case, even if he had, Denis was not going to take a girl unless she was (at least in his view) wicked in her own right: arrogant, condescending, snobbish ...

Lady Edwina Harcourt, daughter of the Earl of Courtleigh, fitted the bill admirably. First she satisfied his physical requirements. She was tall and very beautiful with a slender but athletic body that bespoke a liking for sports. She also matched his other criteria: she was definitely snobbish, treating her social inferiors with either indifference or sheer contempt; she treated the earl's servants dreadfully, making demands on them that were quite unreasonable and which no amount of remonstration from both her mother and father could curb. Neither the earl nor the countess were in any way like this and they both despaired of their only daughter who thought herself above anyone not born to the coronet and made no bones about it either.

In Denis' view, she was a perfect first candidate for his factory.

Kidnapping her was easy. It always is, as long as you do your homework, establish the victim's habits and then act at the right time and place. Denis knew everything there was to know about the Lady Edwina Harcourt. He just about knew her monthly cycles ... He certainly knew she liked to sample the night life of London and particularly the late night discos. Mario's was a particular favourite and as tapping her private phone line in the earl's London residence had been very easy, he knew exactly where and when she would be on Friday night.

He and James Thorburn followed her, dressed impeccably themselves, waiting and watching for when the young Honourable Clifford, second son of Viscount Lethbridge, dropped her off at her home at three in the morning. As Denis knew, these young men rarely went inside for a nightcap and she waved him off from the kerb, not even noticing the two handsome young men in tails and white tie who were strolling down the avenue towards her. The moment the Jaguar was off, Denis and James were alongside the more than tipsy young aristocrat while Evan drove the van slowly up alongside them. It took but seconds for Dr Thorburn to inject her arm and she collapsed in their arms and in only a few more was safely in the back of the van. At that hour there was no-one around and if Joseph, the footman detailed to wait up for her, thought her even more inconsiderate than usual as he dozed by the fire in the servants hall, that was all. Even when she didn't come home at all, no-one worried unduly. She had done it before and hadn't bothered to ring and say so.

James climbed into the back of the nondescript van to sit beside the sprawled out body of the girl while Denis got into the passenger seat beside Evan. It had taken less than a minute before the van was speeding off on its way to Cornwall.

The drug that James had used combined well with her alcoholic intake to put her out to it for the five hour journey-and a little more. She was thus lying on the carpet in Denis' office, surrounded by her three kidnappers (and some of the others who had joined them when the van drove in to the factory yard) when she came to.

If she had been awake and could see the establishment as they drove in, she might have been rather concerned by what she saw. The buildings, as they approached them, were built as part of the high concrete wall that surrounded the complex. There were no windows in this wall. Inside, the buildings made up all four sides of the square and faced onto the courtyard in the middle. The only way in was through the heavy steel door that was electrically controlled and not even helicopters could land in the yard inside the buildings for there were too many posts and other impediments to safety to make this possible. In the unlikely event of a serious frontal assault on the building, there was a secret tunnel that ended in a thicket of gorse far enough away from the wall as to allow Denis and his people a reasonably good chance of escape.

He had covered the obvious queries from the municipal building authorities for such a strange complex by designating it as a research facility demanding security.

But she wasn't awake and was thus placed on the floor in Denis' office while he and the other two kidnappers sat around her and sipped coffee and ate the croissants Cook had sent up for them. Edwina came around on cue, her lithe, supple body stirring in her evening dress as her eyes fluttered open and she stared around her, aware that everything was not quite right but not really comprehending what was wrong.

She took in Denis and Dr Thorburn dressed in the tails that had allowed them entry into the establishments she had visited that night. She also noted the muscularity of the other young men who stared down at her, either grinning at her beautiful body-or contemptuous of her now fallen status as an aristocrat.

"Who are you ...? Where am I?" she demanded in her usual haughty tones. For a twenty year old, she had certainly acquired the manners of the original English upper-crust snob.

For her trouble, she received only a slap across her beautiful face, administered by Denis, who leaned down to deliver it. "Be quiet, slut," he said in the most demeaning tones he could muster. "You will speak when you are invited to and that is not now."

She stared up at him in horror. Who was this boorish person, she wondered. She made as if to speak again and he raised his hand. She subsided. That blow had hurt-more her dignity than physically but her cheek did still sting.

Denis sat back again and once more they all stared down at her as she lay on the floor, wondering what to do. She wanted to stand up and confront these men, demanding to be set free to go to her father's house and to bed, but she thought that was perhaps not advisable at this moment. She wondered where she was. Probably in this man's house in London, she thought as she looked around the comfortably furnished study. She would have been horrified if she had realised she was deep in Cornwall, in a very remote and inaccessible part, right off the beaten track and beyond rescue.

"Stand up!" he barked suddenly. She was so shocked she obeyed the order, although her own nature wanted to rebel against this uncouth lower-class man. Now her lithe body was more open to their view, especially in the satin dress that hugged her shapely form and they took in her lovely curves with varying degrees of lust. They knew she was no virgin. In fact she would have been appalled to discover they were aware exactly who she had bedded in the last few months, when and where.

"Rather over-dressed for a slave," Denis remarked casually, as if to James, but his words were really directed at Edwina and she turned on him.

"Slave? Who's a slave?" she said hotly.

He smiled. "Why, you are, slut. In fact you are now the slave Slut. That is the only name you will answer to until your new owner gives you another one." He paused to give drama to his next words: "And as I said, rather over-dressed for a slave."

She blushed hotly at the implication. "I'm not undressing for you-any of you ..."

He smiled. "You will, or Jonathan here, will tear the clothes from your flesh ..." He gestured towards the now grinning black physical trainer who was wearing his habitual uniform of athletic singlet, running shorts, short socks and runners and she turned to stare at the rippling black muscles of his arms in horror.

"You would strip me?" she asked, appalled at the suggestion-she was the daughter of an earl. Such people were addressed with a fawning subservience-or should be, she thought.

"We would-and we will, unless you start in-NOW!"

Her face was comical. She couldn't believe she was being talked to like this. How DARE they speak to her like this! She set her face resolutely. She wasn't going to strip for anyone and she would fight them tooth and nail to prevent them stripping her!

Denis smiled lightly and nodded to Jonathan. He was very tall-six-four in the old measurements and his muscles, while not huge, were superbly athletic and toned to the nth degree. Now, as he stepped up to the tall, lithe aristocrat, they rippled with strength.

Edwina had on her evening frock, made of satin, as already mentioned. It revealed a generous portion of her lovely breasts and was cut low in the back, showing off how athletic her figure was. Apart from the frock and her undergarments, she had only her shoes and stockings.

Jonathan towered over her, tall as she was, and placed one of his big hands in the bodice of her dress. The other grabbed at her left hand which had come up to fight him off. He grinned down at her, easily subduing her, strong as she was. His biceps, shoulder and chest muscles corded as he held her, struggling mightily to resist what he was about to do to her. Alas, she was powerless against his vastly superior strength and now he ripped downwards, tearing the satin material easily and revealing her slip. He kept pulling and tugging while she fought like a Kilkenny cat, even trying to kick at his legs. He gave her a karate chop across each of her thighs, effectively paralysing them for a few moments, then continued ripping open the very expensive garment until it simply fell off her body, leaving her in nothing but her shoes and stockings, slip, bra and panties.

The slip went next and it was even easier. One long rip and it too fell off her, to float down to her feet, of little more use than a rag. Now they could see a great deal more of her body and could admire the shapely calves; the long and very athletic thighs; the flat belly whose muscles were quite apparent; the firm, up-thrusting breasts; the broad, slightly muscular shoulders, the slender neck and of course her beautiful if imperious face, crowned with fine golden hair that wafted around her head with every movement.

She stared back at their lusting eyes with anger more than shame. That would come later, Denis knew. He waited. Jonathan knew his onions and in a moment or so, would continue with her stripping.

First, though, instead of tearing more of her clothes from her body, he used his free hand to run it expertly over the exposed portions of her flesh. "Mmmm," he said admiringly. "Good slave-flesh ..." Then he went on feeling her, as if it was an everyday function of his to appraise slave-girl flesh. "Firm muscles ... Good skin-perfect skin, in fact ..."

His hands roved all over while she struggled in his other hand, trying to get her two hands free so she could hit him but not succeeding. He was easily able to contain both her hands in one of his and he smiled down at her as she so vainly tried to resist his obscene examination of her body.

The others stood around, watching in mounting lust as she opposed their colleague. If she had only known, it would have been far better to have meekly submitted and even stripped her clothes off herself. It would have still been pleasant for her tormentors but not nearly as much as this display of girl-flesh being forcibly stripped was.

Jonathan eventually desisted in his lewd examination of her body and put his hands in the strap of her bra. In a second, it too was on the floor and there were her breasts, just as firm and up-standing as when they had been imprisoned in her bra. Now they could gaze on the creamy smoothness of her bosom, noting the light pink areole at the crown of each and the slightly darker nipples that were now prominent from Jonathan's teasing of them.

He started on her stockings then, tearing them down each thigh and leg in turn and sending the shoe flying as he ripped one, then the other off her foot. She now had only the one remaining garment and he left her to stand up, free and unrestrained in that for a few minutes while they stood around her almost-naked form, admiring its firm athleticism and the creamy smoothness of her skin.

She certainly presented a vision of loveliness, if you discounted the rage, hate and now shame on her face. And even this Denis found quite wonderful. How long had he dreamed of this moment, when he could take one of these imperious snobs, born to a position they didn't deserve and certainly hadn't earned, and bring them down to a base level. This bitch would soon be joined by others and then the whole country would be in a turmoil-its aristocracy going about in terror as its daughters-and perhaps some of its sons as well, disappeared, never to be seen again.

So far as including males in his program, Denis was not decided. He was heterosexual himself-as far as he had an interest in matters sexual. So far in his young life, he had been far too busy with other things, but he thought that perhaps, if they found a really good candidate for their program, they might perhaps take a few males as well as the girls. Anyway, that was in the future. First they had to get the program going properly and for now, it would be exclusively females who were to be taken.

He wasn't worried about the turmoil. Once the hue and cry went up of course, these despised aristocrats would be a lot more on their guard but that could be overcome and the reign of terror would get worse. Far worse for the girls it involved directly; but bad for those who were threatened as well.

Jonathan glanced at Denis who smiled slightly and nodded and now the tall, so muscular black put his hand in the waist band of the girl's panties, pulling it out towards him while she struggled even harder, screaming abuse at her captors in a most unladylike manner.

"Let me go, you filthy pigs!" she screamed, her naked upper body twisting violently from side to side, making her beautiful breasts gyrate most alluringly. She had by now regained some control of her legs and she began kicking Jonathan once more, acts he evaded skilfully, grinning down at her while her fury rose to an even higher level. "Don't you grin at me, you black ape!" she screamed and he slapped her face, hard.

It sent her head reeling and Denis grinned even wider-as did his companions. "I told you not to speak," he said mildly and produced a cane-a long thin, whippy piece of bamboo that would leave delightful marks on her skin but not damage her. By now, Jonathan had torn her panties off her body, leaving her totally and absolutely naked-not a stitch to cover her lithe, supple body and she now tried to hide its more private parts from the gaze of these animals who surrounded her.

Jonathan stepped back, leaving her naked and exposed to them all and now Denis moved in, cane held high, screaming at her to "Stand up straight! Hands up on the back of your head-and GET THOSE LEGS OPEN WIDE, Slut!"