The Trials of Pauline Ch. 05bysarahloveitt©
Without knowing why, Polly realised that she had always felt the need to be dominated; to be punished for her carnal thoughts by an understanding master. At college, she missed her father's firm control. His strict punishment. Miss Armitage gave her some gratification, but she really needed a man. A master. The meeting with Fagin had changed her life at college, providing her with a master figure, teaching her the connection between discipline, promiscuity and lust.
Fagin replaced her father as the dominating man to be obeyed without question. Polly was surprised that she should have been beguiled by this unkempt, dirty tramp-like figure. But, in spite of his appearance, he had a compelling authority. And power! The power to punish. The power to humiliate and degrade. If necessary, the power to kill. And yet, Polly kept her virginity during those tempestuous days. It was remarkable, and certainly not intentional on her part.
Fagin had treasured her virginity, threatening her with dire punishment of she gave it to some pimply youth, or other. He intended it to be traded in for some favour by a person in high authority. Her next meeting with Fagin and his gang was planned for the following Saturday.
With much trepidation and excitement on Polly's part, the three naive girls walked the half-mile to the old barn, wondering what was in store for them. Janine had first persuaded the ladies to comb their long hair - Polly's blonde and Rita's red - into a pony-tail, fastened with a studded leather bracelet, at the crown of the head. The tails bounced around in the sun shine, trapping its rays in the strands of hair, like rippling threads of shimmering gold and copper. Around their necks Janine had hung a wide leather pendant, hung with old-fashioned horse-brasses.
As the three young ladies neared the barn, Polly felt apprehensive but inwardly excited at the prospect of seeing more stiff male flesh. Then, completely unexpected, the two friends were grabbed from behind. No words were spoken, though many grunts and squeals escaped in the exertion. The two women were too surprised by the assault to think of shouting or screaming at first. They fought their attackers but had been disadvantaged by the element of surprise.
Rita realised that her blouse had been torn open revealing her rounded breasts in their scanty halter bra, worn strictly against the rules of the school! By the time they had realised what was happening, their arms had been secured behind their backs; their ankles bound. Gags were pushed into their mouths, with metal rings biting painfully into each corner, like horse bits, as they were secured at the back of the neck.
Rita saw Toswer, with his shock of brown curls, and three other youths of the gang. Further struggles were in vain. Polly looked anxiously at Rita. Her friend's face was pale and drawn; her eyes filled with apprehension. Both wondered why they had been so brutally attacked and bound.
Janine stood smiling down at them. 'Sorry, you two! Fagin's orders I'm afraid.' She turned to the youths. 'Right, Rita first.'
After being bundled into the barn, Polly watched her friend taken unwillingly into one of the horse stalls. A belt was put round her forehead. From it, leather squares with brass surrounds, like blinkers, were fastened under her chin with a buckle. Then, her bound wrists were attached to a tethering ring. Fresh straw had been scattered on the floor. The air smelt sweeter than the previous visit. Some attempt had been made to make the derelict old building a bit cleaner; more pleasant.
Polly was carried to the opposite wall facing Rita where she was thrown into the pile of straw under the shadows of the loft. It was earlier in the day than the previous week. The sun shone through the barn door, the rays stabbing through the gloom to illuminate the very stall in which Rita had been tethered. There she stood, roped to the stall, white open blouse gleaming like snow, pure and unsullied. Her skimpy dark-blue skirt showed off Rita's long spindly legs encased in black stockings.
She looked like an innocent animal caught in a trap, unable to flee; vulnerable and scared, like a young foal, her widened eyes darting round for means of escape. Once Rita was secured, Janine and the rest of the gang slunk back quietly into the deep shadows beneath the hay-loft.
They waited. A deep brooding silence fell over the scene. The minutes passed. Rita became more agitated, losing all sense of time. The ropes prevented her from sitting down in comfort. She was forced to stand there in the shaft of bright sun-light, her high pony-tail tossing as her head turned from side to side. The reflection in her wide eye-balls showed the fear held within them. Only her rasping breathing disturbed the silence. Not a mouse stirred. Polly wondered where Fagin was. Even though he was a cruel master, with him there, she would feel more protected. He would look after his slaves
A sound! A footstep outside! Then silence.
Rita had heard the crunch. Her head spun round to peer into the light, throat turning dry at the thought of being caught tethered and helpless. The seconds ticked away. Another crunch! A shadow fell across the barn floor. The silhouette of a man appeared in the opening. A tall man wearing riding gear. The unmistakable shape of jodhpurs and riding leggings. On his head was a riding helmet; in his hand a riding crop. He stood motionless, gazing into the barn.
Then his head turned towards Rita, tethered in the stall. He tapped the riding crop thoughtfully in the palm of his left hand as he took in the scene. The shaft of sunshine shone on her solitary figure, accentuating her slender beauty, as though in a spot-light. The unbuttoned blouse gave a tantalising glimpse of her young breasts beneath, adding to the impression of vulnerability.
Rita was rooted to the spot. Even if she were free, she was too paralysed to move. She was completely in the power of this mysterious figure. The man approached her, tucking his crop into his the waist of his jodhpurs. He had an air of authority. A commanding bearing. Rita cowered away from him, looking at his large frame with wide eyes.
With the sun behind him, she couldn't make out the features properly. A tanned face, she thought, with penetrating, steel-blue eyes. As he got nearer she detected the evil glint in his eyes. They narrowed cruelly as they scanned her body.
'Hmmm! Nice young filly. Needs taming I expect.' A dark voice. Deep. Cultured. It was as though he was speaking to himself. 'Unruly beasts these young fillies. Need breaking in, eh?'
The tall elegant figure stood before her. He looked malevolently into Rita's flaring nostrils and frightened eyes, her head held high and tense. Fear filled her widened eyes. His long slender fingers slowly pulled aside the loose opening of her blouse. His eyes shifted to her soft breasts with sugar-pink nipples. Rita's head was in panic. She struggled violently. The man skipped back quickly, as though afraid of being kicked.
'Frisky, eh?' he spat at Rita, taking out his riding crop. 'Needs to learn some obedience.'
With horror, Rita saw his hand raise. She managed to twist sideways as the crop sang through the air but it caught her across the top of her buttocks. She was unprepared for it. The cutting sting made her yelp and recoil instinctively. A sliver of pain cut into her flesh. A second lash followed quickly, whipping across her back and upper arm. Another yelp of pain, stifled by the gag. Too high! She wanted it on her buttocks. To feel the heat in her loins. She tensed herself for the next blow, head bowed, bosom heaving. But none came.
Polly was curled up against the wall of the barn, without stirring. She looked on in awe, watching the red weals form beneath the thin cotton of Rita's blouse, now hanging loose over her shoulders. Noah was at her side. Polly felt his grubby fingers fumbling under her skirt. She dare not make any sound or move. The exploring fingers found their way into the gusset of her knickers, pushing between her wet lips, prodding at her sensitive clitoris. Burning shame coloured Polly's lips but there was nothing she could do to stop Noah dabbling in her secret warmth.
Polly's attention was drawn back to the centre of the barn. The man once again approached Rita. He was more cautious. Taking her by the shoulder, he twisted her to face him. Tears had welled up in her fear-filled eyes. His lips twisted into a cruel smile.
'Keep calm, young filly.'
Moving behind her, he tugged the blouse over the shoulders, down her arms as far as to the tethered wrists. Not having put her bra on that morning, Rita was now naked from the waist upwards, the brass pendant hanging round her neck, rings dangling from either side of the mouth-piece. Returning to face her, his piercing eyes examined the pretty breasts, heaving with the effort of the struggle.
The wrinkled nipples stood up with pride, pink and stiff. To her shame, Rita felt the familiar tremble in her groin. She was lubricating; the warm syrup was bubbling into her vulva. It was preparing for stimulation and penetration. Her face coloured at the shameful thought! The stranger, unaware of her inner turmoil, was rubbing the palms of his hands over her pale breasts, testing their weight appreciatively in each palm, whilst the pads of the thumbs caressed the nipples. Rita stiffened, rigid with embarrassment. The juices were now seeping into the gusset of her knickers.
'Nice breast,' she heard him mutter. 'Frisky filly.'
Rita suddenly became angry. She wanted her freedom. Kicking and struggling, the tethering ring rattled as she tried to wrench it from the wall. Her hair tossed around like an unruly horse's mane. Feeling for the tethering ring behind her, Rita tried to wrench it from the wall. But without success.
Her screams were muffled by the gag. Then she felt the pain of the stinging slash across her buttocks. The recoil shook the cheeks of her buttocks beneath the skirt.
'Steady, girl!' the man called out, his voice deep and commanding. He raised his arm and brought it down, the crop striking her buttocks a second time. The skirt helped to stem the full heat of the blow, but not sufficient to prevent the thong from stinging the supple flesh. Rita's body jerked.
'The filly needs to be trounced into submission, I think. Take that!'
The whip thrashed her again, then again. Rita's neck stretched, arteries standing out thickly, her head tossing around in shame, pain and fright. Finally, after several more slashes, agony searing throughout her body with each one, stinging every nerve in her loins, Rita came to a halt. Her head now hung in disgrace and fatigue.
Her flesh was an inferno of burning. Her breasts bursting with anguish. The furnace of frustration blazed in her loins. The orgasm that she realised she desperately wanted to give some relief, eluded her. With breasts heaving heavily against her rib-cage, she panted to regain her regular breathing.
After a pause of a few moments, Rita recovering her breath, the whip again lashed her hips, several more times, right and left. With violent jerks, her twisting body tried to avoid the blows, head rolling crazily, ropes pulling against the shackles. Her body was tormented with pain and humiliation. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked. Rita snarled in a long, silent scream of hopeless desperation.
The supreme joy of relief wouldn't come! It was no use her resisting; it only brought on more thrashing. As her tortured brain returned to the outside world, Rita watched the bulge developing at the front of her tormentor's jodhpurs. She had a sudden crazy desire to see what hung between the man's legs. To kiss it! Worship it!
'Now for the flanks,' she heard him mutter, licking his lips. Unfastening the waist-band of her skimpy skirt, he unzipped the fastening. The skirt fluttered to round her ankles. Her flat belly was trembling with excitement. French panties were forbidden in school, but they were scanty and daring. They barely covered the light wad of copper-coloured curls. The waist-band rested above the gentle curves of her hips.
Rita was at a loss to know how to hide her embarrassment at her genitals being displayed to a total stranger. But her instructor had little interest in her face just now. He was spell-bound at the sunlit beauty before him. Hooking his thumbs into each side of the flimsy knickers, he slowly pushed them down.
His eyes gleamed with eagerness as they scrutinised the emerging curls below her navel. Finally, the vulva itself came into view, with small pouting lips pushing through the outer folds. Its pale texture contrasted with the blue and purple discolouration of the surrounding flesh. Angry-looking red stripes crossed the blotched cheeks of her buttocks in ridges of tender flesh.
Then the man noticed the fresh stains in the gusset. He glanced up with a sardonic smile into her wide-open eyes, innocent and appealing.
Then, to Rita's mortification, his hand pushed between her thighs, deep into her genital area. The hand was palm up, cupping the warm gathering of damp fleshy folds. Rita gasped in dismay. The syrup flowed onto his fingers as he scooped them forwards in an upward movement through the gash. His smile widened. From his pocket he took a narrow leather girdle which he put round her hips. At its rear was attached a plume of hair, a horse's tail.
'A filly on heat!' he cried softly.
Bending down onto one knee, he removed the rope binding her ankles. One by one, each foot was lifted out of the crumple of clothes. His gaze fell on the most secret part of Rita's young body. The virgin vulva! It was breath-taking!
She was paralysed, unable to move, her eyes fixed on the man's stare of admiration and wonder at the perfection of her innocent vulva. It glittered like copper in the sun's rays. She held her breath, breasts stinging, her body stiffening with foreboding.
Powerless to stop the intrusion into her private gap, she watched as the man's face eased forward. His nose pressed into her clitoral hood. That wasn't what Rita wanted at all. She wanted to press her own face into the man's genitals; sniff his penis.
But, at the touch of his tongue, her body twitched and trembled. He was sniffing hard at her warm womanly smell, rubbing his nose into the syrup. The most intimate fold in her body was being violated. Then, to Rita's abhorrence, she felt his tongue snake between her coated lips, licking away the sticky juices.
In spite of her repugnance, the body responded with enthusiasm. Loins jerked and groin fluttered. The invading tongue explored every crease and fold in her honeyed folds. Tongue teased her little button sending slivers of excitement darting through her loins. After a few moments the rider stood again, lips smeared with honey, licking them greedily.
His hands fumbled with his waist band. The trousers shuttered to his knees. Through the front opening of his shorts, his penis flopped out. Drooping, half erect. A long thick tube. Rita's eyes opened wide at the sight.
She remembered once seeing a donkey on heat. This penis wasn't as big, but the shape reminded her of the donkey's pizzle. A deep swarthy burgundy colour, it didn't look human at all! The phallus swayed around, slowly filling and stretching. Rita was mesmerised. She couldn't take her eyes off it.
For a few moments the heat glowing through her loins, her pain-racked body was forgotten. A new fear overwhelmed her. Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead at the thought. The fear that the great monster in front of her eyes would be forced between her virgin lips. That she would be cruelly ravished. Split open!
The man drew out his testicles from the opening so the wrinkled scrotum hung beneath the swaying monster. Rita gulped hard!
The man moved behind her. She felt her hands being untied. Her blouse slipped from them into the straw. The wrists were then re-tied in front of her, leaving a short length of rope between them. The hiss of the crop through the air could be heard a split second before it slashed Rita round the buttocks with a cutting pain.
'Trot! Trot!' he cried. Another lash. 'Trot, filly, knees up and trot!'
Rita guessed that he wanted her to run on the spot. Anything to avoid the lash. The whip struck her painfully yet again. 'Higher!'
Rita brought her knees up as high as she could, trotting for the rider. He watched her breasts bounce wildly. Her mane tossing around in the sunshine and the tail swishing around. Watching from the darkened shadows, Polly thought it looked an elegant, erotic sight.
The whip encouraged Rita to keep the up the trotting until she felt she would collapse. Her breathing was heavy and laboured. Her muscles aching. Her master saw she had done enough. 'Woooah!' he called. With a sigh of relief, Rita stopped, jelly-legged, breath rasping in her lungs. Burning loins. Exhausted!
As Rita was slowly recovering, the man turned her round to face the side partition of the stall. The wooden partition was about a metre high. Slipping a noose round her neck, he fastened the other end to a ring in the floor so that her body was bent forward. If she tried to straighten up she would tighten the noose round her neck and choke. Rita steadied herself against the partition with her manacled hands with buttocks now protruding, pert and discoloured. The horse tail rested in the crevice.
She was at the master's mercy. Hands roamed over the tender, numbed flesh. Pushing the tail aside, thumbs traced the length of the honeyed outer lips, easing apart the folds concealing the pink flesh of her orifice. No other person had ever seen that secret gash so openly; not even her mother. She was distraught that both her private shrines should be so shamelessly displayed. And to a stranger at that. A thrill of disgust shook her loins.
From his pocket the rider took a strange object. It consisted of two shallow plastic cups, each with a silver key-ring fixed to the end. Around the rims were rubber rings. The cups were connected by an adjustable silver chain. The strap was a plastic strip with a simple ratchet buckle. Rita watched numbly wondering what indignity she would have to endure next.
As he placed a cup over each nipple, Rita realised that the rims were lined with sharp needle-like points. They prickled, stimulating the nipples. As they swelled up to almost fill the cups, the points sank deeper into the surrounding flesh and areolae stinging them even harder. The man fastened the bra round her chest, tugging the buckle tight.
The pin-points pressed hard into her breasts, painfully. He then took out a leather lead, attaching each end to the rings at the ends of the cups before feeding them through the rings of her gag. The buckle fastened, they were draped over her back like a set of reins. The man stood back to admire his work.
Rita was grimacing with the pain rippling through her nipples. She was afraid of taking too deep a breath for fear of pressing her breasts further into the sharp points. At each breath, the pins dug into her breasts. She looked down in despair, expecting to see the bra cups filled with blood.
But there was none.
Then, she discovered that by bunching up her shoulders into her neck, the pressure on her nipples relaxed. The pricking stopped. Having worked out how to avoid the pain, she suddenly stiffened. The horse's tail was lifted and a cool object touched the entrance of her second, tighter orifice.
Her bottom jerked, trying to repel the invader. A sharp heavy slap stung her right cheek, already sore with its earlier thrashing. The burning sensation glowed anew. It must have numbed the muscles for the unknown object slid effortlessly into her rectum. She recoiled, gripping the invader with tensed muscles, trying to expel it.