Teena: A House of Ill Repute (17 page)

Our bookmaker-come-leatherwear worker had done us proud in the intervening weeks, and I suspected when all this was over, if he had any business sense and remembered all the design ideas I had suggested to him, he might go on to become the founding father of quite an empire of alternative fashion. I remembered the trunks in Amelia's loft and wondered what would become of everything we were collecting here in the old mill house. Was there perhaps somewhere in the twentieth century a hidden horde of boxed bondage and discipline equipment that had lain undiscovered for a century or more?

I shook my head and concentrated on the present - or the past, if you prefer - and Indira, who had adapted to walking in the ridiculously high-heeled platform boots I had selected for her, and whose waist compressed easily into the matching white corset. With long white leather gloves on her arms and a white studded leather choker about her neck, the contrast between her outfit and her skin was stunning. Even Molly seemed impressed, though her initial expression soon gave way to one of concern when she realised she was now to be at Indira's mercy.

'Quiet,' I snapped when she began to protest. 'Slaves who speak out of turn will be gagged. Besides, you already know she won't really hurt you.'

'Just a little encouragement,' Indira smirked. In her hand she carried a short leather switch, which she flicked through the air now, smiling as Molly started visibly. 'Now,' she said, stepping behind her intended victim, 'let's have you back on your feet.' She grasped Molly beneath her armpits and lifted her upright with astonishing ease. Molly staggered a little for balance, but quickly recovered, only for Indira to prod her towards the end of the bed and the high footboard, the top of which was roughly level with the bound girl's waist.

'This should do to begin with,' Indira said, tapping the heavy woodwork with the end of her whip. 'Let's have you bending over this, I think.'

Molly shot me one last, pleading glance, but when she saw that I remained immovable, she surrendered to the inevitable and slowly bent forward.

'Further than that, white slave meat!' Indira barked.

I opened my mouth to admonish her for breaking my rule about colour references, but stopped myself. Just this once, I decided, it might do Molly some good to know what it felt like to have the hue of her skin used as a further insult.

The tight corset made bending at the waist difficult, but not impossible, even though there would have been no way Molly could have gone over as far as I knew she could do when unhampered by such a restrictive garment. She finally managed an approximate forty-five degree angle, which had her upper body leaning over the footboard parallel with the mattress. I stepped forward, picked up several pillows from next to the headboard, and arranged them beneath her shoulders and breasts. She tried to turn her head upwards to look at me, but the neck corset made that impossible. Until Indira permitted her to stand upright again, her field of vision was restricted to a flower-patterned counterpane just a few inches from her nose.

'Legs apart, slut,' Indira commanded, inserting her crop between Molly's thighs to emphasise the order. Awkwardly, the girl shuffled her feet to comply, but Indira was not satisfied at her first attempt. 'Further,' she hissed, tapping one taut buttock with the stiff leather.

Molly jumped, but the flicked contact had the desired effect and she increased the gap between her ankles by a good seven or eight inches.

'Now, what do we have here?' Indira asked, her tone teasing. She stepped closer and inserted her free hand between Molly's thighs, and from the bound girl's reaction, I realised she had gone straight in for the kill. Without withdrawing her hand, Indira used the other to flick down with the whip, bringing a squeak of pain from her hapless victim. 'I asked you a question, whore!' she snarled, though when she looked across at me I saw she was actually smiling.

I winked encouragement and nodded, but said nothing.

The whip rose and fell again with a sharp crack. This time Molly's squeal was a good deal louder and I saw a red mark appear across her buttock.

'Tell me what it is I have my hand in, slut.'

Molly groaned and I saw her eyes close. 'M-my f-fanny,' she gasped.

Indira laughed. 'Your
what?
' she retorted. 'You're a whore, a slave, and slaves don't have fannies, they have cunts, don't they?'

I was somewhat taken aback by Indira's sudden use of the most base vernacular, but the word had the right effect on her victim when she repeated her question.

'It's my c-cunt,' she whimpered.

Indira laughed and again snapped the crop down on unprotected flesh. 'It's your cunt,
what?
'

Molly was quick to understand, as quick as Indira had been to slip into this unaccustomed role. Anne-Marie and Carmen would have been most impressed with her, and for a moment I wondered if Andrea had suddenly returned to take over.

'It's my cunt, mistress,' Molly sobbed.

Indira nodded. 'Then answer me properly, whore-slave,' she persisted. 'What do I have my fingers in, eh?'

'My cunt, mistress.'

Indira winked back at me now. 'You see,' she said, addressing Molly, 'that wasn't so difficult, was it? All you need to remember is that your role here is as a slave, and a slave exists to serve and pleasure and, sometimes, if she's very fortunate and if she earns it, to be pleasured in return. Now, I shall give you one taste of what an errant slave should expect.' She stepped back and without warning swung her arm. It was not a particularly vicious blow, but it was far harder than anything she had so far delivered. The crack of leather on stretched flesh was like a pistol shot in the confines of the bedchamber, but its noise was more than matched by Molly's howl of pain.

'Oh, shut up,' was Indira's only reaction. 'Shut up and stand up. I have a duty for you to perform.' She grasped the back of Molly's neck collar and used it to help the weeping girl regain a standing position. 'Turn around, slave-slut,' she ordered, stepping further back herself. 'Now then,' she said, letting one white-gloved hand trail slowly down towards her own exposed sex, 'you, a whore, have a cunt, and I, a lady and a mistress, have what we prefer to call a cunny, or even a minnie. Do you think my cunny is pretty, slave girl Molly.'

Poor Molly. She blinked and tried to nod, but the restriction about her neck made the gesture impossible, so she was forced to answer out loud. 'Yes, mistress,' she said hurriedly.

'Then ask if you may kiss it, slut.' Indira deliberately moved her own legs further apart and pushed one gloved finger between her already glistening lower lips. 'Come on now, don't be shy.'

I could see the idea shocked Molly, and I could also see a practical problem in what Indira wanted her to do, but for the moment I decided not to interfere. For a few seconds nothing happened and I thought Molly was going to refuse outright, but the sight and threat of the crop, which Indira now flexed deliberately between her hands, proved a strong incentive. Unsteadily, the bound girl moved forward and tried to stoop and bend, but even though she was still able to get her back parallel with the floor, her boots meant she was just a few inches too tall to bring her head low enough, which was exactly what I suspected would happen. Indira allowed the poor creature to struggle for several seconds, pushing her sex against the bridge of Molly's nose and rubbing herself up and down, while her victim manfully tried to get lower and raise her head to even greater degree, a feat made doubly impossible by the corsets about her torso and neck.

At last Indira relented. Pushing Molly away temporarily, she turned and began arranging the pillows I had placed under our student a few minutes earlier, draping the final one over the top of the headboard with the others piled behind and beneath it to form a more or less comfortable seat, which she lifted herself onto and perched on with her legs wide apart. 'Now,' she instructed, 'let us try that once more, my pretty doxy, eh?' The arrangement lifted her at least another six inches and she was also able to offer herself at a more convenient angle now.

Molly, very red in the face, both from shortage of breath and from shame and embarrassment, tottered forward and once again bent stiffly forward. This time she was able to comply with Indira's wishes and, as her head disappeared between the brown thighs, I saw my exotic lover stiffen with pleasure.

'Ah, yes,' she crooned. 'Yes indeed, Molly... and now your tongue, girl. You know what to look for, I'm sure. I... oh yes!'

I smiled. Obviously Molly
did
know what to look for and had found the target first up.

Indira's eyes rolled and she lifted her legs and draped them over the stooping girl's shoulders, grasping her head and holding her firmly in position so she could not retreat. 'Lay on, my pretty pink slut,' she gasped, and began slowly rocking her hips back and forth.

Now I decided to take a hand in the proceedings and stepped quietly across the room to take up position just behind Molly, who standing with her legs apart for balance offered an easy target. I stretched forward one hand and gently cupped her sex from behind. It felt hot on the outside, but when I began to probe with one finger, I found she was still fairly dry. Quickly I began rubbing my finger back and forth as I would have done with either myself or Anne-Marie, and was rewarded first with a muffled moan from between Indira's legs and, a moment or so later, by a rapid moistening from within, so that I was now easily able to insert two fingers and establish mastery over that one weak point I knew would guarantee our reluctant trainee's ultimate capitulation.

It made quite an erotic tableau, I realised, and similar scenes would one day be captured on photographic plates and paper for the delectation of discerning gentlemen. For about thirty seconds we all remained like this, but the sights and smells were becoming too much for me. I dropped to my knees and pressed my own face between soft feminine thighs, my tongue eager where Molly's had earlier been hesitant.

Fortunately I had not bothered to wear any drawers beneath my skirt and shift and I scrabbled at the folds of fabric, clawing them up into my lap, so that the hand I had first employed to stimulate Molly could now perform a similar task on myself. I was already wet and my nubbin throbbing and swollen, and my self-ministrations drove me to redouble my efforts on the hot little box in my mouth. I heard several groans - Indira's and Molly's, it was impossible to distinguish the one from the other - and then suddenly I felt our joint victim starting to shake and tremble. A moment later I began to come myself, burying my face as deeply as I could in order to stifle my own cries.

And then it was done and somehow I was standing up, Indira too, with a red-faced and even more breathless Molly between us. I reached around and stroked her buttocks gently, noting that she was still quivering and possibly still in that state I always think of as 'aftershock', where although the main wave of the orgasm has passed, little miniature climaxes continue, in my case for anything up to three or four minutes, although I know now that I'm somewhat of an extreme case.

'Now, was that not quite nice?' I asked gently. I looked across at Indira and could see from the expression on her face that 'quite nice' didn't even come close, but Molly managed to nod. 'Good,' I said, 'so we'll do it again in a little while.'

'But surely, mistress,' Molly rasped, 'this is sinful, is it not?'

'What?' It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Instead I said, 'You silly girl, it's no more sinful than anything you've ever done in your short life up until now, and quite probably a lot more enjoyable. And it's certainly not illegal,' I added with a chuckle, remembering that quirky story about how, when her ministers took before Queen Victoria a bill that would outlaw homosexuality and lesbianism, that grand but in many ways unworldly old lady asked how it was possible between two women. Rather than face the embarrassment of a graphic explanation, the officials struck out the passage referring to Sapphic activities and so the allegedly weaker sex enjoyed an immunity not enjoyed by their male counterparts until that insidious piece of legislation, that was to be the cause of so much agonising for so many decades, was finally repealed in the nineteen-sixties.

'No,' I said, leaning across and kissing the embarrassed girl on the cheek, 'you've committed no sin in my eyes. But there are those who have, and we should comfort ourselves with the thought that everything we do now is dedicated to bringing upon them the retribution their foul depravity has earned them.' Brave and noble words, I told myself, and tried to ignore the fact that in the meantime it looked as if I was going to have a most enjoyable time with my trio of acolytes, not to mention Indira and, of course, Erik, who I suspected I might have been neglecting for far too long. And, as I thought of Erik, a cunning idea began to form in my head. I grinned to myself as I left the room. So far this was all going very well and, if we continued as we had begun, my plan to deal with the dual menace of Hacklebury and Megan Crowthorne might be able to happen a good deal earlier than I originally anticipated.

When I returned to the present this time around, it was to find Carmen starting to really enjoy herself with her latest creation, in the same way that pre-teen girls become entranced with their Barbie dolls and all their various outfits and accessories, except that her ultimate aim was not to produce a finished ensemble reflecting the latest fashion craze, but rather to present me to her waiting audience in the way certain lonely males might try to give their inflatable bed companions the appearance of the girl of their more elaborate private dreams.