The Bottom Line (23 page)

The fifth blow was much harder and principally across the left buttock. Within the limit allowed by his position he arched his back as he drew in his breath again. The next stroke was on the other side and equally hard. Then came two more right across the middle, all of them forcing him to concentrate to avoid calling out. Once more she moved in front of him.

‘You're doing well,' she said, ‘but I'll break you soon.' And for the first time she seemed to look down and take notice of his huge erection, its angle of elevation made more pointed by the position into which the rest of his body was forced. She wrapped her right hand round his cock and rubbed it up and down for a few moments, before kneeling in front of him, moving her hand round his taut testicles and nipping the head of his cock between her teeth. He thought he might come there and then but she knew her trade well and released him in time.

The ninth stroke was much the hardest yet, and only the greatest of efforts prevented the gasp for air from becoming a scream as the impact of the crop across the weals inflicted by the eight earlier strokes caused the blood to rush again to the surface. There was a matching stroke across the other cheek with a similar result, and then he waited for the next one, which he knew would land right across the middle. It was a long time in coming, and when it landed there was half a second of no sensation other than an apparent freezing of the flesh, as happens when one cuts oneself with a very sharp knife. And then the pain of the blow struck, and had he been unrestrained he knew he would have been doubled up.

The final stroke of the last group of four landed unexpectedly quickly, too quickly, and the scream was out before he could control himself. He waited for the lightning burn to lose its agonising sting, as he knew it would and then, as she moved back into view, he looked at her and said simply, ‘Gag me.'

‘All in good time,' she said, and putting down the crop she went over to the instrument rack and selected what looked rather like a stout bookmark. ‘Let's see how you like this first,' she said, as she brought it sharply down across his swollen cock. He grunted, more in surprise than pain, but made no more noise as she repeated the blow several more times, striking from different angles. When she had finished she retrieved the cloth, stretched it between his teeth and secured it round the back. As he watched her pick up the crop for the final three blows he knew he was probably about to suffer as he had never suffered before.

The first blow was slanted diagonally upward, so that it cut across several of the earlier marks. The second landed diagonally downward but with similar effect, and the final one was right across the middle. With each one his eyes bulged, his cheeks puffed out and his body twisted and turned as he attempted in vain to escape, knowing that, had he not allowed her to gag him, he would have been screaming for mercy.

The pain would last for hours, he knew that, but no moment would be quite as painful as that one when the final blow landed and, having survived that, he could handle the rest, would even come to enjoy the spreading warmth. But he knew there was to be a little tailpiece, and despite the red-hot pain gripping him, managed to keep still as she released him from the gag, kept the cloth ready in one hand, and then quickly and expertly tossed him off.

She cleaned him up and helped him back into his clothes. At first he had difficulty in walking and the stairs were a bit of a problem, but he knew that, by taking it slowly, he would quickly recover and would be able to look normal. What he needed now was a bed for the night, in the cheap hotel close by which he'd spotted as he walked back from the restaurant. And he was now quite happy about his future, the important decision taken. Tomorrow he would return to the farm and to the rest of his life, but after a visit to the saddler's shop on the high street.

 

 

 

They took me completely by surprise. I knew I was becoming increasingly unpopular, particularly with Debbie and Tracy, but I put that down to my willingness to show the three blokes what I'd got - and even that had been partly scripted.

At my first interview, when the chief executive had asked me for two reasons why I should be chosen as a castaway in preference to any of the other girls, I understood him completely. I was wearing a rather loose sweater over a tight bra with a deep plunge, and all I did was pull up my sweater and show him my two reasons. He loved it even though he pretended I had misunderstood him. Anyhow, at my final interview he made it clear that my role was to get my kit off whenever the weather made it practical.

I found out later that we all had special duties and instructions, and we'd been chosen quite carefully so that no two of us were the same. There were twelve of us to start with: twelve on an uninhabited island in the Baltic Sea, fifty miles from the nearest mainland. I was surprised that the Baltic had been chosen, but we were told that the climate was almost totally predictable and that we'd have fine weather at least six days out of seven, with the temperature usually in the seventies and occasionally in the eighties.

It was similar to all those other fashionable games where a number of people have to live together in an exotic setting and, every so often, one or two are voted off until it comes down to the last three and then there's a nationwide poll to decide who wins. But our game was a bit different from the rest, mainly because we were promised that no episode would ever be shown before ten o'clock at night. It was also made very clear to us that, as a result, we could be a lot raunchier than was usually possible.

So my job, apart from surviving for as long as I could and trying to win the final prize which, with all the endorsements that would follow, was likely to exceed a million pounds, was to show as much of my body as I wanted to. And it wasn't enough for me merely to strip off. I wasn't to avoid or cheat the cameras like some contestants did - at least until they'd forgotten or stopped caring. I had to make sure that whenever - and wherever - I stripped off, inside or out, I was in full view of one of the cameras. Apart from having all my expenses met and my salary guaranteed for the two months that the assignment would last, I had been promised a straight ten thousand pounds for fulfilling the individual condition.

I learned fairly soon that Terry's job was to make sure that the cameras were all active and pointing in the right direction. Terry was actually a trainee manager in a supermarket but his great interest was electronics, so he quite often told me where I should go to make sure I was fully in camera. Strange to say, he was the only man I didn't make it with while I was on the island. Anyhow, Terry was one of the last six survivors along with Debbie and Tracy plus the other two men, Rory and Howard. Tracy was a beauty consultant, though it took some believing, while Debbie claimed to be a dietician. Rory was a swimming-pool attendant who also moonlighted as a builder, and Howard was a public relations consultant. The only one I really got to know, however, other than in the purely, or more likely impurely, biblical sense, was Terry.

He'd told me we were having a meeting at the Knoll at two o'clock and it was important that I should be there. He wasn't kidding: without me there would have been no meeting. The Knoll was a little hillock that offered a view to all sides, overlooked only by a similar hillock with a clump of lonely trees on top. The Knoll offered a dilapidated hut and an upright wooden post with a ring through it, near the top. The other five were all there, standing round the post, when I arrived, and as usual it was Debbie who was doing the talking.

‘Good of you to come, Vikki,' she began, in her usual whining voice. ‘I'm surprised you've still got your top on. Never mind, we can soon do something about that.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked her. ‘And who do you think you are to tell me when to take my top off?'

‘You'd better listen carefully,' she told me, ‘or you'll be off this island when the boat comes tomorrow.' I started to interrupt but she shut me up. ‘We've had a little meeting and we've decided that you've been messing us about for long enough.'

‘What do you mean, messing you about?' I asked indignantly. ‘I haven't messed anyone about. And what's all this about the boat coming?'

‘Very simply,' she said, ‘when the boat comes tomorrow five of us are going back on it unless... well, we'll tell you the unless in a minute.'

‘But you can't all go back,' I pointed out, ‘or the programme will be over. There'll be no point going on if I'm the only one left on the island.'

‘Precisely,' Debbie replied. ‘And the ratings are very good, aren't they, Howard?' Howard, the public relations man on the team, nodded. ‘I can't see the company being very keen to cancel the show now so, unless you do exactly what we tell you, the show's over.'

There was quite a bit more like this and it got nastier, but the upshot of it was that the other five had agreed, according to Debbie, that they were sick of my shenanigans and, unless I agreed to their conditions, they were either all going to leave the island the next day, or they were going to force me to leave. At first a majority vote had been all that was necessary to remove one of us from the island, and I'd been careful to ensure that most of the original dozen had a reason for keeping me there with them.

Now however, with six of us left, one of the conditions of the contract was that, if the other five voted in favour of excluding one, the one had to go. Only when it got down to the last three would the nationwide ballot come into it. Briefly, that was it. Either I yielded to their demands or they ended the show by going on strike, or they forced me off the island. Two of the choices meant that the contracts were going to be torn up, and the other left just an outside chance. Since I intended to quit my job when I returned and would have no income other than my fee for stripping, I felt that I had, at the very least, to find out what they wanted.

‘You remember those humiliation games we had to play in the first week?' she asked me, to which I nodded. We'd taken it in turns to be tethered to the post while the others either did embarrassing things to us or asked us to do embarrassing things all by ourselves. It had been both trivial and juvenile and I preferred not to think of it now.

‘You're going back on the post,' she told me, ‘but you can strip off first.'

I shrugged my shoulders, unfastened my blouse, which I'd knotted beneath my breasts, and slipped it off. I rarely wore any underwear on the island, except occasionally in the evenings, but displaying my breasts caused me no concern at all, since I'd been displaying them almost every day to any of the other contestants who happened to be near and to the cameras as well.

‘And the rest,' she insisted. I was a little surprised by this but not particularly bothered since I'd frequently stripped completely before bathing or sunning myself, and in any case everybody there except Terry had seen it all before. Off came my brief skirt, therefore, and I stood there completely naked.

Debbie took me up to the post and made me stand facing it, while Rory and Howard tied my wrists together with a piece of rope they had brought from the hut. I still wasn't worried, even when they knotted the rope to the ring at the top of the post, but I was beginning to realise that this had been quite carefully planned. By crossing my wrists I could turn round but I couldn't move more than a very short distance away from the post. I could, however, see Terry whispering something to Debbie, at which she shook her head vigorously.

‘No way,' she said, ‘we all agreed to this. If you don't want your turn that's up to you, but it's time she was taught a lesson.'

‘And what lesson am I going to be taught?' I asked. ‘Especially by a superbrain like you?'

‘If I were you,' she warned me, ‘I'd keep a civil tongue in my head.'

‘If you were me,' I retorted, no doubt unwisely, ‘you'd behave exactly as I do and probably be a lot better for it.'

‘Right,' she said furiously, turning towards the other four as she spoke, ‘that does it.' Terry and Howard disappeared into the shed, but Tracy and Rory both stood there grinning.

‘Just before you do whatever it is you've decided to do,' I said, ‘don't I get a chance to defend myself? And aren't you at least going to tell me what you have in mind?'

‘You're going to get a good hiding,' snapped Debbie. ‘That's what we have in mind.'

Even now I wasn't bothered because I didn't take the threat seriously. They were probably going to slap me round the bum with a strand of wet seaweed, mirroring some of the stupid games we'd played previously.

‘This is to teach you a real lesson,' she went on. ‘We're sick of the way you play one off against the other. We're sick of the fact that your main ambition seems to be to have sex with everyone on the island. We're...'

‘You didn't seem to mind so much when you came into my bed,' I reminded her. ‘You told me you'd never had it so good, if my memory is accurate.'

‘Yes,' she said, ‘but that was before you went round the whole island. Anyhow, it's not just that. At least three of the ones sent home owed it to you.'

‘That's their fault,' I retorted. ‘We're all here to win, aren't we? You're just as keen to be set up for life as I am. All I did was help one or two people to make fools of themselves and get voted off the island.'