The Girlflesh Institute (Nexus) (16 page)

‘Change!’ one of the men called out.

The girls on top all immediately rolled to their left and mounted the next reclining girl in the line. Only now did Vanessa see that round black pads strapped over their eyes blindfolded every girl. They could not even see whom it was they were being made to lick out.

The last girl rolling clear now had nobody to mount. She was dragged to her feet and taken round
to
the front of the line and made to mount the first girl.

It was darkly fascinating to see those blushing pretty faces, glossy with the juices of their sisters, blindly seeking another cunt to tongue each time they changed. The row of equally flushed pouting clefts, fringed with matted pubic hair, awaited them almost eagerly. The blindfolds reduced them to anonymous sexual playthings. Only the black girl, Olivia, and Kashika’s blonde hair against brown skin were immediately recognisable. She was on top at the moment, her face buried in the red pubes of a pale-skinned girl. Amber, was it?

Vanessa supposed she would get to know them all properly when she had a chance to interview them, though how she could do that after seeing them like this she did not know. The seductive scent of unrestrained female arousal was permeating the yard once again. How could they let themselves be used like this?

‘Reverse!’ the blonde trainer commanded.

The girls on top all rolled to their right and lay on their backs, while the girls who had been underneath rolled over to mount them. Then the process started again. Vanessa realised that this way every girl would eventually have had every other girl both underneath and on top. But what was it supposed to achieve, apart from providing a degrading spectacle for the amusement of their captors?

She went over to Miss Kyle, who was standing a little apart from the male trainers. ‘Excuse me, Miss Kyle. May I ask what is this meant to do for these girls?’

‘They’re learning each others’ taste and smell, of course. They have to be totally at ease not only with their own bodies, but also those of their chain sisters. This way they get to know and love every bum, tit
and
cunt in the chain as though they were their own. It also teaches them to give and receive pleasure among themselves, so when they start working they’ll perform any sexual act together without any inhibitions holding them back.’

The anger flared up in Vanessa again. ‘And incidentally breaking their spirit and will to resist?’

Miss Kyle raised an eyebrow. ‘Still speaking your mind, eh? And still just as wrong. No, you stupid girl, we’re freeing their spirit. Be patient. You’ll see …’

A break was called after another ten minutes of group oral sex. The girls were pulled apart and, still blindfolded, made to kneel in a trembling row. They were clearly desperately aroused, but the constant change of partners had not enabled them to come. Sweat glistened on their bodies and their nipples stood up painfully hard. A plastic watering can was taken along the line, the bare nozzle pushed into their mouths and they were allowed to gulp a few mouthfuls each. Then Miss Kyle went down the line pulling back each girl’s head and slipping a ball-gag between her teeth.

Meanwhile, the two male trainers were wheeling out three identical rectangular, tubular metal frames from the selection arrayed about the yards. They stood over two metres tall. Sets of rubber-lined cuffs dangled from the upper rails, and a row of four telescopic rods with large black phalluses in their ends were mounted vertically on each base rail.

One by one, the girls were taken from the line and stood on the base rails of the racks, straddling the phallus rods. The straps binding their arms were removed and their wrists were lifted above their heads and cuffed, then pulled tight until they stood on tiptoe. When they were all in place, their legs were
drawn
apart and their ankles cuffed to those of the girl next to them, so that they hung from their wrist cuffs. The outside ankle of the girl at the end of each line was fastened to a ring in the side-post of the rack.

Soon the whole chain of a dozen girls was suspended from the frames, linked by their bounds like strings of paper dolls: blind, mute, helpless, trembling, nervous and expectant. The pink inner flesh of their still hungry sexes gaped, wetly waiting for their inevitable penetration.

Vanessa stared at them, unable to turn away. She knew it was wrong but the sight of the captive girls aroused her. Trying to focus on her job, she went over to Miss Kyle again.

‘What are you going to do with them now, Miss Kyle?’

‘They’ve had a lot of exercise with their mouths. Now they must start exercising their cunts and arses properly. They’ve got to learn to enjoy having a variety of objects inserted up them. When they’re well stuffed and properly stimulated, we’ll allow them to come. It’ll reinforce the link in their minds between pain and pleasure. They can’t be proper slaves without that.’

‘But there is no link,’ Vanessa blurted out.

‘That’s a stupid thing to say, girl, after the way you responded on the rack a couple of days ago.’

Vanessa blushed furiously, but persisted. ‘You made me behave like that, Miss Kyle, as you are these girls. But it’s not natural. Pain and pleasure are different things.’

‘You mean you wish they were different things. Life would be so much simpler. Keep the emotions nice and tidy and separate. But it’s not like that for some people. Not for these girls or for you. The sooner you learn to accept that the better.’

She left Vanessa to take up position by one of the racks. The men were standing one each by the others. They began raising the dildos on their adjustable rods, bending the ends slightly to slide them up into the waiting sheaths of flesh above them. The girls tensed and groaned as they were penetrated, throwing back their heads and biting on their ball-gags. Their pubes bulged as the dildos slid so deep inside them Vanessa thought they would burst. Then the rods were locked in place and the trainers stood back, leaving their captives grotesquely skewered.

They twisted in mid-air, their struggles making their sisters wriggle in turn. All they managed was to screw themselves about their impaling dildos. Vanessa saw trickles of clear fluid began to run down the black rubber shafts.

The raw scent of their need wafted over her, and she found herself losing her certainty.

They looked like primitive sacrifices to some pagan god of lust and perversion. She knew it was wrong and cruel yet they looked so ravishingly desirable it shamed her. At that moment they existed for nothing else but a celebration of sex and suffering, and try as she might she could not turn away from them. To hide her naked fascination she raised her camera and began recording their degradation.

The trainers moved to stand behind the three racks of girls. They were now holding what looked like slender paddles with wooden handles and flat black rubber blades. Of course, the stimulation …

The paddles swished down on bare soft bottom flesh, making sharp smacks as they struck. The girls yelped behind their gags, their taut, suspended bodies jerking in reflex, sending ripples down the line, grinding the dildos deeper into them. Vanessa saw Kashika’s dark glossy breasts shivering and jiggling
sharply
, while Amber’s heavier globes heaved in slower, more fluid motion. Their thighs tensed and knees turned inwards, trying to clench the rods on which they were impaled.

Feeling her own pussy weeping in sympathy, Vanessa kept the camera to her eye as she walked round the racks of tormented girls. From behind she saw how the trainers worked their way up and down the row of their charges, keeping up a steady stream of blows, changing the angle from which they struck, lifting bottom flesh and making it jump and shiver. The paddles did not cut the girls’ flesh, but left broad stripes and blushes blossoming over twelve bouncing, clenching backsides.

It was a tie between Kashika and Olivia as to who orgasmed first. With drool running down their cheeks, both girls shrieked and jerked wildly, straining their arms spasmodically as they rode their dildos over the last barrier to relief.

As soon as they went limp their trainers concentrated their attention on the girls either side of them. Three minutes later, all twelve girls hung limp in their bonds, heads lolling on heaving chests, breasts glistening with sweat, vaginal juices dripping freely down the rods to the floor.

The trainers conferred in quiet voices for a minute, then they went to the racks and began lowering the dildos, pulling them out of sticky holes with sucking pops. The girls’ gags were pulled out, the water can spout thrust between stretched lips and then the gags were reinserted. Vanessa sighed in relief. She did not know how much more she could have taken, trembling as she was with self-loathing and unquenched lust.

Then she saw the trainers sliding the now pussyoiled dildos into the girls’ rear passages. No, they
couldn’t
expect the poor creatures to come again so soon.

She went up to Miss Kyle. ‘Please … don’t do this to them!’

‘Why not? They’re willing. See for yourself!’ She grasped Vanessa by her hair and pulled her forwards and on to her knees in front of Kashika’s spread and impaled body. ‘Tell me she’s not hot for more,’ she hissed, thrusting Vanessa’s face into the girl’s pubes.

The warm, rich, honeyed scent of the girl filled her nostrils. Her vulva was a dark cleft with contrasting coral-pink depths to her labia, which were wet and engorged by blood. There were beads of sweat in her smooth, deep navel. Her pubic curls were a darker honey-blonde …

Miss Kyle jerked Vanessa’s head back out of Kashika’s love-mouth and pushed her aside. ‘Now don’t you dare interfere again!’

Confused, Vanessa watched as bottom after bottom bulged with rubber prongs, and girl after girl gasped and groaned and then lifted her head. Were they truly ready to accept more punishment?

The trainers moved round to the front of their racks and began swiping their paddles across the girls’ defenceless breasts and stomachs. They writhed and moaned, sore bottoms clenching as they squirmed and twisted on their anal mounts. Vanessa’s mind filled with slaps and cracks of rubber on flesh, of breasts rebounding from paddle strokes, of straining nipples, tremulous navels, shafted rears and swollen labia. But above all was the animal scent of their desire misting the air. And helplessly caught up in the charged atmosphere she took picture after picture.

Then it was over. Once more the chain hung limp and drained. The floor beneath them splattered with a second shower of their juices.

Miss Kyle came over to Vanessa. She looked radiantly happy, her nipples standing up through the filmy material of her body stocking.

‘This is going to be an exceptionally responsive chain,’ she announced proudly. ‘They’ll make wonderful slaves. You should feel privileged to be covering their training.’

‘No!’ Vanessa gasped, shaking her head to clear the drug-like aroma of slavery from her mind. ‘This is just disgusting. I’ve got to get out of here!’

An unexpected expression of sympathy crossed Miss Kyle’s face. ‘Of course. This is a lot to take in. Leave them to us for now. But you’ll come back because you can’t help it. You want to ask them why they need this. You want to see everything we do to them, however guilty it makes you feel. You can’t help yourself. You have to know if it could be you hanging up there with a burning bum and dripping cunt, sobbing with pain but knowing this was what you were born to be …’

Vanessa heard no more as she slammed the yard gate behind her.

That night, curled up in bed, her hands cuffed, her bottom filled by her anal lock, Vanessa dreamt of Cherry Chain dancing on their impaling poles. One particular brown-skinned girl with blonde hair was the focus of her thoughts. She was trying to free her but she was chained up herself.

She woke the next morning to find her fingers sticky with her own juices.

Eight

MISS KYLE WAS
right when she said Vanessa would come back, and not simply because Zara expected her to cover Cherry Chain’s training for
Girlflesh News
. Hateful though it was to admit, she had become helplessly enthralled by the girls’ responses. It was like nothing she had ever known before.

As the days passed, the outside world began to seem merely a mundane and rather drab background to the images and sensations of life at Shillers. She tried to rationalise the feeling by putting it down to her own state of enforced nudity and bondage at work, which was heightening and distorting her appreciation of events. This might have been at least partially true, but deep down she knew it could not account for the intensity of her response. It was almost like a drug.

Apart from short outings for essential shopping, she left her flat only to go to work. There were no friends she could imagine going out with in her current situation. How could she possibly behave naturally? Her life was no longer natural; it was a lie, both outwardly and inwardly. But she could see no escape.

Shiller herself contacted her briefly and, on her instructions and dutifully mouthing her words, she phoned Enwright to reassure him she was all right. At
the
same time she gave details of a Shiller technical subsidiary whose activities she thought were unduly secretive and might warrant further investigation. In fact, as Shiller explained, the firm in question was working on classified defence contracts and had no connection whatsoever with the girlflesh business. The
Globe
could waste its time investigating the firm while Vanessa would be seen to be conscientiously doing her job.

The weekend came up but she worked through it. The girls’ training did not cease and she could not bear the thought of being monitored in her flat for two whole days. She was less closely observed at Shillers. Nobody objected to her presence, and for the most part it was oddly restful. The building was half empty and she had the office virtually to herself. Most of the time she spent down in B3, but she also found herself daringly wandering along the deserted hallways just peering into offices. What must she look like naked and chained in such a mundane setting? She supposed it was a perverse sort of freedom.