CHAPTER 1

 

From a distance the old Victorian building looked a collection of huge granite tombstones rising wraith-like from the bleak Scottish moors. It was large and rambling but there was little need for the numerous 'Danger - Keep Out' signs on the fences which enclosed its substantial estate. Locals seldom ventured anywhere near the grim edifice, believing it to be derelict, dangerous and haunted.

Deep within those foreboding buildings something stirred in average size room in need of some decoration and heating as testified by the peeling paint and cold grimy tiled floor. It scarcely held any furniture, so possibly that didn't matter. The smell of stale sweat was the overriding impression; maybe that was because it had once, many years ago, been a school changing room situated within those grim walls - a learning establishment for boarders. Now that bleak room was used for another sort of learning and fresh sweat was being generated.

There were only two chairs and a stool for the four people in that room, totally silent, all concentrating on their own thoughts. Two were dressed in black and were masked and one wasn't. Indeed that third person, a beautiful blonde, was pinkly naked, the lovely and enticing contours of her nudity looking strangely out of place in such a grim setting. The strain of simply being there was etched on her beautiful face and body. The fourth person, a seated Negro youth, wore a casual tracksuit and aimed a professional television camera at the scene.

Tina wrinkled her nose which was being tickled by the line of perspiration marching down it, praying that she didn't sneeze. She would have dearly loved to wipe it away but that was not possible, she had to concentrate on holding a rock above her head and a pencil within her bottom. She blinked away the moisture, which had irritatingly pooled in her eyes, shaking her head to toss back the hair adhering to the sheen of effort on her face. The movement nearly made her stagger and, heart pounding, she desperately strove to keep her balance; it was imperative that she do so to avoid the painful consequences.

Momentarily her head dropped with fatigue, trying to ease the tension in her neck. Abstractly she noticed the rivulet of sweat making a steady glistening course between the valley of her bare breasts, rising and falling with her exertions, thrusting upwards with her posture, her nipples tight red cones of fear. Below them she could see her fine blonde pubic tufts and her painted toes, designed to pad seductively over a bedroom carpet but now looking so out of place on the grimy floor. She began to lift her head again but, too late, she heard the swish behind her.

Slap!

"Haah," she yelped, flinching but striving to keep her position rather than strike back - or run away and hide as her more favoured option. The masked girl had smacked her bottom as if she was a child. The smarting pain erupting across the bare tender cheeks joined the throbbing red hue already tinting the upper half of each lovely sphere above the pencil jutting rudely from between them. Desperately she clenched her bottom to hold it in place, if it dropped she would be punished further.

She would have loved to throw the rock at the ugly creep ordering her around or the girl standing behind him. However, the chains suspending the weight from the ceiling made it a physical impossibility to do more than let it swing in a harmless arc a foot above the floor, probably breaking her leg. She was too frightened to contemplate such a course. She could do nothing but hold the damn rock, stand still with her legs slightly, yet immodestly, apart as they had crudely instructed her and look straight ahead into the harsh light trained in her twitching face. Talking was not permitted, she must remain silent and still.

"Keep yer fucking head and arms up, bitch!" he barked at her in a heavy Scottish accent. "If you lower them - you'll wish you weren't born!" The tirade finished low and soft - but the threat was nevertheless real and tangible. And it was worse that the eye mask partially obscured his features, his anonymity lending a further slant of fear of the unknown to her torture.

Groaning, she pushed her arms straighter above her head, heaving the heavy rock further aloft. The tendons stood out in her arms, her joints creaking in protest. The rock hadn't seemed that heavy at first but that had been before she had to hold it high above her head for ten minutes, then do fifty press-ups and running on the spot for ten more minutes before again holding it aloft. Twice that cycle of torment had been repeated and she had been at the bastard's mercy for hours now.

On this latest cycle, she had been holding the rock on quivering, rubbery arms for several minutes, the only 'break' being when her bearded mentor ordered her to do knee bends whilst still holding it. It made her shoulder, calf and thigh muscles, in addition to her those in her arms, practically burst into flames. The girl standing behind her had then been the one to decide on the additional indignity and torment of pushing the pencil into her anus and making her grip - or suffer the consequences of it dropping out.

Worse was the knowledge that there was no real reason for her being tormented. They said it was for refusing to obey orders - to suck the disgusting cock of her captor, the ugly one now before her. What could be more natural than to object to such a demand, she thought with a shudder of revulsion. Her suffering was seemingly simply for the amusement of the grinning bastard seated casually before her reading a paper and for the bitch with the cane behind her.

Her initial shame and fear at having to strip naked before them for one of these 'punishment' sessions had almost faded. Indeed, she was in any case only normally allowed to wear a thin blue tee-shirt shamefully emblazoned with the logo 'SLAP'. It was thin enough to reveal the outline of her body, short enough to allow her bottom to ride into view whenever she bent over and, being sufficiently low cut to show most of her jiggling cleavage above it, she was never exactly overdressed. The sheer physical torments had very nearly subsumed that shame but always in the background was the fear of what else they might do to her. She was a naked woman standing helpless before a man who exercised total control over her.

Adding to the stripping away of her self-esteem was the fact that the bastard scarcely bothered to even look up at her enticing body, preferring to read a paper whilst the young girl sat behind her. She knew that she was an extremely attractive woman - or maybe people had simply paid her false compliments over the years? She had been made to undress completely before them, all of her womanly charms on view, yet the guy just demeaned her.

"Hold those fucking arms high," he had snarled earlier. "I don't wanna' look at your sagging tits or fat arse - I just wanna' see ye sweat, lass," he had spat.

"You heard the man, you've nothing to flaunt," the girl behind her mocked and demeaned her further by lightly slapping the firm cheeks of her bottom, making the pencil wobble dangerously and her cheeks pinch up to hold it. She wriggled with disgust as the girl's fingers slid between the globes and into the cleft between, deliberately flicking the pencil to produce a painful and unnatural sharpness within her before, even worse, the finger intruded slightly into the sheath of her sex, stroking horribly. She longed to cover herself, turn and wrench away the filthy fingers but instead remained standing meekly, enduring.

"Perhaps we'll all see how you use this later, eh?" The vixen spoke softly, making her wriggle involuntarily again as she stroked her bottom. "For now, just concentrate on standing there without moving, bitch, unless you want a sore arse and me to shove the pencil right up it. It's big enough to lose it up there, isn't it?" she lied, laughing.

Seconds turned into minutes, her arms quivered with strain. The self-doubts continued to gnaw her, tears of self-pity and shame joining those from her efforts. And worse was the ever-present eye of the camera recording every second of her pain and humiliation in this house of hell.

"Three on the backside with a cane." The man looked up from his paper, addressing the girl behind her. "Then we'll see if she's feeling more co-operative."

Tina groaned; they seemed to know just how to inflict the maximum of physical and mental torment. Yet she supposed it could be worse. She would, somehow, take it; they wouldn't break her.

"Ye heard the man." The girl slowly pulled the pencil from Tina's bottom, making it feel as if she was being pulled hotly apart, then she took the weight of the rock, making Tina's arms spring upwards as light as a feather. "Bend over and touch your toes, legs apart and straight and push that fat arse out - I think you know how."

Holding back a retort, biting her lip, Tina bent over to adopt the humiliating posture.

"Stick it out more." The girl patted the taut and already sensitive curve of her bottom until it was exactly as she demanded.

Mentally Tina began preparing herself for the pain, blotting out that it was purely for the bastard's pleasure. Physically she also steeled herself, taking deep breaths, tensing her muscles and balling her fists. She heard the upward swing of the cane behind her and shut her eyes. Involuntarily, her cheeks clenched in dread, hearing the man laugh as he watched her performance. She would have loved to kill him right then.

Whack!

"Haahhh," she gasped, breath hissing through clenched teeth as a raw band of fire seemed to burn into her bottom, tightening the flesh, making her feel both hot and sick. Instinctively, she longed to press her hands to the two balls of fire which represented each cheek, protect their jutting vulnerability from the cane which swished inches from her tortured flesh, yet she did not dare. Her hands were clenched whitely around her ankles, gripping frantically as she absorbed the pain, knowing that if she moved she would receive an additional stroke.

She wanted it to be over, yet the sadists prolonged it, letting her rebuild her tattered defences again before the flexible wood again bit into her, reducing her from a sophisticated woman into a howling schoolgirl - yet she knew she was shamefully bent over just like one. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of giving in, grovelling to them, at least not just yet. That was her method of survival here, live each hour at a time. Promise herself to get through the day and then tomorrow, surrender, give them what they want; hoping for the strength tomorrow to continue, though.

Swaaack!

"Gragggghh!" she screamed like an animal as the bitch cut the wood up into the sensitive underside of her bottom, making her draw deeply on her willpower to prevent herself throwing herself sobbing in a corner and begging for mercy. She remained in position, a tear dropping onto her foot as she began the impossible task of steeling herself for the next one. How could this be happening to her? True, she had occasionally indulged in some spanking games with her husband in the privacy of her bedroom, but never expected to be touching her toes naked before harsh strangers whose only aim was to hurt and break her.

Her life previously had been great. A good job in a school, a house that was her pride and joy, a husband who she loved and who was sufficiently well paid to provide a comfortable existence for them both. She had everything including, she was told, seductive good looks which gained her many male admirers. Perhaps life was easy, too cosy, she had wanted more, more excitement. Well, she had certainly got that now - except that it was more misery, pain and humiliation than just excitement! She had often wondered how tough she was and now she was finding out the hard way. Her tired mind wandered, seeking solace, wondering why she had allowed herself to get into this position and how much longer she could take it.

It had started a day or so earlier.