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HARD LABOR
Chapter Four
Fern felt herself blush scarlet, heat radiating through her cheeks and neck.
The past 24 hours had been terrible but this moment was the worst of all.
By far !
It was Steele. Looking the same, except around the eyes. He had an aura now, of total self-confidence. When she’d first dated him, he’d been all bravura on the surface but kind of self-conscious underneath. It was a combination she’d liked at first. Like a candy bar; hard on the outside with a soft centre.
“It’s been a long time.” He said to her, matter-of-factly, slightly coldly.
“Yes.” She replied.
“What happened ?” Steele asked.
“They found our passports. I swear that I handed them in during last year’s amnesty but the police discovered them during a random search of our house yesterday. We were advised to plead no contest and they said we’d only get a suspended sentence.”
Steele’s mouth curled in an unpleasant, amused smile.
Fern watched him pensively sip his glass of champagne. They hadn’t offered her any. His wife, Carrie, just sat there listening. Fern thought she looked a bit like that actress Angelina Jolie; cool, enigmatic, with full lips and intense turquoise eyes.
“I promise you.” Fern blurted out. “You know me, Steele. I wouldn’t lie. I handed them in, I swear.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fifty years, heh ? Hard labor. I know they’re having a crackdown on illegal travel but, phew, that’s a bit harsh.”
“And they told Derek that we can’t even appeal.”
“Well, don’t worry, my darling.” Steele’s face broke into a warm grin. “There’s nothing we can do about the sentence. But … well, Carrie and I can do something about your treatment here. As friends.”
For the first time since the courtroom, breathing felt a touch easier. She blinked.
“And how is Derek, by the way ?” he asked.
“He’s devastated. I mean, you can imagine how … this … is for him.”
“What do you mean ?”
“Well, you know … I mean being your friend and now your … slave.”
Steele gave an amused, cold chuckle. “He’ll get used to it. They all do.”
She frowned. The atmosphere had taken a sudden turn for the worse.
“Please, Steele. Don’t blame him for … what happened.”
“Oh, I won’t. You’ll both get … special treatment here. That’s a promise.”
“You’re a … good man, Steele. Thank you so much.” She gushed.
He opened his palms and glanced sideways.
“Don’t thank me. It was Carrie’s idea. Thank her.”
“Th … thank you, Carrie.”
The woman - who Fern realised with a sudden shiver was now legally her ‘Owner’ - gave her a grin like the cat that got the cream. Her hair was elegantly brushed back and her eyebrows plucked into thin, neat curves.
“The pleasure’s all mine, my dear.”
*** *** ***
Only an hour later, Fern lay alone, spreadeagled on the four-poster bed, her wrists tied to the head posts, ankles to the other posts. Lennox, the rat-faced female guard with spiky blonde hair, had tied her up and left the room.
She was naked and helpless. Her hips were raised up by a plump cushion placed underneath her bottom. One moment Steele and Carrie had been kind, the next they’d laughed and summoned guards to take her away.
She could hear noises next door; voices, laughter, party-sounds. People arriving.
The room was the largest she’d ever been in. It was clearly some kind of entertainment or reception hall; maybe 100 ft long. There was a vast stone central-fireplace in which real logs spat and crackled, giving off a scent of smoke that mingled with the aromas of numerous perfumed candles lit around the place; fig, citron and lavender.
The bed she was tied on was a large oak double, set on stage carpeted in burgundy pile, located in the centre of the room. Its four oak posts had been ornately carved with scenes that, Fern realised, were sexual; men and women coupled in every sort of combination and position.
To her right, one half of the room was laid out as a comfortable seating area, with several large sofas, plump armchairs, consoles and low side-tables. It looked like a smart, country house with rugs, lamps, vases of flowers, paintings on the walls and chintz curtains drawn across the full-length windows.
To her left, the other part of the room contained a massive, rectangular dining table, large enough to seat at least two dozen people. She’d counted twenty chairs and places set with fine linen, silverware, china and sparkling glasses.
A banner with ‘Happy Birthday Steele’ in swirly red lettering hung from the antlers of a stag’s head mounted on the far wall.
Five, probably ten more minutes passed. She lay still on the bed, panting, listening to the hubbub outside and her own heartbeat in the room. The crackling fire had warmed the room but she still felt a slight chill on her naked flesh. Her skin was goose-bumped and her nipples were hard.
Then, the double doors opened.
She briefly saw shadows, before three crystal chandeliers flooded the room with bright light. People came trooping through the doorway. She counted ten of them, all women, carrying champagne and cocktail glasses, some smoking cigarettes, chattering and laughing.
She raised her head and stared in shock. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She knew several of them, most of them in fact.
There was Carrie, of course.
And Ruby. Leonora. Jill. Zara.
“Fern, darling. It’s you !”
“Omigod. Look ! Fern !”
“Carrie. Please tell us.”
Fern listened as Carrie recounted the story, to shrieks of amusement. The women gathered round the bed, all staring down at her, eyes sparkling. She wanted to curl up and hide but she was tied helpless. Her vision blurred with tears.
“So, she’s really yours, to do with as you like, for fifty years ?”
“And Derek too ?”
Carrie patiently nodded and answered their inane questions. Slowly, they all sat down on the edge of the bed, surrounding Fern from her head to her feet, eyes feasting on her shame and discomfort.
Ruby’s hand was the first to reach out. She had always been the female ring-leader. Steele’s equivalent. She was a butch lesbian, with crew-cut black hair and eccentric scarlet-rimmed glasses; the type Elton John might wear. She tweaked Fern’s upstanding nipple casually.
“Please …” Fern stammered, blinking her tearful eyes to look at Carrie. “You said you’d give us sp … special treatment.”
There was a guffaw of laughter all around her.
“And I assure you, I will.” Carrie said, running two fingers through Fern’s triangle of pubic hair.
“This is going to be such fuuuun.” Another woman giggled. Leonora had been Steele’s girlfriend before Fern. She and Fern had never got on.
“Fifty years. Phew.” Jill whistled. “Like how many fuckin’ days is that ?”
“Eighteen thousand, two hundred and sixty.” Carrie smiled. “Give or take. I worked it out earlier.”
“Eighteen thousand days. Wow ! Imagine that. Think of what can happen in just one hour, then multiply that by twenty four. Then day after day, after fuckin’ day !”
Most of the women were handling Fern now, like she was a piece of art. Fingers prodded and probed her face, body, arms, legs, thighs.
“Fuckin’ day being the right term !” a voice behind her giggled.
“Her tits are actually bigger than I imagined. What’s her bra cup size ?”
“D.” Carrie replied. “But they stand up nicely don’t they ?”
“Well, for now. I’d like to see them in a few years time.”
“I trust you will ensure this gets a lot of use.” Ruby commented, pushing two fingers to spread Fern’s dry labia.
“But of course.”
“And here ?” Fern whimpered at the intrusion into her bottom.
Carrie smiled from Fern to Ruby and back again. “Silly not to.”
Fern shut her eyes. But she could do nothing about her hearing. Maybe they were just tormenting her ? Maybe this was just some bad taste joke and they’d all start laughing kindly any moment now ?
“When do the men join us ?”
“Not for a while. They’re gaming on Steele’s new machine.”
“So what shall we do to pass the time ?”
Carrie smiled at her friends. She clicked her fingers in a loud snap.
Lennox’s pocked face appeared at the doorway, carrying a tray.
*** *** ***
Steele escorted his mates into his Home Cinema.
Will and Derek were stood like sentries at the entrance holding trays of drinks; champagne, wine, beers, rum punch.
“Help yourself guys.”
“Hey. Derek ? Steele, it’s Derek !”
“Oh yeah.” Steele told Ulrik, one of his old gang. “My new slave. Everybody, say hi to Derek.”
“Fuck me. He’s your slave ?”
“Sure. Well, only for the next fifty years. He’ll be free when he’s seventy five.” Steele patted Derek on his bare shoulder. “Bet that seems a while away, huh ?”
Derek blinked. Earlier, during their ‘reunion’, Steele had told him not to speak unless obviously invited to.
“Hey guys. Check out the pink bracelets. Nice.” Somebody said.
Steele laughed indulgently as his friends examined Derek and Will. Seven of them had know Derek when they were all younger.
“What are they ? Security tags ?”
“Kind of.” He replied. “And punishment tools. You can zap’em with this.” He showed them the torch-sized laser hanging from his belt. “But, best of all, they’re chastity devices. Prevents my slaves from jacking off.”
“What ? You mean, like, ever ?”
Steele shrugged. “Sure.” He stared directly at Derek. “Why should a slave need to jack off ?”
They had all spilled into the large room by now. There were sofas, chairs, a bar, and a vast 100-inches widescreen monitor on the wall.
Everybody laughed. “I guess when you put it like that …”
“What about his wife ?” Terry asked. He was another member of the old gang.
“Yeah, Fern ? Hot babe.” Somebody echoed.
There was a sudden silence. Everybody waited on Steele.
“Yes. She’s my slave too.” He corrected himself. “Our slave rather. Carrie’s and mine.”
All eyes studied him. They were like a feral pack.
“Wow.”
“She was pretty fuckable.”
“You gonna let Derek fuck Fern any more ?” Terry enquired.
Steele paused, swigging his beer. “That depends.”
“Really ? On what ?”
Steele fired up the games monitor and began handing round the wireless controllers. It was a 5-a-side football game, very realistic.
“Wait and see. After the game.”
*** *** ***
Carrie watched as Lennox passed round the tray.
There were ten pairs of steel tweezers. Each guest took one.
She took the last.
“We like our slaves hairless. Most of them we shave, or wax, or use electrolysis. But for the special ones, we use tweezers.”
There were amused, appreciative titters. Most of her friends didn’t possess slaves of their own. They enjoyed Carrie’s generosity with hers.
She watched Fern instinctively try to wriggle on the bed. But the combination of tight bonds and the cushion kept her stationary and well presented.
“Ruby. Would you and Jill start off, please.”
The women all shuffled along the bed, so that they could watch close up, as the first two started plucking. Ruby smiled and leaned down with her tweezers, gripping a couple of Fern’s soft, downy pubes next to her labia.
She pulled, parting Fern’s lips, wrenching out the hairs.
Fern winced, letting out a shrill wail.
“No.” Carrie admonished. “Silence ! Take it bravely, like a true woman.”
Jill laughed and dug her tweezers into Fern’s mound, coiling a clump of pubes into the steel prongs like she was eating spaghetti with a fork.
“Yahh !” Fern shrieked, unable to control herself.
They all looked at Carrie expectantly.
“Yes, ladies. I assure you she’ll be punished later for that outburst.”
*** *** ***
Derek rushed about, ferrying drinks, handing out nuts, lighting their cigarettes and emptying ashtrays. The guys were engrossed in their game on the screen.
He had got over his initial shock and shame but he still felt awful. It was quite obvious that Steele was gunning for some kind of revenge. He just had to hope it wouldn’t be anything too awful. And that he’d spare his darling Fern.
He wondered where his wife was and what was happening to her ?
“Hey ! Derek. Fetch us another beer.”
“Hold it guys, take my controller. I need a leak.”
There was a plastic bin set up in the corner as a urinal, so they didn’t need to leave the game for long. Already most of the guys had used it at least once. They unzipped themselves hurriedly, pissing into the big trashcan.
“Hey, Derek. Looky here !” Ulrik stood waving his penis at him, as he turned and tucked himself back into his pants. “Maybe Fern’ll get to play with this ?”
Ulrik was descended from Viking blood. He was 6’ 6” tall, with a straggly, ginger beard and a barrel chest. His dick had reputedly been the largest in the school, bigger even than Steele’s.
The word ‘Paused’ appeared on the screen and there was silence.
Suddenly, without warning, Derek felt his brain explode and he felt searing fire tear through his groin, up his backbone. He gasped, breathless, and fell to his knees. A wisp of smoke trailed from the pink band round his penis.
“Derek.” He heard Steele’s voice saying, calmly.
He slowly turned his head and managed to focus on Steele, who was holding his torch-baton.
“Ask Ulrik nicely if he’ll fuck Fern for you some time.”
He felt drool running from his lips onto his skin. He looked up at all the grinning faces watching him.
“I …”
His brain felt as if he’d been punched in both temples at once. Again, flames roared up his back and down his legs. He couldn’t breathe or speak. He couldn’t think even, except that he couldn’t take any more pain.
“Pl … Ul … Ulrik … please … f … fuck … F … Fern …”
Ulrik was standing over him, scowling.
“No. Beg me !”
Derek shook his groggy head. “Please !” he said, louder, more urgent. “I b … beg you, Ulrik. Please fuck … Fern.”
Ulrik’s watery blue eyes were inches from his own.
“In her ass. Ask me to fuck your wife in her cute little ass.”
Derek shook his head, trying to think. His wife ? Her virgin ass ? His mind couldn’t compute the thought into words.
“Aaaaaahh.” He groaned, as a third electric punch rocked his head and fried his nervous system. He collapsed face down to the floor.
He regained consciousness, staring up into several faces. He had no idea how long he’d been out.
“Wake up.” Steele said. He held out his hand and helped Derek rise groggily to his knees, then feet. “Ulrik was only kidding around.”
“Sorry, Derek.” Ulrik shrugged. “Got a little carried away mate.”
Steele patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a plucky fighter, I’ll give you that.”
Derek gave him a confused, weak smile.
“Now, go fetch me and Ulrik another beer, kiddo.” Steele said.
*** *** ***
Fern had grown accustomed to the monotonous pain, if not the shame.
She was bald now, except for a few, final tufts. Little spots of blood marked where the women had been overenthusiastic. They had done her underarms too, plucking out the short hairs that had grown there since she’d last shaved.
Most of the women had drunk too much. They were unabashedly probing and testing Fern’s body. Some stroked her face, others her breasts and nipples.
“I kind of envy you.” One woman whispered. Fern didn’t know her. She was the plainest in the room, apart from Ruby. She licked the inside of Fern’s right ear, making her squirm.
“All that fucking. All that sex. Mmm, I betcha’ll learn to love it eventually. Don’t you ?”
Fern turned her head away, heaving dry-tears of despair.
“Carrie’s going to let me borrow you soon. You know that ? A whole month. Each one of us will get a turn with you. Mmm, it’s going to be such fun.”
Fern heard a buzzing sound. An electric razor.
“Okay.” Carrie said. “Let’s give the job a nice smooth finish.”
End of Chapter Four
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