"Did he touch your cunt?"
"Do you often masturbate?"
"What would you like to do most?"
"Would you like to be whipped with leather thongs?"
"Has a man ever put his prick into you?"
"What do you feel when you hear your father make love to Hazel?"
"Did you enjoy it when Hazel made you come with her tongue?"
"You feel guilty, don't you?"
"You feel that you ought to be whipped, don't you?"
"And you would enjoy that more than anything, wouldn't you?"
"What do you do to yourself in the lavatory?"
"You carried a used condom in your cunt for a while, didn't you?"
"You're feeling sexy even now, aren't you?"
The questions were thrown at me in rapid succession. I was in tears as I answered. Yes, yes, no, yes, yes, no, yes! YES! YES! YES! I answered frantically, but I did not tell a lie.
Half an hour later my interrogators seemed satisfied.
"She is a virgin," Mr. Coldstream said at last.
"Our virgin, I hope," Mr. Oakes said seriously.
The others agreed heartily.
"And now, Gertrude, we shall join the others," Mr. Oakes said.
All the men stood up. I did likewise. Mr. Oakes took me gently by the arm and we led the way down a flight of stairs to a cellar corridor in the basement. At the end of the corridor we passed through a double doorway into a large, brightly lit room. The floor was covered with straw and the walls and ceiling were thickly padded with a kind of canvas quilting. On the far wall hung a painting identical to the one in the first reception room. But there the resemblance of the two rooms ended. This room was filled with big wooden blocks scooped out in places to fit the shape of the human body, with leather thongs and belts, and innumerable chains.
Hazel stood beside Harry Prentice near a large wooden board which was held firmly at the perpendicular by wire guy ropes. It was about six feet broad and seven feet high with thongs of leather hanging from it at various levels. A hole, about nine inches in diameter, was cut in the heavy wood at a level of about three feet off the ground. I heard the double doors close softly behind us. I looked at Hazel.
She was entirely naked except for a diminutive skirt of knotted leather thongs, about the thickness of the laces of football boots, which lay loosely round her hips and failed to cover the hairy mound of her sex. She also wore sandals of thonged leather and metal-studded leather cuffs at the wrists. Her whole body was made up to accentuate the voluptuous curves and her eyes had been treated with mascara to look twice their normal size. In her right hand and falling down against her right leg she held a vicious-looking cat-o'nine-tails.
Harry Prentice was also naked except for a leather belt heavily studded with iron which he wore 'round his waist. He too wore sandals. On his head was a black skullcap which fell into a shaped mask over his eyes. He was already rampant, his big prick standing stiff like a ship's boom at his middle. Instead of leather cuffs, he wore gauntlets. He carried what looked like a fat candle from which a thousand fine wire tails, about eighteen inches in length, sprouted softly.
"Excellent!" said Mr. Oakes, who still held me gently by the arm. "We have been longer than we expected and there isn't a great deal of time. Mr. Bing and I have to be off to London tonight."
"We are ready, Mr. Oakes," Harry Prentice said.
"Good." He turned to Mr. Coldstream. "Will you go first, Coldstream?"
Coldstream nodded without speaking.
"And you take your clothes off, my dear," Mr. Oakes said to me.
A terrible panic seized me. Hazel noticed it and came quickly to my side. "Don't you worry," she said. "You won't get anything you don't want." She began to help me off with my clothes. The cat-o'-nine-tails dangled from a loop on her wrist as she did so.
Coldstream was already naked. He too had a massive hard-on. He was breathing heavily, his red face even redder. When he walked over to the board and stood with his front flat against it, the holes on a level with his lower belly and his rampant member protruding at the other side of it, I was shocked to see the state of his back and buttocks. New redder scars were laid across the old pinker ones. From the back of his knees to his neck, his body was a mass of lacerations. It was then that I noticed the holes for the feet at the base of the board. His feet passed through them and his ankles were bound tightly with leather thongs. His arms were stretched sideways and upwards and similarly bound.
I too was now naked. Harry gripped me by the upper arm and led me to the other side of the board. I had just time to see Hazel take up her position behind Coldstream with the poised cat-o'-nine-tails.
In front of me now was the circular hole filled with Coldstream's white front with its chevron of fair hairs, from the navel to the tops of the thighs, and jutting forward the swaying cock and the tight pink pack of his testicles.
Suddenly I heard the first swoosh of the cat. I heard Coldstream groan. The cock quivered. Harry threw me down on the straw and gave me a light whack on the buttocks with his wire scourge. It didn't hurt. It tingled pleasantly, tantalizingly. "Go on, take it!" his voice said gently.
I crept on my knees closer to the quivering penis and held it in my hands. It gave me an indescribable thrill. The cat swooshed again, and Coldstream's voice barked out like a pistol shot: "Suck it!" Harry gave me a harder swipe on the bare buttocks to encourage me. I moved forward at once, taking the shining knob in my mouth and cupping, compressing the testicles in my hands.
The cat struck more quickly now with hardly a pause between the strokes. I had no need to move. With its own ecstatic shudders Coldstream's cock was accomplishing itself it my mouth. As his white lust streamed forth, he screamed with pleasure and pain. I sucked him avidly to his roots. I heard the cat swoosh three times more before Mr. Oakes' calm voice directed Hazel to stop.
"Your turn, Duval," Mr. Oakes said.
A moment later Coldstream was helped down and a new front was thrust hard against the hoard. This time it was bristling with shaggy coppery hairs, the balls enormous, and the cock, short and thick like the body of a fish. Warming to my work, I ran the tip of my pink tongue among the hairs of his lower belly as he was tied in place, and then, with the first swoosh, I forced the thick member between my lips and sucked deep. Duval screamed from the beginning. The shuddering motion soon caused the semen to leap hot from his pipe into my gullet. I felt a light stroke of the scourge on my back and I crooned over the throbbing penis as though I were sucking a teat.
Next came Mr. Bing, pony-colored and slithering quick to loose his hot slime. Mr. Oakes, pink cock in its nest of black hairs came at me next, dancing like a serpent in my slime-softened mouth. After he came, I sank back on my young and trembling haunches, exhausted and lathered in sweat.
I felt myself being lifted gently under the armpits. It was Harry again. "Your turn now," he whispered softly in my ear, and as he spoke, I knew that I wanted it. My cunt was throbbing with excitement. Invisible chains seemed to hang from my thighs and desire made my soft belly bounce against the wood. The thongs were secure. I felt a tongue thrust at my clitoris. Whose tongue I don't know. Everyone seemed to be on the other side of the board. Except Harry, who was evidently to be my executioner. Executioner! The word slips easily from my pen, like an omen!
"Use the scourge, Harry," Mr. Oakes said. "Not too much violence."
And then it began. My buttocks were struck by the thousand fine wires. If you can think of a shatter of glass, in the skin, in the sensitive lair of flesh beneath, or of a cracking of pores — it was not one red hot lash of fire, but a general cracking ache which caused my front to sweat and shudder against the board. At the third stroke I screamed. A needle of delight passed through my clitoris and I had the sensation of being balanced there, my body swinging on the fulcrum of my sex in an agonizing ecstasy. Once again the tears refused to rise. A flash of boiling water on a flame, a tube sunk in it, and the water rising and falling within it, just failing to reach the top. Again the bursting sensation of lungs and heart — ayeee! And the tears came like a flood, and then there was nothing but ache and the terrible relief that it was over.