“Do not fear little one. Your time with us is not to be frightened of. We would not harm you, but you must remember that you will be at our mercy. Your very soul will be ours, your body will be ours and your mind will want to be other than yours. We shall treat you well. Keep you warm and safe, feed you and clothe you. We will not falter as you will not falter. You will give of yourself, as we will give of our selves. Your sister companions will assist you and care for you as you will care for them. Remember, you are part of us as we are part of you. Nothing will harm you.”
His speech done, the huge man with a goats head mask, turned and led her into the dark foyer that brooded behind him. What had brought her to this place? Carmen’s thoughts of her recent history flashed behind her eyes, replaying a tableau in chronological order.
It started she remembered, when she and her friend had visited a club in London’s Soho district. The club in its self was nothing special, just an ordinary nightspot, where, for a small sum of money, you could dance until the morning sun rose. Where drink, although expensive, would flow until, either the place closed, or your capacity was reached. It was a safe club; nothing or nobody would trespass on your space unless invited. They had danced until their feet hurt from being up too long and in action all of the time. Jean and Carmen had sat at a floor side table to watch the dancers and have a well-earned rest. They ordered drinks, something long and refreshing she remembered and over the subdued lights looked at each other and gazed at the dancers.
Carmen and Jean had been lovers on and off for a number of years. Way back when they first broke out of the confines of school, they had remained close, shared boyfriends and occasionally, a bed. Neither was overtly gay or even bisexual, just that their friendship had transcended to another plane with sex as a natural conclusion. Sex with Jean, while not earth shattering, was safe and satisfying. Like a re-affirmation of the bond they shared. Few of their respective male partners could understand or tolerate the closeness they shared, but the girls were determined that no one would intercede in their relationship.
The club started to close around five in the morning. Already, pink mackerel clouds coloured the sky. The street washers had been in action. Lamplight reflected off the wet pavements. Carmen felt as if she had had far too much to drink she felt lightheaded, and more than unsteady on her legs. A glance at Jean confirmed that her friend was in little better condition. Hailing a taxi, the two girls headed back to Chelsea and Carmen’s flat for some sleep until Saturday afternoon. Ex might follow, but was not a necessity. Neither of them noticed the dark limousine that followed a discreet distance behind and drew up as they arrived at the flat. Although neither of them knew it. They had been given spiked drinks. GHB was coursing through their veins, making any kind of movement or speech like an out of body experience. Carmen fumbled with the keys. The lock seemed too small for the enormous brass key she as trying to fit into it. Their legs could hardly support them as they fell through the door. Strong arms lifted Carmen and Jean, taking them to the flat entrance door and gently stripping them of their clothes. They were awake, but in a sort of dream world. The drug had dulled volition and self-awareness.
Carmen and Jean were raped. The assailants took their time and gratified themselves on the helpless girls. Each and every hole was abused at different times. Then they were left. The door to the flat closed on the outside world and they slept the sleep of the almost dead.
That afternoon, when realisation and awareness returned, the truth of what had happened dawned on the two friends. A quick check to see if any lasting damage had been done revealed that the perpetrators had been very careful not to eave any traces. No semen stains on the sheets or pubic hairs to give away the identity. It was as if it had never happened. That was how the girls decided to leave it, it never happened. Nothing had been removed from the flat. No damage done, pointless to even report it really.
A few days later, Carmen picked up her mail. Bills made up the bulk of the mail, but one envelope stood out. Fluorescent pink amongst the white and buff coloured carriers of doom and gloom. Carmen ripped it open to find a business card inside. Nothing else was in the envelope that she let drop to the floor while she turned over the small white card with serrated gold edging. There was just one word on it and a number. ‘COME’ in embossed gold large font letters and the number in black underneath 07966 8890. She didn’t know quite what to make of it and still didn’t after work that day. She called Jean and began to tell her of the card, but Jean interrupted her and said that she had also received a card, just like hers, but with the word ‘HITHER’ on it and the same number.
Jean had called it during the day, but an answer phone had informed her that the number she was dialing was only taking messages, would she like to leave a message? Intrigued, the girls decided to meet the next night for dinner at Swells, a little Italian restaurant off the King’s Road.
They met as arranged, both carrying a new card that had arrived in the post that morning. Again, just one word appeared on the cards, Carmen’s had the word CHOSEN, while Jean’s had the word ONES. Both had the same telephone number as the previous cards, and when they called the number, again it was answered by a recorded messaging centre. Carmen left a message to call her on her mobile number, enumerating carefully, each number twice.
Two further cards came in the post the next day. Repeats of the first two. Put together, the message, if that was what it was, read: Come hither chosen ones, come hither. Both jean and Carmen left a number on the answering machine, but after a week, nothing happened and they forgot about it.
A month went by, then two more cards arrived, both with the same word on it: TONIGHT. Carmen rang Jean, they met for dinner and rang the number. This time, a male voice answered with Hello, you are the chosen ones. Listen carefully. An address was given with a date and time.
So that was what had brought Carmen to this strange building in Hampstead. Jean was to arrive half an hour later according to the instructions. Carmen’s taxi had dropped her at the gates of a large gothic looking house. She could see square shaped turrets on either side of the forbidding looking manse. Garret rooms looked out over the heath and flickering light illuminated the net-curtained windows. Her view of the house was restricted by the over hanging shrubbery that darkened the gravel path leading to the dimly lit portico.
She had banged the brass lions head knocker and after a few seconds, the goat headed man had answered… “Please be seated”. Goat man indicated a lovers chair that stood in the entrance lobby. White and black tiles made a chessboard of the floor. A few dingy looking paintings hung from oak paneled walls and a dark oaken stair curved up and away from the lobby at the far end. Goat man opened a door that looked exactly like the panels on either side, and disappeared from view, leaving Carmen to sit and gaze around.
A few minutes passed, but seemed like a several hours. Carmen became aware of a rustling sound above her. Instinctively, she looked up, but could only see the frescoed ceiling. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed movement on the staircase. Gradually, a woman came into sight. She had a crinoline dress on, complete with a ridiculously high wig. Her face had been heavily powdered and a crescent shaped moon, stuck on her right cheek. The dress and the whole manner of her bearing came straight out of the 18th century.
Filigree slippers occasionally poked out from under the voluminous as the woman descended the stairs. She had an air of regality, which remained as she approached Carmen. Her bright red, bow shaped lips parted revealing teeth that probably were quite nice in ordinary circumstances, but under the caked chalk white powder make up, looked quite yellow.
“Would you follow me.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned and floated back towards the staircase. The treads creaked under the combined weight of Carmen and this apparition. The curve of the stair soon obscured the view of the lobby and opened up onto a long landing that passed either side. Ornate reed and fluted architraved doors could be seen on either side of the corridor. At the furthest ends, stained glass windows cast multi-coloured sunlight pools on the deep red carpet.
Her guide turned to the left and walked sedately down the passage. Carmen was able to see the doors that were so richly surrounded. Each bore a coat of arms or a sigil of some sort. She could not guess at the significance, but thought it best to remain silent and not ask. At last, they stopped in front of one of the doors. Her guide produced a golden key from within the folds of the rustling heavy dress and unlocked the dark stained door. Carmen noticed the sigil and thought she recognised it as a pentacle but wasn’t sure.
She was shown into the room, but before she could take in her surrounds, the woman informed her that dinner would be at seven sharp. “Please be dressed for it and try not to be late. The master detests lateness almost as much as he dislikes rudeness.” The quavering voice advised just as she shut the door and left Carmen to her self. Carmen wondered if the door had been locked, she couldn’t be certain whether she had heard the key turn or just being removed from the lock. Rushing to the door in an unreasonable and panicked haste, she tried the lever handle and was rewarded when the door opened on silent hinges. Her guide had begun to walk away from the door, but turned and with an indulgent smile, told Carmen that any room in use is never locked. She stressed the word never, turned and continued on her imperious way.
Carmen explored the room. A huge four-posed oak bed took up one wall and the opposite was home to a wall-to-wall armoire. Costumes filled the hanging spaces. Period dresses; wigs and slippers bulged from the recesses of the wardrobe, making it difficult to close the door.
A soft knock at her door shook Carmen out of her questing. She had discovered a small closet that housed a toilet and shower cubicle. Make up stood on shelves with violet and rose water scents in small perfume bottles with old fashioned squeeze bulbs. Everything shouted 18th Century at her. The tapestries on the walls depicting hunting scenes from several hundred years ago, the heavy brocade bed cover, all came from the period.
The owner of the soft knock peered around the edge of the door and introduced herself as Rose. She was tiny. Her small feet were crammed into tiny velvet slippers, her small head bobbed from under a lace cap and small breasts thrust upwards from a tight bustier.
“I will be your personal maid.” Even her voice was tiny. “I will help you bathe and dress for dinner.” Carmen soon lost her shyness around the tiny little dynamo. Almost before Carmen had thought of something, the little maid had it in her hands, holding it out for inspection. She kept up a constant running chatter, telling Carmen of the house and its history. How the Master’s family went back over many centuries and had always lived here or in their country retreat in Buckinghamshire. Carmen liked her. She liked her industrious busyness and the quickness of her movements.
Eventually, after trying many of the heavy dresses over copious underskirts, Carmen was ready for dinner. The smell of rose water wafted from her body in little puffs as the air was driven from between the tight bodice and her skin. The ridiculously tall wig balanced its self on her head and had been secured with pins.
She descended the stairs and was shown to the dinning room. The first thing that struck Carmen, was the two heavy crystal chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. A long table stretched away from her which was set for about fifty places. An ice sculpture of a swan sat in the centre and refracted rainbow shards of light in all directions.
Through out the meal, Carmen noticed that the men kept their masks on. All of them had eye masks of feathers or fleece depending on which animal they were. All of the women were dressed in the same period costume. Talk was of nothing in particular. She lost count of the courses, soup followed melon, followed meats and so on until the desserts of profiteroles. The men as one, stood from their chairs, bowed to the lady on his left and walked from the room through a door at the opposite end to that she had entered. The chatter then began in earnest. Carmen found Jean, although it was hard to recognise her under an huge wig and two black stars on he cheeks.
“what the fuck is all this about?” Carmen hoped that Jean had more knowledge than her. “I mean, look at us, dressed like Queen Anne and smelling like a couple of brothel babes. “Maria, my dresser has told me all about it. We are to be used for the sport of the men. Apparently, tomorrow, we are to be turned out into the grounds and hunted down by them. When we are caught, we are supposed to fulfill their every whim. Or so Maria told me. It seems that some of these guys have a very vivid imagination and can come up with some really wild scenarios. Cool Eh?” “We shall see.” Carmen sagely answered. “Who are they anyway?” “Well, I’m told that this is a very exclusive club. Royalty often attend, but you never know who is fucking you. The men have to keep their masks on at all times. Wouldn’t surprise me if it was judges and lawyers and so on.” Jeans idea of the gentry stopped at lawyers and judges.
“Ladies, we shall retire to the music room.” A large flamboyant woman who had sat near the top of the table announced. “Liqueurs will be served and we shall be entertained by Denise and Moira. Come ladies.” The music room was littered with comfortable settles. A grand piano and a harpsichord took up a large part of the room. The evening passed with a recital of period pieces that bored Carmen and Jean almost silly but they did quite a bit of damage to the drinks trays carried by maids who flitted around the room.
At last, the ladies retired to their boudoirs. Carmen and Jean both needed help to get up the stairs, fearing they would trip over the heavy clothing and land in an untidy heap at the bottom. Sleep claimed Carmen as soon as she put her head down. Rose had undressed her and put the clothes away. Sunlight flooded the room. Rose had thrown back the curtains and cheerfully invaded Carmen’s sleep with a good morning at the top of her voice.
“Today is a special day Ma’am, I have already laid out your clothes, but first, let us bathe?” It was obviously a question that didn’t warrant an answer. She was led, semi naked through a connecting door from her bedroom into a bathroom that housed a carrerra marble bath sunken in the floor. White shag pile carpet led up to the prepared bath. Essential oils had been dripped into the steaming foamy water. Carmen was divested of the robe that had covered her shoulders and very little else. Rose guided her into the bath, taking care that she didn’t slip on the smooth marble steps. When Carmen had relaxed, Rose also undressed and entered. She spent the next hour being treated to a personal bath that included some delicious touching and kissing of both her lips.
Later, dressed in riding clothes, Carmen was taken to the garden. The rear of the manse opened up to an undulating pastureland, separated by dry-stone walls and low hedges. Most of the guests were already there, sipping hot toddies and holding onto bridles of various horses. All of the men wore masks that covered their eyes, similar to stylised bandit masks and also wore red jackets and riding jodhpurs. A large man stood in his stirrups and introduced himself as the hunt master. Shouting over the heads of the guests he informed them of today’s events.
“Certain members of our family will be given a head start. Ladies…” He turned in his stirrups to address the group of women that Carmen had joined. “We will give you thirty minutes in which to make your escape. The object is not to get caught and the winner will be the one who rings what we call the liberty bell situated by the stables over there.” He indicated the general direction with a short riding crop. “However, if you are caught, you will pay a forfeit of the catchers choice. A prize will be given to the lucky winner if there is one. Our prize will be your capitulation. Good luck ladies, your time starts now.”
The women, who had listened to the speech suddenly began to run in many directions, many screaming, or laughing hysterically. It was obvious this was a popular game and it was quite likely that many of the women were not interested in winning a prize unless it involved receiving the attentions of the questers. Carmen chose to head in an entirely different direction to most of the others. She headed for a small stand of willows that stood alongside a lake, figuring that the overhanging branches might afford some screen and protect her. She was all for playing the game, but why make it too easy?
She hadn’t figured they would use hounds. In no time flat, a brown and white Beagle was yelling to anyone who was interested, that he had found one of the girls. An experienced dog, he followed his nose to one of the favourite hiding places these bitches liked to use. The Master of the Hounds parted the willow branches and offered his hand. Carmen took it, smiling coquettishly at the tall florid man. He guided her through the leaves and without saying anything, made her kneel on the damp grass.
He soon had her sucking his cock, forcing her head on top the swollen glans and pushing to the back of her throat. Carmen began to enjoy the forfeit and sucked hungrily. “That’s enough young lady, your forfeit awaits you, this is only the prelude.” His heavy arms and hands lifted her as if she weighed nothing. With out further preamble, he carried her to the stables at the back of the house. Carmen was quite amazed at the miniature ponies that were stabled in clean bays of the stable. Each pony stood less than four feet high with long manes that almost reached the floor. One or two where pure white, but most of them were piebald, black or tan. She fell in love with them instantly.
“These are to be your forfeit proper.” He informed her. A secretive smile played across his cruel looking mouth. “They just love to perform for an audience, being that they came from a circus. Tonight, they will perform again and you will be the star turn. I will leave you to get acquainted.”
With no further ado, he spun on his heels and left the stables with Carmen and the horses in it. Not sure quite what he meant, Carmen could hardly wait to stroke and pet the small ponies. She was soon surrounded by them and after an hour, felt like she knew each one personally.
That evening, after dinner and coffee had been served. Her captor stood and announced that tonight’s entertainment was to be Carmen and the performing ponies. A hush descended on the crowded room and almost like a retreating wave, people flowed to the outside walls, moving chairs and settees as they did so. Carmen found herself alone in the middle of the room surrounded by eager faces. She had no idea what to expect and felt a little afraid. Her fear was not to last too long. It was quickly replaced by terror. A leather piece of furniture was brought in by a couple of the servants and placed in the middle of the room. One of the men carrying the thing that looked like a small vaulting horse, smiled at her and then winked.
Her captor entered the arena that had been formed by bodies. He raised his hands to signify that he wanted absolute quiet. A deathly hush fell on the room. Nobody so much as shifted position, all enraptured by the prospect of the evenings entertainment. Carmen sought Jean’s eyes and finally located her draped over the arm of a chair with her partner’s hand up her skirt. Jean smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She began to panic a little. She wasn’t worried about being the centre of attention, she was used to that, but not knowing what was about to happen caused her to worry that she wouldn’t be able to fulfil the role.
Two of the little ponies were led into the room. Their unshod feet made no noise on the heavy carpeted flooring. Another of the servants held them by halters, one on each side. He brought them to a standstill in the circle of bodies. Carmen was beginning to realise what he had meant earlier. Her forfeit would be to perform with these two animals, but in what nature she was still unsure. Suddenly, her Ring Master, as she was starting to think of her captor, turned and with a deft twist of the wrist, yanked the dress from her body, Velcro parting with a loud shush as it was designed to do. She was naked underneath and stood with the dress unceremoniously dumped at her feet. He grabbed her wrists and drew her towards him. A leather thong was quickly tied around the milk-white joints, firmly holding them together. He pushed her towards and then over the only piece of furniture in the middle of the room. She was laid along the length of the low leather covered horse. Her hands were secured into place in the front by tying the thong that held her wrists to a ring mounted on a cross bar between the legs of the thing. Then her feet that had naturally straddled it were also tied into place either side. Her cunt wide open to anyone who wanted to look, Carmen started to whimper. Her trepidation mounted all the time.
The Ring Master announced in a loud voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, Carmen is about to perform with her horses. While the performance is happening, I want complete silence; nothing must break the concentration of the performers. Bring on Mars please.” One of the ponies was led to the centre where Carmen was tied. The animal gave her a baleful look and rolled its eyes, showing whites. She thought it was frightened; she could appreciate how it felt as she whimpered her growing fear. “Prepare the pony.” His instructions were complied with instantly. The servant started to massage the little stallions belly with one hand while keeping a firm hold on the halter with the other. Carmen was treated to the sight at eye level of the horses cock emerging from the protective sheath. Something like ten inches protruded and hung limply. Carmen started to thank her lucky stars it wasn’t any bigger. Then it began to get hard. Suddenly, what had been something she would have been able to handle with little problem, looked monstrous as it bumped against the animals belly.
“Let the entertainment begin.” The horse was brought around to Carmen’s rear end. Its nose was pushed against her bare cunt and she could feel the hot breath of its nostrils wafting over her nakedness. Two hooves suddenly appeared either side of her head and she could feel the head of the horses cock banging against her inner thigh. “Let the animal lubricate our star performer.” The Ring Master was definitely running the show. The servant who was to remain in attendance began to rub the horse in earnest. Stroking the lethal looking cock until a respectable amount of pre-cum splattered over her vulva. The horse was starting to buck, but was unable to reach her because the servant held him away, keeping a firm hold on his dripping cock.
“I want a volunteer to massage Carmen so that she will be ready.” She couldn’t see who obliged, but the gentle fingering told her it was a woman who was pushing fingers into her hole mixing horse cum with her own juices that were starting to provide her own lubrication. “Enough! Let it begin.” Carmen felt the mushroom shaped head bang against her soaking pussy lips. She could feel the attendant stroking her lips with the horses cock, encouraging the animal to start thrusting. The smooth bell end was getting Carmen off, she started to moan a small release of orgasm. Then, without warning, the head of the horse’s massive cock pushed into her cunt, filling her wall-to-wall. She screamed and then screamed again as more was thrust into her deep recesses. The friction of the horse brought her to a shuddering climax in seconds, but it was far from finished. More of the horse forced its way into her as the horse started to thrust rhythmically until the animal screamed its own climax. Horse semen gushed from its extended member and hit Carmen’s gut with a force she felt in her chest.
The animal spent, quickly became flaccid while the audience clapped their appreciation.
– The End –