Chapter 1: Babes In The Wood

In their short-lived prime, the American rock group The Eagles laid down a blindingly good track titled Hotel California. Whilst the song has been widely interpreted as being about cocaine addiction, Kern had his own view. In its explicit and implicit verbal imagery, he fancied he could smell the horrors that lie beneath the quiet surface of everyday life, buried as shallow as a murder victim. Like the night manager of the Hotel California, Kern was programmed to receive. His guests could check out any time they liked, but they could never leave. Sally had tried to check out, but Sally was still here in his tender care. Her notification of departure would have been viewed as unconventional, and totally unacceptable, at any hotel. She had aimed a steam iron at the patron’s head, but had been thwarted in her exit plans by a stout length of steel chain. Stern retribution had been called for, and Sally had been beaten.

Bamboo cane had been applied to tender female flesh; buttocks and thighs had been thrashed with a calculated ferocity. In order not break the slave’s skin there had been two separate sessions of twenty strokes, in each of which Kern had turned up the pain from the merely unbearable to the unbelievable. But by enduring this, and by providing her master with all the sexual pleasures his fertile imagination could devise, Sally had preserved the living skin and flesh on her back. For the slave girl had been in no doubt that the alternative treatment, one hundred whip strokes on her defenceless back, would have maimed her, left her a monstrously scarred cripple. Or left her dead.

Today’s trials had started earlier than usual. Carrying the driving whip, Kern had come to the cell while it was still dark. Sally and Jenny had rolled off their bunks onto the floor, had laid their bodies in the required submissive position. Kern had cuffed their hands behind their backs, as was the norm, but had taken the less usual step of fitting them with collars and chaining them together, instead of shackling their feet.  Outside, the bitterly cold air was an immediate shock to their naked bodies. The reason for the absence of shackles was soon apparent; Kern had set them to running on the spot, he had circled round them cracking the whip until satisfied that knees were being lifted high enough. Then he had gone into the house, they knew he was fetching the new girl from the cellar.

Now he emerged from the house, leading Estelle by a chain attached to her collar. Her head had not yet been shaved, she had an untidy shock of hair over her small face. Sally noticed that Kern’s latest acquisition did not look so terrified these days. Three weeks after she had arrived screaming in the yard, the girl was starting to wear the expressionless mask of the slave. The master must see no hint of insolence or defiance, his threats must not be rewarded with a satisfying look of fear, and he must discern no encouragement to his advances. Kern put Estelle into line with his other slaves, and he soon had her legs pumping up and down in time with her peers.

Kern stood back to enjoy the show. Of his three slaves, only Sally had the looks of a showgirl, but that row of moving womanflesh was still a fine sight. He decided that he would have their pubic hair removed. The only reason he had not done this up to now was because of Jenny being his sister. He had done many a foul thing in the past months, he had enslaved and excoriated his own flesh and blood, but what kind of man could shave his sister’s crotch? To interfere in that area of her would inevitably lead him into the only heterosexual perversion he had not explored, incest. The answer was obvious; he would have the slaves shave one another. And they would obey him readily enough; the hated whip made all things possible and nothing too distasteful.

While the luckless trio continued to pound the rough surface of the yard with their bare feet, Kern wheeled his buggy out of the garage. As dawn lit up the tops of the distant mountains behind him, he checked his tyre pressures, and grey light stole over his tiny slave empire while he checked the leather harnesses. And all the while he could hear those six feet working to his command. Assured that all was well with the inanimate parts of his rig; he strolled back across the yard.

Endless hours on the treadmill had made Jenny and Sally fit to perform like this for hours, but it was much harder for Estelle, she was clearly suffering, drawing great lungfuls of air through her gaping mouth. Kern accepted this, her physical training had only just begun, and he did not think he could work her in harness for at least another month. But he could not accept her knees being lifted so low. With the flat of his hand, he signalled to her that she should lift them higher, and he shook the whip out to its full length, as if to bite her skinny body with it. She had not yet felt the lash, although she had been caned several times. The knees lifted higher, and Kern drew the whip back. It always paid to be strict, exhaustion was not their master, he was.

Bored now, Kern took Sally and Jenny out of the line, across the yard, and into harness. Until recently it had been his custom to hobble them with shackles until he was ready to drive off, but now he rarely bothered. Sally could go nowhere without Jenny, and he had good reason to think that Jenny would not run. He took Estelle back to the cellar, where she flopped onto her mattress. She laid face down, her face buried into her folded arms, the picture of despair. On his way out of the house Kern stopped in the kitchen to check that the breakfast porridge was simmering nicely, then he went across the yard to mount his buggy.

When does a slave become a pony? In Kern’s world, it was when she was harnessed. As they were already warmed up, Kern ordered the trot as soon as the buggy was clear of the gate and out into the lane. The ponies were pulling well, and Kern had no real cause to use the whip, but he was feeling in a whipping kind of mood, so he lashed them for more speed. He instantly regretted it; for there was a bright spurt of blood Jenny’s back, and she cried out in pain. Kern the pitiless had been trying to wean himself away from his habitual whip use, not because of any humanitarian feelings, but because of a concern that the physical condition of his slaves, especially Jenny, was deteriorating to an extent that could threaten his activities. And he needed Jenny’s strong body in his service for a while yet.

Curiously, Jenny’s distressed cry had brought a little comfort to Sally. For a while now she had suspected that Kern was favouring Jenny over her, and for one or both of two reasons; Jenny was white, and she just had to be an old girlfriend of Kern’s. For although Jenny would freely discuss much of her past during their whispered conversations at night, Sally’s probing could never reveal how her cellmate had encountered the master. Jenny had once been married, and Sally knew that the husband had moved his dental practice to Canada, taking with him the plump hygienist who had displaced Jenny in his affections. Sally was fairly sure that sometime after that, Jenny had taken a new man into her life, and that man was now riding arrogantly behind them. Sally also knew that Jenny had been the first slave, and that the master had treated her with such extreme brutality that she had been lucky to survive. Not fortunate, for death would have been kinder, but definitely lucky.

And yet, for all her suffering, Jenny had rarely shown much bitterness, and although she should have been possessed by hatred for her tormentor, Sally could see no sign of it. Now, and it seemed to be since the new girl’s arrival, Jenny would hardly speak at all in the night, she would just point at the microphone in their cell, and turn over. Worse, there had been an incident that Sally thought very sinister. She had been put to work in the yard, scrubbing some car mats with a stiff brush. It was the kind of pointless activity that was constantly invented to keep the slaves busy. Working at a furious pace, to keep herself warm, Sally had happened to glance up from her task. Through the kitchen window, she saw a disturbing sight, Jenny and the master in animated conversation. Then the master had turned towards the window, and she quickly put her eyes back on her work. When she dared look up again, the kitchen was empty. The obvious conclusion was that Jenny had finally snapped, and was answering back. Sally fully expected that the next time she saw Jenny, she would show the bloody marks of a whipping, or would be walking with the painful semi-crouch of a girl who has just been caned. But Jenny displayed no mark of fresh punishment, and did not mention an altercation. This was very bad; something was up.

Sally’s sharp mind had proved highly resilient through all her ordeals, her body could be used and abused, but she retained her spirit to herself, hidden from the slave master.  One day he would make a mistake, or he would be forgetful, or he would fail to notice some crucial detail. Sally would wait for that day, she would seize that day, and she would be his nemesis, his undoing. And so she was able to haul the beast along in his buggy, and clean his floors, and satisfy his base urges, whilst all the time believing this was only a brief interlude. Kern’s dark world of bondage could not possibly last long, surrounded as it was by a modern society; she would be free again. Her morale had not been destroyed by steel chains, or by bamboo and leather, but the thought of Jenny conspiring against her had dealt it a severe blow.

Jenny could not match Sally for brainpower, any more than she could match her for looks. And her self-esteem had been savaged by marital betrayal and divorce, before she had been made a slave. To be chained to a treadmill, to be forced to run naked before her brother, to be whipped and whipped and whipped when she just could not run any faster, these were things to demolish a stronger person than she had ever been. Trotting alongside Sally, it had not seemed possible that she could ever return to the ordinary world, where women wore clothes and were not subject to corporal punishment at their owner’s whim. Who would want her? Who would care for her? But now there was another hope. Kind words had been spoken; promises had been made. Now, with the itchy trickle of blood on her back, she wondered again if there was really any hope for her, but she was still determined to impress with her obedience. More effort had been demanded; as always, Jenny delivered.

On these morning buggy runs, it was Kern’s normal practice to give the ponies a brief rest in the woods, but today he made an exception. He thought that Jenny might be getting too cocky, and Sally was looking increasingly sullen, it was time to wake both their ideas up. So he gave them no respite; he drove them through the wood without stopping, and then along the lane to home. The complete circuit was slightly more than three miles; he would try to complete it in forty-five minutes. For there was the truth of it, neither of the ponies had any control at all over their present or their future. Kern’s grip on them was as tight as his grip on the reins and the whip; they were just helpless babes, lost in an evil wood.

Chapter 2: Come And See

Look now, as those young women pull their burden. Are there elegant high-heels and boa feathers? There are not. And those are not cheery smiles revealing their teeth; only facial contortions from effort and pain as they lean into their load.

Pay special attention, please, to the stripes on their shoulders and upper arms. Notice how the drying skin at the edges of whip cuts forms a hard ridge that is shrieking agony to the touch. Perhaps you will allow yourself to be distressed by the sores under harness straps, or to cast a concerned eye at the dreadful condition of their feet.

Watch the thief of their time, as he balances on his seat, leaning to left or right to keep the contraption upright as it bounces over ruts and potholes. Wonder how he can be so indifferent to their suffering, and can so happily build his pimple of pleasure on a mountain of pain.

View the slaves on their bunks at night; notice their strained faces, ugly in sleep. Share with them the daily terror of dawn, when the master’s footsteps herald the familiar miseries of a new day.

Stare in disbelief at the punishments inflicted in an ordinary house in a dull corner of England, just an ordinary house where naked women are flogged without mercy.

Come and see, come and see.

Chapter 3: Metamorphosis

January dragged on, always quite cold, but only dipping below freezing at night. Each day opened with a rime of frost on the ground; murky mists filled the hollows of roads, and lingered all day around woods and hedgerows. In his first winter as a slaver, Kern had to make up the rules as he went along, and was obliged by reality to make constant revisions. As the month closed the night temperatures plummeted, and every dawn broke on a frozen landscape. Kern finally had to make concessions to the weather; his ponies no longer worked barefoot and naked, when prepared for harness they had training shoes on their feet, and were dressed in sweatshirts and baggy shorts. He could no longer enjoy such a fine view of their hard-working hindquarters when he drove them, but it was a matter of necessity.

Estelle’s training was stepped up day by day. By the beginning of February, Kern was running her for two hours a day on the treadmill, with another hour on the rowing machine. She had responded to discipline far better than he had expected; after a difficult first few days when she had seemed to be withdrawing into herself, she was now alert to command, and needed only an occasional touch of the cane to keep her motivated. Muscle tone was appearing, the time to put her in harness was fast approaching. Kern now had to progress his plans for Jenny, yet he was racked by doubt. Oh, he was fairly sure he could trust her, but he could he rely on her?

Kern’s plans for his sister differed in no material way from what Sally had already surmised. Jenny was to fill the roles of housekeeper, overseer, and demon’s familiar. She would cook, and supervise the slaves at their cleaning duties. She would have the ponies ready in harness every morning, and would afterwards take charge of them for the rest of the day. She would be on duty in Kern’s absence, and would thus provide some assurance against a casual caller or burglar making some very surprising discoveries. She would supervise the physical training programmes, and administer routine punishments. All in all, there was a busy life planned for her. And yet Kern hesitated; he had to admit to himself that he was reluctant to free any of his slaves.

His decision was taken one morning, as he worked the ponies slowly through the wood. The cold spell had broken, and the ground was softening. He decided that the ponies would no longer need their feet protected by shoes; the sweatshirts and shorts could also go. What date was it? He struggled for a while, and then concluded that it must be February 11^th. That meant that Jenny was no longer thirty-three, it was her birthday. Last year he had sent her a card and flowers, this year he would give her the precious gift of freedom. Well, perhaps not quite freedom, but he would improve her status; a man should look out for his family. Unexpectedly, this decision lifted a burden from Kern. Tomorrow he would have naked ponies again, and he would not have to feel guilty that one of the vaginas he glimpsed between straining thighs was his sister’s. And what a pleasure it would be to have Estelle in harness, he looked forward to giving his newest slave her first taste of the driving whip.

Kern allowed the ponies to keep a slow pace all the way back to the yard. He left them in harness while he went to the kitchen to put out their breakfast, then he showered them. This was an everyday routine, the ponies stood impassively as their master soaped them. He always enjoyed washing Sally, feeling her soap-slippery breasts under his fingers, admiring the slightly darker skin of her shaved pubic mound. Her back looked good, with only very faint scarring from the flogging he had given her the previous year. He would have to ensure that Jenny did not mutilate his precious black slave, whose body was the real joy of his life.

As soon as he had Sally and Jenny sat for their breakfast, Kern brought Estelle from the cellar to join them at the table. Watching his three slaves as they ate, Kern speculated on their cash value. There was no way to put a price on any sexual or aesthetic considerations, so Kern performed a mental calculation based on minimum wage, twelve hours per day for twenty years. About half a million each. He had paid eighteen thousand for Estelle, quite a bargain. Suddenly his planned birthday present for Jenny looked ludicrously expensive, and his plans shifted.

After the meal, Kern took each of the slaves to the sandpit for the necessary unpleasantness of voiding their bowels. Then he took Sally to the treadmill, and Estelle to the rowing machine. He chained each girl by the wrists to her machine, and set her a target, which was still very difficult with Estelle because her grasp of English was limited. The Ukrainian girl set to at a fierce pace, Kern leaned in the doorway and watched the muscles in her shoulders, arms, and legs working. Yes, she was ready for harness. Kern then took Jenny to the utility room, but for the first time in her slave life she was not chained to a ring in the ceiling.

‘Jenny, when you have finished the laundry you are to come to my study.’

‘Yes Master’

This was a remarkably unsubtle test for Jenny. Kern did not for a moment think that she would shuffle out of the door and away down the lane, and if she did he would soon catch her. He was simply giving her the tiniest possible measure of freedom, in order to reassure himself that she would not abuse it. In his study, Kern sat himself at his desk and switched both his PC and the CCTV monitor on. First he checked the training room. Sally was running at a steady pace, she would easily reach her target and avoid the cane. Estelle was still pulling hard, always she liked to reach her target early, and then she would coast along to exceed it. Her head turned to stare at the camera, as if aware that she was being watched. Looking the master in the eye was a whipping offence, but Kern did not think he could apply that particular iron law when eyes were connected by co-axial cable. Discomfited by Estelle’s remote gaze, Kern hastily switched to the utility room. Jenny was sorting the laundry into the separate piles she would wash. Now, with one eye on the CCTV screen, the ruthless slave master settled into one of his favourite distractions, sending his tank armies across the battlefields of the computer game Red Alert.

The enemy infantry advanced in hordes; Kern’s incompetent rocket batteries fired over the heads of the minute soldiers on his screen, the missiles exploding ineffectively behind them. But now his line of Tesla coils crackled, and the enemy troops were fried. Kern prepared to send his armour against the enemy base, hoping to knock out the factory before the flame towers of his opponent cooked his tanks - and someone was knocking at the study door. Surely Jenny could not have finished already? But it could not possibly be anyone else.

‘Come in Jenny’

The door swung open, Jenny entered.

‘Have you finished your work Jenny?’

‘No Master, I am waiting for the drier to finish so I can put another load in.’

‘Very well. You can relax, I am not going to punish you.’

‘Yes Master. Thank you master.’ If Kern had sentenced her to be flogged to death, Jenny’s answer would have been the same.

‘You have been a good girl, and now I will reward you as I promised. But you must remember that I am still your master. If you are disobedient I will have to whip you, and if I am not satisfied with you work, well then I must cane you. Do you understand that?’

‘Yes Master. Please Master, you did not whip Sally for attacking you.’

‘I punished Sally as I saw fit to punish her. You must not question my judgement Jenny, or there will be no more of these conversations, and you will have no future but the harness and the whipping post.’

‘Yes Master. I’m very sorry Master.’

‘OK then. Now Jenny, you have been handled as my slave, you know what has to be done. Later today I will put Estelle in harness, in your place. You will learn to drive the buggy, and you must not fail me. Slaves are not obedient to me Jenny, they are obedient to the whip, and they have to know that I will use the whip. Could you use the whip Jenny?’

‘Yes Master. I could, Master’

Kern did not doubt that his sister was sincere, but he did doubt that she could win a battle of wills with Sally. If he was away, and Jenny tried to get Sally on the post for a whipping, what would be the outcome? Well, he would just have to lay down a set of rules that would prevent any such confrontation.

‘We will see then. Now you will finish the laundry, then you can return here and I will prepare you for your new duties.’

‘Yes Master. Thank you master.’

Jenny left, and Kern turned back to his PC screen. During the brief conversation with his sister, an enemy air attack had devastated his key installations, and his position was now precarious. Irritated, he closed the game programme, and fired up Microsoft Word. A freelance writer cannot earn his bread from tender sonnets that speak of everlasting love, not that Kern was inclined to write any, and an occasional poorly selling novel brings in very little money. Kern wrote what he had to write, and this week he was writing about a Chinese vacuum cleaner. He had a photocopied sheet of instructions from the factory, and a sample of the appliance stood in the corner. With his digital camera, and his minor gift for stringing words together, he would produce the camera-ready artwork for a glossy user manual. Design flaws would be transformed into user-friendly features by creative writing; he had noticed that the handle of the cleaner had a distressing tendency to part company with the body, this he described as quickly detachable for easy storage. He would never spend more than a week on such a project, but he gave good value. He had written about routers and jigsaws, juice extractors and micro hi-fi systems, rotary hammer drills and miraculous electronic slimming systems. Always when the products appeared on TV shopping shows, or in cheapskate commercials, the presenter would hold up the manual for camera to love, for it and the brass nameplate would be the best-produced parts of the package. And if you order today, you’ll receive this forty-two-piece accessory set, absolutely free.

Kern finished the main body of text for the Royal House Of Buckingham vacuum cleaner model Super King, and was working on the parts list. Importers of products from the commercial zones of the People’s Republic often do not buy any spares; often the factory does not make any. What happens is that the importer adds 20% to his order, and then employs casual labour to break down the surplus in some draughty corner of a container port warehouse. The retailer, invariably a catalogue or telesales company, takes the resultant spare parts into his stock. So the consumer unwittingly pays up front for spares, and if he ever needs any, why then he pays for them again. Kern assigned part numbers in the bureaucratic way that the public expects; of course the cleaner only had one motor, but in Kern’s manual it became VCM00389.

Jenny came knocking on the door again. Kern commanded her to enter, and she stood before him, with her eyes lowered and her hands clasped behind her back.

‘Yes, Master. I have finished my work, Master.’

‘Go to the old spare room Jenny; it is where you will sleep now. You will find some clothes; put them on, then return here.’

‘Yes, Master. Thank you Master.’

The excited Jenny disappeared. The house had been built with four bedrooms. The tiny bedroom over the stairwell had become Kern’s study when he first moved into the house, Jenny’s old bedroom was now fitted for training and punishment, and that left the spare room, where he had decided to accommodate Jenny. He had bought two sets of clothes for her from a mail-order company. The tops and skirts were easy, but he had felt oddly uncomfortable about choosing panties for her. There was no question of buying anything too saucy for his sister, so he had settled on plain white cotton briefs. He had not bought her a bra, and for one very simple reason; although he had worked her naked for months, and had seen her body writhing under his lash, he had been embarrassed to ask her cup size.

In her new bedroom, Jenny was elated. She could hear the slaves working next door, and she felt no sympathy for them. The panties felt smooth and warm against her crotch, prompting her to think how nice it would be to see Sally’s and Estelle’s bare arses in front of her when she drove the buggy. The cool white blouse was like a lover’s touch on her nipples, and they became erect, as they had not done since - well, she could not remember when she had last been sexually aroused. Her crotch always became wet when she was beaten, but she knew that was common among women. The brain associates violence with sex, and prepares the body for penetration. She slipped into the dark blue skirt, and the matching cardigan. The shoes were black, striking a discordant note, but she would not dare mention that to her brother. Jenny intended that she would never again be strapped to the whipping post or the horse, and that no human being would ever again see her naked. She was enormously grateful to her brother, and she would serve him well, she would become his pearl beyond price.

Kern took the slaves from the training room to the cell; where he shackled them and left them to rest awhile. Then he finished his vacuum cleaner manual before sitting Jenny at the kitchen table for a cosy chat.

Jenny was drinking coffee with the master; her happiness was complete. Yes, she had suffered terribly at his hands, but that was all over now. He had only done what his nature told him to do, and nobody could blame a man for that. She listened intently as her role was explained to her. Kern gave her a tour of his vision, and she lapped it up. He concluded by giving his instructions for her first drive of the buggy. ‘I’m going to throw you in at the deep end, you can have an hour before lunch getting used to driving the ponies. Just walk them around the yard, practice stopping and starting, that sort of thing. Let them get used to a different driver, maybe tomorrow I’ll let you trot them up the lane.’

Excitement was building in Jenny. ‘I’ll be fine, trust me, I’ll be fine.’ She had deliberately failed to call him her master. If Kern noticed, he issued no reprimand. He went out to the lean-to, and returned in a moment with a riding crop, which he passed across the table to Jenny. Using the whip on harnessed ponies is a tricky matter. The lash has to brought down from above to avoid the traces; great care is needed if an eye is not to be taken out. Kern had decided that he could not risk letting Jenny drive the buggy with the whip he used, so he had replaced it. By leaning forward with the crop, she would be able to sting the ponies’ shoulders, but she would not be able to seriously damage them.

‘You will use this to drive with for the time being. When you are experienced you may have the driving whip. Always remember Jenny, they are my slaves, not yours. You must only use them as I order. Now, you start getting lunch ready, and I’ll harness the ponies for you.’

Chapter 4: Enter The Dragon

When Kern entered the cell, Estelle backed away from him as far as her chain would allow. He was annoyed; he had spent weeks training her to assume the submission position whenever her master appeared. Perhaps being moved from the cellar had confused her; he seized her roughly to handcuff her. Sally was in her proper position; Kern cuffed her and then took the naked pair to the buggy, which had been left out after the morning run. He chained them to the draft bar, but did not fit their harnesses. 

Despite Sally having foreseen Jenny’s promotion, when the fully dressed woman strode across the yard with a smile of joy and triumph on her face, Sally stared at her in shock. The smile did not leave Jenny’s face as she came up to the buggy. She struck Sally across the breasts with the crop. ‘I will cane you for your insolence. I am your mistress now, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’

Again Jenny struck Sally’s breasts with the crop, and the girl cried out in her pain. ‘Yes what?’ Jenny demanded.

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘Now that’s better. Later on I will take you to the horse, and I will teach you that you must not stare at your mistress.’

‘Yes Mistress. Thank you Mistress.’

Kern was horrified by this incident. For all the time he had owned slaves he had carefully avoided damage to the soft tissues of the breasts, stomach, and genital area. Jenny was drunk on her new-found power, but Kern knew that he could not undermine her in front of the others, so he said nothing.

Now Jenny strutted around the buggy, wallowing in her position. She stopped in front the ponies, silently daring each of them to look her in the eye. Fortunately for them, and to Kern’s immense relief, both kept their eyes safely lowered. Jenny fitted the harnesses and bits competently enough, and then she removed their shackles, and took her place on the driving seat. She tightened the reigns, and gave her first driving command. ‘Walk!’

The obedient ponies lifted their knees, and the buggy rolled forward. Jenny walked them to the wall of the yard, and then pulled them into a very tight turn to re-cross the yard in the other direction. In zig-zag fashion, the buggy covered every available inch of the yard, and then Jenny set the ponies to trotting around the widest circle that the limited space would allow. She circled in one direction, and then the other, and she increased the speed to match her growing confidence. The riding crop was used with great vigour, and whichever pony was on the outside of the circle was thrashed for ever more speed. Kern did not feel that he could step in and stop this circus without destroying Jenny’s credibility, but nor could he stand and watch his property abused, so he went into the house.

Sat in the living room with a cup of tea, Kern reviewed the situation. Clearly, Jenny needed more time to settle into her new role before he could trust her enough that he could leave her in charge. The woman should not need to assert her dominance over the slaves in such a deliberately cruel manner. In Kern’s own mind he was a fairly kindly master, one who applied the rod or the lash in careful measure as circumstances dictated. Should he allow Sally to be caned? After all, she had only reacted with natural surprise on seeing Jenny fully clothed and carrying the riding crop, she did not deserve to be beaten. On the other hand, he always thought that a sentence given was sentence that must be carried out, and Jenny had been acting with his authority. So yes, he would stand back and let Jenny give the punishment, but afterwards he would have strong words with his sister, and might apply a course correction to her backside. Sipping his tea, he casually looked out of the window, and was dismayed to see Jenny drive the buggy out into the lane.

Leaping off the sofa, Kern ran out through the kitchen, out of the back door, and along the side of the house to the lane. He could see that Jenny was driving the ponies at a reckless speed, and they were already at least fifty yards up the lane. What to do? He could bellow after Jenny to order her back, but suppose she ignored him? Now the buggy was sixty yards or more away. How stupid he would look if he had to run after the buggy, and he doubted that he could sprint for more than two hundred yards; no, he would not catch up with it. Seventy yards away. He could hear the short thong at the end of the riding crop smacking the ponies; oh fuck, the stupid cow would kill them, they would collapse and die. Eighty yards away.

Kern abandoned his futile gaze at the retreating buggy; he went back through the yard to the garage. The Land Rover was reluctant to start, and his furious pumping of the throttle flooded the engine. He pushed the choke in, floored the throttle, and kept the starter motor turning the engine over in desperate hopes that the bastard would fire. The bastard did not fire, and Kerns ears told him that the battery was nearing exhaustion. Kern climbed out of the cab, slammed the door shut, and sat on the front bumper to await the buggy’s return.

Jenny was enjoying her drive. She had pulled the cart over this route so many times; it was fantastic to be in the driving seat at last. It was a pity her brother had not given her the whip to use, but he would do, and she was looking forward to that. As the buggy neared the turn-off into the wood, Jenny pulled back on the reins, slowing the ponies to a walk. With Jenny’s weight in the buggy instead of Kern’s, they had covered the lane faster than they had ever done before, but Jenny knew from her own experience that they could not possibly keep going at such a pace. She would let them idle through the wood, and then she would work them up to a good speed again, to arrive back in the yard like the winner in a chariot race.

Watching Sally’s rump, Jenny relished the caning to come. She rather thought that she would not gag the girl, but would let her holler. Jenny did not have a sexual connection to flagellation, as she knew that Kern had, for her it was an exercise in, and a demonstration of, her superiority. She was uneasy about Sally, and for a number of reasons. Whatever happened to her, the black girl always seemed to retain an inner confidence that her day would come, and Jenny was afraid that she was right. Jenny would never seek to expose Kern’s activities; she did not want to appear in the public spotlight as a mangled victim, she did not want to be questioned for endless weeks by detectives, she did not want to pored over by analysts and therapists, and she definitely did not want forensic photographers recording her scars for posterity. No, she felt that she was now her brother’s chosen one, and that was good enough. But Sally would not hesitate to destroy all their worlds, and she would turn it all into a pot of cash, Jenny had no doubt of that. There would be a lurid serialisation in the tabloid press, at least half a million quid there. There would be TV chat shows, and how much would she be offered to pose naked? She would be set up for life.

The thought of Sally naked triggered another of Jenny’s concerns. She knew that her brother took his sexual pleasures with Sally, and of itself, that did not bother her. Her worry was that fucking would lead to fondness, to affection, to misplaced loyalty, and finally to a disastrous love. How to avert it, that was the issue. Women are much less squeamish than men about biological matters; Jenny accepted that her brother’s body was constantly producing sperm, and that he would feel the need to relieve himself of it. It would not distress Jenny to help with that relief, but she realised that Kern was sensitive to the incest taboo; he could flog the hide off his sister’s back, but he could not fuck her.

And the other girl, Estelle. Had Kern been having her as well? Sally did not know, but she supposed that he had, and that might also lead to a catastrophic relationship. The only answer, the only way to keep her brother away from the slaves, was for Jenny to drain his precious fluids. She resolved that she would at least make the attempt, and as soon as possible. Turning out of the wood, with the buggy facing homewards, Jenny ordered the trot. The ponies did their best, but they could not keep the hot breath of the dragon off their backs.

Kern had worried himself sick in the buggy’s absence, when Jenny swung it back into the yard he felt the greatest relief of his life. Jenny flashed him a smile, then she was off her seat and shackling the ponies. Estelle swayed as she was taken to the cell, she was clearly close to collapse. Jenny drove the girl on with the crop, into the cell to be chained. Then she returned to the buggy for Sally. As she removed the pony’s harness she spoke to her. ‘I am not a slave anymore. You are a slave, you always will be a slave, and every time you look like forgetting it, I am going to beat you. Do you understand that?’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘You’d better understand. I am taking you to the horse now, to pay you for your insolence.’ She turned to Kern. ‘Will you watch me punish this one?’

Kern shook his head. ‘No. Don’t give her more than six.’ He was allowing the punishment for his own reasons. The sentence had been entirely Jenny’s initiative; once she had carried it out she would be locked in as his accomplice. So he stood out in the yard and he listened. He heard the thwack of the cane, and he heard Sally’s screams. His own distress amazed him, he realised that he was really fond of Sally; if any of his slaves had a royal stamp, then surely it was she.

In the cell, Estelle could not hear the cane, but she could hear the resultant screams. With her mere smattering of English, and from her limited contact with the other slaves, she did not have a good understanding of what was happening in this madhouse. But her instincts told her that a complex relationship was brewing between Sally, Jenny, and the man who made them all call him master. She was not sure where the greatest danger lay, inside that relationship, or outside looking in.

Chapter 5: The Roller Coaster

When Jenny returned from chaining Sally in the cell, Kern coldly ordered her to strip in the kitchen, and then he sent her up to the post. His fury was building as he tightened the straps around her wrists.

‘Sally, you must be fucking mad if you think I am going to let you behave like that with my slaves. You whacked Sally’s tits, I would never do that, it was a bloody bitchy thing to do. And why did you take them out of the yard? I told you to stay in the yard! What is the matter with you?’

He gave her no opportunity to reply before continuing. ‘I may have made a mistake with you; maybe you’re not up to it. I’m giving you twelve strokes for disobedience, and we’ll see how you get on over the next few days.’

‘Yes Master. Thank you Master.’ Jenny thought of somehow explaining her actions, but it was pointless. Kern was set on a flogging, and she would just have to take it.

Jenny was a hardy thing under the lash. She took the first two strokes as if she was made of wood, she gasped at the third and fourth, only after the fifth did she start to scream. This was not the high-pitched woman’s scream of a horror film; it was something deep and desperate, something that frightened and disturbed Kern to such an extent that he wished he had gagged her. But she remained conscious throughout, and she retained control of her bladder and bowels. She must have been counting the strokes, for she thanked her brother after the twelfth.

Kern wrapped Jenny in a towel, to prevent blood from dripping onto the stairway carpet, and then he took her to the cellar. A flogged slave may think there is nothing to loose, so he shackled her feet, and he fitted her with the collar ring that Estelle had recently worn. As he attached a chain from the floor ring to the collar, Kern gave some brotherly advice. ‘You should have risen above this by now, but you’ve been punished so there’s an end to it. Try to be sensible when you are driving, be perfectly obedient to me, and things should work out OK.’

He left Jenny chained in the cellar, naked except for a bloody towel. A whipping always gave him a throbbing erection, so now he went out to the cell, and he unchained Estelle from the floor ring. Sally’s sleek black body was more appealing, but he knew that she was still in pain from the beating Jenny had given her; it had to be Estelle. He took the girl to the living room, removed her shackles, and sat her on the sofa. Sitting next to her, he encircled her with an arm, and then he began to fondle her breasts. He was astonished when she took hold of his penis, and delighted when she slid down to take it in her mouth.

Kern ejaculated very quickly, then Estelle pushed him back down onto the sofa, and she climbed on top of him. She took his right hand, and placed it in her crotch. The slave was controlling the master, but Kern did not resist. She leaned forward, brushing her nipples against his lips. Kern felt his erection returning from the dead; he took Estelle by the hand and led her to his bed. Repeat performances do not come easily to a middle-aged man, but it was all easy for Estelle. She exhausted her master, and soon he slept.

Only a dull light shone through the drawn bedroom curtains when Kern awoke, night was falling, it must be after five He shot out a hand to feel for Estelle, but she was gone. This was it then, the police would have a wide cordon around the place, soon they would be coming into the house for him. He lay still for several minutes, breathing deeply, trying to get his pounding heart under control. If only he hadn’t chained Jenny in the cellar, she could have prevented this. If only he had returned Estelle to the cell after fucking her. So many if only’s, but no regrets, he had enjoyed his time as a slave master.

What would happen next? He did not think the police would sit and wait for him to emerge, not when he was alone in the house. He rolled out of bed and across to a window. With a hand ready to twitch a curtain back, he stopped; that would be asking for a bullet in the face. On hands and knees, he crawled to the door, where he stopped to listen for whispered words on the landing. There was nothing to hear, so he cautiously opened the door, and scuttled out. He peered over the banister, but could discern no Kevlar-clad officers, no snouts of Heckler & Koch sub-machineguns. Could it be that the police simply had not arrived yet? That would be too good to be true, but Kern felt a little optimism returning as he crept down the stairs. The living room was clear, the kitchen was clear, he moved to the back door.

Grasping the door-handle, Kern hesitated. He muttered ‘Go on then, shoot me you fuckers’ to himself, and then he threw the door open. Sally and Jenny were harnessed to the buggy, as they had been for two hours. In front of them stood Estelle, dressed in the clothes that Jenny had been stripped of in the kitchen, and holding the driving whip. Sally’s face had its usual sphinx-like impassivity; Jenny’s betrayed her turmoil. Hearing the door open, she turned to her brother to appeal for relief from this rebellious slave bitch who had whipped her up the cellar steps. Estelle laid the whip across that torn and bloody back, Jenny faced front again.

Kern’s eyes took it all in; two fine strong ponies, and Estelle in complete control. He smiled as he greeted his new Queen.

END