Politics on a Friday afternoon was never Lucy's favourite part of the school timetable. She stifled a yawn and fiddled with the fluffy gonk on the top of her pencil, gazing vacantly at particles of dust drifting in a hazy beam of sun, barely registering Mr Wood's drone.
"...this law, which was introduced not without some controversy, is currently subject to a number of challenges in the European Court of Human Rights, which is located where, Miss Tyler?"
Lucy jumped as a piece of chalk pinged off the top of her head and she turned red as the rest of the class laughed at her. She had no idea what she'd just been asked.
"It will be noted that a number of the objections to the Subjugation of Women Act are on the basis that it devalues the intellectual status of women. But as Miss Tyler demonstrates, that is not necessarily a challenging task."
Sitting at the desk diagonally behind Lucy, he glared crossly at his textbook which was illustrated with photographs of women chained to the crash barriers outside the Houses of Parliament in protest at the introduction of the law and, on the opposite page, strikingly similar images from pro-slavery posters, showing women chained variously to cookers, prams and beds. As Mr Wood moved on, in a bored monotone, to outline the clauses of the Act, he watched Lucy cross her legs, wrapping one leg right around the other, hooking her foot behind her calf, the backs of her knees dimpled, a pink, ridged mark dug across the swell of her calf where her knee socks had slipped down a little and her pleated skirt rustled, some pleats bunched slightly as they were trapped between her thighs. He had sat diagonally behind Lucy in Politics on a Friday afternoon for two and a half terms and she had never spoken to him.
He had spoken to her often, but only in his imagination. There he was confident, clever, funny. There he watched her eyes light up and her lips stretch into a laugh. There he laid his hand on the curve of her hip and leaned into her upturned face, her lashes fluttering as she closed her eyes. But here, in this stuffy, stifling classroom, he did what he had done for two and a half terms; he drew the curve of her breast, seen three-quarters on from diagonally behind, as it pressed against her blouse and fumed at the teacher who had humiliated her. If he ever broke out of his dream world and spoke to her for real, he would treat her with respect.
"...introduced in 2008, provides for the subjugation of all females on their eighteenth birthday at which point the following provisions of the Act shall apply. (1) Females will be stripped of all legal rights and become the real property of an appointed male guardian of eighteen years or older. (2) Male guardians will be appointed by national lottery and will become solely responsible for the care and well-being (or otherwise) of their females. (3) The uses to which females may be put are unlimited in law. (4) All matters pertaining to justice are to be at the discretion of the male guardian. (5) Females may be traded openly for pecuniary advantage..."
Lucy knelt on the doormat on her birthday, flipping through the envelopes, pretending to herself that she didn't really expect to see a card with her mother's handwriting on it but still, deep in her heart, hoping she would. Her last sight of her mother, eyes wide with terror, screams muffled by a hand locked over her mouth as the soldiers bundled her into the back of their lorry, still made her shiver, her stomach tight and fluttery at the memory. No one had ever mentioned her again and when her father's allotted female arrived, covered in a burlap sack wound around with ropes, her father had simply lifted her, sack and all, over his shoulder and taken her down the stone steps to the cellar. From that day, the door was locked and Lucy had never even seen her, but sometimes, when the house was quiet, she heard her sobbing, and other times she heard her screams.
The last envelope was buff manila with an official crest.
He was late home from school and soaking wet from wheeling his bicycle with its flat tyre. He wheeled it into the hall and propped it against the wall leaving an oily mark; dropped his rucksack on the floor, books and football boots spilling out. His father was watching television with his feet on the coffee table and a six pack of cans balanced on the arm of the sofa. They grunted at each other in passing and he went to the fridge, slapping together a peanut butter and salami sandwich which he ate, uncut, standing up and leaning in the doorway, spilling crumbs across the filthy carpet. The house hadn't always been like this, but since his mother disappeared he and his father had to fend for themselves, and neither of them were much good at this. They had learned to eat without creating washing up and when socks had been worn until they stood up by themselves, they threw them out and bought new ones. Sometimes he wondered about the female in the garage; whether she had been a good cook or houseproud before she was delivered to his father.
During a commercial break (for leather and steel chastity belts, "...now with a range of fully insertable accessories of all sizes and styles, she'll be a slave to it ...") His father belched and said, "Package came for you today. I left it on your bed."
Lucy's jaw ached as her lips stretched around the wide rubber ball. Metal rings dug into her cheeks. Her arms and shoulders were numb from the wide leather bands that buckled her wrists, elbows and upper arms together, drawn back between her shoulder blades and trapped beneath her on the bed. She tried to squirm, hoping to ease the discomfort, but her ankles, knees and thighs were bound just as tightly and every wriggle only succeeded in digging the metal buckles into her flesh. With wide eyes she gazed around the room at the single bed, the desk littered with computer equipment, apple cores, crisp packets and mold-filled coffee cups. On the walls were posters of glamour models, plump and heavy breasted, pouting in airbrushed glory at the camera with expressions of profound stupidity. One was covered in baby oil, her skin glinting under the lights. Another was draped across a motorcycle, pretending to ride it dressed only in red stilettos and with her bum stuck in the air. Pinned above the bed were snapshots. A happy family group, a boy with his sister, first as small children at the seaside and then as teenagers, the girl slightly older than the boy. Then suddenly, Lucy's heart skipped a shocked beat as she saw her own image. It was a low quality cameraphone image, blown up and printed A4 but there she was, in her school uniform, walking along with girlfriends who had been cut out of the shot, her head back, laughing.
Before she could recover from her shock, footsteps thundered up the stairs and the door crashed open.
He didn't know where to look first. At her breasts, rounded and full, thrust out towards him and tipped with wide, stiff pink nipples? At the curve of her belly, the dark hollow dip of her belly button, the soft, downy mound of her pussy and the crease of her slit? Or at her face, pale with horror and outrage, her eyes misty with tears, her lips trembling? Yes, her face. Because now her eyes didn't slide onto his face and off again, not registering his presence. Instead, they gazed at him with an intensity that made him quiver, his cock stiffening as his heart raced with a mixture of triumph and nervous excitement. Propped on the keyboard of his computer was an official-looking envelope. He tore it open, still gazing at her.
On behalf of HM Government I am pleased to issue you with your female. Before using her, please ensure you register your ownership of her. Failure to register your female can result in a £1,000 fine or up to 18 months' imprisonment. You can register her online at http://www.yougov/my_slave.com.
He raced through the online questions, his cock throbbing at the thought of the phrase 'before using her'. Finally he reached the last page.
Congratulations, you have almost completed registration of your slave. One final question. Although your slave comes with a name, you may choose to register her with a new name of your choice. This will become her legal name. If you wish to register a new name, please enter it in the field below, otherwise go to 'Register my slave now'.
He sat and looked at her, wriggling unhappily on his bed, and thought of the hours he'd spent imagining her lying there naked, and of how she had looked right through him. He felt a sudden spurt of anger mingled with lust and, turning back to his computer, he typed her new name, C-U-N-T and clicked 'Register'.
Lucy screamed into her gag as he unbuckled her arms. She lay on her tummy as he straddled her, sitting on her bottom, and sobbed as her nerve endings crackled painfully with pin pricks of sensation and her hands and the veins in her wrists throbbed with a pounding, shuddering pulse. She hugged the pillow, burying her face as he unbuckled her legs, feeling them tremble as she tried to move them, gasping with the shock of stinging cramp. Her breathing, ragged and urgent, slowed as tears streaked her face and the cramp subsided, leaving her limbs floppy and numb. She didn't resist as he rolled her onto her back, lying on top of her now with his cock digging into her belly. Clumsily, he began to paw at her, squeezing her tits and digging his fingers into her hips and thighs. She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her lips and shut her eyes as he hauled her thighs apart. She winced as the velvet hard tip of his cock nudged against the folds of her cunt and suddenly, overwhelmed with disgust, she braced her hands against his chest and shoved him roughly away, rolling off the bed and scrambling frantically towards the door.
For a moment he stared at her in hurt surprise. And then from somewhere deep inside he found a new voice. "No you don't, Cunt!" he yelled, leaping off the bed, grabbing a fistful of her hair and dragging her, squealing, back to the bed. She stumbled and fell, sprawled forwards across the bed, kneeling on the floor. He put his hand firmly on the back of her neck, smothering her face in the bed clothes, and with a single, savage thrust, stabbed his cock deep into her cunt, ramming it in up to the hilt. He grunted as she screamed, the muscles of her cunt contracting sharply against his shaft, squeezing it tightly. Her whimpered pleas and gulping sobs drove him on, faster and harder, ramming the bitch. He laughed out loud when he thought of how timid he had been and how he'd wanted to treat her so well. Who cared about smiles and kisses when you could have hot, tight, wet flesh moaning and squirming beneath you, skewered on your cock, twisting and writhing and yours to use and abuse. He lay along her back, sliding his hands underneath her straining body to knead her tits, pinching her nipples between his fingers. He bit her shoulder and neck, hissed in her ear, "You fucking love it, don't you Cunt?" and hammered his cock harder than ever, slamming his belly against her trembling buttocks.
His cock jerked and with a yell he flooded her with spunk, pulling out as his twitching cock sprayed the last drops across her buttocks. She slid off the bed, sniveling and curled into a ball on the floor. Looking down at his cock he saw it was smeared with her juices, stained pink with the blood of her ripped virginity.
Lying on her back, her head hanging over the edge of the bed, Lucy gripped the bed clothes with white knuckles as she choked. Her neck bulged with his cock and thick white strings of saliva smeared her face, dripping into her hair as it tumbled down to the floor. She coughed again, spraying his balls, her face red, her lungs burning as her tits heaved and her nostrils flared, desperately sucking down air. He whipped his cock out of her gasping mouth and for a second Lucy gulped in a half breath before he thrust his cock back down her red raw throat, his hands sliding to her neck, circling it, pressing gently as he began to fuck. Her head bobbed up and down, banging against the edge of the bed, her tits bouncing with each thrust. He caught her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pinching and twisting them cruelly, stretching them out until she feared he would rip them off before letting go and watching her tits slap back down against her ribs, wobbling. He slapped them experimentally and Lucy gave a muffled moan. He slapped harder, his hand leaving a stinging red mark on the underswell of each breast in turn. "Shut the fuck up, Cunt!" She couldn't; she gagged again, snorting as saliva dripped into her nose. He pinched her nose shut, his other hand on her neck as he leaned in hard, fucking faster, his balls slapping her face.
Lucy's head spun, her eyeballs rolling back in their sockets as she began to weaken, loosening her grip on the bedclothes, hoping only that his spunk would drown her and end her torment.
He pulled out, gripping her hair, and slapped her face sharply. "Up on your hands and knees, Cunt!" Lucy fumbled, trying feebly to comply. Impatiently he hauled her into position and spread her buttocks. Lucy howled miserably as she felt the gob of spit land in the crack of her buttocks and slither down. She squirmed in his grip as the head of his cock pressed against the pink, puckered rim of her arse and she let out a piercing scream as he began to force his cock into her, slowly grinding it deeper into her bowels, delivering loud smacks to her arse as she struggled. Tired of her resistance, he cupped her chin in his hand, yanking her head back, and hissed menacingly, "I'll never fuck you anywhere else if you don't start behaving yourself, Cunt."
With a hopeless sob, Lucy slumped back onto the bed, gritting her teeth and groaning as he shoved the last few inches into her tortured, burning hole. He gripped her hips, jerking her back onto his cock. "You see, Cunt, I knew you'd grow to like it. Maybe I will never fuck you anywhere else." After only a few strokes, she felt him tense and then her bowels cramped as he pumped them full of his hot, stinging spunk. Slowly he drew his cock out of her gaping hole and a trickle of spunk dripped down her thighs.
She was more beautiful than she had ever been in his imagination. Her skin slick with sweat, her hair plastered in tendrils about her face and neck, the marks of his fingers already blooming in bruises on her skin. He let her roll onto her side then, splaying his hand against her cheek, he pressed her face down against the bed as he fed his cock into her bulging mouth and watched her obediently suck it clean. Tonight he would use one of the buckled belts around her neck to tie her to the bed. And tomorrow...well tomorrow was a school day. Yes, they would go to school.
I didn't vote for this topic - but I like it very much! Your 'longer stories' are such an interesting counterpoint to your everyday blog. I am looking forward to reading the next chapter.
Posted by: Hugh | 28 July 2009 at 09:04 PM