The Collector	Back to M	Back to main page

Collected by Djian

Sep 2 - 2011

This story is redistributed with permission from Smashwords
Find other stories from Jay Merson at http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Jay+Merson

Another story by Jay Merson | Black Man's Meat | Strictest Disiplin | The Collector

The Collector
by Jay Merson




© Copyright J. Merson 2001.

Smashwords Edition

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Surrey, England 1939. She was naked and being dragged along by the rope around her neck, the blindfold over her eyes making each step she took a dangerous and fear-filled action. Through the long grass by the side of the high wall surrounding the kitchen gardens he pulled her, alongside the decaying brick wall of the small remote mansion known locally as the 'The Case House.' The fact that her knees were roped together to splay her feet outward caused her to waddle rather than walk. Her wrists were bound together behind her, forced up painfully between her shoulder blades and then attached to the rope around her neck. Long since the girl had given up airing her protests, the leather ball gag stretching her jaws muffled any sounds she had given. Tears had streaked her cheeks with black lines and her hair, matted and speckled with twigs and leaves, added to her pathetic and defeated appearance. The girl had become one of the prized pieces of 'The Collector' and her treatment should now improve - shouldn't it?

Chapter 1

Marion Walters cycled along the lane at the edge of the village, turned into the long winding driveway of 'Case House' and began peddling harder up the sloping incline. She was a woman with a mission, the LVS (Ladies Voluntary Service) needed women like her she felt and she was pleased to be part of them - despite the hard peddling she was now required to do. At thirty-two and unattached she would never normally have visited a single man unaccompanied but, it was all part of the LVS work and therefore acceptable. The newcomer to the village had to be welcomed and made to feel part of the community, it was only right, the decent thing to do on behalf of the village.

She puffed and panted; standing up in the saddle to force the pedals round on the last part of the long gradient. The thick serge uniform she wore, the hard topped cap and the thick woollen stockings all added to her discomfort. Her body felt wet beneath her clothing, a trickle of perspiration ran down the centre of her back and she cursed the long ride up to house this warm spring morning. Marion gave a sigh of relief when at last she was alongside the porch of the house; she stopped her bicycle and dismounted.
¨

Differing and wildly exaggerated tales she had heard many times, gossip mostly, but never before had she been to the house. As a child her mother and grandmother would spin yarns of the evil happenings at 'Case House' but the details Marion could not recall. She stood sucking in air to feed her starved lungs, her hands on her hips, controlling her breathing and looking up at the red brick building.

The house was old, centuries so, Tudor, Marion guessed it to be but wasn't sure, history had never really been her strong point. It stood in large grounds, in the midst of tangled undergrowth of trees, bushes and creepers with only a small lawn area to her back with a stone sundial in the centre of it. Ivy covered much of the outer walls of the house and part of the grey slate roof, carpeting the roof of the porch completely in a sinister hanging cloak of dark green, forming a foreboding tunnel by which all visitors must enter. Small crooked window frames with leaded patterned glass added to the historic look of the building, the front door small and weatherworn seemed unnecessarily strong and slightly out of place in its setting. It was here that she knocked, using the heavy wrought iron knocker to boom announcement of her arrival. The woman waited patiently, shivering nervously in the darkness that the porch created, she wished the owner to be speedy to answer and to end for her the eerie and creepy feel of the entrance.

"Mr. Kline?" She blurted almost too enthusiastically in relief as the door was finally opened.

He was tall, of Germanic descent it seemed, with a hooked nose and dark staring eyes. The man was good looking enough with a thick thatch of black hair and a warming smile, Marion felt herself flush slightly in under his critical stare.

"Yes," he answered in a low and velvety voice that seemed to wash over her like a covering blanket and raised goose bumps on her neck.

"Marion Walters, from the LVS, I sent a letter to you last week asking if I might call on you this morning."

The man stepped back to hold the door open, gave a low theatrical bow and a sweep of his arm.

"Please enter my abode lovely lady from the voluntary services," he said with a slightly mocking air.

Marion hesitated, taken aback by his comment, rapidly trying to decide whether it was a compliment or ridicule. She felt momentarily confused; perhaps that was what he intended, she pondered. The woman shrugged her shoulders in indifference and stepped inside.

They sat together, opposite one another in the front room, he lounged back in his armchair with his legs crossed casually and her, perched nervously on the edge of her seat with her hands clasped together on her lap.

Marion pressed her knees together and wriggled the hem of her thick uniform skirt down a little to ensure that her knees were covered. She wilted under his piercing stare; the woman averted her eyes, aware that his gaze was roaming her whole body from her head to her toes and back up again.

"And what is the purpose of your visit miss...?" He asked kindly but with a slight hint of suspicion sounding in his tone.

"Walters," She blurted in her nervousness. "Marion Walters but please, call me Marion."

He nodded and grinned wryly at the reddish hue growing on her cheeks. The slut was wonderful, a prim and proper Miss that covered up her shapely body with heavy clothing and used a stiflingly and oppressive personality to further enhance her dour appeal. Untouchable, remote and aloof she seemed to want to appear, beyond all approach from a male in her organised and spinster life. Despite that though, beneath the façade, he felt, there lay a steaming cauldron of bubbling female sexuality simply waiting to burst free. In that cause he would help her release it and would be most pleased to do so, even if the stuck-up bitch wouldn't be aware that he was doing so.

"And your visit here today?"

"Oh," she flustered and reddened further, "To welcome you to the village - into our community - as a friend."
He smiled broadly.

"Thank you, thank you kindly, but you know nothing about me. Tea Miss Walters?" He asked to confuse her further and then dropped the tone of his voice to a low and husky voice filled with sexual overtones. "Marion."

She gave an involuntary shiver, confused again she stumbled in her response, a statement and a question both delivered together, which to respond to first she couldn't decide. She liked him and tried not to let it show, she was a silly little teenager again and floundering in self-consciousness. He was watching her, watching as her cheeks burned red and her embarrassment was complete.

"Yes, please and...Err, no. I mean, well yes to the tea please."

The man stood; his voice when he spoke was low and reassuring, kind and sympathetic to her situation.

"Come then, please help me in the kitchen and we can talk further as we prepare the tea."

***

In the basement below the house, in one of the tall showcases, the bound slut whimpered as her bladder stretched to almost bursting point. So long she had been there without being given the opportunity of relieving herself that she felt she could not hold back any longer. She was naked and tied, strapped back securely to the tall upright post by her ankles and the thick strap around her waist. Her arms were stretched up above her head, painfully so, and then secured to the top cross member of the polished wooden showcase. The gag in her mouth had taken on a bitter and most awful taste, the sodden leather now soft and full in her stretched jaws.

She would be beaten for it she knew, for to pee herself would bring suffering unknown from the maniac that had abducted her, but she simply couldn't hold out any longer.

The tall redhead tensed and groaned as a little dribble of her urine oozed from between her pussy lips to form in a drip on her puffy labia. That drip fell to be replaced by another and then another, the flow gradually increasing as she strained desperately to hold it back. Faster the drips fell, onto her thighs and to run down her legs to her toes, faster still the flow became now until a constant trickle was dribbling from her sex. The girl gave a huge sigh and at last relaxed, as the flow became an unstoppable torrent squirting from her pussy lips. Hot and steaming, the yellow liquid jetted forcefully out; deflected by her labia the spray coated her thighs and legs, her feet and the glass front of the showcase. She groaned as the relief swept over her, as the throbbing dull ache in her bladder was at last gone from her, and then she began to sob. He would be furious with her, he would punish her dreadfully for the act and that thought increased her sobbing to a series of body jerking tremors.

***

"Your visit here today is a most kind gesture, and is much appreciated," Kline said as he poured the scalding water into the teapot.

"You are most welcome," she responded politely as she arranged the cups on the saucers, adding teaspoons with a tingling rattle where her hands trembled in nervousness. She liked him more with every moment that passed, he was so confident and calm, so in control of himself - and she had to admit - in command of her too.

"Women in uniform impress me," Kline said and cast a sideways glance at the woman. "And you most certainly impress me."

Marion was shaken by the undertones of his statement, direct, so straight to the point and so unusual within the closed community of the village. Sexual even perhaps the comments were, she had read of such things on odd occasions. Men liking women to dress up for them, in uniform, to excite and to tease, she had never really thought of herself being seen that way during her duties. Quickly she picked up the saucers and carried them over to the small kitchen table to help cover her obvious embarrassment. She was aware that he had turned to watch her, his gaze surely lingering on her legs and her backside where the tight pencil skirt pulled across it.

"Did my comment offend you?" Kline asked seating himself at the table opposite her, pouring the tea and fixing her with a longing stare all at the same time.

"Not offended, more...Well, I am unused to compliments."

"And they are unwelcome from me?" He asked in a pained voice.

No!" She blurted and flushed red at her impetuous response. "They are most welcome, but not something I receive often. I am unaccustomed to such flattery."

Kline handed her a cup and saucer, continuing to look deep into her eyes whenever her gaze met his.

"That I find difficult to believe," he said with a warming smile. "You are an attractive young woman, Marion, most attractive. I find myself drawn to you, I like you very much. Have dinner with me one evening please - please say that you will."

The surprise that she felt showed clearly on her face, as too did her delight although she tried hard to conceal it, tilting her head coyly to one side.

"I should like that very much but..."

"Excellent! Tonight perhaps is convenient to you?"

The woman sipped nervously at her tea, her hands shaking so much that tea spilled into the saucer. She liked him, very much, he was kind and polite, a proper gentleman and everything she could ever have wished for in a suitor. Only rough peasants and farmer's sons were the choice here, all of the nicer men had been taken and were happily married now. Not many marital opportunities arose in this village; suitable men were certainly thin on the ground, if none existent. This man's arrival in the community seemed as though he was heaven sent. She stammered and hesitated and then a saddened expression came over her pretty face.

"The gossips, the talk in the village, it wouldn't be possible for me to accept your kind invi..."

"To hell with them," Kline said forcefully. "Are you not a grown woman that knows her own mind?"

"Yes," she said weakly.

"How then do people meet and marry if not by being together and getting to know one another? Did not the gossips themselves do the self same thing?"

The woman pondered thoughtfully for a moment and then a beaming smile came over her face.

"You are right! To hell with them," she said brightly and firmly. "I accept your invitation but not for tonight, I have duties to attend to. I accept for Wednesday evening though if that is okay with you - and I accept with the greatest of pleasure."

In her joy she didn't hear the soft throaty growl of satisfaction that Kline gave, nor too did she see his furtive glance down at the swell of her breasts as they pressed again her uniform jacket.

"It will be just our secret," he said in a low tone full of triumph. "No one need know of our date."

"I won't tell a soul," she said as a secretive whisper and smiled.

***

Kline was naked; a leather hood covered his head and face with only a slit for the mouth and eyeholes to break the otherwise full covering of his features. Around his wrists black leather wrist bands, dotted with shiny metal studs, reached almost up to his elbows and covered his strong forearms. A wide waist belt, also in black leather, anchored the thinner straps that crossed over on his chest and looped up over his shoulders. Lower straps passed down between his legs and up over his buttocks to add a tightened pressure around his bloated scrotum. The tall man looked most sinister, evil and wicked in his presentation - exactly the appearance he had wanted to achieve.

Kline stood before the long mirror of his wardrobe door and admired the effect of his dressing. It pleased him much that he had been blessed with a larger than average cock, he prided himself on the thick girth and long length of it, a most pleasing visual aid to his overall look. It stuck up hard in erection, the foreskin pulled back tightly along the great shaft to expose the swelling bulbous head in all its glory. Kline allowed himself a brief squeeze of his member, a few short rubs of his hand up and down his shaft in anticipation of the fun to come. His head threw back and his shoulders shook as he laughed loudly to the otherwise silent room. A most spine-chilling laugh it was, one of deep evil intent that could spell nothing but terror and suffering for the unfortunate sluts that awaited him.

Chapter 2

Marion was in the little sub-post office selecting a few cosmetics for her coming date with Kline, watched intently by the postmistress and two of the elderly village gossips. It was almost as though they knew, she felt, but of course they could not have. Their voices seemed to rise when the postmistress raised the subject, as though in warning or simply to let her know that they knew.

"He is a strange one that Kline, that's for sure," the elderly lady in the beige coat said loudly, "Just the right sort of man to live in that evil house."

"Sick it is," her companion offered; her tone one of deep disgust. "What happened in that house..."

"Perverted more like," the postmistress added in an equally disgusted tone.

Marion made her selection of the items she needed and went to the counter, aware that all eyes were on her and the items that she had chosen.

"You have a hot date tonight, Marion?" The postmistress asked in a knowing tone as she looked at the mascara and foundation cream Marion handed her.

Marion ignored the remark, fished in her purse for the coins, paid and turned to leave.

"Keep well clear of Case House," one of the other women cautioned. "I heard you were up that way today."
Marion stopped at the door then turned and smiled.

"LVS business actually," she said with full sarcasm sounding in her voice. "Someone has to welcome newcomers rather than verbally pull them to pieces. But," she said as she pulled the door open. "You won't get me going within a mile of that place again."

The gossips satisfied and deflected from her arranged meeting, it was a happy and excited Marion that peddled back to her home. She had much to do, to get ready for her first real date ever, to meet again the man that she felt so strongly for - the wonderful Mister Kline.

***

The tall polished frames of the mahogany showcases glowed reddish brown as the lights came on in the basement. The reinforced glass sides and backs reflected the light also to bathe the whole area in a luminous and reverent brilliance.

Kline strode proudly along the rows of empty showcases, reading the ornately carved signs fitted to the top front of each tall case. 'Nurse' one of them read. 'Bus conductress' another showed, 'Wren,' 'housemaid' and 'office worker.' Each of the empty cases was labelled, ready and waiting to receive the occupant once she arrived. Kline smiled beneath his mask. The actual collecting of the sluts was almost, if not better than, having them here at times. He was proud of his collection even though they numbered only three at present, but that number would soon increase, he chuckled to himself. Like his grandfather before him, he would find the species, cage them and have them close to him to view or to use as he wished. Like all collectors, it was his passion, his one love in life - viewing and playing with his collection.

The heels of his long black riding boots clicked loudly on the stone slab floor as he made his way slowly down to the end of the row. To the two occupied showcases, the ones holding his latest acquisitions - the sluts he had taken, one from the streets and the other? He simply chuckled all the heartier at that thought.

The little blonde slut, the one dressed in her uniform of a dental nurse, opened her eyes to lock them wide in terror. She hung there, strapped back to the stake, as all of them would soon be, with her mouth gagged and her limbs strapped to hold her in position. The stretch of her arms above her head had pulled the starched white overall high up her thigh to expose a pleasing amount of soft, slender leg.

Kline ogled the blue-eyed beauty for several minutes, silently roaming his gaze over her petite frame and lingering on her thrusting breasts. His cock twitched and reared up in excitement, she was like a little doll, a woman in miniature. He groaned longingly, imagining her soft downy covered mons and her firm jutting nipples beneath the starched white covering. He recalled the watching of her, the planning and then her abduction, he glowed with satisfaction at the way the plan had been executed and carried out so smoothly. Have her sex he could of course, should he wish, and she could do nothing to prevent him but he had time, time to choose, for now he had three sluts in his collection.

The hooded figure moved menacingly and deliberately slowly along to the next showcase and stood facing her, looking in. He felt his cock grip in spasm and his anus clench in reaction at the sight before him. The naked slut, the tall redhead he had brought in the previous night had peed herself. The wet stain on the floor, the splash marks on the glass and her terrified look of sheer dread all confirmed it was so. Kline chuckled sardonically, the choice had been made, and this slut would tonight suffer much for her inability to control her bladder.

He selected a key from the bunch hanging on the side of his waist belt, fitted it in the ornate brass lock plate and turned it. The stench of stale urine hit him the moment the door was opened, filling his nostrils with an acrid and foul smell of wasted body fluid. Kline was most displeased and made it known, bellowing at her loudly, his words muffled and distorted slightly by the covering mask. He stepped in, cupped her sodden mons with his right hand and paused there to snigger. His fingers clenched to form a fist, gripping her gingery pubic hair in one great handful and yanked brutally to rip the hair from her tender parts.

The girl went into a series of body jerking spasms as the pain flooded through her. Against her restraints she pulled and bucked, thrashing her body uselessly to cope with the burning agony in her pussy. Her eyes were wide and staring, horror, deep fear and more were clearly held within them. Now the time had come, the time she had waited for and dreaded, the masked abductor was beginning his evil work on her.

Kline laughed loudly at her struggling, mocking her as she hung there in great discomfort and pain. He raised his right hand, shook the curly strands of her pubic hair from his fingers and tensed his whole hand with the palm facing her. The man slapped down and sideways to smack heavily on the side of her left breast, jolting it so violently that it swung across and slapped hard in turn on her right one.

"Dirty fucking bitch," he sneered and lifted his left hand. "I'll teach you to wet yourself."

The same was repeated, a savage slap with his left hand bounced her other breast back onto the other, the girl went into a series of shuddering convulsions that shook her whole body. Kline slapped again with his right and then with his left, bouncing her ample orbs back and forth across her chest in a rapid thrashing of her silky mounds. Many times he hit at her orbs, delighting in both the bounce of them and the pain he was giving her. At length he relented; standing before her he pressed the head of his pulsing cock against her wet pussy lips to savour the feel of the slut on him. He wanted her, hadn't yet had her but the waiting, oh the waiting! That surpassed all else in the excitement and thrill stakes. He would prolong it, make her squirm and wriggle in pain, allow her to taste real pain and then - only then - would he fill her with his seed.

Her body jolted violently in reaction as his clenched fist swung hard back in to slam into her stomach, knocking all breath from her and bringing a covering mist to her mind. The girl slumped and then passed out, the dark blanket of unconsciousness coming to her as blessed relief from the pain.

***

Marion couldn't decide, her flowery dress looked bright and cheerful, lifting her usually dowdy appearance but was it right for evening wear? The alternative long black dress was more elegant and perhaps more suitable for the occasion she felt, but she wanted to impress the lovely mister Kline, to tempt him and to attract him and to make him want her all the more.

She stood in her bedroom, admiring herself before the mirror and dressed only in her bra and panties. Her body shape was good and she knew it, the flowery dress would emphasise that shape, short and daring though it was. Reaching up just above her knees, the dress was figure hugging and thin, indecently thin, almost transparent at times given the right lighting conditions.

Marion felt a surge of mischievous sexual buzz flow though her to firm her nipples to press against the insides of the cups of her bra. She felt her clitoris stiffening, pulsing slightly with a nagging ache, the time was fast coming. The time when she would become a full woman; when she would give herself to a man and be a virgin no more. The wonderful tingling sensations that she felt deep in her vulva simply confirmed to her that Mister Kline, with his good looks and pleasant manner was the man most likely to take her maidenhood from her.

Marion stood watching her reflection in the mirror; again she held the thin dress up against her body. Her heart beat wildly in her chest; the building excitement and anticipation of the night a few days ahead helped her in her decision. She would do it; she would wear the short dress and tease the man to hell and back. She felt a loose woman, a kind of a teaser, sluts she had heard them called. Women that dressed to thrill, to flaunt and to offer their bodies for the hungry eyes and stares of men - but it all felt so wonderfully exiting.

Okay, this was just a dress rehearsal for a few days time but she simply had to get everything right, to know that it was right, not just for her - but for him. Her decision was made, she would wear it and to hell with all else, just as he had said - to hell with them all.

The young woman hummed cheerily as she slipped the dress on and closed the buttons up the back. Just her hair to do and her makeup to apply, even in practice everything had to be right. Then - on Wednesday - she would dress up again for real, would keep their date and meet again the man that now filled her dreams. Kline, the wonderful, adorable and very polite, Mister Kline.

***

Once again the redheaded slut was being dragged, this time by the hair. Her hands were tied securely behind her back and the rope binding her knees ensured that she could give no resistance. Along the cold slab floor of the basement he pulled her, around the corner of the line of showcases and into the adjoining room. 'The play room' Kline liked to call it, his room, his very own room where all of the fun in his life was had. Over to the long and worn wooden table he dragged her and shoved her roughly against it.

The slut struggled and fought against him as much as her bonds would allow, but it was useless. Lifted up and laid on her back she was unable to resist his powerful hands as she was strapped firmly to the hard wooden surface. Her limbs were released in turn only to be pinioned again by the thick and bloodstained leather cuffs. The girl screamed and yelled her protests into the ball gag but her words came out as only muffled and mumbled mutterings. Eventually she lay spread, her arms and legs stretched and pulled wide, spread-eagled and open in unhindered accessibility. Her back arched and her hips were pushed up high as Kline forced two firm pillows under her backside. The girl lay then with her pussy mound higher than the rest of her body, pushed up high and opened wide to show the blood-red gash of her soft inner pussy lips.

Kline hummed softly to himself as he prepared the items he would need to fulfil his playtime activities. From the cupboard on the opposite wall he selected them, keeping his back to her to conceal his preparations. For when she saw the implements he intended to use on her she would wail most loudly and that effect - he didn't want to ruin. Kline moved to the end of the table, placed the items close to the top of her head to further conceal them from her. He moved slowly and deliberately, closed the cellar door and bolted it before returning to her side.

"I will now remove your gag. If you should feel inclined to utter even one word, you will suffer most terribly for having done so. Is that clear?"

The girl nodded her head rapidly, her pleading eyes staring up at him to add further confirmation to her agreement. She simply worked her jaw to ease the cramping as he pulled the sodden leather gag from her mouth.
"Would you like water?" He asked kindly.

The girl nodded furiously.

"I expect that you would - but," Kline said and leaned down to bring his hooded face close to hers, his voice a turning to a venomous hiss. "But that would only make you want to pee yourself again wouldn't it, you filthy little slut!"

The girl began to sob, tears running from the corners of her eyes and trickling down her cheeks but she said not one word.

Kline looped the thin cotton thread tied the knot and slipped the loop over her left nipple. He gasped at her reaction as he pulled the thread tight around her tender bud to constrict the nipple cruelly at its base.

Her back arched and she drew breath through clenched teeth, her face screwed up in mask of pain and a soft sigh escaped her lips. Her body tensed as the pain flooded through her but again she remained silent, fearful of saying even one word.

Kline chuckled and repeated the same on her right nipple, drawing the knot tight to crush her tender bud. When both trailing ends of the thread were teased out he pulled them upward to stretch her nipples most spitefully.

The girl arched further still, trying to lift her upper body slightly and to ease a little the excruciating pull on her tender parts. She gasped constantly as each additional amount of tension was applied to stretch her nipples further still toward the ceiling.

Harder he pulled and then harder still until the little pink pegs were bleached white and drained of blood. The soft orbs of her breasts were distorted and lifted under the pull to increase her discomfort and pain to a tearing and constant agony. Harder still he pulled, so far did he stretch her nipples that the threads threatened to tear the little buds clean from her flesh. Kline maintained that tension and tied the threads off to the low rafters above her, to hold her in a suspended state of raw burning and continual agony.

"Your punishment is about to begin, slut," he chuckled and ran his hand down over the flat of her stomach to rest on her presented mons. His middle finger pressed into the soft, moist folds of her inner lips and then pushed fully up inside her pussy. For several moments Kline fingered her, wriggling his finger around inside her warm, wet interior in exploration of her secret place.

"Nice?" He sniggered and then laughed aloud as the weeping slut shook her head and blurted a heartfelt sob.

Kline withdrew his finger, pushed it into his mouth and sucked noisily on the wet digit.

"Mmmm," he muttered, "A mere taste of what is to come."

The girl turned her head away, closed her eyes tightly and gagged in revulsion at the act he had just performed.
Still chuckling Kline took the hairdresser's scissors and a comb and began snipping the gingery hair away from her raised pussy mound. Expertly he worked, the thin points of the scissors cropping her thatch to a close stubble but never once snipping the flesh. Silently he worked, only his heavy breathing and the whimpering of the girl broke the silence in the cold damp cellar room. Shaving cream followed, a thick and rich lather that he massaged lavishly into and over her pussy with the soft shaving brush. Time and again his gaze flicked to her face, to test her reaction to the warm massaging bristles as they stimulated her clitoris. Harder and faster he circled the brush around and on it, delighting in the way her body tensed and a little groan of pleasure came from her tensed lips. That thrill was increased further when the girl tensed harder, in fear of the razor as he began to scrape away the remaining stubble. Slowly he worked, drawing the sharp blade across her mound and around and over her puffy pussy lips. Kline rinsed her and patted her dry, sprinkling a little talcum powder over her now bald pussy to add to its new freshness.
"There," he stated firmly as he put the shaving items aside. "So much cleaner now and it does so expose that sweet little clitoris of yours to me."

"Oh God," she muttered fearfully.

Kline moved up to her side and looked down on her. He shook his head slowly in mock regret and sighed heavily.

"You spoke."

The girl hesitated, her face a mask of deep dread and terror, then she began to scream as the hooded figure roared his delight.

Kline busied himself with a third thread, this one however, differed from those stretching her nipples, he made two small loops in the cotton. It was the most pitiful screaming and wailing that the girl emitted as the long sewing needle was pushed through her clitoris. Her body shook in uncontrollable spasms as the sharp point pierced her tiny bud and through to the other side. Kline hummed softly in disinterest as the slut screamed her little heart out, looped the thread around either end of the needle and pulled upward toward the ceiling. Harder he pulled and then harder still, stretching the little pink bud until the hooded covering split slightly, then he tied the end off to the rafters above.
Her wailing was constant, like that of a wolf caught in a gin trap, pained and desperate for even the slightest relief from it.
Kline stood back and watched her, stroking at his throbbing erection as the girl gagged and spluttered with the raw agony ripping through her. He waited until she was all screamed out and the noise level had dropped to a heavy and laboured sobbing. Kline picked up the long rattan cane and rested it alongside the left lip of her labia. He pulled back his arm and paused.
"Naughty slut," he spat in disgust. "How dare you foul my beautiful showcase."
He swung in hard, the rigid stick slapping hard and spitefully on the puffy lip of her sex.
A stream of vomit shot from her mouth, her back arched and her thighs convulsed in reactive spasm as the pain tore though her. Her eyes bulged and she gagged again, her chest heaving to tug cruelly at the threads attached to her nipples.
Calmly, Kline passed the stick over to his other hand and lashed down hard on the other side of her pussy lips.
Again her body jolted and her head lifted to strain against her shoulders, her mouth gapped open as she tried to beg for mercy. Her moist eyes sent out a desperate but silent plea to her abuser, imploring him to spare her more suffering and to end her torture.
Kline began to whistle tunelessly as he thrashed both sides of her pussy in turn; the hard and meaningful strokes of the cane instantly enflamed her already puffy pussy lips. At length he paused, looking at her blood-streaked thighs where her clitoris had ripped during her bucking. A low and sadistic chuckle came from deep within his throat and he pulled back his arm again. Kline levelled the cane, aiming it for a horizontal and sideways swipe and then he swung in hard. The cane connected with the thread attached to the needle, knocking the cord hard sideways and ripping the needle through her tender flesh.
The girl passed out, her body slumped lifelessly and a gurgle came from her throat. That was when Kline mounted the table, pressed his cock against her bruised pussy lips and pushed fully up inside her.
"Wonderful slut," he muttered excitedly as he rammed his cock frantically in and out of her blood soaked pussy. His hips thrust hard, driving the whole of his cock deeper and deeper into her soft, warm body in a heated race toward his peak. Kline reached out with one hand, gripped the threads stretching her nipples and tugged hard on them as he came. The man howled in pleasure as he emptied himself into her soft interior, shooting his pent-up sperm far up inside the girl's body.
Kline grunted in satisfaction as he slowed his strokes to finish his orgasm luxuriously slowly. He withdrew his bloodstained cock and got down off the table. He patted her thigh tenderly.
"Nice fuck," he complimented the unhearing girl. "But I cannot dally here with you; I have others to view and perhaps to add to my collection."

***

In the major town a good forty miles from the village, Kline parked his ageing Standard Eight motor car carefully and crossed over the busy street to the row of shops on the other side.

In the bright morning sunshine pitching in through the front window of the tearooms, the waitress was clearing away the debris of the visitors just left. The girl was of average height, a brunette with a slim and most shapely figure, with calf muscles wonderfully sculptured by her high-heeled shoes. The outfit that she wore enhanced her bright and attractive look, the black maid's dress neat but functional and reaching down past her knees. The billowing material could not though hide the thin nipped waist nor the swelling thrust of her breasts, the tempting rounds of her buttocks too were emphasised by the hang of the dress. The white apron, the little lace cuffs around sleeves and the white head cap all added to the uniformed look of the girl. Her pretty face and innocence look made her a most attractive and appealing sight as well as prospective addition to his collection.

The little slut was perfect, Kline felt, he entered the tearooms and sat with his back to the door, positioning himself so as to be able to watch her every move. He ogled her and leered, inspecting every part of her as went about her duties, stretching and bending in a display of pure sexual teasing to him.

"Tea for one and two buttered scones, please," he said as she came to his table to take his order.

He watched her as she wrote on her pad, taking in the delicate little hands and fingers, her full red lips, painted with glossy red lipstick and the sparkling bright eyes that danced with inner laughter. Kline felt his cock stiffening, he ogled her legs as she turned and walked away, he had decided, the slut would fill one of his showcases.


Chapter 3

The little dental nurse, the blonde slut, his treasured first outside acquisition to his collection had been freed from her showcase. She squatted fearfully over the grating, her knees and thighs wide apart and her dental shift ruckled up around her waist.

"I find it difficult to go when you are watching," she said looking up at the hooded figure standing over her.

The slut yelped in pain as the long leather hawse lashed down across her shoulder to encourage her to pee.

"Do it," Kline hissed threateningly.

The young girl strained and grunted, her face red and expression set until at last her pee began to flow.

Kline groaned longing as he watched her, the way her puffy pussy lips had parted, the hot steaming flow of urine from her body was constant and forceful to further add to his arousal. It felt so wonderful to watch a girl at her ablutions, an almost secret insight into an otherwise normally private act, an invasion of her privacy that humiliated her at the same time. He gripped his throbbing cock and squeezed it, muttering his delight at her crude display. The downy covered pussy mound, the way her slender little thighs parted and the lewd and base fashion that she squatted in to offer herself. It was all so delightful and pleasing, filled with sexual appeal and cock stiffening thrill.

Finished and wiped dry, the girl stood and pulled her dental shift down over her hips and thighs to again cover her body and to try to regain some degree of modesty. She was jerked forward by the tug on the rope, the noose around her neck tightening so as to encourage her to follow him without protest. Through the basement area and the long line of showcases they went, him leading and her following.

At the door to the playroom she halted, both her hands gripping at the leash close to her throat and her eyes wide with fear.

"No!" She blurted as she caught sight of the long wooden bench inside the room. "No not in there!"

Kline slapped her hard across the upper arm with the hawse, landing a stinging lash on her soft body to cause her to yelp loudly in pain. Then a second lash stung her body, on her waist as she raised her arms in defence, followed then by a third and a fourth, encouraging her to comply with his wishes.

No!" She screamed defiantly and pulled back against the rope.

Kline lost patience with her, he grabbed at her hair, seized a handful of her locks at the top of her head, and shoved her roughly through the open doorway to sprawl and fall heavily on the cold stone floor. He stood over the slut, raining hard blows with the leather strap down onto the cowering form below him.

"Never defy me!" He raved and lashed wildly at her in a fit of rage. Again and again he lashed her, aiming the blows at her thighs, her hips, her back and across her front as she rolled around on the floor screaming her terror and pain.

It had been most exciting for him, the slut's refusal had added an unexpected but most welcome addition to his fun this day, one that Kline enjoyed immensely. He stood there, towering over her, panting hard and savouring the feel of the pulsing in his aching cock. It felt so good to command, to order her, to beat her into compliance and to have the little slut cowering so before him, vulnerable and frightened.

"Get up you snivelling little wretch," he spat and kicked out hard at her to land a thudding blow of his toecap into her outer thigh.

The girl cried out as the heavy blow landed, scrambled up onto all fours, frantically hurrying to comply and to avoid further blows being landed on her. Before she could stand, Kline hauled on the rope to add a choking pull to the noose around her neck and to haul her to her feet more rapidly.

"Never!" He hissed venomously. "Never argue with me."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she sobbed.

He laughed at her pathetic attempt to appease him and landed a stinging slap of his hand across her cheek to jar her head to the side. Kline moved in, slipped his hand up under her shift and cupped her pussy in the palm of his hand. He stood there watching her sob and weep in shamed misery as he felt and fingered her still moist sex. Inside her he pushed his finger, easing it up and in until the whole of his digit was inside her body.

"Like cock do you, slut?"

She shook her head and sniffed loudly.

"No," she said softly and almost as an apology.

Do you like what I am doing to you? Do you like me fingering you little pussy?"

Again she shook her head and cringed fearfully as the hooded man roared with mocking laughter.

He withdrew his hand and sucked on his finger, watching her expression change to one of deep revulsion.

"Mmmm," he muttered. "Your pee is a little tangy but your pussy juice is thick and very tasty."

The girl swallowed hard to stem the rising bile in her throat; she averted her eyes so as not to see the revolting spectacle.

Kline moved around behind her, lifted up the shift at the back with his left hand and touched her bare buttocks with his right. It excited him to have her stand there as he felt and groped her, the frightened little slut, with her hands by her sides stood passively as he felt all over her taut silky mounds. His fingers dipped and delved, exploring her crevice and then down between the tops of her thighs. Kline groaned constantly as he touched her, appreciative of her warm firmness, her youth and the delights her body could offer him. He stepped back and dropped the hem off her shift, circling slowly back to her front and delighting in her pitiful sobbing.

"Strip," He snapped, "Completely and until you are totally naked."

It took two stinging lashes of the leather hawse to galvanise her into action. The sobbing girl quickly then unbuttoned her shift and slipped it down to the floor, her cheeks burned red in shame and her shoulders shook racked by the deep sobbing. Her bra followed, her neat pale body gradually revealed as her clothing was removed. Eventually she stood naked, her head down and looking to the floor, averting her eyes to try to hide the shame that she felt. She looked pathetic, pale and weak with her shoulders hunched and trembling fearfully before the hooded stranger.

Kline stepped in close, each of his hands covering one of her neat little breasts; he weighed them, fondled them and squeezed reverently. He felt her shudder in disgust as he rested the tip of his cock against the flat of her stomach and that response thrilled him - that, he liked very much. His fingers pinched and pulled at her soft little nipples, crushing the little buds and twisting them to draw gasps of pain from the girl. Throughout he watched her expression, delighting in the way her face contorted in pain as he abused her nipples. Her orbs were so firm, hard almost, a true delight to feel and to touch. It was with some reluctance that minutes later he halted in his fondling and took a pace back away from her.

"Down on the bench, face down and be quick about it," he ordered her and shoved her forward toward the rough wooden structure.

"Please no," she whimpered, turning her head back to look at him with wide pleading eyes and a most mournful of expressions.

The leather hawse slapped savagely across her back to spur her on, her back arched and she screamed as the burning pain seeped deeply down into her tortured flesh. The girl straddled the low bench, and knelt down, laying face down on the rough wooden surface. Her stomach and mons pressed now down on the bench, her breasts were crushed beneath her and her knees hovered just an inch or two above the stone floor on either side of the bench.

The position she adopted was like that of a jockey or a motorcyclist astride her mount, one that presented her backside up in wonderful unhindered offering.

Kline gave a loud throaty groan as her buttock cheeks stretched wide to show the rosy pink ring of her little anus, the tight puckered ring looking so innocent and so very perfect - untouched and excitingly unexplored and, just beneath it, the sweet puffy lips of her pussy with the slit showing the soft pink folds of her inner lips. He felt his cock grip in tension and rear up excitedly at the thought of pushing up into the little slut. His ball-sac tightened and firmed with a pulsing need to empty the pent-up sperm that had been steadily building there. Nice and so very tempting though the sight was, he would resist his urges. He would wait, prolong his pleasure and see the slut in real pain first to add to the heady thrill of abusing such a sweet little whore-slut.

Kline pulled the rope around her neck down so as to bring her chin onto the surface of the bench and secured the end underneath the bench to hold her there. He worked silently and slowly to tie her wrists, her arms pulled out far in front of her head to stretch her little body under tension. He lashed those ropes tightly to the end of the bench, pinning her wrists securely and rendering her totally immovable. On her knees he worked next, roping one and then passing the rope under the bench to tether it to her other. After several minutes the slut was bound fast to the bench; face down with her knees either side of it and her sexual orifices open and offered unhindered.

Humming softly to himself, his favourite tune by Glen Miller, Kline selected from the lengths of chain hanging from the wooden pegs on the wall of the playroom. It was a fairly thin one that he chose; silver in colour and with close links that knitted together nicely to form the three-foot length of it. He wound one end twice around his hand and then slashed it through the air several times to test it. He chuckled heartily as the little slut wailed and begged to be spared, watching him as she was from her low position on the bench.

Kline gave his cock a squeeze, holding it with his left hand as he moved to the side of the bench and readied himself. In one swift and expert swing, his arm came up above his shoulder and then lashed down hard, laying the chain across her rounded buttocks in a powerful lash of sadistic and wicked brutality.

The girl screamed loudly, her whole body locked rigid and her back curved to lift her shoulders and to strain against her bonds.

He clenched his cock, rubbing it several times as he watched the pattern appearing on her pale skin. The red marks on her white flesh were bluish already with the bruising beginning. His arm rose again and this time he leaned in to the swing to increase the severity of the blow.

Her buttocks distorted in shape momentarily as the chain stung at her cheeks before bouncing back into shape with dark red welts showing its landing place.

"Oh God help me!" She screamed pitifully and pulled frantically at the ropes securing her. Please help meeeeee!"

The breath was knocked from her on the third lash, the chain slicing through the air to slap hard around the tender far buttock cheek and to curl around to whip at the side of her thigh. She gagged as the excruciating pain swept over her and she pulled so hard at the securing ropes that her wrists were bled white.

Kline grunted loudly with each lash he laid on her, his cock jolting pleasingly with sensation at the sound of metal striking flesh and the piercing screams that followed it. Six strokes he laid on her buttocks in all before aiming then across her upper back. Kline ensured that he laid the blow of the chain carefully, so as to allow the end to whip under her far side and to cut cruelly into the side of her breast. He was beside himself with excitement, the noise, her pitiful screaming and the sounds of the bench creaking when her body bucked and tensed under the impacts of the chain. The thrill and the infliction of pain on her was a high to exceed all other. He lashed in time and again on the wailing girl to reduce her to a blubbering wreck that sobbed heavily in her misery.

He paused, breathing hard, his throbbing cock aching fit to burst and his heart pumping fast. He moved behind the girl, straddling the bench also and sat on the end close to her backside. Kline removed his mask; the covering leather had formed a veritable sweatbox that he was glad to be free of. He rested his stiff cock on the rise of her lower back, moving it then down to rest in the crease of her buttocks. He marvelled at the sight of his huge member against the cute little backside of the weeping girl. In he pressed his hips, to lay his hard cock along her crease and to trap it between their bodies. Kline held himself there, savouring the feel of her warm young body against him. For some many minutes he took full advantage of the opportunity, jerking his hips occasionally to rub up harder against her softness.

At length he eased the pressure, gripped her narrow hips with both his great hands and shifted the head of his cock downward.

The girl tensed and drew breath as the warm rounded head of his cock located on the tight puckered ring of her anus. Her mouth hung open as the pressure against her ring increased. Her eyes locked wide in shocked fear and then she screamed as he pushed harder in. The girl clenched her anal muscles in a vain effort to prevent him entry to her most secret of places and she wailed pitifully as she felt herself losing the battle.

Kline grunted and moaned his pleasure as he looked down; the great head of his cock was stretching her tight ring of muscles wonderfully. The little pink ring seemed to grip tightly around the bulbous head, clinging to the contours and resisting its pressure - but giving none the less. He jerked his hips forward and the head slipped inside her, he cried out at the feel of her moist warmth around him and then pushed harder still into the girl.

She tensed and struggled, screamed and writhed as his whole long length was forced up her backside. Every inch of his thick rod's passage into her could be felt against her tender insides. Ripping and tearing at the thin virgin membranes of her anal tract to bring to her a severe and burning pain of the very worst kind.

He chuckled and grunted alternately as he filled her, delighting in the fact that her little ring had split, it boosted his ego tremendously that his girth should do that. Kline began thrusting, shoving hard into the wailing slut and slamming his hips hard against her bruised backside. As his excitement grew he raised himself, standing up slightly, his hands now pressing down on her back as he rammed into her in a wild frenzy of sexual thrill. The bench creaked and her body jolted under the frantic pounding, her whole frame shaken violently on each inward thrust as he crashed in hard against her. Kline was crying out as he rammed hard in to defile her backside, jerking his hips on the peak of the inward strokes to further tear at her soft insides. He bellowed loudly as he came, jerking his hips rapidly as his cock twitched in excited spasm to send jets of his hot seed into the young girl's soft interior.

He slowed his strokes, pulling out of her to shoot thick globules of his sperm onto her back and watched as it trickled down into the dip at the base of her spine. Kline slapped her arse playfully and grunted in satisfaction, this one he liked very much. Perhaps it was her body, or her face that appealed to him so much, he wasn't sure exactly what in her held such appeal for him. He stood back pondering, allowing the last drips of his come to fall down onto the torn hole of her anus. He sniggered as it came to him. It was not only her physical attributes that he liked, it was her verbal assets. "Of course!" he muttered aloud. "It's the way the little slut screams so well."

***

The side door of the church slammed shut and the key rattled in the lock as the nun secured the ancient oak doors before leaving for the night. So involved in her task was she that she didn't see the tall figure standing back in the shadows beneath the trees, just a little back and behind her.

She started in surprise when he spoke, whirling around in panic and flattening herself back against the heavy oak doors. The nun cowered back, her eyes wide with fear and her arms clutched protectively to her chest.

"All is well, sister," Kline said reassuringly and held up his hands in a calming gesture as he stepped out of the shadows toward her.

The woman gave a great sigh of relief and relaxed visibly. Dropping her arms to her sides and sucking in air to steady her nerves.

"I apologise if I startled you," he said kindly and with concern sounding in his voice. "I am not from this town, many miles away in fact, far from home and alone. I am in need of guidance."

The young nun gave a warming smile, confident now that this polite man meant her no harm.

"Spiritual guidance?"

Kline nodded.

"You could say that."

She patted the back of his hand comfortingly.

"You have come to the right person," she said softly and confidently.

"Kline nodded and felt his cock give an involuntary jolt.

"I feel certain that I have," he said and smiled.

***

'Case House' had been the topic of discussion in shops, on the streets, in the sub-post office and the two pubs of the village since the new owner had moved in. It had raised again the curiosity of the locals, the house, empty for so long now, was once again occupied. The rumours had started again and old tales of the house and happenings resurrected for the sake of the younger and newer villagers unaware of its history.

Patrick McGrath, an Irish immigrant many years back and now considered a true local, always had a story to spin. He sat on a barstool with his back to the blazing log fire, sucking on his briar pipe and supping at his glass of thick black stout ale. Around him were gathered the loyal customers of the pub, the regulars that met there as a tradition each and every evening of the year.

"It was many years back in time, even before I came to live here," he said and paused to sup a mouthful of ale.

"Back in the days of the Civil war, perhaps even earlier still, that it all began."

"Who told you about it then?" The landlord asked with a wry grin, folding his arms and leaning forward on the bar. "Or are you really that old."

The comment raised much laughter and then the mirth died down as interest in the tale grew.

"Well, I could answer you directly," he said and pulled the pipe out of his mouth to wipe saliva from his lip. "But I'll start at the beginning and that way you will know it all."

***

For a woman of the cloth, the nun had put up a ferocious struggle. She had spat and tried to bite as he had grabbed her. She had kicked and tried to scream, the woman had even uttered a string of curses at him and Kline felt that to be a trading of principles on her part.

She lay face down on the muddy grass, her face pressed hard into the ground and all sound from her ended. His knees pressed hard into her back and his full body weight crushed down on her to end any struggle and to expel the air from her lungs. One hand clamped firmly on the back of her neck to pinion her further, she was helpless and at his mercy with no more fight to give. Within a moment or two the woman was silent and compliant, breathing being then her only aim in life.

Kline roped her wrists, twisting her arms roughly up behind her back one at a time to bind them securely. He pulled a leather ball-gag from his jacket pocket, forced it into her mouth and then bound a securing cloth around her head to hold it firmly in place. Next he turned, pulled up the hem of her habit and roped her knees tightly together. Panting hard from his exertions, his cock pulsing hard and pressing against the insides of his trousers, Kline allowed himself a quick feel of her arse before standing upright.

He hauled the whimpering slut nun to her feet, circled his arm around her waist and pulled her hard onto him. He sniggered wickedly at her as he pressed his cock against her clothed body and then kissed her full on the lips though the gag. It was a most passionate and fervently hungry kiss, a token one only though, for the smothering gag prevented actual contact. But with a servant of God, a woman devoted to no man, it pleased him to do so. It was for that reason that he gave her a more heated kiss, pressing his mouth harder to her covered lips as she tried to turn her head to the side. One of his hands held her head steady and pulled her head onto him as he ground his hard cock against her pubic mound. When the kiss ended Kline looked deeply into her eyes but retained the pressure of his hips against her.

"Welcome sister," he said, "To 'Case House' and as part of my collection."

***

"It was a roundhead I think," McGrath said thoughtfully. "One of Cromwell's men and a landowner of some standing that is recorded as being responsible for the first happening. Something to do with the effects on the war on him I seem to recall being told."

The soft voiced Irishman paused to sup at his stout.

"He became a recluse, hiding in the house during the day and only venturing out at night time to seize his prey."

"Was he a carnivore then?" One younger local asked and sniggered.

"That he liked the flesh it is so, but female flesh, human flesh and not to eat but too..."

"You're kidding!" The greengrocer gasped. "You mean he..."

"Not straight away you understand. He would cage them; store them in glass showcases like prized possessions to view."

"What dead you mean?"

McGrath shook his head.

"Alive and ready, ready to serve his perverted sexual desires," McGrath paused to nod several times. "Sixteen women in all he took and abused."

"All at Case House?" The landlord asked.

"All at the house," McGrath stated firmly in confirmation. "Hence the name 'Case House' or 'Showcase House' as it was then known. He stored them as a collection, doted on them and admired them, all as his private human collection."

A heavy silence fell in the bar.

"They hung him for it. He was drawn and quartered afterwards and his remains fed to the dogs."
Several of the listening men cleared their throats and ordered further pints of beer.

"Two other of his descendents were hung for the same thing years later. One in the Edwardian era and another during Victoria's reign, it seemed to run in their blood," McGrath said with a hint of devilment in his voice. "The house is still there - and the showcases too I am told, and perhaps even that bloodline quirk remains to this day."

"What? In Kline you mean, the new owner?"

McGrath shrugged his shoulders and lifted his glass in toast to his audience.

"Who knows who his ancestors were - Roundheads perhaps?"

***

The nun's naked body looked even paler in broad daylight, the early morning sun pitched down to highlight her features and contours wonderfully. Alongside the old decrepit potting shed within the walled garden she was standing, tied back against the rotting wooden slats. The woman was spread-eagled, her arms and legs pulled out in a star shape of crucifixion, her wrists and ankles securely strapped. Kline felt that position suited perfectly her profession and considered adopting that pose when she would finally be placed in her showcase. The gag in her mouth stretched her facial features to paint her expression as a mask of pain and horror and her eyes transmitted her terrible inner dread of the hooded stranger. Her head was shaven, her hair cropped to a stubbly low crew-cut that all nun's were required to sport under their covering head pieces.

Kline liked the haircut actually; it gave her a much different look and appeal. That he liked women with long hair could not be doubted but this one held an interesting and exciting difference about her. Her body was good, very good indeed, shapely and firm with ample sized breasts that dangled down her chest full and ripe. Between her legs nestled a thick brown mat of pubic hair, some of which extended down past the lips of her labia like a beard. Her thighs were slender and taut, honed by exercise and possessed gripping power with which to clamp appreciatively around a man's waist. Her buttocks though were a true delight, the firm and almost hard even rounds of flesh were pert and perfect in shape. The deep cleft forming a tight valley of tempting desire, it seemed as though her backside was they was made solely to accommodate a man's cock.

During the long night that she had been secured there against the shed the woman had suffered from the penetrating chill in the air. Her whole body glistened with a coating of morning dew, little rivulets of water streaked her body and her nipples stuck out firm and erect.

Kline liked the way her long pegs of nipples stuck out; he kissed them tenderly and licked them, sucked one rubbery bud into his mouth and slurped noisily on it. He muttered his delight as he sucked and chewed lightly, shifting his hips in closer to press the head of his cock against the soft beard hairs of her pussy. Down he guided it, between her thighs and farther back until the head rested close to her anus and the shaft pressing up onto the thick mat of hairs. His hands roamed her waist and hips, stroking and feeling the young woman's vibrant body and fresh pale skin. Up his hands moved to feel and to knead her ample breasts, sucking constantly on her engorged nipple a he did so. It excited him more so that she would be virgin, so naïve and untouched ever by a man. The woman would be experiencing feelings of pleasure unknown to her, conflicting with her chosen way in life to abstain from such pleasures. He kissed her orbs, licked and slobbered over her breasts and nipples like a fervent lover in the height of passion. He wasn't cruel but kind, coaxing her to arousal and delighting as the woman's senses began to respond.

She mewed into her gag; her hips gave little jerking movements again the head of his cock to indicate that she was becoming aroused. Her clitoris sprang to full erection within its hooded skin covering and her eyes half-closed as the bliss of sexual feelings swept over her. The woman's body jolted suddenly and violently then locked rigid in tension, her eyes fixed wide and staring as his teeth bit hard and cruelly into the tender flesh of her nipple.

"Is that nice, bitch?" Kline muttered and sniggered, as he tasted her blood in his mouth. He bit down harder still, rubbing his cock in and out of the gap between her legs and marvelling at the feel of her long public hair against his shaft. He fucked slowly, not in her pussy but beneath it, rubbing the length of his cock against the outside of her pussy lips, the strands of the hairs caressing his throbbing shaft. He rutted, rubbing myself against her as he now paid attention to her other nipple, biting so hard in his excitement that the bud was almost severed.

Following his high and as he felt his climax approaching Kline moved back from her, resting to allow his building orgasm to subside at little. He took his time; picked up the small bag he had placed on the ground earlier and delved inside to select the contents. Carefully he held up the sewing thimble and poured in the Methylated spirit until it spilled over the brim. The hooded man chuckled evilly and put the bottle aside, holding the thimble up for the struggling nun to see more clearly. Kline tipped it, pouring the cold blue liquid over the mat of pubic hairs between her thighs. He struck a match, paused to watch the slut's eyes widen in terror and then touched the match to her pubic hair.

There was a small flash of bright colour as the spirit ignited in flame, it burned quickly and fiercely before dying down almost instantly. The air was filled with the acrid stench of singed hair and the woman's body went into spasm. She bucked and thrashed, beating her buttocks and back hard against the wall of the shed in her agony. The pain, the scorching agony between her thighs had her writhing and bucking like a branded calf.

Kline watched in morbid fascination and satisfaction as the nun thrashed her body and fought at her securing bonds. Her pussy was singed but not burned too much, the spirit evaporating almost instantly on her skin and burning just her mat of hair and little else.

"Warmer now?" He mocked and brushed away the ash-like debris of her pubic hair with his fingers. Kline moaned as he felt her now smooth pussy, resting his middle finger along the length of her slit and resting there to savour the feel of a religious pussy for the first time. He fingered the slut, pushing up into her warm interior to circle and to curl around in heated exploration, feeling her warmth and moistness, the tight constricting tunnel and the juice that formed within it.

Finally, Kline could not wait any longer; his cock was leaking lubricant and pulsing rapidly to signal his oncoming climax. He moved in, pushed the head of his cock up into her pussy and paused there with the great bulbous head just inside the entrance.

"Does that feel nice sister? Having man's cock in you for the very first time eh?"

Kline threw his head back and laughed, a long, loud and mocking laugh fed but her wide-eyed and hopeless look.
He pushed further up, feeding his cock slowly into her body until he was about a third of the way in, a slight resistance was felt, and he paused there, jerked his hips and pushed. Her hymen broke and Kline thrust hard up into her in a heated thrust of sadistic pleasure to fill her pussy completely.

"A virgin nun no more eh," He crowed and rammed in until his pubic bone pressed against her clitoris.

Kline began pumping in and out of the sobbing woman, crashing his hips against her in a frantic drive to bury his cock deeper and deeper into her warm interior. All too quickly he came, crying out loudly to scatter the nesting birds in the trees as he shot his load into her. Kline muttered in satisfaction as he thrust in and out, grunting with each jerk of his cock and each jet of his hot sperm that filled her sex.

"Now," He muttered casually as he pulled out of her, "I will show you to your new home - in the cellar of 'Case House.'


Chapter 4

It was a problem; an intriguing one but a nuisance all the same and Kline couldn't find the answer to it. He sat in the tearooms watching the slut waitress, his cock hard and pulsing beneath the overhanging tablecloth. He stirred his tea slowly and munched on a buttered scone, ogling her and her body movements she went about her duties. To get the slut would not be difficult in itself but the uniform, he needed the uniform along with her. How could his collection be complete without it? He asked himself silently.

He had watched her come and go from her workplace, knew the times that she arrived and left but never, never did she take her uniform home with her.

Kline raised his hand in beckoning and ordered another pot of tea as the smiling little slut came over to him.

"I didn't see you here yesterday," he commented kindly as she turned away. "I missed your bright smile and cheery ways."

"Thank you, how kind," she replied with genuine affection. "My morning off, didn't start until midday - you must have missed me."

"Shame," Kline said and returned to his thoughts.

He felt sure that he could discern the outline of her knickers beneath the material of her skirt as she wiggled her backside whilst walking. The dirty little slut, he muttered to himself and imagined her naked body beneath the clothing. His cock jerked in reaction to the thought of her skimpily covered little buttocks and that sweet little pussy that lay between her young thighs. He simply had to have this slut in his collection but how? How to get her, and her clothing together? His mood darkened as he struggled to solve the puzzle, he turned to face the window, his left eyebrow twitching with nervous tension as he did so.

"How?" he muttered, "How?"

He watched as he pondered, idly viewing the cars and buses passing by the tearooms window. Two buses passed, tall double-deckers but painted in country green rather than the London red. The third bus slowed and stopped, held up by traffic in the busy High Street. Kline's cock gave an involuntary jolt at the sight of the 'clippie' standing on the open platform of the bus, a painted faced slut of a conductress, in uniform, complete with a peaked cap and dark leather straps gripping about her shoulders and bust. So immersed in his ogling was he that the waitress placing the pot of tea on his table went unnoticed by him. His critical gaze roamed the young clippie's form, taking in the almost indecently short skirt that actually showed her knees. The woman was a slut, a teasing little whore that would be at home in a collection - his collection. He decided then, as the bus moved off, that the problem of the waitress could for the moment wait - he had a bus to catch.

***

Marion was ready, it was only early evening but she couldn't wait, the excitement had been building steadily over the last few days and now tonight she would go. She sat at her kitchen table sipping her tea idly, taking much care not to smudge her lipstick. Her hair had been styled, her eyelids pencilled and bright red nail varnish on her long fingernails. Marion felt good, very good indeed and looked anxiously again at the clock, wishing away the remaining two hours before her date.

***

Hooded and naked, with his hard cock jutting out in erection, Kline stood silently before the occupied showcases. His collection was growing rapidly; he felt proud and viewed his items with pleasure. He had dressed them all, the initial acquisition in her full uniform; the dental nurse in her white shift, the nun in her habit and the tall redhead in her fox-hunting garb of red jacket, clinging black jodhpurs and long boots. His latest acquisition, the painted slut bus-conductress, was still roped and bound in the outhouse of the gardens, awaiting him to attend to her and to prepare her to take her place in her showcase. Kline sighed with pleasure and gripped his cock; he squeezed his shaft several times as he viewed the bound sluts, inspecting every detail of them to ensure that all were perfectly presented.

Feeding them and taking them to the toilet were now becoming routine but time-consuming chores, he would have to find a way around that. As too would he need to approach the question of exercise, his prized items should be in peak form, healthy and glowing - nothing less would be acceptable to him.

He wanked himself slowly, before the watching sluts, and looked up the hand carved plaque above the next empty showcase. 'LVS' it read and in smaller letters beneath, 'Ladies Voluntary Service.'

***

"Oh!" Kline uttered as he opened the door to Marion. The disappointment he felt sounded all too clearly in his voice. "You aren't in uniform."

She was crestfallen, all of her preparations had been wasted, her feelings hurt and her pride dented - he didn't like her outfit.

"Does a uniform make that much difference then?" She snapped back icily, her bottom lip quivering as hurt welled up in her.

Kline corrected his error rapidly; he beamed a great smile at her.

"Of course not, forgive me; you look radiant and so very beautiful. I had wrongly assumed that you would be dressed as I had seen you last. But, I am most pleasantly surprised with what you are wearing, it is most appealing and," he paused for effect and run his gaze down over her body, "Quite revealing too."

Marion brightened instantly under the compliments; she smiled back at him and stepped inside.

Throughout the meal the couple chatted and got on well together, enjoying each other's company greatly. In the lounge afterwards they were seated and chatting further, sipping drinks and covering a whole range of conversational subjects.

Kline ogled her constantly, the way the little dress rode up to expose her thigh a couple of inches above her knees, the way it hugged her narrow hips to portray her shape and pulled in to define her neat waist. He leered and drooled, wanting to have the bitch hog-tied and helpless in his playroom, to hear her wail and to defile that sweet virgin pussy of hers. Inwardly though he was seething, the slut Marion was nice for sure, but in uniform he wanted her, in her LVS uniform and no other way. He had wanted to fuck her and his planned fun for the night had now been ruined. The slut bus-conductress in the outhouse would have to suffice, to fill the void and because of it - she would suffer all the more.

"It's late," Marion, said at last and with a great reluctance sounding in her tone. "I had best be going."

"Will you come to see me again?" Kline asked hopefully.
Marion stood up, placed her glass on the coffee table and smoothed her dress down over her thighs.

"I should love to."

"Wonderful!" he enthused and clapped his hands in delight, "Saturday? Would that be all right with you? Saturday evening?"

She couldn't contain her delight; it showed in her expression and smile, her eyes danced with loving excitement.

"At about eight?"

Kline nodded, gave a broad grin and walked her to the front door, helped her slip on her overcoat and planted a light kiss on the back of her neck as he did so.

"In uniform this time?" He coaxed.

She turned to face him, held his stare with her own searching and doleful eyes. Marion sighed in defeat.

"If it means so much to you - yes next time in uniform."

***

Kline's rage was fearsome and it showed, the slut bus conductress had wisely chosen to comply with all of his commands. She had stripped when ordered to, trembling fearfully as the hooded man paced back and forth anxiously slapping a riding crop hard against the outside of his naked thigh. She had offered no resistance whatsoever as he had retied her wrists in front of her and had roped her knees painfully tightly together. The leather gag in her mouth had helped in a way, for no protest could she give, and given his obvious anger, it was better that she had not.

Since stepping off the bus at the end of her shift events were still blurred in her mind. The woman recalled bidding her colleagues at the bus station goodnight, of walking into the dark car park at the rear to get her bicycle and then? Just the chloroform soaked pad being clamped hard across her mouth and nose. Unconsciousness had come to her in seconds as she had fought against the powerful arms pinning her, screaming into the pad and thereby sucking in the smothering fumes. She hadn't seen her attacker, hadn't even known that he was there, behind her in the dark shadows and waiting to pounce. Now, though she was here, in a strange place, alone and very frightened. She was cold, shivering in the chill night air inside the dank and musty smelling outbuilding.

The man was mad, an evil being with evil intensions, a maniac that could do her great harm. He was naked and hooded, his enormous cock sticking out hard in erection. The leather arm cuffs and the strapping about his upper body and thighs made him a most sinister of figures to be confronted with. No man, no normal man dressed or acted so, his intentions were clearly sexual and that she could bear if necessary. He would have his perverted way with her she reasoned, keep her here overnight and in the morning, most probably, dump her outside the town somewhere and then she would be safe. For those reasons she complied with his commands - and continued to live.

Kline hauled the snivelling slut to her feet and landed a stinging blow of the crop across her lower back to get her to arch her back and to stand fully upright. Reverently he fitted the leather conductress's harness about her body, one strap over either of her shoulders, the securing belt around her waist and the crossing straps over her chest to rest between her breasts. Minus the ticket machine the strapping was adjusted and pulled tight, the crossing straps beneath her armpits and between her breasts encircling her breasts. The leather harness squeezed around her breasts, forcing them in together and upward to push the soft mounds out as bloated peaks of flesh. Kline loved the way the pressure on them forced blood into her rubbery nipples, causing the little pegs of flesh to stick out in reddened firmness.

He moved around behind her and stood with the head of his cock resting lightly at the top of the crease of her arse. Hovering it threateningly at the top of her firm crack and savouring the heady feel of the slut's warm body as it trembled with fearful shivers. Kline rubbed himself against her, not hard but lightly, stroking the great head of his cock slowly up and down the length of her crack. He chuckled heartily at her fearful little whimpers and the way her whole body shook with sobs of sheer terror. It was a high, an experience of total command over her, of instilling fear and increasing that fear in her by leaving her wondering what next he might do. For a full five minutes he remained there threatening, at times pressing in momentarily to send shudders of fright ripping through the naked slut. Close to her anus the thrill was even better, her buttocks would clench tightly together in fearful reaction, trapping the head of his cock between them to give the most wonderful of sensations to him. At length Kline tired of his game; her constant blubbering was now becoming annoying and his rage returning. He stepped aside and raised the crop.

"Walk!" He shouted and swung in hard with the crop to land a most savage of blows across the pale rounds of her pert buttocks.

Her hips jerked forward under the impact and her back arched. She screamed into her gag and her shoulders shook with great heaving sobs of misery. The woman waddled and stumbled, her jutting breasts swinging temptingly with each of her body movements.

Kline lashed at her again, urging her toward the open doorway of the outbuilding. The blow landed with a loud smacking noise as the hard crop stung at the outside of her left thigh. The slut screamed and cowered back momentarily but shuffled forward more rapidly as the searing pain burned deeply into her thigh. Again he lashed at her, a cruel and meaningful blow that landed on the outside of her hip, then again he swung in to stripe the backs of her thighs with a wickedly spiteful lash.

The slut stumbled in her haste to comply and to move forward, the long grass of the garden making progress slow and difficult for her. She fell, sprawling headlong and face down on the cold dew-covered grass.

Kline showed her no mercy, he flailed wildly at her soft body, laying lash after lash on the writhing pale form. Savagely he beat her as she lay there, all of his pent-up frustration and high sexual thrill channelled into the whipping of her.

The girl tried to gain her knees, hoisting herself onto all fours, her bound wrists and knees not aiding her efforts one bit. The thudding blows of the hard crop on her back and buttocks further hampered her attempts but eventually she succeeded. Under the relentless rain of stinging blows she struggled to her feet and then stood sobbing heavily in her misery as Kline beat her soundly.

All over her he lashed, at her back, shoulders, hips and thighs before landing then a cruelly hard blow down across the tops of her jutting breasts.

The girl's eyes rolled in their sockets, her head titled to one side and her knees gave way. She passed out and slumped back down to the ground, her bruised body still and lifeless.

Kline was panting hard, in the darkness he stood over her, his cock so hard and pulsing that he could feel himself coming. The thrill of beating the painted-faced slut had been wonderful; to inflict pain on her in punishment of a near impossible task excited him greatly. He grunted several times and shifted his hips forward. His cock twitched and reared to send pumping jerks of his sperm jetting forcefully out of his cock. Kline stood there muttering softly to himself as his thick globules of sperm splashed down onto her hair and the back of her neck. He rubbed himself to a finish, urging every last drop of his seed from him and to soil her hair as much as was possible.

"For that, bitch," he said aloud. "For passing out and ruining my fun yet again - you will suffer - and a most terrible suffering it will be too."

***

Marion was busy, seated at her sewing machine and humming cheerfully as she worked. If the lovely Mister Kline wanted her in uniform, she thought mischievously, then that's what he would get. It was one of her spare uniforms, rarely worn and had still been in the original wrapping. She altered the jacket, pulling the waist of it in to hug the contours of her body more tightly. Before the mirror she posed, twirling around and offering her profiles alternately to inspect the results. The effect was stunning; it narrowed her waist, showed her back to good effect and her bust? Wow! The jacket pulled under and over to emphasise her chest so wonderfully large and prominent, hugging then her flat stomach to show her slim shape most appealingly.

Marion sat back down at the machine, took the skirt and began unpicking the cotton securing the hem. Her mind wandered back to that evening with him, her first date and the time spent so close to him. The evening just past had been everything she had hoped it would be and more. He had been the perfect host and gentleman, pleasant and warming in character with a good personality. He had ogled her, not furtively as other men did but blatantly, so blatantly and without a hint of embarrassment. She had noted his gaze at the hem of her skirt, at her bare knees and at the points of her breasts as they pushed against the thin material. It had excited her, sexually, and as a woman to be admired so. It was as though he had been mentally undressing her, drooling over her naked form beneath her little dress. A leering and lecherous ogling but one that she found so thrilling and exciting, so much so that her nipples hard firmed to hardness and her clitoris hard sprung to attention within its hooded covering. Her pussy had moistened and her whole body had felt alive with heady teasing sensations.

Marion sighed wistfully and began stitching the skirt. She would make it short, daringly short - indecently short even. No one else would see her dressed so and care? She didn't - not one bit. She was out to attract and to tease the new man in her life and intended to fully succeed in that.

The final threads sewn and the hip seams altered also, Marion stood and stepped into the little skirt. Even as she pulled it up over her thighs and hips the pounding thrill began surging though her. So tight it was that she had to wriggle it up over her hips, the material clinging closely to her thighs to hug them completely. A thudding jolt in her pussy resulted as she looked in the mirror and a gasp escaped her lips. The hem was so short so as to stop only inches short of her crotch, the whole of her slender thighs displayed and her legs seemingly longer than they actually were. It was indecent, exceedingly so, excitingly so, tartish and whore-like and yet so very naughtily revealing. Marion felt a tart, a whore-like and wanton woman out to temp and out to tease - exactly the effect she had wanted. It was much shorter than she had intended, far, far in fact shorter but now, she was glad that she hade made it so.

Eagerly she slipped the jacket on again, buttoning it quickly up the front. Her eyes widened and her stare was fixed as she admired the results in the long mirror. Marion swallowed hard several times, unable quite to believe what she was seeing. Her jacket covered the skirt to hide it completely from view, it gave the impression that she wore no skirt at all and was otherwise naked beneath. She felt her heart beat wildly in her chest, her mouth dry and throat hoarse as the excitement tore through her. Her pussy gripped and her anus too in delighted little spasms of sexual anticipation. Inside her bra her nipples firmed to press against the inside of the cups, a pleasant pressure on her buds, a most exciting pressure of sweet sensation. She imagined Kline's reaction when he saw her, naughty thoughts came to her, thoughts that previously would never have entered her head - before meeting him that is. Visual images of him leering and wanting excited and in need of her, of his cock growing and hardening to erection as he ran his greedy gaze over her long legs and exposed thighs. So strong were the images and thoughts that Marion felt like touching her own sex, of rubbing and stroking to ease nagging ache that pulsed in her pussy but, she resisted.

Stunned but pleased with the results of her labours, her hands trembling lightly in nervous sexual thrill, Marion set about altering her blouse. All for Mister Kline would be right, tight and revealing, skimpy, teasing and appealing. She chuckled softly and then began to hum, Saturday evening for her, couldn't come soon enough.

***

The slut bus conductress was in the playroom, naked and bound and on her knees. A low and horizontal wooden rail passed under her breasts to support her swelling orbs, fixed securely to the floor at either end by stout uprights cemented into the floor. Her arms were pulled out and stretched to the sides, the girl's wrists lashed firmly with wide leather straps to the thick wooden rail. Ropes from the two uprights circled her knees to pull and to stretch her thighs wide and to expose her pussy and anus. Her gag had been removed and the slut was whimpering, her soft sobbing echoing around the still and silent basement room.
For hours it seemed she had been tied like this, cold and chill crept over and through her body and her knees ached from the hard stone floor of the cellar. He had cleaned her face, washing away the blackened mascara streaks that her tear runs had produced. The stranger had applied fresh makeup to her with a surprising expertise for a man, had painted her lips with the red and glossy lipstick from her handbag and had brushed her hair. None of these womanly things though had detracted from the aching in her limbs, the cold and the very real fear she held of the masked man.
Kline stood silently outside the room as he had been for the last five minutes or so. It pleased him to make her wait, to listen to her laboured breathing and her little whimpers of fear breaking the stillness. His cock reared excitedly as he stepped into the room, the look of sheer terror on the slut's face sent surges of electric sensation rushing through his twitching member. He stood proud and erect, his chest pushed out and his huge cock jutting out stiffly from his thatch of pubic hair.
"Filthy painted slut," he said in a low and slow tone filled with deep disgust.
"Oh God," the girl muttered and cringed back as much as her restraints would allow.
Kline walked over to the rail to stand before her, towering over the weeping girl with the head of his cock level with her face. It delighted him the way she eyed his big cock fearfully, her questioning eyes portraying her imagined discomfort when that huge thing entered her.
"Slut's paint their faces to attract men," he said in a low voice. "And you attracted me. Does it feel good now that you teased and tempted - and entrapped me?"
"No!" She screamed fearfully.
Kline's head threw back and he roared with laughter, a loud and mocking laugh that caused his shoulders to shake in his mirth.
"Filthy sluts need to be punished."
"Noooooo!" She wailed. "Please, please no!"
His cock jerked in reaction to her desperate pleading, his ball-sac tightened and his anal ring gripped as the sensations washed through him.
Kline took a short length of wooden batten, about one inch thick and two inches wide. He rested the batten across the tops of her breasts, balancing the batten evenly about halfway down the length of the orbs.
At first it didn't register in the girl's brain, the purpose of the batten placed there was alien to her. It was only as Kline selected two large, woodworking 'G' cramps, that it hit home and she began to scream for all she was worth. The slut wriggled and bucked, pulled at her bonds and wailed a pitiful pleading to be spared such torture.
Kline hummed as he fitted one of the clamps to either end of the batten and began winding the threaded spindles to exert the pressure.
Her breasts were trapped, sandwiched between the rail that they rested on and the batten at the top. As the spindles were wound out the batten was pressed down further and further into her swelling soft orbs. Gradually the pressure increased and the gap between the two wooden surfaces narrowed, her breasts began to feel the bite and the crushing pressure of the wood.
The slut's mouth was wide open and stretched as she screamed her woes to the hooded stranger torturing her. Her eyes were locked wide and her body shook in uncontrollable spasm. Louder she screamed and then louder still as her soft breasts were flattened, pinched between the unforgiving wooden rails and crushed cruelly flat. As her orbs were pinched and pressed until almost flat the slut fell silent, her mouth gaping but no sound now coming from her, shock and total disbelief that such pain was possible stunning her to silence.
Kline stood over her gloating, revelling in the pain and suffering he was inflicting on the girl, he rubbed at his cock several times to soothe the dull throbbing ache in it. For over five minutes he watched her, until she had coped with and adjusted to the pain, her shock lessened and her mind ready to absorb his instructions.
"Lick the head of my cock with your tongue, slut," he ordered her and shifted his hips forward to bring the head of his cock close to her mouth. He noted her hesitation and ginned down at her sardonically. "Or suffer all the more if you don't comply.
He let out a loud groan of pleasure as the soft wet wedge of flesh tickled across the top of his cock. Wet and warm, live and wriggling her tongue licked at the top and then moved all over around the great bulbous head. Kline took much pleasure in looking down and watching her. The way the slut tried to please, her face screwing up in revulsion at having to perform such a degrading and revolting act.
"The tip," he panted excitedly, drill the tip into my eyehole."
His whole body tensed and his cock twitched in reaction, "Aaah!" He cried out as she complied. Kline was panting hard, easing his cock harder against her as the tip of her tongue wriggled to drill down into his little hole.
"Now close those soft red lips of yours around it you dirty, cock-sucking, little whore."
Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a pitiful look of pleading was transmitted as she hesitated with the tongue still pressing into his eyehole.
"Prefer to suffer more do you?" Kline asked as a sneer.
The girl's lips, red and glossy, soft and warm, closed around the head to draw a long and low groan of appreciation from Kline. He watched her, the way her soft lips parted and enveloped his glans to grip around it and to take it into her warm, silky cavern.
"Now suck on it as you use your tongue on me."
The girl's cheeks pumped to create the suction, to grip around the ball-shaped head at the same time that she pushed her tongue into his tiny hole.
Kline came instantly, his hot seed squirting in excited jerks into her mouth.
The girl gagged in revulsion and recoiled rapidly, her head jerked back and her mouth slid off his cock. She turned her head away as the jets of his sperm splashed over her face and nose and wretched to eject the foul tasting liquid from her mouth.
Kline mocked her, chuckling heartily at her as he jerked the last squirt of his come onto the side of her head to cling in thick globules in her hair.
He grasped her hair roughly and turned her head back to face him, pulling back so that her face looked up at him. She was pathetic, weeping and sobbing, her face coated with slimy wet come and dribbles of his seed coming from the sides of her painted lips.
"That was good," he complimented the snivelling wretch. "But you made me come and ruined my fun."
"Oh God no," she blurted.
He laughed aloud at her, held his cock with the other hand and rubbed the wet head over her face. It was a ritual rubbing; the smearing of his juices over her face was symbolic to him, the ultimate degradation, the sign of his utter command over her.
"Now painted slut - you must suffer for that."

Chapter 5

In the saloon bar of the pub Patrick McGrath had taken up the story from the previous night. His audience had prompted him to tell further of the tale of 'Case House' and had supplied a pint of beer to ease the process.
"They were all women haters..."
"Surely not, if they abused them sexually then they must have liked women," The local coalman stated.
"Oh that they liked the female flesh is not in doubt. It was the fact that each of their woman had betrayed them, affairs, unfaithfulness and the like."
"In those times?" The landlord queried.
McGrath nodded.
"The 'painted ladies' as the successive perpetrators of the deeds called them, were partial to male company."
"Sexually you mean?"
"No, not entirely, it's how they earned their title; they would dress up, paint their faces with makeup and flaunt themselves before any passing or visiting man. All was seemingly innocent but beneath the façade, they sought to attract, Unfaithfulness; mental if not physical."
McGrath paused to tap at his glass, to indicate that it was empty and that the tale could not be told until refilled.
The greengrocer sighed heavily and fished in his pocket for the money as the landlord filled McGrath's glass.
"The men - the owners of 'Case House' - each in turn applied the title and retribution of their ancestors before them to the women. Shamed before the community by their wives' actions and displays they sought revenge in the time honoured family way - by placing the 'painted ladies' on permanent display..."
"In the showcases," The fishmonger asked excitedly.
McGrath nodded.
"Yes, in the display cases of 'Showcase House.' These were men hurt, their partners unfaithfulness sending them into reclusion and twisting their minds to drive them to the deeds they performed."
"I know a few women around here today that deserve such treatment too," the greengrocer said firmly.
Muttered agreement was heard from all and the audience then dispersed in pairs, moving to different parts of the bar to discuss the latest revelations in greater detail.

***

The slut bus conductress was suffering still; she remained in the position Kline had left her in, kneeling with her breasts crushed between the clamped wooden spars. Her arms and wrists ached under the stretch and the strapping around her wrists. Her knees were now fully deadened and her breasts - numbed now under the relentless pressure upon them.
Alone and all of her wailing and sobbing done, the girl simply aimed to survive and to try to appease the maniac in the hood. His cum had dried on her face and hair, forming a revolting, covering crust that cracked with each facial movement she gave. The very thought of the act that he had performed on her brought bile rising to her throat, only a pervert could have done such a foul thing. To subject her to pain and to this torture was beyond belief, that anyone could do such to a woman was simply incredible. But, she reasoned, she was here and helpless, if she pleased him he would let her go. That then was her aim as she heard the clicking of his heels on the stone floor, he was coming back.
"Well, slut?" Kline asked loudly as he stepped into the playroom. "Had time to reflect on your wanton ways?"
"Yes," she whimpered softly. "You don't like my makeup. If you release me I can remove it."
Kline laughed loudly, enjoying her pathetic attempt at appeasement and letting her know it. He strode into the room, slashed the thin cane in the air in front of her several times for effect.
"You," he sneered. "Are like all women. Like all of the painted sluts of the world. You paint your faces, dress to tease and to gain the attentions of as many men as you can - regardless of marital commitment."
"But I'm not married," she protested.
"Silence," Kline raved and swung down hard with the cane to strike a most savage blow across the tip of her left nipple.
She girl's whole body shook and her head nodded with her mouth gaping open, the raw agony searing through her tender bud and flattened breast. She gagged and blurted unintelligible words as her body convulsed in reaction to the excruciating pain.
"All women are whores!" He shouted and raised the cane again. "And you, painted slut - are the worst kind of whore."
He swung down again, laying the hard rattan cane across her other nipple in a spiteful lashing of sheer sadism.
Again she locked in tension and then shuddered; the girl bit her bottom lip hard and then emitted a piercing scream that echoed around the basement room.
Kline's cock jolted in reaction to the pain she was suffering. He paused there to watch her wail and buck her body, delighting in the way the slut struggled against her bonds. He moved around to her side, rested the cane lightly across the rounds of her presented buttocks and readied himself.
"Sluts need to be taught a lesson," he panted excitedly and pulled his arm back and up high over his shoulder.
The cane hissed as it sliced through the air to land on her flesh with a sickeningly hard thwack.
"Oh God," She wailed.
Thwack, he struck her again.
"No please!"
Swish, thwack.
"Learn well, whore, that I command and you obey."
Thwack.
Kline laid into her with a sexually fuelled assault of high thrill and excitement, thrashing her pale buttocks until they were blotched red with tramlines from the brutal caning. Bluish marks dotted the redness, her soft skin bruising quickly to bear testament to the severity of the thrashing. On and on the caning went, ending only as his arm tired and his cock began to ooze his pre-cum. He paused, panting hard and muttering softly to himself. Kline cast the cane aside and moved around behind the kneeling slut. Roughly he pushed three fingers up into her tight pussy, stretching her lips and the lining of her tunnel to almost impossible limits. He grunted as he finger-fucked her coarsely, extending his thumb on the inward thrusts to bang against her tight little anal ring. In one great push of his fingers up inside her, his thumb entered her arse hole to draw a pitiful wailing of deep shame and humiliation from the girl. In and out he pumped his hand, defiling both her tight orifices at the same time.
"Good, slut? This is what you wanted isn't it, the attentions of a man?" He chortled and rammed his digits even harder and faster into the girl's body.
At length he tired of her wailing and pleading, of finger-fucking her pussy and arse, the fun of the defilement had now passed. Kline withdrew his fingers and pressed the head of his cock against her pussy lips. In one great and excited lunge he pushed fully up inside her, moaning his pleasure loudly as he did so. He gripped her hips and began thrusting, forcing the whole length of his cock far up inside her warm body.
"Do you still wish to flaunt yourself on the platform of your bus eh?" he sniggered and lunged into the sobbing girl. "Flutter your eye-lids at passing men now you painted harlot."
He came, crying out as he emptied himself into her, pulling back hard on her to squirt every last drop of his cum into her soft interior.
"And now my little, bus-conductress slut, you can take your rightful place - in my collection - in your very own showcase."

***

Breaking into the tearooms by the back door had been easier than expected. In the dead of night when all was quiet and the streets deserted, there was no one around to even be aware of his presence. Kline used a jemmy, eased the metal bar back only a short way before the wooden jamb split and the door swung open.

Quickly Kline searched the kitchen area and then the staff rooms; her uniform was soon found, neatly folded inside a metal locker. He paused to hold the clothing reverently up to his nose and drank in the heady scent and odour of the teasing slut waitress. Kline ran his fingers lovingly over the crispy white lace of the cuffs and stroked the silky black velvet of her dress. Her frilly lace panties were a true delight and he spent several wonderful moments sniffing heavily at the gusset of the garment, her pussy scent faint but discernable to jolt his cock to a throbbing hardness in need of getting up inside her.

Her uniform now obtained, it only remained now to get the slut herself, to dress her, prepare her and to at last fuck her little pussy raw. Kline chuckled softly as he packed the uniform carefully into a carrier bag, his cock hard now and pressing against the inside of his trousers.

***

They were far more expensive than she really dared spend but were so perfect and irresistible, Marion paid up and took the wrapped goods from the market trader, her heart beating fast within her chest.

Leather boots, long and shiny, reaching up to her knees with wickedly thin heels of the new Italian 'stiletto' type. These boots would increase her height, shape her legs and thighs and, when worn with her newly altered uniform - would be sure to send Mister Kline wild with desire.

Marion felt her pussy grip in reaction to the thought; she hurried through the bustling rows of market stalls, to get home, and to try her purchase on for effect.

***

Kline was joyous, he had solved the problem of exercising, feeding and letting the sluts shit and pee. It solved too another, if lesser problem, but one that needed attending to at some stage.

In the bright morning sunshine within the walled garden of the grounds he herded the naked sluts out. In-line he coaxed them, lashing at their naked bodies often with a long and thin leather strap. Chains linked their ankles; stout leather straps, riveted and padlocked, served as the anchors around their feet for the long connecting chains.

On their feet they wore simple white plimsolls, standard gymnasium style and cheaply purchased. No gags were present, they weren't necessary, in the remote grounds of the house even the loudest of screams would go unheard.

Lashing at their backsides and backs with the strap Kline herded the line of women over to the narrow trench and had them line up with their backs to it.

"Do your shitting and peeing here," he said and threw a toilet roll to the shamed-faced blonde dental nurse.

None of the women moved until the hooded Kline stepped forward with the strap raised threateningly above his shoulder. Then they all quickly squatted, their backsides jutting out, hovering out over the empty trench.

He watched them at their ablutions, the way the sluts had their thighs parted, their faces straining and flushed red in humiliation. That part particularly delighted him. Their sweet little pussy lips were stretched wide and their nipples stood out hard in the chill fresh air of the spring morning. All five of them; the redhead, the nun, the bus-conductress and the dental nurse, peed and had their shits. The fifth woman, the one he loved and yet hated at the same time, watching her was a particular pleasure and one that he revelled in above all else. He watched them wipe themselves and throw the discarded toilet paper into the shallow trench.

"On your feet now, sluts," he said with a grin. "You have work to do, to earn your keep here. Work hard and well, then, and only then, will I allow you to eat."

In a straight line across the large vegetable patch they formed, each with a spade in their hands and then the digging began. They worked clumsily at first, stepping on the top of the spade blade to force it into the ground before turning the soil and to till the earth. As time passed they learned though, their backs and buttocks stung often by the lashing whip that Kline laid on them with gusto.

He took time to stand back and ponder, he complimented himself on employing his sluts so. It eased his workload no end, and the sluts were gaining exercise at the same time. They could shit and pee, exercise and then eat before being returned to their cases in the basement below. It was the perfect solution to all of the outstanding problems, and the future ones as the numbers in his collection grew.

The vegetable patch was being dug with amazing rapidity, within an hour they were almost half way across the area. Kline watched their lithe young bodies move and bend, their breasts jiggling and their buttocks wobbling. The fleeting glimpses of pussy lips as they peeked temptingly out between the tops of their thighs delighted him. The viewing kept him in a state of hard erection, one that he would, in some time near, need to ease. He chuckled at that thought and began making his selection of the sluts; choosing the one that would this morning, sate his growing sexual needs.

A further half-an hour later Kline halted the women for a break, he placed a large urn of hot, scalding tea on the ground and handed out tin mugs to them all. As the girls gratefully drank the hot refreshing liquid Kline felt and groped at their bodies in turn, one hand squeezing and kneading at a girl's breast and his other feeling at her buttocks. Slowly and deliberately he fondled them, running his fingers up and down the crack of their arses and slipping down between the tops of their thighs to stroke at their puffy pussy lips. Around them in turn he moved, tending each of them in a methodical and similar fashion as he explored their soft young bodies.

"You," he said suddenly to break the eerie silence that existed within the group and tapped on the redhead's shoulder with the strap. "Bend and grip your ankles."

The girl complied, muttering fearfully and bracing herself as she did so. Her long slender thighs tensed as she pressed her forehead to her knees and gripped around her ankles. The position presented her backside wonderfully, so pale and soft in the full light of the day. The red gash of her pussy slit peeked out temptingly to draw a deep throaty growl from Kline.

"You were the slowest worker," Kline announced loudly to the bending girl and for the benefit of the group. "All slackness will be rewarded with a little pain."

He swung down hard with the strap to land a sickening hard slap of the leather on her pale skin.

"Unh," She squealed and rocked slightly under the powerful impact.

Kline noted the nun's reaction, her facial expression and the way her nipples firmed even more so as she watched the girl receive her pain. Again he lashed down, his eyes not moving from the nun. Once again the slut nun had winced and had bit her bottom lip, her eyes wide and staring in excited interest. He felt his cock rear and grip in spasm at the thought of the nun becoming sexually excited by him whipping the girl. To be certain Kline lashed down again, a most brutal slap that drew gasps of shocked sympathy from the watching women.

Kline, his cock throbbing wildly in excitement, moved around behind the nun. He manoeuvred his cock up under her buttocks, in between the backs of her thighs and then pressed the head of his cock up against her pussy lips. He handed her the strap, passing it around to her front and then squeezed her firm breasts as she took it from him.

"Beat the slut," Kline said urgently and then worked his cock fully up inside the nun's pussy. "And make it hard."
He gripped her hips and pressed against her to bury the whole length of his cock up inside her moist, warm body.

Kline cried out in delight as the slut nun raised the strap and swung hard down on her fellow prisoner. The nun's body movements worked her soft interior around his stiff shaft, massaging it to bring to him the sweetest of sensations he had ever experienced.

"Again," He urged her. "Hit her faster."

The nun slapped down again and again, her arm rising above her shoulder and her hips moving as she swung in. It was moving masturbation of the best kind for Kline. He leaned back, arching to press his hips even harder against her backside and began to howl as his orgasm built to its peak.

"Aaaaah," He cried out, his ball-sac jerked in excited spasm and his cock pulsed in rapid gripping movements to inject his hot seed into her body.

"Keep going!" He snapped in irritation as the nun slowed in her whipping of the girl.

Kline pulled back hard on the slut's hips as the last of the spurts of his cum pumped deep up into her slim body.

***

Marion paced back and forth in her bedroom in strutting long strides with her head held high and her back straight. The thin heels of her boots clicked noisily on the polished floorboards to add to the sense of command that she felt. The full uniform, now so tight and hugging showed her figure and legs to great effect, the boots simply added to her overall devastating look.

She felt confident, so very in charge of herself, attractive, desirable and so bloody sexy too. Marion likened her look to one of those Gestapo women that she had seen on newsreels in the cinema. The German Chancellor, Hitler and his bevy of ultra-fit and trained women that served with him. All blonde and tall, attractive and commanding. That, she thought, was the way she would act with Kline on Saturday. She would command him; take him over with her new looks and her more confident manner. She would tease and flaunt herself, sit so that he could see her legs and find little excuses to walk around in front of him. Her pussy moistened at the thought of him sitting there open-mouthed and wide eyed, ogling her thighs and legs greedily in sheer sexual lusting. She giggled mischievously at the visions in her mind and blew at pouted kiss to her reflection in the mirror.

"Yes!" She stated aloud. "The nice Mister Kline really won't know what has hit him."

***

The sluts were lined up, still chained at the ankles and washing themselves at the row of sinks in the laundry room of the basement. The large servants quarters next to the kitchen, long since unused, now had a new role to serve. They provided not only the washing facilities for the sluts but the dining area also; the long wooden scrubbing table could easily accommodate all of the sluts to sit at and to eat. Kline though had other ideas, he would have the sluts stand to eat rather than sit, it gave him both view of, and access to, their naked backsides.

Once their washing was finished with Kline reconnected the chains around their ankles to re-secure the girls in pairs, the fifth and unpaired woman having her ankle chained to the guardrail of the long kitchen range. Between them they prepared and cooked, sharing the chores and working as a team in a common cause fuelled by ravenous hunger. Under the watchful eye of Kline they worked quickly and efficiently with the occasional lash of the strap to encourage them.

Not long afterwards the table was laid and spread with a wide variety of foods in good quantity. The girls were lined up again, all along one side of the long table and facing it, a plate of hot steaming food set before each of them. With their hands free, cutlery was not an item to allow them to use freely and Kline exercised caution still with that in mind.

"Clasp your hands behind your backs," he announced loudly. "And keep them there as you eat. You may begin."
It was a noisy affair, like pigs at the trough as the girls bent at the waist, brought their faces down to the food and began eating.

Kline walked along the line of presented buttocks, laying a lash of the leather strap across each of the girl's backsides as he passed them. It pleased him to do so for he had little else to occupy himself with during their meal.
As the girl's sucked and slurped at their food Kline took and peeled a banana, carefully selecting a long one for its firmness. With the fingers of his left hand he eased the dental nurse's pussy lips apart and then pushed the banana fully up inside her pussy. He fucked her with the fruity phallus as she ate, the girl simply too hungry to be concerned with what he was doing to her.

Kline's cock rose to full erection as he pumped the fruit in and out of the girl's pussy, delighting at the odd sideways glances from the other women as they munched and chewed on their food. He withdrew the long slicked shaft and pushed it into his mouth, moaning loudly at the tangy taste and savouring the thick pussy juices that coated it. So much did it arouse him that he moved in, slipped his cock into the girl's moist pussy and pushed fully up inside her. It pleased him to remain there stationary, feeling her warm insides around him and licking at the fruit to taste her sex. Within minutes Kline came, grunting loudly as he emptied his sperm into the slut, her frail little body tensing as she felt his hot seed being injected into her.

The chores were over and done with. He would return the sluts to their showcases and then - he had another acquisition to make, Another addition to make to his growing collect of painted Ladies.


Chapter 6

The little slut waitress had been easily taken, from the side street at the back of the tearooms as early evening darkness fell. She lay now on the back seat of Kline's car, her wrists and ankles tightly bound and her mouth firmly gagged. Her eyes were wide and staring, filled with questioning fear as he leered at her legs where her dress had ridden up to expose her thighs.

He felt his hard cock leak a little blob of lubricant as he ogled the creamy soft thighs and the tops of her stockings. He leaned in and ran his hand reverently over the silky smooth skin, groaning throatily in longing as he did so. Then Kline covered her with a thick blanket and got into the driver's seat of the car. He hummed as he started the motor, an old tune, a tune from an age long past, one from the English civil war that Cromwell's men had sung.

***

She was naked, spread-eagled on her back on the basement floor. The slut waitress' wrists and ankles were bound and secured to metal ringbolts set into the stone slabs, stretching her limbs painfully to expose her sex most wonderfully.

Kline stood over her; one foot planed either side of her slim waist and his huge cock sticking up hard and pulsing. He lit the candle and watched as the orange flame flickered and then settle to a shapely hot cone. He waited until the wax had liquefied in the top well of the candle and then positioned it over her left breast. High above her body he held it, looking down onto her terrified face, her jaws stretched wide by the leather ball-gag. Kline sniggered sadistically as he tipped the candle, sending three blobs of molten wax falling down onto the soft skin of her breast.

The girl's head thrashed side to side and her hips bucked upward in jerking spasms as the searing pain burned into her soft orb.

Kline tipped the candle again, splashing the wax down this time onto her other breast, revelling in her thrashing and writhing as the pain burned through her. Again and again he dripped the wax onto her, aiming the drips to fall and to hit at differing parts of her swelling orbs. He noted coldly the way that her thrashing and struggling increased when the drips fell into the valley between her orbs, a most sensitive spot he felt that to be. That was nothing though compared to when he dripped some hot wax onto her nipple, singeing the tender bud cruelly.
The girl's body went into a series of violent and body jerking contractions. Her hips bucked high and fell back down to pound her backside frantically on the cold stone floor - Kline liked that part very much.
Lower he moved the candle, bringing it closer down to her breasts so as to reduce the cooling of the wax and to increase the heat. Her other nipple suffered, the girl bucked and writhed like a wild stallion being tamed. Kline sat on her stomach, his knees either side of his body and his firm ball-sac resting on her warm body. He could feel her warmth between his thighs, on his anus and balls to increase the sexual trill ten-fold. He lowered the candle further still, until it was just a couple of inches above her jutting little bud and then tipped it. Kline watched as the clear liquid coated her bud, turning then to a white crust as it cooled, the heat of which was transferred to her tender flesh.
The girl's head was thrashing side to side wildly; she was screaming muffled protests into her gag as the hooded figure astride her laughed loudly at her demise. Her body bucked, pushing most pleasantly up against his scrotum to increase further his arousal.
Kline was panting hard, lost in a distant and detached world of extreme sexual thrill. His cock throbbed fit to burst and his balls ached so much they hurt. He dipped the candle flame down, to touch it onto the tip of her nipple and came to climax as she bucked and writhed beneath him. His hot sperm jetted forcefully out in excited spurts, coating her breasts and hitting under her chin. He marvelled proudly at the way his thick liquid formed a puddle in the well of her throat and then trickled down the sides of her neck. A pearl necklace made of his very own body fluid.
Kline sat there on her, savouring every last twitch and jerk of his cock until he was fully sated. This bitch was marvellous, so young, so fresh and so very well...Responsive. As tradition dictated, he would have to fuck her before she took her place in the collection. He chuckled at that thought, he had much to attend to that night and most of the next day too, and the slut would just have to wait and to wonder what further suffering was in store for her.

***

Again McGrath had been prompted and beer supplied to coax him to reveal. The regulars in the bar gathering round eagerly to gain the next instalment of the local gossip.
"Not too much more to tell really," The Irishman said in a mournful tone. "Pride of place went to the larger of the showcases at the end of the row, or so I have read. It apparently was twice the size of the others, more ornate in its decoration and stronger in its construction.
"Why?" Someone queried.
McGrath sipped his stout and then grinned.
"For the wife," he said and paused.
"What the 'Collector's' wife you mean?"
McGrath nodded.
"For his painted lady wife that made up her face for the benefit of other men, it was documented that each of the 'collectors,' began their collection with their own wife. Displaying her first and so putting an end to her shameful behaviour."
"Then the others followed, his hatred of painted ladies extending beyond his family?" The Landlord sought confirmation.
"Exactly."
The man that ran the small ironmonger's shop raised his hand in question.
"But didn't the successive wives know of the history when they married?" Surely they must have heard the stories and have been deterred by them. They must too have found the showcases in the basement and queried their use."
McGrath nodded his acceptance of the questions and tapped at his glass with the mouthpiece of his pipe. He paused whilst it was refilled, this time at the cost of the Baker.
"Those questions I cannot answer, I know only that which I have read and have heard over the years. In times gone by basements were men's private domain, the snooty ladies of the house too grand by far to ever want to venture below stairs. As to their knowing of the history - perhaps they did. As we all know, a woman concerned with her looks appears to blot out all reason and..."
"Just like my ex-wife," The coalman muttered bitterly.
"Women, mentally unfaithful wives, out to attract the attentions of other men," McGrath continued, "Can only be termed as..."
"Painted Ladies," All of the listening locals shouted in chorus and laughed heartily.

***

He had worked through most of the night on the new system, banging and hammering in the basement until the small hours and gaining only a brief couple of hours sleep just before dawn. Kline still had much to do but by the end of today all would be completed, the new system would be far, far better. Tired but pleased with his efforts he had herded the sluts out that morning, watched them shit and pee and then set them to work.
The naked women worked, clearing the thick brambles and bushes that had grown up alongside the high wall of the garden. They clipped and cut, using the pruning saws and the clippers that Kline had issued to them, throwing the severed branches and foliage onto a heap behind them in an efficient continual process of production.
He watched, silently, convinced now that his new scheme would increase their productivity further still and, would make his daily task easier still. Once they had washed and eaten he would begin the preparations, so that all were ready for the new system to be put into place the very next morning.

***

One at a time he took them from their showcase, beginning with his slut wife, the only woman not to have her face adorned with makeup. Into the playroom he dragged her, the stupid slut struggling and screaming into her gag all the while. Into the rack he strapped her, pinning her arms back to press her back against the central post and thereby to force her breasts outward.
She was upright, her ankles strapped back but with her feet on the floor. Her tits jutted out well enough but it was her nipples that Kline was interested in this morning and nothing else. He busied himself, heated the long darning needle in the small coal burner to the side of the room. Once the needle was glowing red hot Kline clamped the eye-end with a pair of pliers and carried the glowing rod over to her.
His wife bucked and wretched, thrashing her hips and struggling as she eyed the glowing needle in horror. So hard did she pull against her bonds that the soft skin of her wrists rubbed raw against wide leather straps that pinned her limbs.
Kline chuckled as he hovered the red glowing point of the needle at the side of her jutting nipple and then pressed in. His nostrils filled with the acrid stench of burning flesh and a hissing sound signalled the passing of the hot needle through her tender bud. Steam billowed up to momentary obscure his work but clearly rapidly to show the rubbery bud pierced clean through. Kline put the needle aside to reheat, fitted the little golden ring through her nipple and clamped the gap shut with the aid of the pliers. It was sealed, an annular adornment to her body and in particular her swollen bud. He repeated the same on her other nipple, piercing it through and fitting a second ring into her flesh. He stood back and admired his work, pleased at the results and anxious to try out his new system of tethering his sluts.

His wife held no sexual fascination for him. He had fucked the teasing whore many times, when she would allow him that is. He laughed loudly. 'Let her stop me now,' he thought and chuckled all the more heartily for that thought. She was a slut, a filthy whore that had shamed him. He wouldn't fuck her now nor ever again, he had other younger sluts now to serve his needs. He would though continue to abuse her; it pleased him to do so. To repay her for the years of torment she had given him, revenge of the very sweetest kind.

Kline picked up the thin cane positioned himself to the side of the rack and rested the cane across her pussy mound. He drew back his arm and lashed in to land a most savage blow across the puffy lips of her labia.
The woman's body heaved as the searing agony tore through her. Her head threw back to crack hard on the solid post and her hips bucked outward as her body received the excruciating pain.

"Not so attractive to men now are you?" He sneered and lashed in again, this time aiming at her jutting clitoris, striking the little bud hard to send her into a series of body jerking convulsions. Immediately her lips turned a bluish colour, the soft lips bruising and swelling to twice their normal size. Six hard strokes he laid on her pussy lips before the woman could take no more and passed out. Kline muttered his satisfaction and released the unconscious woman; he carried her back to her showcase and to collect the next slut to be pierced.

***

Morning the next day saw the women tethered differently, long golden chains with little brass padlocks were attached to their nipple rings. The chains were then passed under their armpits and behind them to link to the next girl in the line. The new method of chaining them served to improve the situation in several ways. Firstly their feet were free to walk and to enable the sluts to work more quickly; secondly they were less likely to resist and to work as one with the threatened pull on their tender buds and thirdly, it made Kline's job easier. It meant no bending to secure shackles at their ankles and best of all he could release one or more of the sluts at any time, and far more easily too. To get them to work inline across, he simply had to remove the chain from one side of them, allowing the group to turn and face to the side but still be linked and unhindered in their work. He congratulated himself on his ingenuity and lashed harder at the last girl in the group to urge them more quickly up and out into the gardens above.

Torrential rain greeted them, the sky dark and the wind blowing to drive the raindrops to sting at their naked flesh. Kline paused to take a raincoat from the hanger by the door and to cover his naked body before stepping out into the driving rain. Swinging in with hard meaningful blows of the leather strap Kline herded the women out to the trench to do their routine toilet. Following which he ordered them over to the middle of the vegetable patch where the group stood pathetically in the pouring rain. Their hair quickly became lank and flattened, they hunched their shoulders as their bodies glistened with wetness and they shivered uncontrollably with teeth chattering. Forlorn and sad expressions etched their faces and portrayed the sense of total defeat that the group felt.

"Digging again today," Kline announced loudly and threw the bunch of spades down onto the muddy ground. He released the chain connecting one side of the girls' bodies and turned them in line. He then retired to the shelter and dry earth that the thick foliage of a tall elm tree provided.
Kline watched them, drinking hot tea from a thermos flask as the sluts slipped and slid in the muddy slime that the newly turned and soaking soil soon produced. He delighted in the way their pale bodies were streaked with mud, the occasional scream of pain as one slut would slip and fall, pulling cruelly at the nipple rings of the others and to tear at their tender buds. It was entertainment of the best kind, just the thing to brighten an otherwise miserable and dull day.

As time passed the shapely form and sensual movements of the bus conductress slut took Kline interest above the others. Arousing him intensely to the point where he had to open his raincoat so as to ease the pressure of it against his hard erection. Kline waited for an easing of the rain before calling the group over to firmer ground and providing hot tea for the shivering women. He released the bus conductress from the group, unlocking her padlock and led her back under the tree.

"Back to work," He shouted to the remaining women and then concentrated on the slut he had selected. Kline had her bend at the waist, her feet spread wide apart and her arms outstretched before her to rest low down and against the thick tree trunk. The position offered her bowed back and her buttocks marvellously and her sweet little pussy at about his cock level. Kline removed his raincoat and readied the strap, raising it above his shoulder before swinging down hard to land a sadistically hard lash across the middle of her back.

The girl gave a strangled cry, her head threw back and her body arched. Her legs and thighs braced in tension and she sobbed loudly as the burning pain crept down into her naked flesh.

Again Kline struck and then again, laying the leather strap hard on her back with savage and meaningful blows designed to inflict the maximum possible pain on her. He revelled in the way her slim, wet body shook under each powerful impact to send shockwaves of sensation rushing through his pulsing cock. Eight times he lashed her before pausing to control his rapid breathing, moving in behind her to press the head of his cock against the tight little ring of her anus.

"No! Oh God please, No!" She wailed pathetically.

The girl braced herself, gripping her fingers onto the rough bark of the tree as the pressure on her little ring increased and the burning sensations began.

"Aaaah," She wailed, as he forced harder in. "Noooooo," She screamed as her little ring expanded and the huge bulbous head of his cock slipped inside her warm body. She gasped, sucking in air frantically as his thick long shaft pushed up inside her little tunnel to fill her rectum completely. The girl rested there, tensed and panting as her body adjusted to the enormous size of the invader inside her back passage.
"Uuuunh," she uttered as he withdrew and then, "Aaaah!" as he rammed hard back up into her with one powerful thrust of his hips.
Her whole body shook as he pounded frantically into her, crashing his hips hard against her buttocks to drive his cock fully up inside her. Again and again her lunged hard into her, battering his hips against her in a frantic race toward his peak. Kline cried out as he came, shooting his hot sperm far up into her soft interior and chuckling heartily at her snivelling and sobbing. He felt proud and triumphant as he pulled out, he watched little puckered ring reduce, closing back to its normal proportions, thick globules of his cum oozing out of the sore and reddened hole.

The girl slumped forward, dropping to her knees with her face pressed against the cold slimy trunk of the tree, her shoulders shaking with great heaving sobs of deep misery. She remained there, sobbing loudly and curled up into a protective ball of comforting foetal appearance.

Kline stood over the girl, gloating and smiling at her as she hid her face in shame. An added delight was the sound of one of the watching women vomiting, the disgusting act just performed simply too much for her to bear.

"Get on with your work!" Kline bellowed and then wiped the head of his cock on the girl's hair to remove the remaining globules of his sperm. "Washing and meals are dependent on good work production from you. No work equals no washing or hot food."

All women in the group returned to their digging with a renewed vigour, working fast and frantically to be finished and to be out of the chilling rain as soon as was possible.

"I can't take any more," the slut bus conductress blubbered pathetically to herself more than anyone else. Her heartfelt sobbing and constant wailing indicated the depth of her desperation. "No more, I can't stand it anymore."

Whilst Kline was distracted she struggled to her feet, hesitated for just a moment and then broke into a run. The girl made a dash for the wooden gate set in the high wall on the other side of the garden, her legs pumping frantically to drive her forward in flight. The girl sobbed as she ran, her breathing hard and rapid, fear and hope mixing within her to spur her on. So fast did she run in her frantic flight that she failed to slow as she reached the gate, the girl slammed hard into it and scrabbled urgently with the wrought iron latch to open it. She turned it and pulled, her fingers clawing desperately at the catch but it wouldn't budge an inch. As the realisation hit her, that the gate was locked tight, she slumped to the ground wailing loudly her misery as the raindrops spattered her naked body.

Kline, unconcerned and calm, walked slowly over to the gate and stood towering over the whimpering slut.

"Stupid move," he stated icily. "A very stupid move indeed.

That was when the girl began to scream.

***

The waitress slut had been retied, repositioned to better suit his purpose. She knelt now; on her hands and knees on the stone slab floor, her wrists and ankles roped to heavy metal ringbolts set into the floor. Her knees had been roped also and pulled out to the sides to stretch her thighs and to expose her orifices unhindered. The girl was trembling and sobbing softly as Kline busied himself preparing the equipment.

This night was purely for pleasure for him, he had waited to have this little slut and now he would do just that - but she had to suffer it first - for being a painted lady. Kline had set the bank of heavy tractor batteries back against the wall behind her, the electrical leads trailing out to lay on the floor between her parted legs. He attached the long and thin probe, wiped the stainless steel rod with lubricating gel and pushed it fully home inside her backside.

The little slut wailed as the hard, cold rod was inserted into her tight little tunnel, she whimpered and pleaded to be spared further suffering.

Kline stepped back, gripped the switch and then clicked it to the 'on' position.

The results were fantastic! His cock jerked rapidly in reaction to the sight of the girl as the powerful electrical current tore through her body.

Her head nodded up and down, her mouth gaped open in silent pleading and her eyes locked wide open and staring. The waitresses' whole body shivered and shook in continuous convulsions, her little breasts jiggling prettily beneath her quivering body. A huge sigh escaped her lips and her body relaxed as the current was switched off. A few seconds only passed before her body locked in tension once again as a second wave of electrifying agony surged through her. On and on the torment went, jerking her body violently as the current jarred at her every nerve end. Once again a loud sigh and her body slumped signalled that Kline had switched current off.

He was delighted with his invention. The resulting gripping of her buttocks, the way her pussy lips quivered and gripped in spasm were wonders to behold. He liked too her facial expressions, terror and disbelief mixing to paint her face as a mask of incredulous and horrific agony. Again he flicked the switch and then again, watching her body first tense and quiver and then relax. The way her little clitoris jerked and jolted fascinated him, the little bud contracting rapidly in little spasms within its hooded covering. Kline switched the current off, allowing the slut a few moments respite before applying the new method of torture to even better ends. He indulged himself, slapping the palm of his hand down on the raised buttocks of the girl, landing stinging slaps of his great hand to feed his excitement further. It pleased him to spank her; the feel of her warm flesh wobbling as he struck was an experience that could not be gained from using a cane or a strap.

"Filthy little slut," he panted excitedly and spanked harder down on the girl. "Dirty little trollop."

All over her buttocks he spanked her, all around the end of the metal probe to send jarring sensations conducting into her tender insides as the rod shook within her. So exciting was the spanking, the sight of the girl juddering in pain as the electricity had coursed through her, that Kline felt himself about to come. He moved behind the girl and knelt, feeding his cock quickly up inside her moist pussy to fill her completely. He paused there to pick up the electrical lead and flicked the switch with his right hand.

"Aaaarrrgh," He bellowed loudly in pleasure. The girl's quivering lips massaged his balls in a tingling stroking of soft flesh on firm. Her soft insides gripped around the whole of his shaft to caress it most wonderfully with wave after wave of rippling warm membrane. Kline came, powerfully, beautifully and so forcefully that he felt a slight burning sensation as his sperm shot up the tube on the underside of his cock. Surge after surge of his thick hot cum shot into her, his cock milked of it by the rapid rippling movements of her body. Kline switched the current off, savoured the heady feelings for a moment and then slumped forward onto the girl's naked back fully sated and panting hard. He muttered softly in his pleasure as he rested on the girl's naked body with his cock still up inside her.

"You have certainly earned your rightful place in your showcase, slut."

***

"Do you think?" The greengrocer asked of McGrath as the Irishman entered the saloon bar of the pub and settled himself on the tall barstool he considered to be his own. "That the new owner of 'Case House' will continue the

tradition and do as his ancestors did?"
McGrath shrugged his shoulders and tapped impatiently on the bar with a coin as the landlord poured his pint.

"Who can tell? I have never met the man. I have seen him, to be sure, and a weird one he is too, but so inclined? I wouldn't know."

"He rarely ventures out, doesn't work that I know of, and he inherited the house by birth I am told."

McGrath sat staring ahead of him and gave an involuntary shiver. He turned his head and eyed the faces of the gathered locals, searching their serious expressions carefully.

"Have any of you men wives or daughters in the village?" He asked solemnly and sipped his pint.

The gathered men's faces dropped, worry, deep concern and stark horror clearly showed. A stunned silence filled the bar with only the sounds of the roaring fire in the hearth to break it.

McGrath broke a mischievous smile and dropped the tone of his voice to a low and secret.

"Don't then," he whispered advisedly as the listening men leaned in, hanging on every word of the aging Irishman.

"Let them paint their faces will you."

He burst out laughing, loudly and mockingly, his shoulders shaken by his great mirth. That mirth increased as the men all muttered their disapproval at his joke and moved away to other parts of the room.

***

The would-be escapee, the bus conductress slut was bound back against the frame, upright and with her toes just touching the floor. Her arms were pulled high above her head and tied to the rafters above to keep her in continual stretch of her whole body. Her legs had been parted, not wide though, her feet only about twelve inches apart, enough though to expose her pussy lips to him. She was gagged, her guilt known and clear to all, there was nothing for her to say or to be said, she would remain mute throughout the carrying out of the sentence.

The other naked sluts were kneeling in line, chained and with their hands and ankles bound tightly behind them, present only to witness the proceedings.

An example needed to be made, Kline felt, a lesson taught that would serve to deter the others, escape or even the thought of it simply could not be accepted.

He took the wide leather strap and held it high for all to see. Gasps of horror came from the watching women and the bound slut thrashed against her bonds as the terrifying item was displayed to her.

About three inches wide the strap was short but stout with a large buckle at one end. Through the belt hundreds of sewing pins had been pushed, the sharp little points poking out all on one side to form a mat of cruel and piercing tips.

"You disappoint me," Kline said loudly and stepped forward. "Attempted escape is the ultimate sin in my eyes."
He turned to address the other women.

"There is no escape from here. Accept it, accept your places in my collection and avoid the suffering that this ungrateful wretch, is about to endure."

Kline wrapped the prickly belt around both her breasts, buckled it and then pulled it tight to crush her breasts together under the pressure. Deeply into her fleshy orbs the pinpoints pushed, piercing her flesh in a hundred places at once to draw little specs of blood from each puncture wound.

The girl went into agonised spasming, her body juddering and her eyes rolling in their sockets as the excruciating pain swept through her. The watching women gasped in horror as the belt was applied, the knelt there, silently fearful lest they should be subjected to the same.

Kline turned about, his erect cock bouncing and swinging side-to-side as he walked back ten paces, turned again and sat. He settled himself on the upright dining chair, reached to the small table to the side of it and picked up the air pistol. He snapped it open and closed it smartly, loading the pistol with compressed air in readiness. Deftly he pushed the small pointed dart into the breach, easing the brightly coloured woollen flight fully in. Once the sealing screw had been pressed in and locked Kline took aim, at bus conductresses' right shin.

The dull thud echoed around the basement room, causing all of the watching women to start in surprise the sharp snapping sound it made. The dart buried itself deeply into the front of the bus conductress' leg just below the knee, a thin trickle of deep red blood immediately appeared and ran down her lower leg and onto her foot.

Again the girl bucked and thrashed against her bonds, her muffled screams audible even through the gag. She jerked again as a second dart smashed hard into to pierce her left leg and, to leak a similar trail of blood down from the wound.

The pattern then was set, Kline would reload, aim and fire, sending the darts thudding into differing parts of her body, subjecting the girl to slow and relentless agony and suffering. Her thighs were next, then her pubic mound, two hits on her pussy lips and one on her pubic arch failed to hit at her clitoris. The hits moved up to her stomach and then her breasts, four shots each at her breasts saw both her nipples hit and cruelly pierced by the thick, stubby darts.

Kline was pulsing with excitement, revelling in her wild struggling and gasping loudly as each little dart slammed into her body. His cock jolted in reaction, and his ball-sac tightened as the sense of pleasure gripped him, his shaft spasmed and reared, the eyehole in the tip expanding to allow clear pre-cum to ooze out.

The women watched in silent horror as the lithe, blood-streaked body writhed and thrashed under the thudding impacts. The way her wide and pleading eyes cried out her desperate plea for mercy and the heartfelt muffled sobs and wailing she emitted.

Kline loaded and took aim again, lowered the pistol barrel again at her clitoris and squeezed the trigger. He came to orgasm at the same time the dart struck, his cock pulsing to squirt excited jets of his cum high into the air as the girl slumped unconscious against her bonds. He sat there savouring the moment and the horrified expressions of the watching sluts, his point had been well and truly made.


Chapter 7

It was a high for Marion, a terrific and stimulating sexual high that sent shards of electric sensations coursing through her pussy. She was trembling with excitement, her nipples throbbed to the point of aching and her hard little clitoris pressed tantalisingly against the gusset of her tight panties. She was wet, aware that her pussy juices were leaking out and her labia was full and puffy as the thrill of anticipation gripped her. At the end of the long driveway to 'Case House' she paused to remove her overcoat and folded it over her arm.

It was Saturday evening, the night of her date with the wonderful mister Kline. All was dark and quiet with only the light breeze to rustle the smaller branches of the trees. The inky black darkness of early evening, in such a remote place, would normally have had her shivering in fear - but not tonight. Sexual thrill and the thought of meeting him again soon overcame any doubt, thoughts of teasing simply too strong and exciting to be dulled by uncertainty. She had walked, preferring to leave her bicycle at home, revelling in the sound of her thin heels as they clicked against the tarmac road. Through the village she had walked, her skimpy uniform covered by the smothering overcoat, around the central green and against the cricket field side so as to avoid being seen. A long walk it had been but an exhilarating one, a journey of love and teasing sexual thrill. This was her time now, the first time in her life when she would actively strive to entrap a man. She gave a nervous giggle as the flutters in her pussy increased in strength. What chance would he stand when he saw her dressed like this? She asked herself.

Marion set off up the driveway; her head up and shoulders back and with her chest pushed out against her tight blouse and jacket. She swung her free arm and strutted, her back straight and upper body lifted to her full height. She felt so good, so commanding and so... Well, so bloody horny with it. At the porch she paused, unbuttoned her jacket to show the incredibly short skirt beneath, took a deep breath and then knocked.

"Marion!" Kline greeted enthusiastically as he opened the door and then swallowed hard as his eyes dropped slowly down over her body. "Wow!"

Marion stepped in, confident and poised, her heart thumping in her chest and her pussy gripping in delightful little spasms. She handed him her coat and stood back to be admired.

"Like it?" She asked brightly and fixed him with a beaming smile.

Kline felt his cock jerk. The bitch looked fantastic! From the bright red and glossy lips of her makeup to the telltale bump in the front of her tight skirt where her pubic mound pressed against it. Her full thighs were on show below the hem of the tiny skirt and the leather boots below them to show her nylon coated legs and thighs to wonderful effect. She seemed taller, shapelier and pleasingly more attractive than she had been on the last two occasions that he had met her. Kline was truly speechless; he simply nodded rapidly in quick succession and hung her coat on a hanger without tearing his eyes away from her.

She walked ahead of him, along the passageway to the lounge, taking longer than necessary strides to accentuate her rolling hips and backside.

"Marvellous!" Kline gushed as he seated himself on the settee, "Simply marvellous. Please, walk around for me a little so that I might see the new you in all your beauty."

Marion positively bathed in the compliments and attention given and was most happy to comply. She walked the room back and forth, like a model on a catwalk, offering her body to be viewed and delighting in the open-mouthed expression of Kline. She turned theatrically, allowing her jacket to swing open and to further display her shape to him, aware of his frequent glances at the points of her breasts. Marion paused, posed with her weight on one leg and slipped the jacket slowly off her shoulders. She was fully in control now, just as she had planned. For the first time in her life she had the upper hand over a man - and it felt simply wonderful. She threw the jacket casually over the back of the settee, strode over to the armchair opposite him and sat down crossing her long legs elegantly and beaming her delight as she did so.

"I'm stunned," he said.

"You look it," she replied with a mischievous giggle.

His eyes roamed her exposed thighs, the dark tops of her stockings and the suspender belt clips attached to them. Her slim legs, tapering up to swell out in slender shapeliness as they reached the hem of her little skirt were a delight. He could even see the beginning swell of the bottom of her left buttock and oh! The way her breasts pushed against the inside of her bra! She was a slut, a filthy teasing slut that had been revealed to have no morals. Her full red lips and her mascara blackened eyes showed this girl to be a 'painted lady', a painted whore that deserved what all painted sluts deserve - a place in his collection. He felt his rigid cock pressing uncomfortably against the insides of his trousers as he imagined her sweet little pussy, her full and firm breasts and those full soft lips of hers closing around the head of his cock.
"Forgive me," Kline croaked and cleared his throat. "May I offer you a drink?"
She smiled sweetly, "White wine please."
Kline stood, aware of her glance at the tent formed in the front of his trousers and then walked around the back of the settee to the drinks cabinet behind her.
"Didn't tell anyone of our secret meeting did you?"
She giggled impishly. "Not a soul knows that I am here."
It all happened so fast, the actions so swift that they blurred her mind in confusion and gave her no chance whatsoever to react. His arm came around from behind, the forearm clamping hard across her throat and crushing her windpipe. She was hauled roughly up onto the back of the settee, her back arching painfully as he pressed the back of her head down toward the floor.

Marion's hands reached up to claw at his hair and her legs thrashed out wildly and desperately to beat uselessly against the seat cushions of the settee. Her tiny skirt rode up to show the tight white gusset of her panties and her blouse pulled from its tucking in the waistband of her skirt to show her bare stomach. She bucked and struggled, flailed her arms and legs frantically as she felt the covering of darkness beginning to blanket her mind. Her struggling lessened and her eyes closed, then her body slumped limp as she fell unconscious and into the evil world of 'The Collector.'

***

The discussions that night in the salon bar had covered; football, the restoration fund for the church, the worrying situation in Europe with Germany, seemingly now almost certain to invade Poland, before turning again to Kline.

"Haven't seen his wife," the fishmonger muttered idly in response to the cobbler's question about her. "Don't think he has one."

"He has," the postman stated firmly. "I deliver the mail there and letters are almost always addressed to mister and missus Kline.

"Ah ha," The ageing Irishman stated to draw attention to himself. "Now on that score I can help."

"How?" The landlord asked in a tired tone. "But more to the point I suppose it will cost me a pint to get you to tell eh?"

The Irishman smiled knowingly and nodded. He waited silently for his pint to be served, sipped it and then spoke again.

"All I know is what a newspaper report told me..."

"Which newspaper?" The apprentice plumber asked and blushed red under the scowls of the older men waiting to hear the updated news.

"It was a more local one, a county paper actually. I came across the article quite by chance whilst reading in the library. They investigated him..."

"Do they have newspapers in libraries then?" The young apprentice asked in bewilderment.

The plumber, his boss, slapped him playfully around the head.

"Of course they do, idiot. But then you can't read anyway so no point in you going there."

The admonishment drew loud and mocking laughter before all settled down again and the Irishman was able to continue. As he opened his mouth to speak yet another question was fired at him.

"Kline you mean? The police investigated him? The postman asked to prompt McGrath into continuing."

The Irishman nodded.

"In another town way up north it was. The headline caught my eye and I read on, it was only a brief mention of Kline but he was taken to the police station..."

"Arrested you mean?" The grocer asked excitedly.

McGrath shook his head and tapped at his empty glass with the tip of his pipe. He paused as the coalman paid for his glass to be refilled and then continued.

"His wife went missing."

"Christ!" The landlord gasped and muttered agreement was heard from several other of the men.
McGrath nodded.

"True I assure you, about two years ago it was. They sent search parties out onto the moors, Kline told them she went for a walk and never returned. Listed as a missing person thereafter she was."

"They didn't find her then?" The apprentice asked, the building excitement sounding clearly in his voice.

The boy received another slap around the head.

"They wouldn't have would they, you silly boy?" His boss chuckled sarcastically. "Not if she was listed as missing they couldn't."

The loud laughter continued for many minutes before silence once again fell in the bar.

"They searched Kline's house..."

"No showcases?" The fishmonger pre-empted.

McGrath shook his head.

"They could find or prove nothing, and he was released."

"It was the same Kline I take it," the newsagent asked.

McGrath slapped his hand firmly down on the bar.

"Without a doubt, there was a photo of him coming out of the police station, he had a coat held over his head but failed to cover his face. It was the very same Kline as we have here in the village."

A stunned silence followed.

"So no dirty deeds to spice up life around here after all then," the landlord moaned in disappointment.
"It seems not," McGrath shrugged and sighed. "If he was a collector, they would have found the showcases - and they didn't."
McGrath waited until the men were dispersing before he played his trump card.
"But," He announced loudly. "There is more interesting information on that case that I didn't tell you."
The men halted in their tracks, sighed heavily and put their hands in their pockets to get the money.
"This isn't just spinning things out to get yet another pint out of us is it?" The greengrocer asked raising a knowing eyebrow.
McGrath shook his head.
"Since reading that article I did a little investigating, a sort of morbid on my part interest if you like. I read a lot about the case and of our mister Kline; I found and studied the follow-on reports and so on. What I found out will stun you all, and perhaps even," he paused for effect and sniggered. "Put the fear of Christ into you."

***

Marion stood in the lounge; strong shiny handcuffs secured her wrists firmly behind her back with a taut connecting rope stretching down to her securely roped ankles. The position held her in erect tension, upright and unable to move an inch. Her hair was tousled and her mascara had run, leaving long black tear streaks down her cheeks. The girl was trembling in real fear, her bottom lip quivering constantly but she uttered not one word.

Kline was naked and hooded; his favourite black strapping criss-crossed his chest and upper thighs, his forearms covered with the studded leather cuffs. His cock was hard, jutting out from his thatch of pubic hair and twitching in excited arousal.

At last he had the bitch before him and a true delight she was too, he had waited for this and now, she, dressed as she was increased the thrill for him tenfold.

Kline moved closer to her, slipped his hand under the front of her short skirt and cupped her pussy mound in his hand. He felt her fullness, the puffy lips of her labia through her thin panties and the wetness of her juices that had soaked the gusset. His hands roamed all over the silky thighs and around her hips, he moved closer to press the head of his cock against the thick serge material of her uniform skirt, Kline gave a low groan as the sensations washed through him. He felt her slowly, savouring the firmness of her flesh, sliding his hand around to cup and knead her buttocks.

"You are one filthy teasing slut," he panted excitedly. "You show yourself, indecently so, to attract me and tempt me."

A nervous whimper escaped her trembling lips and her body gave an involuntary shudder.
"You are a painted lady for certain, a painted whore that seeks the attentions of men."

Kline slipped his hand under the side elastic of her panties and began feeling the silky, taut mounds of her buttocks.

"I like your outfit," he muttered as he groped her. "Your uniform adds to the attraction for me, you and it are simply perfect for my collection."

He moved his hand back to her pussy, wriggled his fingers inside the gusset of her panties and stroked over the slit of her pussy. Kline groaned loudly as he hooked his middle finger up and pushed it fully up inside the girl's body.

He used his left hand to begin undoing the buttons of her blouse as he fingered her, his cock pressing against the coarse material all the while. He shifted his hips slowly and slightly to rub the engorged head against her, the thick material producing wonderful feelings for him to further increase his need and arousal.

"I'm going to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours, slut," he threatened. "I might also use you arse hole too."
Marion blurted a huge sob and made to speak but checked herself and wisely chose to remain silent.

Kline removed his right hand from her pussy and used both now to pull open the front of her blouse and to expose the soft swelling cleavage her firm tits formed. He dipped his head in and down, kissing the sweet orbs greedily and running his tongue up and down the cleft between them. His hands covered the mounds, kneading and squeezing as he licked and kissed at her cleavage. The shifting of his hips increased as his excitement grew, pressing himself harder against her pussy mound through the thick material of her skirt. In his urgency Kline gripped the sides of her bra and ripped them outward, snapping the centre strap and spilling her swelling orbs out naked and unfettered. Slobbering in his haste Kline kissed and sucked at her rubbery nipples, paying attention to each in turn and then biting gently on the fleshy pegs of desire. His hands kneaded and his lips kissed, his tongue licked and his hips jerked frantically now as he explored her sweet smelling body.
Kline tensed, grunted and then came, his thick sperm jetting out in excited spurts to soil and to stain the front of her dark uniform skirt. He rubbed himself slowly against her, savouring his orgasm and jerking himself to a finish.
"Dirty, slut," he muttered. "Just look what you made me do."
Kline chuckled and stepped back, his voice low and full of threatening.
"Dirty teasing sluts have to be punished."

***

In the bar McGrath was relating the beer-purchased details he had promised his eager audience.

"I found that 'Case House', here in the village, has always been his - by inheritance of course."

"But you weren't sure that he was of the blood line."

"I wasn't, not until I read up on him. Seems that he inherited the house and grounds several years back but only recently chose to move in there."

The postman shook his head.

"No, not so, I recall having seen him at the house before," the man pondered thoughtfully. "Well, it must be about three years ago as I recall. Only once or twice though, when delivering the odd circular addressed there - silly really to have to deliver mail to an empty house."

"Was he living there then?" The Landlord asked.

The postman shook his head.

"No, he was in the grounds, sort of looking around the house but not staying if you know what I mean. Didn't take too much notice of him really, just thought he was a prospective buyer being nosey."

The baker coughed to clear his throat, his expression one of deep concern.

"So he could then, have had access to the showcases here but still have been living in the North at the time his wife disappeared. His wife could have been held here all the time, locked in a showcase in the basement of 'Case House.'"

All were silent as they thought on the baker's statement.

"And, McGrath added with a hint of mystery in his voice. Delivering his final piece of information with an excited rising of his voice.

"His present wife, the one that is listed missing, was a policewoman."

***

Marion had been stripped naked and retied. Her long black boots remained on her feet with the securing ropes bound tightly around them at the ankles, but otherwise she was completely nude. Her handcuffed wrists had been repositioned, behind the back of her head and attached to the rope collar around her neck. The position caused her back to arch slightly, accentuating the thrust of her chest, her buttocks and her pussy mound.

Kline ogled her slim shapely body silently. Three hours had passed since he had come against her and his cock was now fully hard and pulsing once again. He pinched the skin of the side of her left breast to form a ridge, attached the clothes peg and released it to clamp hard on her skin.

The girl winced and drew breath but did not utter a word. This was repeated as a second peg and then a third were added to leave her with a crushing, throbbing ache of dull pain that seemed to spread over her entire orb. Many minutes it took him to attach all fifteen pegs to her left breast, the wooden pegs stuck out and dangled at all angles to stretch and pinch her flesh cruelly. As the hard wooden jaws crushed her tender nipple she could hold back no longer and cried out in pain before emitting a pitiful wailing sob.

"Please no more," she sobbed. "Please no more."

Kline ignored her and set about doing the same to her right breast, adding sixteen pegs to it, one for each showcase in his collection. It pleased him much that the slut sobbed and pleaded throughout, she wasn't quite so sure of herself now, he gloated. The confident, teasing tart was already reduced to a blubbering, weak girl and he hadn't even started on her yet.

Finished in his peg-attaching Kline stepped back and picked up the long, thin cane from the seat of the settee. He positioned himself at her side and drew back his arm.

"You sought to control me," he hissed venomously and paused. "No woman will ever control a Kline."

Her hips jerked forward under the impact and she screamed a strangled cry as the cane lashed savagely across the round of her buttocks. So hard was the blow that her pale skin instantly turned a reddish blue of bruising that marked her skin brightly. Again she bucked as the cane lashed in, her whole body locked in tension and the pegs attached to her breasts jerked suddenly to fill her with a second series of agonised suffering.

"Aaaah, God help me please!" She wailed as a third cutting slice of the cane stung at her taut buttocks.

"Filthy slut," Kline panted and swung in hard again to stripe another bruising mark on her silky flesh. "Dirty little whore."

He whipped her buttocks soundly, his cock rearing in excited reaction to the soft thwack of hard rattan on flesh that came with each savage lash. It pleased him that her skin broke in several places to leak blobs of red blood to further discolour her reddish blue backside. Again and again he lashed at her, aiming the blows gradually lower to strike across the tender backs of her upper thighs. The lashes drew a most pitiful and heartfelt wailing of pure agony from the girl and that served to feed his wild arousal. Harder and faster he lashed the girl, beating her backside to a blotched and reddened mass of opening wounds. Kline relented only as her eyes rolled in their sockets and as faintness was coming to her. He dropped the cane and moved to press himself against her, Kline slipped the head his cock just inside her pussy from the front, holding her hips with both hands and pulled her hard onto him.

"Mmmm, virgin meat," he gloated as he forced fully up side the wailing girl's warm, wet body.
Kline used one hand to hold her as he thrust excitedly into her, the other hand he employed to flick at the pegs on her breasts to increase the pain she was suffering. The slut was a delight, with a firm young body and a wet accommodating pussy. As he thought of stretching her tight little arse hole on the next occasion Kline came. He bellowed loudly as he shot his load into her; filling her warm interior with his thick, warm sperm. Kline slowed his strokes, lengthening them as he finished and then pulled out of her to watch his seed dribble from her reddened pussy lips. He picked up the cane, stood to her side again and rested the cane across the mound of her used pussy.
"Now you will learn that during your stay here that I command, I rule and you - Slut - will obey."
He lashed in hard to land a sickeningly hard stripe of the cane across the little bud of her clitoris, crushing the tender bud momentarily under the savage impact.
The girl, Marion slumped, first to her knees and then facedown on the floor in unconsciousness to lay unmoving on the thick Indian rug beneath her.
Kline stood over her, proud and satisfied. He had acquired another item for his collection - another slut to fill one of the empty showcases.

***

In the bar the following evening the friends were gathered and had been deep in discussion for an hour or so. They were gathered around the bar close to the fire, talking in hushed voices lest the two women soldiers close by should overhear them. Heated at times, the discussion had shifted back and forth, first favour of and then against Kline's supposed guilt. All the evidence had been presented, the facts as known related over and over and a conclusion finally reached. The final piece of gossip had really been the deciding factor, the young LVS girl, Marion had gone. A handwritten note from her delivered to her landlord had been slipped through his letterbox. The note had informed him that she had moved away overnight and that she would never return. This then had firmly quashed in advance any suggestion that her absence might be seen as her having been abducted.

"Not guilty then," the landlord announced for the group.
McGrath echoed his statement.

"Not guilty it seems, circumstantial evidence only that could be applied to most of the people in the village, and even to each one of ourselves at times."
Muttered agreement was heard from all.

"It seems then gentlemen," McGrath said formally. "That we have thought wrongly of the man Kline and must now wipe clean his slate and accept him as one of us - without bias or prejudice."

Disappointment sounded in their voices as all added their reluctant agreement in turn. The interesting and tantalising subject that had been the basis of eager discussion for so long now was at an end; normal boring subjects must them be the norm on drinking nights. A sudden hush fell over the bar as the door opened and the tall confident Kline entered. He walked slowly to the bar, ordered a pint of brown ale and nodded politely to the gathered, gaping group. Silently he sipped his beer and turned, leering and eyeing greedily the two young and khaki-clad female soldiers as they stood, picked up their handbags and walked to the door.

"Pretty young girls aren't they don't you think?" McGrath said casually to Kline, noticing his leering looks at their seamed stockinged legs.

Kline sipped at his pint and grunted in distaste.

"Painted Ladies more like," he spat in disgust; "Women out to flaunt and to tease."

The end.

Jay Merson has written over 104 similar novels and short stories to view
http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=Jay+Merson



--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.

Back to M Collection :::::|::::: Back to main page