Excerpt from: The Bondmaid Carnival
It was perhaps twenty minutes later that April felt the
coach slow down and come to a halt.
They could see nothing from within their cages, but they could hear the sounds of voices, the jingle of harness and the
snort of horses.
Marvell roused himself and
climbed out. The heard him speaking to a
few people, then the voice of a young woman said accusingly, ‘Really, Pa, I
began to worry that you were going to miss the parade!’
‘Marian, dear, have I
ever? Now just you see what I brought
back. Bill, fetch them out…’
Somebody clambered into the
carriage. April heard the cage doors
being opened and one by one the girls were pulled out and stood upright. Their handler was a wiry middle-aged man
dressed in dark trousers, a loose blue smock belted at the waist with a gold
sash and a red bandana tied about his neck.
As they emerged he linked their choke chains into a coffle with
practiced hands and passed them down the steps of the carriage to a beaming
Marvell who took charge of the front of the string.
They were in a long
tree-lined country lane boarded by the usual bountiful and lush Nethervale
fields. Along the length of a broad
grass verge was drawn up a procession of at least fifty horse-drawn vehicles of
all sizes, from single horse caravans to large high-sided fright wagons the
size of a pantechnicon with teams of six.
All were brightly painted and carried signs on their sides proclaiming
they were part of the bondmaid carnival, including some graphic artwork of the
sort April had become familiar with in Nethervale.
The wagons were also
decorated with living bondmaids.
They hung naked on chains
along the sides, dangled from tailboards and were bound astride lead horses
like so many Lady Godiva’s at a bondage convention. They had coloured ribbons in their hair and
small bells clipped to their noses, ears, nipples and
labia. Some had their breasts painted to
compliment the decorations of the wagons to which they were fastened. More men in blue smocks, together with men
and women in far gaudier costumes, were moving about the caravan making last
minutes adjustments to the girls’ harnesses and holding buckets between their
legs for them to pee in.
April tore her eyes away from
this fleshy display to see that a pretty red-haired
young woman of about her own age was standing beside Marvell. She was dressed in a costume of a red shako
and jacket, heavily decorated with gold braid, black culottes tucked into black
riding boots with a coiled whip hooked to her belt. Her eyes were a bright penetrating bottle
The coffle was made to kneel down in front of the young woman, which they did
gracefully, sitting back on their heels and spreading their legs to display
their pussies, arching their supple backs to show off their breasts but bowing
their heads and casting their eyes downward submissively. As they took their places April had a chance
to see them properly for the first time.
Beside herself and Niki there was a blonde, two brunettes and a
black-haired girl with a slight oriental look.
They were all pretty and moved well.
As they displayed themselves there was a subtle tension in their
postures that she could also see in herself and Niki. It was an air of alertness and readiness to
respond. Was this that elusive “spirit”
Marvell had been looking for?
‘How much did they cost?’
Marian Marvell, as she had to be, demanded of her father.
‘They were all excellent
value for money,’ Marvell said.
‘Please, Marian, look them
Marian Marvell perused the
line with a critical, experienced eye, lifting chins to examine faces. As she did so Marvell’s face took on an
expression of increasing concern.
Suddenly he looked less like the ebullient, assured entrepreneur he had
in the Abbey and more like a child worried he would be accused of being
spendthrift with his pocket money.
Marian finished her
inspection. ‘Yes,’ they look like fine
girls, Pa,’ she conceded. ‘Now how much
did they cost?’
‘Can you put a price on
quality, Marian?’ Marvell said evasively.
‘Besides, the last few months have been so good we can afford to —’
‘How much?’ his daughter
Marvell pointed to April and
Niki. ‘These two were a bargain!’
‘Just a pound for the pair.’
‘A pound! We can get four good girls for that.’
‘But these are a Flagewell
Abbey trained pair. See that
ringing? And they’re very responsive and
they’ve got plenty of spirit.’ Seeing
her face darken dangerously he added quickly.
‘In truth, they’re really a present for you, My Dear.’
Momentarily she appeared
taken aback. ‘For me?’
‘You’ve got so much work,
what with managing the cunniers and keeping the
accounts. They can be our housemaids and
keep the caravan. You shouldn’t have to
do the washing and cleaning as well. They’ll
be something warm to cuddle up with at night.
You deserve that.’
Marian Marvell threw up her
arms. ‘All right, Pa, have it your
way. I won’t ask about the others. Yes, we’ll have these two to keep house — but
they’ll work the show just like the other girls the rest of the time. We’ve no room for fripperies on the road.’
‘So like your mother,’
Marvell said wistfully.
‘And they can start
now.’ She turned to the blue-smocked
man. ‘Bill, take an empty cage and move
it to the back of the line. Pull up the covers
and run it as a flogging show with plenty of whack and crack. We’ll see how well they can scream and help
bring in the punters.’
‘Right you are, Miss M,’ Bill
Bill took the lead chain in
the coffle line. The girls scrambled to
their feet and were led off, leaving Marian Marvell telling her father to move
his carriage up to the front of his line and put on his other hat.
They passed wagons hung with
gaudy boards advertising various individual diversions, some of which April
could only guess at. The principle
behind “PENNY IN THE SLOT” was graphically illustrated but what was “SENIOR
SERAPHIC’S FAMOUS GIRL-O-PHONIUM”? The
“PONYGIRL RACETRACK” was fairly self-explanatory, as
was “BOWL THE MAIDS OVER”, but what about “PUNCH AND BONDMAID JUDY”?
Every few wagons along were
girls fastened on longer collar chains, allowing them to walk beside the
vehicles. They all carried some sort of
simple musical instrument chained to their wrists, such as cymbals, tambourines and triangles.
At one point there were two girls linked together. The first was bent forward with a large drum
strapped to her back. A rod from a dildo
plugged into her anus ran back to another dildo locked inside the vagina of the
girl behind her who held the drumsticks.
They reached the rear of the
caravan and came upon a large cage on wheels such as wild animals might be
transported in, with painted canvas covers rolled down over its bars. As April had not seen any sign of real
animals so far she presumed this was where some of the girls currently on
display were housed. It did not shock
her. In Nethervale bondmaids and animals
were treated very much alike.
‘Horace!’ Bill called up to
the driver, who was perched on the seat reading a battered book. ‘Change of plan: the Boss’s bought half a
dozen new cunnies back. Miss M says to
put them in your cage for a flogging show.
She wants them to sing out good and proper.’
‘I thought I’d be cutting
through the town straight to the pitch,’ Horace grumbled, putting away his book
and clambering down.
‘Well now you’re in the
parade. Give me a hand…’
They rolled up the covers up
revealing a hay-lined cage open on three sides and hung with chains and
cuffs. The cage sides were a diamond
latticework of metal strips riveted together where they crossed.
Bill and Horace unlocked the
back gate, flipped down a step and the girls were marched up inside. There was just enough headroom to stand
upright. In one corner clear of hay was
a lidded hole in the floorboards for a squat toilet with a waste bucket hung
underneath. A wooden partition wall
separated the cage from the driver’s seat.
On it hung tin mugs, a water flask, several blankets on hooks and a rack
of spanking paddles, straps and beaters.
Working quickly the men
separated the coffle and positioned them standing, facing outward and
spreadeagled, pressed up against the insides of the bars, three down each side
of the cage. The lattice bars were just
open enough for them to squeeze their heads through, while their breasts jutted
out of the adjacent diamonds below them.
As Bill clamped heavy metal cuffs about their wrists and ankles, Horace
went round the outside of the cage with a box of bells strung on short
chains. The ends of these he screw-clamped
to their nipples, so the bells hung freely between them on the outside of the
Shouts were running down the
line of vehicles. Twisting her head
round April could see people waving and climbing aboard their wagons. The caravan was about to set off for the parade.
Horace went back to his seat
behind the horses while Bill stayed in the cage. Taking something down from the rack of
punishment devices he swished it through the air so that it hit the wooden
panel at the front of the cage with an alarming crack that made them all flinch
and jerk at their cuffs.
‘Now, we haven’t got much
time to practice, so you’d better listen real hard,’ he said earnestly. ‘This is how Marvell maids perform in a
The signpost said: Cocklesford
Turning her head within the
diamond frame of the cage bars April looked at Niki, whose head and bell-hung
breasts jutted through the bars at her side.
The sight of her was so uplifting that she found herself smiling
foolishly. Niki raised her eyebrows as
though in amused resignation at their fate and grinned back. They might be caught up in more Nethervale
madness, but at least it was of a more playful kind than the obsessive
atmosphere of the Abbey.
Twisting her head round to
look ahead once more April could see the rooftops of a sizable town rising from
beyond the trees and hedgerows. From
the front of the caravan the music started up with the thump of a drum. The proudly marching girls flanking the
wagons down the line picked up on it.
Thump, thump, jingle, crash! It
was not a tune so much as a merry discord designed to make people take
notice. It worked.
Workers in their gardens
stopped and stared, carts pulled over and windows were flung open. April saw colourful posters advertising the
carnival on gates and lampposts. Evidently
the parade was expected.
In a tide of glitter, paint and bare flesh the parade wound its way into the
town. Ordinary traffic came to a halt
and the pavements filled with people. In
typical Nethervale fashion the men mostly wore variations on the frock coat
with tall hats, while the women were dressed in long straight ankle-length
dresses with high waists and puffy sleeves, while their heads were covered by a
variety of bonnets. In Nethervale
fashion many were leading naked bondmaid slaves about with them as one might
dogs on leashes. Collared, cuffed and bridled the girls followed after their masters
and mistresses, some with baskets filled with shopping strapped to their backs.
Yet the blaring passage of
the carnival caravan with is fleshy temptations still appeared to enthral the
local inhabitants. Even the local slavegirls goggled in fascination. In a world without radio, television, or
cinemas, April realized, this sort of event must seem hugely exciting and
As the parade entered the
high street gibbet like arms swung out from the sides of the larger wagons,
each with a girl dangling from the end.
They were suspended from spreader bars, with their wrists cuffed above
their heads and legs splayed wide and ankles fastened to the bar ends by short
chains. The bars were suspended by
swivel rings that spun the girls over the heads of the crowd as if they were
performing aerial splits, with their naked pouting perfumed groins gaping
wide. Thin slips of coloured card could
be seen protruding from their pussy clefts.
‘Free tickets for the lucky
few!’ the carnival barkers began to call out. ‘Catch them if you can!’
People began to spring up and
down and make wild lunges in an attempt to snatch the
tickets from their intimate pockets. A
few began to run along the pavements after the elusive prizes as they swung and
twirled by. Even respectable men and
women seemed to be caught up in the fun, laughing at their frustrated
efforts. Others simply reached up to
playfully slap or pinch the bottoms of the exposed girls as they passed
As the tail of the caravan
entered the high street there was a warning crack as Bill smacked his spanking
paddle on the floor of the cage. ‘Let me
hear you sing out good and loud now!’ he said.
Then began to beat them.
Left and right, up and down
the double row of backsides he went.
April felt a stinging smack and let out a pitiful yelp into the upturned
faced of the onlookers. With every blow
their bodies jerked against the bars, making their breasts heave and jiggle and setting their nipple bells swinging and
jingling. Smack… yelp! Smack…yelp!
After a few blows their bottoms were burning and their eyes were
sparkling with tears and the rise and fall of their cries rivalled the noise of
the girl band.
‘See us suffer for your
entertainment,’ their cries seemed to say.
‘However bad you feel there are always those worse off. Bring a tear to a pretty girl’s eye and a
smile to your lips…’
The crowd pointed laughed at
the row of woebegone faces and jumping breasts, and quite right to. It was a bondmaid’s place to serve and
suffer. Everybody knew they had to be
disciplined regularly. They enjoyed it,
really, as could be seen by the wetness of their pubic lips framed within the
second diamond of cage bars down from that which held their heads. Judging by the distress on their faces and
the sound of the swish and crack of the beater the man in the cage was using,
the carnival girls were getting a sound thrashing.
Except in good showbusiness
tradition things were not quite what they seemed…
The beater Bill was wielding
was made of two flat springy blades.
When the first hit it delivered a stinging blow that brought a healthy
blush to their bottoms and encourage tears but did not cut or bruise their
skin. The second blade then slapped into
the back of the first and produced the alarmingly loud sharp crack that so
amused the crowd. That way the showmen
gave the punters what they wanted but did not damage their most valuable
However, April thought the
most perverse thing was that being chained and beaten in front of all those
eyes really was turning her on. It was
sick, shameful, degrading, and yet also somehow desperately arousing.
The grand parade wound its
way triumphantly through Cocklesford and out the
other side towards the hired field on the outskirts of the town where the
carnival was to be set up. As they
passed beyond the last of the houses the music faded away and Bill rested his
‘Good girls,’ he said, moving
round the cage and patting and stroking their sore and simmering bottoms. ‘That show raised a few cocks and dampened
some drawers. They’ll be along to see
more of you, like as not…’
Then April heard a rustle of
fabric and from the far side of the cage the sudden gasp of a girl being
penetrated, accompanied by the jingle of her nipple-bell as she was ground
against the bars. There was a few
seconds of this, then a pause, then the gasp of another girl. Bill was making the rounds of the cage giving
each a quick shafting.
He came to April last,
pulling out of Niki and grasping her hips with the urgency of a man close to
climax. His hard cock slid between
April’s buttock cheeks, parted the ring of her greased anus
and rammed deep into her rectum. Her
nipple bell jingled as he sodomized her with hard, masterful thrusts, making
her grunt and whimper. Nevertheless,
after the pain of her beating it felt good to be plugged by a stiff shaft. Her own pussy was running with delight. It was the natural reward for her efforts,
like an initiation into an exclusive society.
With a final grunt his hot
sperm spouted inside her.
‘Now you’re proper carnival girls,’ he said.