The Bondmaid Adventures
Books 1 & 2
From: “The Bondmaids of Ramswold”
Confused and lost in the
perverse parallel world of Nethervale, April and Niki
are soon apprehended by local farmworkers, who accuse them of being
“outsiders”. They are stripped and
ravished and then handed over to Gurney the Tipstaff, the local constable. He cuffs, gags and leashes them, and then
leads them naked into town…
Ramswold was a small market town. Its high street was a mix of honey-coloured
Cotswold stone with half-timbered houses, a few reaching three stories
high. Most were small shops with display
windows, some bow-fronted. There were no
clear expanses of plate glass though; all had lattices of transoms and mullions
holding many small panes of rather rippled greenish glass.
Up and down the street people went
about their business of the day. Men
wore varied types of frock coats with tall hats, while the women dressed in
long straight ankle-length dresses with high waists, bonnets and puffy
sleeves. Amongst them were a few
labourer types in stained smocks and leggings.
It felt vaguely late eighteenth or early nineteenth century, while not
exactly matching anything April had ever seen before.
April had been taking all these
details in out of the corner of her eye while appearing to stare fixedly at
Gurney’s boots and path ahead. She was
trying to distract herself from the hateful memory of what had been done to her
not fifteen minutes earlier.
Specifically she was trying not to think of the “R” word and everything
that went with it and the sick fear knotting her stomach about what was to
come. Yet she was in a way calmer than
she could have believed possible in the circumstances. She was simply not being allowed to dwell on
it by force of events and by everybody else’s indifference to her or Niki’s
suffering. That was brutal but she
simply had no choice. Now she was
attempting to preserve her fragile equilibrium by trying to make sense of what
was going on about her.
There was also of course a practical
reason to look down. She was desperate
not to stumble and tug the lash and choke herself and maybe earn another blow
from Gurney’s terrible strap. With her
bottom still pulsing and stinging with heat she would have done almost anything
to avoid that. Was her fear of pain
worse than the fear of the R-thing?
Perhaps it was.
Keeping her eyes lowered also avoided
making eye contact with anybody around her.
How could she look at them in her current state with whipped bottom,
flushed and swollen pussy and wet thighs on blatant display? They would know what had happened and she
would see they knew and the shame would cut in and she was afraid she would
lose that thin veneer of composure. So
she held her gaze fixed downward, keeping in step as best she could with Niki
at her shoulder, who seemed to be bearing up reasonably well, and tried to
pretend she was invisible.
It was quite futile of course. She could feel the eyes upon her and sense
the turning heads as Gurney led them along warm stone-flagged pavements. A few passers-by nodded to him and he tipped
his hat politely in return. They looked
April and Niki over with interest, as one might when encountering two naked,
gagged, leashed and handcuffed young women.
Interest… but not surprise. The
reasons for this were equally apparent in the street about them, and they kept
dragging April’s eyes up from the pavement in sheer disbelief.
A smartly dressed woman was consulting
a list in her hand while idly leading a blonde girl along at her heel on the
end of a leash. The slave wore only a
bridle-like array of straps over her head holding in a bit-gag, a silver collar
and dainty soft shoes with low heels.
Her arms were held down at her sides and strapped to a wicker basket she
carried rather like a backpack. A purple
bow in her hair matched the ribbons in her mistress’s bonnet.
A man, evidently a chimney sweep from
the soot on his clothes, passed them leading a naked leashed black girl after
him. She was loaded down with his bundle
of rods, brushes and dustsheets strapped across her shoulders. Neatly lettered in white paint across the
brown skin of her breasts, belly and back were the words: “Jos. Bott, SWEEP, 2 Knock Lane.”
She was both his beast of burden and living advertisement.
With a clatter of wheels a small
two-wheeled farm cart made its way slowly along the high street, its driver
perched on the single seat idly flicking his carriage whip across the backs of
his team, which comprised four naked women harnessed to the central shaft by
arrays of straps and buckles. Across
their shoulders lay horse collars, evidently designed to fit their bodies. Their sturdy thighs and buttocks swelled as
they propelled the vehicle along the road.
A small detail caught April’s horrified yet fascinated gaze. On their feet they wore leather ankle boots
with wooden soles cut into high-heeled wedges, which clopped softly on the
cobbles. The shoe soles were heavily
ribbed. The angle and tread must help
with traction as they leaned forward into their harness.
The cart passed by again without
anyone appearing to take special notice.
It had to be an everyday sight.
How long would it take to refine details of harness and footwear like
that to fit the human female frame? Why
hadn’t she seen any male slaves yet?
What was this place?
Gurney paused in front of a larger
building set back a little way from the road.
The carving above its entrance
proclaimed it to be Ramswold Assembly Rooms built in
1898. To one side of the entrance
pathway was a flagged area containing a set of stocks and a sloping ramp that
led up to a raised stone platform on which stood a small stone block. Opposite this was a structure resembling the
small roof set over a church lytch gate, supported by
heavy black timbers at either end but open to the sides.
‘I just wanted you to see where you’ll
be ending up,’ he said, leading them closer.
In the shelter of the roof hung a
couple of naked slave girls. They looked
rather like puppets caught up in their strings, assuming their strings were
chains, dangling so their feet were little more than a handbreadth above the
ground. They wore yoke bars across their
shoulders, holding their necks level with the wrists of their upraised and
crooked arms. Similar bars with
supporting stirrup straps passing under their feet held their ankles
widespread. A pair of chains from the
roof beam hooked onto eyebolts in their neck yokes. Two more chains depended from this to rings
on the ends of their ankle bars, so that by keeping their legs straight they
could bear their weight. Polished metal
chastity belts were locked about their waists, closing off access their
groins. More shiny metal hoops and bands
served the same purpose in gagging their mouths. Hanging round their necks were signs painted
on small wooden boards that read simply: FOR SALE. The girls twisted slightly in their chains as
their eyes silently followed Gurney.
‘This is where we put girls who are
going to auction on show,’ he explained, casually patting the breasts and
tweaking the nipples of the two suspended girls. ‘It lets folk get a good close-up look at
them. Inside is where the Sheriff’s
Court will be held tomorrow. You can go
straight from that to be put on show.’ He tapped a small notice board fixed to
one of the upright posts. ‘And the day
after is sale day. Very neat…’
It read: NEXT BONDMAID SALE: WEDNESDAY
Gurney continued almost chattily:
‘Being furrin you won’t know any better, but
tradition is that new bondmaids are hired out for a few weeks at a time for
their first year, so as everybody whose interested can try them out and the
whole village gets some use out of them.
After that they’re sold on permanently or else sent to the big monthly girlstock auction at Lockswell.’ He grinned.
‘And they’ll treat you a lot harder there than we do here. So if you don’t behave yourselves and give
good service that’ll be where you’ll be bound!’
From: “The Bondmaids of Hardrack Hall”
Purchased from the Spreadeagle slave Tavern by Lord Debawsher,
April and Niki are taken to his grand estate at Hardrack
Hall, where they are put in his slave kennels, under the charge of a young
groom called Dudley. They wake the next
morning inside the great kennel room…
April and Niki were roused from their exhausted slumber
by the sound of booted feet and men’s voices.
Pale grey morning light showed through high barred windows that ran down
one side of the bondmaid dormitory. For
a moment they blinked stupidly into each other’s sleepy faces, trying to recall
where they were, and then smiled. Their
breasts were hot from where they had been pressing against each other through
the night. The renewed awareness of
their intimacy caused their nipples to swell happily. They had a new master and a strange routine
to learn, but at least they were still together.
They drank from the spout of their
kennel water bottle. It had a ball
bearing in the tip to close it off. It
made them feel like caged hamsters.
Peering out through the front of their
kennel, which was to the end of the row, they saw grooms striding past. Dudley appeared, moving down the aisle and
raising the kennel doors. Pairs of girls
crawled out, dragging their chains along the recessed slots that branched into
their kennels until they slid into the main channels that ran the length of
their row and they could kneel side by side.
Throughout the big room they could
hear the sound of grooms moving the rails of bondmaids in their charge,
unhooking the canes that hung from their belts and flicking them across their
bottoms. The chain balls rattled and
clinked as they slid along their tracks, accompanying the whisper of bare hands
and knees on stone. They saw columns of
them passing the end of their row. When it came the turn of Dudley’s rails he
formed them up into a tight line, their noses almost buried in the bum-clefts
of the girls in front of them. He
flicked April and Niki lightly across the buttocks with his paddle cane: ‘You
do what the others do,’ he said.
At the end of their row the metal
rails turned and joined the perimeter track that ran right round the
dormitory. Dudley’s two rails of girls
shuffled onto the side of the track away from the windows and headed for the
middle of the room where a pair of channels branched off from the main line and
turned left through open double doors into a side chamber. Columns of girls from the other half of the
room were coming in the opposite direction and turning in on a pair of
branching channels from their side, so four tracks in parallel ran through the
Dudley marshalled his girls onto the
tracks in two columns of ten and they shuffled forward together. It was like a shunting yard for carriages of
naked flesh. April felt Niki’s nose
pressing between her bottom cheeks as they joined the queue, even as her face
in turn was pressed into the warm cleft of the girl in front of her. All round her were bared buttocks, pouting
pussies and hanging swaying breasts capped by nipples of pink and red and brown
in various stages of arousal. For the
first time she noticed how the stone flags on either side of the tracks were
stained dark and polished smooth. How
many sets of bondmaid hands and knees had it taken to do that over the years?
Inside the doorway was a lower room
than the kennel chamber and stone flags gave way to quarry tiles. Their set of channels ran along on either
side of a long metal trough. The girls
from the other half of the kennel room had an identical trough before
them. The trough sides were high but had
scalloped slots cut in them, ten to a side.
Dudley’s rail girls shuffled along until they were each opposite one
slot, then turned, lifted their heads over the trough rims and lowered them so
their necks slid down the slots. The
trough was empty but looked recently cleaned.
From a large trolley Dudley and the
groom to the rails of girls opposite brought over buckets of food and poured
them into the troughs. It was porridge
mixed with chopped fruit and some sort of broken biscuit. They were expected to eat it like animals, or
at least like bondmaids, which in Nethervale was much
the same thing. April and Niki had fed
from troughs before and knew what it felt like.
All eyes were on Dudley so April and
Niki waited in silence as well. Twenty
naked girls kneeling bent over a trough with chains dangling between their
breasts and bottoms in the air waiting for permission to eat from a lad younger
than most of them. But they were his
rail girls and he was in charge. The
same scene was no doubt played out a hundred times a day in here.
‘You may feed!’ he said, and the girls
dipped their heads and gulped food into their mouths.
It was not bad and was certainly
filling. Despite the torments they had
been put through so far they had always been well fed in Nethervale,
and Lord Debawsher could clearly afford the feed
bill. It was not down to pure altruism,
of course. He wanted them looking strong
and pretty to decorate his house and grounds and entertain his guests. They might be treated little better than
animals but at least they would be fit and healthy animals.
When the trough was literally licked
clean they were moved on so another set of bondmaids could take their
place. The rails made a left turn and
curved round a partition wall, doubling back on themselves, as did those on the
other side of the room, taking a right turn out of sight. April could hear splashing water and smelt a
whiff of open toilets.
The twin rails ran between low tiled
walls. Two rows of five toilet holes
lined each side, with nets of dry grass hanging over them that in Nethervale April had discovered sometimes substituted for
toilet paper. The first five girls in
each column took up position, turning sideways to the rails so their groins
hung over the holes, squatted down and peed and voided their bowels. There was no hesitation in performing their
natural functions before each other and their groom. Bondmaids were not expected to feel
embarrassment over such things any more than animals. As pee hissed and excreta plopped, Dudley
picked up a hose with a tapering rubber spout that ran from a tap in the
When each girl was done and had wiped
herself clean she lifted her bottom invitingly into the air. Dudley came round to her and flushed out her
rectum with a quick enema. Every passage
would be clean and ready to serve. When
it came to be her turn April felt only the slightest illicit thrill at voiding
her wastes under the eyes of a virtual stranger. The enema was unexpectedly of warm water and
surged through her bowels and left her gasping.
The rails snaked round the end of the
toilet partition wall and doubled back once more. On the other side was a sunken section of
floor with drain holes set in it. Their
guiding rails dipped and ran right through it.
Down each side was a row of five low showerheads spraying steaming
water. It was the first heated water on
tap they had encountered in Nethervale. Debawsher could
clearly afford the latest thing in plumbing.
To each showerhead was chained a long-handled wooden scrubbing
brush. Large bars of coarse soap rested
in trays. While Dudley finished seeing
to the second batch of girls squatting over the toilet holes, the others got on
with a rapid shower and brisk wash, their chains just giving them enough slack
to turn round under the jets of water.
It was like a production line, April
thought. But then each half of the
washroom might have eighty girls passing through it. She scrubbed Niki’s back and was scrubbed in
return. At least they were being kept
clean. She thought she could face almost
anything if she was clean. She suspected
most women felt the same. Did Rankin and
Debawsher know that as well? Was this apparent luxury a device to help
make them better bondmaids or was it merely to satisfy his own hygienic
Raising up out of the shower tray the
rails turned back on themselves again.
In the next section an array of large towels hung from lines strung
across their path, already damp from the bodies of the previous rails of girls
who had passed through. Hastily they
dried themselves and then moved on again,
The next turn revealed trough-like
basins with shelves above them holding wooden-handled toothbrushes a small
tin. April and Niki copied the other
girls as they opened the tins and dabbing their brushes into the white powder
within, brushing their teeth with it and spitting out into their basins. It tasted of salt mixed with something herbal
but it seemed to work. Debawsher wanted his animals to have nice white teeth and
fresh breath. Every orifice had to be
The next aisle held an array of low
set mirrors with shelves of ribbons and combs beneath them. Here the girls combed through their mops of
still damp hair and then tied them back into ponytails, bunches or plaits
according to length and style. April
tied her straight collar length hair back into a small tail while Niki put her
longer wavy golden locks into a single loose plait.
The last turn had all twenty of them
assembling in a passage empty except for a shelf with a large china jar on
it. Here Dudley said: ‘Heads down and
bums up. Pull them cheeks wide…’
April and Niki copied the others as
they put their faces to the floor, raised their bottoms, reached round and
pulled their buttocks wide, exposing the dark puckers of their anuses. Taking the jar from a shelf, Dudley went
along the row of them pressing a blob of clear lavender scented grease into
their anuses. The label on the jar
said: JYMPSON’S FINEST BONDMAID
GREASE. It was the ubiquitous unction in
Nethervale for anointing the rear entrances of
bondmaids to ensure ease of penetration.
The very idea that such a substance could be labelled and sold so
blatantly had shocked April at first, but of necessity her bottom had soon come
to appreciate its soothing lubricant qualities.
Cleaned and scrubbed, flushed out,
combed, dried and finally greased they were nearly ready to serve.
The rails led out of the far end of
washroom through a room filled with sinister looking racks and treadmills with
flails and whips hung on its walls.
Passing through another door they led back to the end of the kennel room
where the windows now glowed bright with the golden early morning light. The ranks of girls shuffled back to their
‘Positions!’ Dudley called out.
In front of their respective kennels
they sat back on their heels with their knees spread wide displaying their
pussies. They held their mouths open and
clasped their hands behind their necks.
Dudley went down the line fitting them
with their tongue curbs, locking them in place with a hex key that hung on his
belt. With her tongue sheathed and teeth
wedged April looked at Niki, who forced a distorted smile. Her lips, like April’s, were now invitingly
parted with her false pink tongue tip pouting between them. April found if she bit down hard she could
close her lips sufficiently to swallow but as soon as she relaxed the pressure
her jaws sprang open. Coherent speech
was out of the question. For the rest of
the day they would be dumb animals.
Dudley stood at the end of the row
waiting. April realised their labial tongues
were pouting expectantly as though in sympathy with the rubber tips protruding
between their lips. Soon they heard
Rankin’s voice coming closer. He seemed
to be making an inspection of the kennels.
They heard him issuing instructions followed by the jingle and shuffle
of a column of bondmaids moving off.
Finally he appeared at the end of their row. He spoke to Dudley and walked the length of
the kennels, looking each girl up and down in turn.
Apparently satisfied he said to
Dudley: ‘Your rails are down for house duty.
Except for the new pair. His
Lordship wants to see them tested later.
Any trouble with them?’
‘No, Mr Rankin, they’ve been fine.’
‘Put belts on them to make sure they
‘Yes, Mr Rankin.’
Dudley hurried off and returned shortly
with a pair of chastity belts that he locked about April and Niki’s
groins. Cuffs fastened to the backs of
the belts’ waistbands he clipped about their wrists. He shut them back into their kennel and then
led the rest of his rail girls off to perform whatever duty was required of
them in the house. Gradually the kennel
room emptied but for the distant sounds of cleaning up in the washroom.
April and Niki lay side by side gazing
into each other’s eyes with dismal frustration.
With their tongue curbs in and wrists cuffed they could only converse in
throaty grunts and with the belts on they could not even make love. Incredible as it seemed it could hardly have
been twelve hours since they had performed for Lord Debawsher
in the private room of the Spreadeagle. That was a long time between orgasms for a
bondmaid in Nethervale, where lust and desire came so
much more easily. But a bondmaid’s sex
life was not her own to command. Still,
April consoled herself, at least they knew they would be having sex in some
form or another soon enough. She pitied
Mary and Marigold locked up in their belts for another month. How frustrating would that be!
An hour or so after the others had
left they saw a string of tired looking girls shuffling past the end of their
row. Was this the nightshift coming back
to the kennels after entertaining the Lord and his guests in their
bedrooms? How soon would that duty fall
They discovered it was possible to
drink from their bottle with their tongues sheathed but it was very messy. A lot of water dribbled down their
Dudley returned to the kennel row a
little later. They watched him lay the
mattresses and blankets out over the cells to air and then sweep and mop each
cell and the aisle between them. He also
brought a neatly stencilled sign to slip in a holder over their kennel, which
he showed them. It had their names and
collar numbers on.
‘Now you’re proper Hall rail girls,’