Belle Submission Read online

  ‘Troops of New Albion,’ she cried. ‘See the disgrace of your leader. I proclaim the free state of New Albion, with peace between our islands forever.’

  Also birch-wielding, Abby Musquonset pushed her aside.

  ‘Don’t listen to this renegade. I proclaim myself the new sovereign. War! We shall trounce the candy-butts!’

  Still at attention, the troops began to murmur, until Devora Dykes and Cindi Kock broke ranks and cried out in support of Harriet, to be joined by the whole army. Harriet lashed Abby across the breasts with her birch; Abby stumbled and fell, and Harriet pounced. She clawed tits and cunt, kicked and punched, until she had ripped off Abby’s purple corset and the ravaged nude blonde submitted, sobbing.

  ‘Yee-haw!’

  Warriors burst from the forest, waving birches, as they ripped green camouflage sheaths from their spiked bodies. Emily Cawdor and Blush Coynte were in the van. They mowed through the wheeling ranks of New Albion troops, lashing and slicing, the defensive spikes no protection, until the parade ground was a mass of writhing soldier girls, clutching wealed bare bottoms and teats. Leading Sergeant Merlene Makings, Beulah Beaucoup and Alana Funger, Blush Coynte bestrode the hillock and put her hand on Trina’s flogged bare. Below them, Felt and Acajou supervised the collection of surrendered weapons and obliged the surrendering troops to crouch, faces to the ground and bottoms in the air for the removal of their spikes. When their croups were defenceless, the New Arras commandos began a systematic birching of every bare bottom; the parade ground glowed crimson.

  ‘Good work, mamselle,’ Blush said.

  ‘Those are… Goody Baggs!’ Trina gasped. ‘How…?’

  ‘We’ve had Goody Baggs at New Arras for ages, thanks to Zealla’s twin sister, Kimmi. She visited with us, and she and I became… special friends.’

  Blush turned, and showed her bare croup, fingering two especially deep welts. She licked her teeth.

  ‘Dear Kimmi! We of the directorate planned the invasion months ago. It was Mr Lesieur who got us our ultimate secret weapon — Canadian birches, from Arlette Sobovica, in Biloxi. They were the dowry for her daughter Yveline to enrol at our academy, although Yveline —’ she pointed to one soldier’s ripe bare fesses ‘— would have passed her croup test easily. Harriet Stooplaugh purchased the birch forest in New Brunswick, so now we have assured supply. She’s a Canadian.’

  ‘What?’ Trina sobbed, wriggling in her ropes. ‘I thought you were from Savannah, Georgia.’

  ‘Canadians are devious, mamselle,’ said Harriet. ‘My name is not Stooplaugh, but Stouplois. Henriette Stouplois, Comtesse de Saguenay et Marquise de Trois-Rivières.’

  The New Arras committee of public safety arrived in scholar’s uniforms, but wearing dress canes and with their rear skirts undone, showing bare. They curtsied to Blush Coynte, and she took each girl’s cane to lay it softly on her bare, after which Alice, Heidi, Sirena and Dorita murmured, ‘Thank you, directress.’ They turned to Abby Musquonset.

  ‘Quite a good show, this time round,’ said Abby.

  ‘What will you do with Juliet?’ Heidi asked.

  ‘A spell in the nylon factory will do the bitch good,’ said Abby.

  Juliet howled and burst into tears, rubbing her bruised bottom.

  ‘Abby, is there somewhere we can go to sort out the peace treaty?’ said Alice Frequemme. ‘It’ll be different from last time, as these new birches kind of give us the edge, armament-wise. Keeping the cycle, though — unified state, revolution, war, unified state. Until one of us finds the treasure…’

  ‘Let us hope we never do,’ said Abby. ‘We can go to the throne room and I can sit on the throne awhile, if Lady Harriet will permit. And your mailman, Mr Lesieur… would you let him buttfuck me? Please? I can’t help thinking of the night my ship was captured, and he whipped me, and… oh, it was a girl’s dream come true.’

  ‘Milady?’ said Alice.

  ‘Oh, sure,’ Harriet said, turning to Trina’s scarred bare fesses. ‘But our intendant never answered Juliet’s question. What did you come here for?’

  ‘To run New Arras and produce Goody Baggs,’ said Trina bitterly. ‘Seems I’m the victim of deception.’

  Harret put a fingernail inside her anus and clawed her anal elastic.

  ‘What did you really come for?’

  ‘Oh! I told you, Harriet!’

  Harriet picked up the birch.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Swish! Swish! Trina’s flogged bare buttocks squirmed, blackening with new welts.

  ‘Ah! I told you!’

  Swish! Swish! Trina’s melons jerked, trembling at the caress of the springy birch rods to her naked flesh.

  ‘Ooh! It hurts so!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Harriet.

  Come oozed from Trina’s wriggling cunt-lips. Harriet birched her to twenty swishes, then thrust her fingers inside Trina’s soaking cunt, squeezed the clitty and began to masturbate her.

  ‘Mmm… oh… mmm…’ Trina moaned, her cunt squashing Harriet’s fingers.

  Crack! Crack!

  ‘Uh…’

  Harriet raised her hand over Trina’s birched bare, and began to handspank her, laying her strokes on the new, open weals of her birching. Her fingers pummelled Trina’s cunt and clitty, with Harriet’s wrist now slopped in Trina’s gushing come.

  ‘Mmm… yes… don’t stop. Spank me, fuck me… Oh, Harriet! Oh!’

  Her bare-bottom spanking of eighty slaps brought Trina to orgasm and she gurgled, her cunt writhing on the spear of Harriet’s fist.

  ‘Answer the question,’ said Harriet. ‘Here’s a clue. You haven’t once asked to be released from your bonds, bitch. Or from your Stella Maris slave’s neck ring. Why did you come here?’

  Crack! Crack!

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh! Oh!’ Trina sobbed. ‘I wanted to become a submissive belle, milady.’

  ‘Beg pardon, milady,’ said Emily Cawdor, curtseying to Harriet. ‘The troops wish to know, is mamselle still our intendant?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Harriet.

  Emily picked up the birch and held it in front of Trina’s face. She curtsied again.

  ‘Please, mamselle intendant,’ she said, ‘if it wouldn’t be too much trouble… my bottom hasn’t been flogged for ages. Could you give me fifty strokes on account?’

  ‘Mr Lesieur,’ gasped Trina. ‘If you’ve no objection?’

  Elvis made a moue and took the birch. He bent Emily over the gun barrel and parted her thighs, lifting her pubic mound to raise her bare melons. He lifted the birch to his arm’s full extent and Emily’s fesses began to tremble. Her cunt, between the spread ass-globes, was swollen, fleshy pink and oozing juice.

  ‘I hope this won’tinflate the currency,’ Trina said,

  ‘What do I know, mamselle?’ Elvis drawled. ‘I’m only the mailman.’

  From the Journal of Mlle Augustine Flageolet, anno 1776 14 So many factions, so many departures from the doctrine of pure reason! Yet, my present uncertainty can only be temporary. Only I hold the key to the treasure of New Arras, upon which our credit rests. My spies are everywhere; my secret alliance with milady Gorges, and her barbarians on New Albion, is my trump card. As insurance, I have contracted an altogether subtler alliance with Cordwainer Carvalho, a strapping native of New Bedford, Mass., who is milady’s public executioner and who attends to the submissive propensities of my anal chamber with refreshing northern vigour. I understand the barbarians well — after all, they too are refugees from oppression, having fled the New England puritans for the bracing disciplinary climate of a new Maine. Every day, we recruit new loyal maids from Mississippi, Alabama, the Carolinas and the Orleans territory, even as far away as Kentucky, longing to be trained as ‘submissive belles’, in their piquant American idiom. I know I have allies on the committee of public safety, and can count on the loyalty of Caleb Lesieur, my new executioner, as virile and dedicated as Capt Stouplois, who, after valiant service in the cause of reason, sailed
to seek his fortune to the north. Lesieur’s virility only seems to grow, no matter how much he swives me in the nether hole and chastises naked girls. The public watch I am not sure about, but I know I can count on the security corps and, most important, the Bank of New Arras, where the bankers of Biloxi and their rivals in the Orleans Territory think my treasure is lodged. If only they knew the truth of my treasure! That treasure secures most credit, whose glory is unseen, as Louis XIV used to say… I take care to spread rumours that it is the treasure of the Knights Templar, filched from its Pyrennean cache, or else the treasure of Eldorado. But, like all treasure, its value is in the mind. As I look at the perfect ranks of my naked maids’ bottoms, arrayed for mass ceremonial caning, I look at my inexhaustible treasure. It is the naked buttocks of young maids, eternally fresh, eternally juicy under cane, and eternally submissive. New Arras, the republic of feminine reason, shall last forever!

  15

  Submissive Belle

  ‘Trina,’ cried GG Baggs, ‘You’re always so well dressed… so together!’

  ‘Oh, I just throw on any old thing,’ Trina said, pouring her boss’s coffee. ‘This is one of Allan’s shirts, you know? And barefoot is more comfortable.’

  Trina wore only the man’s shirt, open to her navel, and with her naked breasts swinging free above her waspie corset. The shirt’s hem just covered the bare bottom and vulva, and tufts of cunt-hair dangled moist at the front.

  ‘It’s the corset I was looking at. What a pink! I mean, kind of pinker than pink! And how do you get it so tight? Doesn’t it hurt?’

  ‘That’s the point, GG.’

  ‘How is Allan?’

  ‘I see him for lunch, sometimes. He’s very gentle these days. I think he’s met some bully broad. Poor Allan.’

  ‘You should have introduced him to Kimmi,’ GG said.

  ‘Well, he flies to Paris. He can go see her at GG-Box.’

  ‘Trina, could I ask your advice?’ said GG. ‘It’s about Gwendoline.’

  ‘Have I failed to satisfy her?’

  ‘Trina…’ GG wagged a finger. ‘You know I never pry.’

  ‘I mean, in the office.’

  ‘On the contrary, she thinks you’re great.’

  ‘Yeah, we get on pretty good. She’s a great masseuse and therapist. We see each other, evenings.’

  ‘I’m just wondering if Gwendoline is a tad too aggressive…Too unpolished, like a diamond in the rough.’

  Triina smiled, blushing.

  ‘Oh, she can be pretty rough.’

  ‘I mean, businesswise, with the salesmen.’

  ‘I surely wouldn’t know.’

  ‘Thing is, they’re macho guys, and they appreciate a tough babe.’

  ‘She’s that, all right.’

  ‘A babe tough enough to be a submissive belle, Trina. Like you.’

  ‘I should help her find her deeper nature?’

  ‘Yeah. Then, a little field work might be right for her. She’s twenty already, high time to learn. When I bought Jive Sacks of El Segundo, last year, I found they owned an island in Hawaii. Just right for a Goody Baggs factory.’

  ‘Like New Arras?’

  She stretched herself and yawned, letting the shirt fabric fall from her torso and expose her naked breasts, wobbling over the flatness of her corsed belly.

  ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘how rude of me, boss.’

  ‘It was, a little,’ GG said. ‘You’re demanding, ever since you came back from Louisiana. I guess you want…?’

  ‘Not want, boss,’ Trina said. ‘Deserve.’

  She placed her hips at the corner of his desk and flicked up her shirt tail, exposing her bare bottom. She parted her thighs fully and showed her hairy perineum and cunt-lips, glistening in the morning sun, then stood with buttocks thrust upwards and her hands on the desk.

  ‘Paddle? Hairbush? Cane?’

  ‘Hairbrush, please. It’s maximum pain, for your least effort.’

  GG took a silver-backed hairbrush from his desk drawer.

  ‘Just a hundred, boss, I have work to do. Those floors won’t polish themselves. And I’ve all your shirts to launder.’

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  The hairbrush smacked the quivering globes of Trina’s bare bottom, which reddened rapidly with big red welts. Whap! Whap! Whap!

  ‘Ooh! That’s good!’

  ‘It’s supposed to hurt, Trina.’

  ‘It does. Can’t you see my… you know?’

  The beating lasted four minutes, and by its end Trina’s face was as flushed as her scarlet bare. Her quim glistened with oozed come.

  ‘Thanks, boss,’ she said. ‘Truth told, I don’t feel right unless I get a morning spanking.’

  ‘You won’t forget about Gwendoline?’ said GG, and Trina smiled, a dreamy, secret smile.

  That evening, she was on her balcony, nude, with the twenty-year-old, and overlooking a perfect sunset. Gwendoline was blonde, coltish, with firm, conic breasts and a pear-shaped croup. Trina sat in her lap, her hands between Gwendoline’s thighs, wiping the seeping come from her cunt. Gwendoline’s fingers squeezed Trina’s erect nipples. Her hand played over Trina’s bare bottom, lightly pinked by recent spank marks.

  ‘We’re not lesbians or anything,’ Gwendoline said. ‘I mean, it’s so natural and empowering for women to pleasure each other, isn’t it? Men! Nothing but cocks and sperm bags. I can’t think why you let GG walk all over you, Trina. And wearing that corset, like a token of bondage. You are so submissive.’

  Trina grabbed Gwendoline by the hair and wrenched it hard.

  ‘Ow!’ Gwendoline squealed. ‘What —?’

  ‘Some of us like to be proper ladies,’ Trina snarled, ‘and not forward girls, like fucking lesbians. Like you, bitch.’

  She pinioned Gwendoline’s neck between her thighs and stuck her wriggling buttocks up in the air. Reaching behind her, she grabbed her studded leather belt from her jeans, and folded it double.

  ‘Let me go!’

  Thwap!

  ‘Oh! That hurt!’

  ‘Yeah, bitch, not just some cissy spanking.’

  Whap! Whap!

  ‘Ah! Stop!’

  Gwendoline’s buttocks squirmed frantically as the naked skin reddened with livid welts from the belt studs.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  ‘Ooh!’

  Come began to ooze from the wriggling girl’s cunt. As Trina continued the thrashing past fifty, Gwendoline’s yelps softened to gurgles, then moans, and her gash writhed on the cane chair, rubbing her clitoris. Whap! Whap! Whap! Trina reached under Gwendoline’s buttocks, found her juicing cunt and mashed the clitty.

  ‘Oh… what are you doing?’

  ‘Diddling you, whore. You’re a fucking lesbo trull. You need real cock, a good eleven-incher, stuck up your sassy lesbo cunt. Better still, your asshole.’

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  ‘Ahh! No! Oh! Don’t stop! Oh, yes!’

  Gwendoline’s belly began to heave.

  Whap! Whap! Whap!

  ‘Ohh… yes…’

  Trina abandoned the belt and drew Gwendoline’s thighs towards her, pushing her head below the chair and squashing her face to the floor with her bare foot on Gwendoline’s neck. Trina’s face dived between the red wet gash-flaps, took the cunt between her teeth and bit, then began to chew. Gwendoline moaned, mewling, as her cunt squirted copious come. Trina got her tongue on the extruded clitty and began to suck it; in moments, Gwendoline gasped, then shrieked as her belly shuddered and her cunt trembled in orgasm.

  ‘Oh,’ sobbed Gwendoline, ‘you lovely, lovely bitch. My ass is on fire. How many did I take with that dreadful thing?’

  ‘A hundred and three,’ said Trina. ‘Feel better?’

  ‘How did you know…? I’ve never come like that before! The pain — it’s a whole new dimension. And you insulted me, so…powerfully. My pussy’s so wet.’

  Trina shifted on the deck to scratch Gwendoline’s weals with her fingernails.

  ‘Oh! Do
n’t! I mean, yes, do.’

  She grabbed Gwendoline’s bare teat, pinched the erect nipple and bit savagely. She put a finger inside Gwendoline’s anus, plunged it to the root and began to ream.

  ‘Oh! yes… More. Harder. I want to come again…’

  ‘Gwendoline,’ said Trina, chewing hard on the naked titties.

  ‘Oh, that’s so good. Whip me again, Trina? Please?’

  ‘Sure. If you’ll try on my pink corset.’

  ‘OK, Trina. Just whip me?’

  Gwendoline slipped into the corset, gasping, as Trina fastened it to the tightest aperture. She bent over and touched her toes with her legs spread, showing gash. Trina lifted her whipple cane over Gwendoline’s upraised bare buttocks. She lashed the quivering melons.

  Vip!

  ‘Ooh!’

  ‘Good?’

  ‘You know it is. Oh! It hurts.’

  Vip!

  ‘Yes… harder!’

  Trina lifted the cane again.

  ‘You’re going to love Hawaii,’ she said.

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