Henry Morgan - The drivers

Within half an hour he had plugged every orifice in her luscious body before taking time out to rest. She had surpassed his expectations, been willing and eager. That kind of obedience required reward, and as soon as he recovered he would give it to her, again and again. He pointed to his slippery prick, gleaming with juice from both bodies.

She smiled and dipped her head.

Her obedience was total.

Susan awoke in the early hours to the gentle touch of his hand running softly the length of her back and onto her bottom. He continued his caresses while she lay in a semi-trance-like sleep. He had kept her on her back or knees for several hours, impaled on his impressive prick until, unable to stand it any longer, she had succumbed to exhaustion.

Apart from the initial arse fucking at the beginning, it had not really been unpleasant. She rolled over onto her back like a puppy hoping to have its tummy rubbed. He obliged with tender hands that lightly caressed her breasts then moved gently down to her soft nude split.

"Thirsty?"

Susan nodded and he jumped from the bed to go to the fridge. Taking two bottles of Budweiser over to the patio windows he sat on the floor and motioned for her to join him. The room was lit by a dimmed spotlight that reflected in the glass. Outside it was pitch dark, although a few lights sparkled like diamonds on a velvet cloth across the other side of the valley.

Looking at the distant lights, Susan couldn't help thinking of happy families. Children full of cocoa and wrapped in flannelette pyjamas tucked up in bed, husbands and wives watching the late night movie curled up on the settee, the dying coals fading in the hearth. For a fleeting moment in her life it had all seemed so possible. But that was before her dreams had faded in a cloud of diesel on that lonely road.

She let out a deep sigh.

"I just thought there was no-one else out there."

Looking out into the night the black man drank from his bottle.

"There isn't," he said calmly. "Not for you." He got up and opened the patio door, the chill night air rushing in to raise her nipples with an icy tingle.

"Are you going to keep me?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On how well you please me. Or until something better comes along."

From her treatment so far Susan felt he was the best Driver she had been with. It was better the devil you knew than the one you didn't. She was obviously going to have to do her utmost to keep him happy.

"It's getting cold." He closed the door and went back to the television where he searched for a video.

"Did I please you tonight?" she asked, walking across and sitting on the bed. "I'll try harder if I didn't."

"You did well," he told her, pressing the play button on the video machine. Picking up the chain and belt he tethered her to the loop then went to the corridor as if to leave. Stopping at the entrance he turned and pointed to the TV.

"In case you should stop doing well," he said. "You should watch some more of these."

So she chose another, at random, steadied her hand and slipped it into the machine. A glimpse of bare buttocks momentarily appeared before the picture broke up to be replaced by the start of a different movie. It had a title that left little to the imagination, 'Wonderfully Whipping Wendy'. For amusement someone had added the Doris Day song 'The Deadwood Stage', repeating the lines 'whip crack away, whip crack away, whip crack away,' over and over again.

The swirling mist parted to allow the passage of a large articulated lorry along the narrow moorland road. Strapped to the gleaming steel front grill of the wagon was a naked young woman. Her wrists were tied to the mirrors, her ankles to the bumper, a hood covered her head. The wagon thundered into a roadside lay-by that looked out across the desolate moor joining several other trucks already there. Doubtless they had been called to the spot by the Drivers call on the CB radio – Susan's imagination filled in and amplified the story as it unfolded on the screen, making a narrative of it for herself, creating thoughts and wishes for the people who flickered to life there -

"Drivers to the 'Devil's Pulpit'. GP at ten."

The Devils Pulpit was the code name they used for the quiet spot on the moors and, as the unfortunate young woman was about to find out for the first time, GP was their term for general punishment.

If she had known what was in store for her perhaps she wouldn't have been so slow in dropping her panties. But then again, when she climbed up into that wagon that morning all she wanted was a free lift home. The wagon had hardly travelled ten miles when the Driver asked her if she was prepared to pay for the ride.

"I've no money," she said.

"Then we shall find another way for you to pay."

The girl had taken plenty of lifts and they always wanted something, well one thing really, sex. She had got so fed up with fending off unwanted advances that she tried to choose her lifts carefully. She had thought this lift would be the safest of all. She could not have been further from the truth.

As the wagon ground to a halt the group of Drivers in the 'Pulpit' gathered around the shrinking body secured to the grill. A few of them commented on the goose pimples that her exposure had produced. One or two ran a hand round her and played with her straining nipples. Others worked their hands in a more secret place. Suddenly the group parted as the Driver and now, since this morning, the poor creature's owner jumped from the cab.

"The girl is freezing," commented one unusually concerned Driver.

"Don't worry, I'll soon warm her up."

For the first time the camera moved to the Driver. It rested on the the heavy canvas strap and followed it up to reveal the Driver to be a woman!

Susan was shocked. She had been put through so much she thought nothing else could bother her. But this, her own sex turning on another, capturing and enslaving another female in the name of pleasure?

The woman Driver motioned the others to stand back then flicked the strap along the ground. The heavy haulage canvas looked small in her hand. She was a big woman. As big as a man, and bigger than some. Her massive tits rested on a belly accustomed to a transport cafe diet and her appetite at least equalled that of her male counterparts. In some areas it exceeded it, including the need for sex.

"This young thing," she proclaimed. "Refused to drop her panties in payment for her lift."

She traced her finger up the crease of the tethered girl's bottom. "And they were such tiny ones too. Hardly covered a thing. I would show them to you but I was forced to put them in her mouth to keep her quiet. I can't stand a whimpering bitch."

Beneath the hood the girl could hear everything that was going on. She couldn't however see or speak. All she could do was listen to the terrifying words of the woman she had trusted. The woman who had the strength of a man and had used it to strip her naked.

"Take down your panties I told her. No, she said, I won't."

There was a murmur of disapproval among the men.

"Take them down, or I'll take them down for you. But she still refused. You know what I had to do?"

The others remained silent as an expectant air descended. One or two were undoing their belts and some were fidgeting in their pockets trying to make rapidly stiffening cocks more comfortable.

"I had to pull over on the Blackmoor road. I had to pull up her skirt and take them down for myself. I had to strip her, take off her top, her bra, her shoes. Strip her down totally. If there is one thing I can't stand it's an ungrateful hiker. Well now it is time to pay."

The hiker, unable to see the strap in her owner's hand was unprepared for its gritty kiss. The canvas left a wide red stripe across her bottom, its sting intensified by the cold. The second stroke landed on taught cheeks as did the third, fourth and fifth. The girl no longer felt the cold, only the heat of a throbbing backside. Her humiliation was increased when her hood was removed and her face uncovered for all to see. Several men walked around to see the girl's features, contorted with the pain from the lashing she had just received.