Henry Morgan - The drivers

"Mask," said Lincoln.

It was a half-mask, with splendid whiskers. The brothel keeper fitted it over her face. It made quite a reasonable big cat out of her.

"Now what?" asked the brothel keeper.

Lincoln clapped his hands and the catgirl went down on her knees, hands held before her like paws. "Before she jumps through hoops and all that jazz," said Lincoln, "how about you say, 'anyone wanna be sucked off by a cat?'"

"What's the order?"

"No order necessary. Just point to someone. Like this." Lincoln pointed to the brothel keepers crotch and the girl scuffled over to him on her knees and began undoing his fly. Then, in front of them all, she sucked him off.

"Great!" he said when he got his breath back. "She's the greatest!" Then he realised he shouldn't have said that. The price was going up and he was one great fool – but, he had to admit, a very happy one.

"So," he said, calming down a little, "she jumps through hoops?"

"Sure!"

Lincoln gestured her to her feet, and she went back to her tiptoe position, legs wide apart and hands stretched up over her head, only now the bottom half of her was squirming and writhing all over the place.

He took some hoops out of the box and distributed them among the Drivers.

"Make a circuit, lads."

On his command, she went through them using her arms like front legs, really graceful. They could all see how her circus training allowed her to roll over and get back on her feet if she fell awkwardly.

"Anyone got a can of petrol?"

Soon Lincoln had her ready for another round, but the last hoop was blazing.

She went round the others as before, but balked at the flaming one and stood before it, chest heaving, loins squirming, sweating and in distress.

"She's dead scared of fire," said Lincoln. "I think maybe someone burned her sometime."

"So what do we do about that?"

"Nothing. No way she'll go through. I'm just showing you. You tell everyone you gotta flog her for it later."

"And I would!" said the brothel keeper. "Bet I can make her go through it."

"Do what you like after you buy her," said Lincoln. "And now let's have the races."

"Races?"

"Sure. We race her. Sure to be popular, specially with betting."

He was fiddling with his box again.

"Harness." He held out some leather straps with rings in them.

"How do they go?" The brothel keeper was puzzled but excited. His piggy eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation.

"Arms up behind her back."

Lincoln clapped his hands again and the girl straightened up gracefully and stood on tiptoes, legs apart as before, but this time with her arms behind her back, each elbow clasped firmly in the opposite hand. It straightened her up even better than before, thrusting out those shapely breasts that were in dispute, and now she held her head high, almost arrogantly. Although it was obvious that she was actually deeply ashamed at what was happening to her, perhaps she had decided that to go along with it was the only option.

"These will improve her stance even more, even if they don't make her stand still," said Lincoln proudly. "They hold the arms as they are, these go round just above the elbows to hold them in more and push her out more in front. Then you just tighten the first lot and she's held good."

"Wow!" said the brothel keeper. "I like it! I like it!"

He went over to her eagerly, and put the straps on the ground beside her to sort them out, whilst the spectators looked on in avid fascination.

The first two straps merely held her arms in the position she had already taken up, but she winced as he tightened them.

It was the other that made the difference!

He looped it round the outside of her arms just above each elbow and pulled, pulled it tighter and tighter with his knee in the small of her back. Now she was really hurting as her shoulders came back and her front pushed out.

When he stood back to admire her she was bent backwards like a taut bow, her arse and tits sticking out gloriously. She had already had a very upright stance, her back normally straight to hold the head proudly up, and now she looked really gorgeous.

There was a spontaneous burst of clapping and a few cheers as the brothel keeper stepped forward again and took a kiss before leaving her alone in the ring.

She was still on tiptoe! Lincoln knew she would hold that until he told her otherwise. She better had, he thought grimly. The fucking bitch had been disobedient enough already. Lincoln valued his reputation as a hard man with obedient goods to sell.

He took the next item out of his bag and held it up for all to see.

"Bit!"

They all saw that the girl flinched at the word. But she held her pose and opened her mouth wide.

The brothel keeper took it over to her. It seemed to be designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, and that pleased him. It had rings on each end, and strapped round her head. When it was in place her mouth was held open just widely enough to become increasingly agonising after a while without spoiling her looks.

Her tongue was available. It made taking another kiss very easy.

She was coming along well, he thought. He was only uneasy at the unwelcome thought that the price for her would still be going up! Higher and higher. Maybe he should never have got into this, but there was no denying that he was finding it a real turn-on to have such a beautiful creature so totally at his mercy – not that he intended to show any. He never did. It was not his style, cruelty was. He could hardly wait to have her at his place, to do a few things to her that Lincoln would never have thought of. He considered Lincoln a bit of a dullard. Yes, a real thickhead, was Lincoln. But he had done alright with this specimen, he had to admit that. Fortunately he would be able to get her for far less than she would be worth to him. Oh yes, whatever the price he would score with the shows.

Next Lincoln took a multi-coloured plume out of the bag. "Have to change tails," he said, clapping his hands again.

The girl bent forward till her head was below her knees, wincing as the straps tightened even further. Lincoln screwed out the tiger tail and brushed the tip of it over her tense bottom, so beautifully displayed.

"She expects six or more with this whenever I take it out," he said. "But as this is a special do, I suggest you line up and give her one each."

"Make it two," someone shouted, amidst laughter and jostling.

"OK, two it is. Hard as you like, lads. This one is trained to take a lot, believe me."

They did believe him. They knew his reputation.

"What if we exceed our quota?"

"What?"

"What if we hit her more than twice?"

Lincoln smiled. "Damn all I can do 'bout that!"

It was quite a while before the little ceremony was completed. The girl stood there on tiptoes, her chest heaving, her bottom glowing, her eyes wet.

"Now," said Lincoln, "I've taught her to make like a horse."

"What?"

"Listen."

Lincoln clapped his hands, and the girl raised her head and whinnied and pawed the ground. She really did sound like a horse. Probably it was the only sound she could make while she had the bit in. The brothel keeper was thrilled. And he was wondering how badly her jaws were aching already. Quite a lot, he fancied, it would soon be real agony. Two shows a night? He would leave the bit in place between them. Only a couple of hours, but it would give him a hard on just knowing about it.

My God, he'd have some real fun with this one!

Maybe he'd tell her to neigh when she couldn't take any more but would rather have one of his very special beatings instead. Then he'd come and look at her and laugh and shake his head…

What further delights might there be in store?

"Straps!" said Lincoln.