When the birds talk back (F/F)

[Beaumains]

The robin landed on Alice’s hand, and the piece of the walnut she fed him filled its beak.

“... And that’s why I won’t return to the Seychelles. Caribbean resorts are so much more organised and professional. And there’s actual culture there. No sane person should fly all the way to the middle of the Indian Ocean for a mediocre experience,” Charlotte snapped before taking another sip of her sherry.

Alice nodded dreamily. The bird interested her more than her friend’s luxury vacation mishaps. It remained for 15 seconds, and Alice tracked its flight into the dense apple tree.

“What about the Maldives?” Penelope suggested in her unmistakable Essex accent. “I liked them when we were there two years back.”

“The Maldives are adequate, but I went there too often as a child to enjoy them.”

Alice nodded again despite her limited exposure to these resorts. The sun had faded on the August evening as the four former Oxford housemates enjoyed cheese and wine in the gazebo, having returned from an evening-filling dinner at a restaurant with two Michelin stars. In the windless countryside east of London, the temperature remained high.

“Did you go on a vacation, Alice?” Flora inquired diminutively. The moody lighting played with the brightly colored stones in her jewellery.

“I went hiking with my brothers in Scotland last June. I had to escape the city. No screens, no meetings, and no stress.”

“Sounds exhausting. There are warmer, less rainy, and more special places on earth,” Penelope sneered. “Explore the world when you’re alive. Now you can afford it. I heard you got a promotion.”

Alice chose her words carefully. “Yeah, I’m the deputy director of mid-sized loans. It’s more responsibility, and the pay is fair. I cannot complain.”

“Splendid,” Charlotte scoffed. Her father had already made her the creative director of one of his fashion brands. “Now you can finally take care of yourself, right?”

Alice’s pupils widened. This again. She put 500 pounds on the table. “This should cover my share.”

Penelope laughed, sliding the money back towards Alice. “I prefer not to seize your hard-earned money. That’s quite a sum for a single night, isn’t it?”

“Have we not outgrown this?”

The three smirks around her told her otherwise. They emptied their glasses. “Don’t whine yourself out of it, Al. It should be expected,” Flora said. “If you never pay with money, you pay with time. Strip.”

The outrageous demand surprised nobody present, and Alice was caught alone. Flora was right. Their decision was final. Countless times, they had forced her into this position in the past seven years. Resisting or playing games would only harm her cause. Alice rose, dropped the white cocktail dress on the floorboards, and stepped out of her white heels. Her bra and panties followed as she stared Charlotte in the eyes. The blonde enjoyed the sight of the short, red-headed woman who was now at her mercy.

“Time’s yet to catch up with your body,” Charlotte remarked, inspecting the slender body with freckles running up to her C-cup breasts. Her own face was plastered with preventive Botox.

Being on Penelope’s family estate, she had chosen the bondage in which Alice had to pay “with her time”. She braided Alice’s long red hair into a braid and opened a prepared basket. The brunette revealed a black rubber mask with holes for Alice’s neck and eyes, two long black ears pointing upwards, and a long snout to cover her nose and mouth. It was a dog mask.

Alice grimaced. Her reactions were half the fun. Their routine tie-ups of Alice had acclimated her to bondage. It even felt reasonably de-stressing. Hence, this humiliation was deemed necessary. Penelope slid the mask over Alice’s head, fastening the straps and padlocking them. She also locked a heavy steel collar around her neck, mittens around her wrists to sabotage her useful fingers, and boots around her ankles with spiked inlay soles. The latter made standing up agonising, if not impossible.

“Can she bark?” Charlotte asked.

Alice understood the cue and gave the woman three quick barks. It resulted in a sharp pain in her left breast. Penelope had swatted her with a riding crop. “More enthusiasm, please.”

The dog mask shrouded her crimson glow but not her defeated, radiant green eyes. She barked and panted. A swat ensued, and the third time, Alice employed all of her theatrical talents. Any proper second attempt would have been penalised anyhow.

“That’s a good girl,” Flora giggled. “The best girl. A Scorpio without sting. Excellent. Now sit!”

Alice capitulated. She then obeyed the commands to roll over, lie down, and lie dead. Then Penelope put on medical gloves with an ominous snap. With Alice on her hands and knees, she drove a lubed-up plug between her butt cheeks. Its small size indicated it would remain in for a while. The attached dog tail curled upward, and her movement made it wag.

“Fetch!” Flora exclaimed as she flung a tennis ball on the immaculate lawn. In decent shape, the crawling was more degrading than physically taxing for Alice. The darkness made it cumbersome, as entering the darkness from the well-lit gazebo blinded her, and she had to pick the tennis ball somehow. Those bloody mitts. Although she was not gagged, the mask’s snout was a solid mass, leaving her armpit as the most viable option, mixing the dirt on the ball with salty sweat.

“That’s my girl,” Flora chuckled as Alice offered the ball to her. A dribble of the disgusting mixture fell on her pricey black dress, which went unnoticed. Instead, she patted Alice demeaningly on her head. “We should do this more frequently. Keep that pose. Josephine and Anna-Sophia would love some photos.”

Alice posed before a chemically tasting ball-gag was pushed between her jaws before concealing it with the snout. Then the tennis ball bounced back into the night. She retrieved it, and Charlotte decided to rope her legs together before the third fetch. Meanwhile, the three women gossiped and reminisced about their shared student life while bullying Alice. An hour later, Flora’s taxi arrived as Charlotte and Alice stayed the night.

“We should put our puppy to bed,” Penelope stated, fixing a weighty metal chain to the collar. Charlotte walked Alice with the leash into the private woods, forcing her to crawl as fast as possible. Far from civilisation, Charlotte locked the chain to a birch, and Penelope spread a thick baby blue blanket on the forest floor. “Sleep tight, Alice. Tomorrow morning, we’re all even again. You have paid your share.”

Alice groaned and collapsed. Although all individual bounds, tasks, and taunts barely hurt, their totality had wrecked her body and sanity. Her scaved knees and sore back reminded her that her teenage years were many summers ago, and the stings of the crop on her breasts, butt, and thighs still tingled. Although the gag was removed, her mouth was dry, and a pulsing pain zoomed through her head. Sadly, the dog tail plug still rested inside her.

Alice’s fighting spirit had long been broken. They seldom went this far, usually tying her up for a few hours or the entire night with a toy or mild teasing. Now she had to follow dehumanising orders and taunting. Obeying blindly was easier than pondering when to disobey and accept subsequent discipline. She was devoid of thoughts and curled into the blanket to fall asleep in a deep slumber.



The morning sun pierced through Alice’s eyelids, and she pressed them shut. Everything ached, and the plug sat in her ass. The reminder of the degrading mask and brutal evening hit her like a brick wall. Her skin felt as if needles poked it from all sides, and her brain had turned to mush. At least the wildlife surrounding her brought her joy. The tits, finches, and blackbirds sang their songs as a woodpecker drilled for a meal. Then she opened her eyes.

Before her, four tiny birds in a neat line eyed her: a wren, yellowhammer, treecreeper, and goldcrest. For a moment, Alice was self-conscious about her kinky presentation before concluding that birds did not comprehend human dignity, and thus that her behaviour and appearance were depraved. “Morning,” she yawned.

“Greetings, Alice,” the wren chirped. Alice presumed she was hallucinating. Birds cannot speak English.

“Why do you allow this to occur?” the yellowhammer queried.

“You should fight back,” the treecreeper added.

“And we will aid you,” the goldcrest concluded before all flew off.

[LunaDog]

Guess what? I read this, just having returned from taking my DOG for a walk! Talk about co-incidence.

Utterly superb, by the way!