Chapter 1

Jerry Smallbridge:

So there I was, sitting in my office, trying to decide what to do next as a mug of Earl Grey cooled next to me. Of course, part of my mind was on my beloved ‘slave’, Sally. Another part on my son, Jerry junior, now toddling quite competently, and my daughter Diane (named for a friend of Sally’s whom we rescued from durance vile), who was crawling enthusiastically, mostly supervised by my ward Lena, partly by three fosterlings, Yana, Sofia and Daria, who also formed part of my ruminations. Sally and I had rescued Diane and after a period of TLC, she’d married my solicitor. In the process we’d become caught up in a ‘black’ organisation, ‘Universal Exports’, part of which was concerned with dealing with corruption in high places, often expressed in the sexual abuse of young people, mostly from Central Europe.

My uncle, Jeremiah, left me his estate, including Sally. He’d been some sort of secret agent, read ‘assassin’, for Universal Exports. The estate included a concealed shooting range and a selection of mostly illegal firearms and other equipment. Sally had been his carer in his declining years, and had learned much from him about self-defence. Sally, a masochistic submissive, was, with me, joint beneficiary of Jeremiah’s will. I couldn’t just get rid of her, and agreed to be her Master. Over time, I fell in love with her, married her, learned to meet her needs; commanding her and, occasionally, spanking her using a paddle or flogger. It went against the grain, but it became obvious that the ‘punishment’ was more in the way of ‘foreplay’. But let’s not repeat the whole story, which you can find elsewhere under the title “Delilah’.

Where was I? Never mind. During the course of our association with Universal Exports, Sally and I acquired a number of abused children. Yelena (Yelka) and Alena (Lena) were twins whom we adopted. We then acquired Jakub, a Turkish boy who had been abused and was dumped when he contracted Covid. Subsequently, Anna came along, who had been in the same ‘ring’ as Jakub, and was his friend even though they had no language in common.

The farm, or small-holding, next door was acquired by some branch of Russian Intelligence, and was intended to compromise British people in positions of power or influence who had tastes for unacceptable pleasures. From there, we acquired Yana, Daria and Sofia. When the house was raided, the three girls were taken by managers of the house and took refuge on our property. Helped by Yelka, Lena and Jakub, we rounded them up and handed the managers over to Universal Exports, finding ourselves taking in the three girls as fosterlings. The house was sold in due course, but bought by Universal Exports through, I think, a shell corporation. Old Bill Mason, the previous owner, came back from Somerset where he’d been living with his sister and slowly climbing the walls with boredom, and with a housekeeper, Betty Braithwaite, and the help of Jakub with his friend Anna, set about restoring the property to a functioning small-holding. That left us with five teenaged girls in the house – again the stories are all here in the same place.

I wouldn’t have wanted to part with any of them.

But, for once, I was at a loss for something to do. I was about to go get some target practice, just to get out of the house, when the phone rang.

“Woodside Lodge.” I didn’t make the effort to see who was calling, and it wouldn’t have helped as the number was withheld.

“Hello, Jerry, it’s Jon.”

“Hey, Jon! What can I do for you?”

“That’s leaving yourself wide open, my friend.”

“I know. I’m in need of some distraction just this minute. Sally and the girls are doing girl things, and my absence was suggested. I expect I will find out what it’s about, in outline, anyway. I surely don’t need details.”

He laughed. “I’m with you there, brother! But I need to ask you for a favour. Not for us, but an associated unit. They’ve extracted a dissident woman who was beaten and raped by the secret police. She needs a place to lie low with her baby, just a few weeks old.”

“Well, Jon, I’ll ask the girls, but you know what the answer will be. Tell me more.”

“Irina Smirnova made the mistake of announcing that she didn’t approve of certain policies. She was taken and subjected to some appalling abuse, one result of which was her pregnancy, and, well, you can imagine her mental state. The Underground got her out of the country and into Latvia, whence she was brought to England. But it became apparent that her whereabouts were known to the Russians, and it became necessary to tuck her away somewhere less open. Mason’s Farm has the same set up as you, hasn’t it? Right next door to you?”

“That’s right. Bill’s in charge again, loving it. Betty’s looking after him, Anna and Jakub ... he’s Jacob now, are doing much of the donkey work to get the place back into production. Our three girls didn’t want to go back to that house, understandably, but we see the others frequently.”

“What I was thinking, Jerry, was we can get the woman to Windermere by train unless the Unions really screw things up, and I was hoping you’d pick her up and take her to Woodside Lodge, but settle her next door. She’ll be escorted to Windermere by another young woman.”

“I don’t see why not. Make your arrangements and I’ll confirm them later. After supper, probably. I daren’t poke my head out right now.”

He laughed again. “Some submissive you married.”

“Only Sally is supposedly submissive. The other girls aren’t. Later.”

“Great. Thanks, really.” Click.

A few minutes later, there was a tap at the door, followed by the door opening. I spun the chair round to face Yelka, the more assertive of the twins.

“Papa Jerry?”

“Come in.”

She bounced into the room and sat on my lap, then snuggled in with a satisfied sigh. I wrapped my arms round her. I relished her warmth, her trust.

“I love you, Papa Jerry.”

“I love you too, Sweetie.”

“Mmmm.” A few moments, then, “Mama Sally sent me to say she’s feeding Diane, and would like your help.”

I smiled. I mean, who wouldn’t? I knew exactly what the ‘help’ would be. “I’d better go, then. I suppose Lena’s standing over them, waiting to take Diane to change her nappy?”

Yelka giggled. “Yeah. She’s really into that. Daria’s looking after Junior. I think they were playing horsey.”

“I’d better go, then.” I squeezed her and kissed her hair. She slid off my lap and went to open the door; I smiled my thanks and went upstairs.

I love to see Sally feeding Diane, just as I had enjoyed seeing her feeding Junior. Even more, I enjoy emptying her breasts when she’s finished with the baby. Sally is multi-orgasmic, both when breast-feeding and when making love. Additionally, she would expect at least ten strokes with the flogger for excluding me from the girly discussion, so I was anticipating pleasure for both of us.

As I entered the room, Diane was still sucking lustily as Lena looked on. Sally smiled at me, a special smile I only see in these circumstances. It was no hardship to watch for the few minutes it took for Diane to finish, and for Sally to hand Diane to Lena who took her with a smile, burped her, and took her away to change her nappy.

“Master...” Sally was looking at me through hooded eyes.

“Slave. Have you something for me?”

“You could empty my breasts, Master.”

“I will do that. Then, I need to punish you for excluding me from your meeting.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

Perhaps Diane had not been hungry. There was a little milk in one breast, and a lot in the other. The process – most enjoyable, if not particularly macho – of emptying them gave Sally two orgasms. When that was done I had Sally bend over the bed whilst I applied the flogger. That is a ‘cat o’ nine tails’, though the leather strips do not cut, merely redden and sensitise the skin. Ten strokes, the last on her pussy, and she orgasmed again. By then I was in need of relief myself and unloaded into her, provoking yet another climax.

I stayed until I began to soften. That takes time since Sally’s pussy seems reluctant to release me, but when I withdrew she straightened up and I took her in my arms. “A shower, Slave.”

“Yes, Master! Thank you!”

That finished, the girls had finished playing with Junior, got him ready for bed, and I tucked him up before reading to him. There are wonderful books for pre-school kids these days. I think I enjoy them as much as he does. But at length he slept and I called a meeting in the kitchen, where Sally was making hot chocolate for all of us.

Once we were all settled with mugs in front of us, I began. “Sally, girls, I’ve been asked if we will take a woman who escaped from Russia. She has had a baby, called Nadia, and needs a safe place to be, possibly for months. If we are all in agreement, I will collect her, bring her and the baby here. I expect she’ll live next door, but there’ll be just as much to-ing and fro-ing as there has been up to now.”

I looked round, seeing nods everywhere.

I went to each in turn, starting with the most recent, Yana, Daria and Sofia. All three were nodding, and in turn said, “Yes, Papa Jerry.”

“Lena?”

“Yes, Papa Jerry.”

“Yelka?”

“Yes, Papa Jerry.”

“Sally?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ll check with Jon that Masons’ are in agreement, but it looks as though we’re in. Thank you all.”

I met the train. The escort was instantly recognisable, with her spectacular red hair, and the pretty woman with her carrying a baby confirmed the identity. I greeted them, and led the way to my Galaxy. The woman, Irene, was obviously reluctant to part from her escort, Ginger. The latter had been half of the couple who had extracted her from the Baltic state. I judged that she, though superficially harmless, was far from harmless just by the way she stood and moved.

“We’ve got room for you, no problem, Ginger, but there may be a problem with the train.”*

*There was an ongoing dispute with the transport unions, RMT ASLEF, and resulting in a lot of disruption for travellers.

“I was supposed to return on this one,” she said, “but I have no objection to keeping Irene company a little longer.”

Thus I loaded the two women with the baby into the car, and set off for Woodside Lodge. That takes about an hour, usually, not because it’s that far, but the roads are narrow and twisty, and there’s a lot of water to negotiate. That’s why it’s called the Lake District, of course.