It began as a low moaning, the humming growing steadily in volume to a loud and rhythmic chanting. In the clearing in the middle of the woods, the still of the night was shattered as the chanting now reached a deafening crescendo. The high priest raised his arms in signal and the ceremonial mallet swung hard down. The girl’s pained scream pierced even the loud chanting as the pointed wooden stake was driven through her breast and then all fell silent. The sacrifice had been made, the ceremony rules complied with and now would come the routine thrashings; the very reason the membership was gathered.

***

The portly and balding Winthrop-Stanley flopped down heavily in the big leather armchair in the lounge of the Baker Street gentlemen’s club.

“Damned nutcases are at it again,” he said loudly as he unfolded his copy of a national newspaper and read the headlines.

“Sorry?” Noel Frampton asked brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his trousers. He had heard the colonel well enough but it pleased him to irritate the ageing ex-officer.

“Devil worshipers,” the colonel blustered, his face reddening in anger. “Freaks, nutters, call them what you will, they are rising again.”

The elegantly dressed young man raised an eyebrow, settled back deeper into his armchair and crossed his legs casually.

“How do you know they are nutters colonel?”

The older man stammered, stumbling in his speech and thrown by the retort.

“They have to be, the things they get up to and…”

“And that is?” Frampton provoked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, it pleased him much to fence verbally with the overbearing and self-opinionated colonel.

“Sex, debauchery, sacrifices and…”

“Know all this do you?” Frampton asked with full sarcasm now sounding in his tone, “Seen it for yourself have you?”

The colonel slammed his newspaper down hard on the coffee table between them, his nostrils flaring and his eyes blazing pure hatred.

“The reports state…”

“Hearsay,” Frampton goaded, “Simply hearsay.”

“Huh!” The colonel huffed, “So all of the national newspapers are wrong are they?”

Frampton remained calm, revelling in the way he had again managed to antagonise the blithering idiot colonel. It was his usual sport, whilst awaiting visitors at the club he passed the time baiting the colonel and the colonel, as always, would bite.

“Colonel,” Frampton said evenly, “In the army, did you take the word of each of your soldiers and officers as gospel or did you investigate and confirm their statements?”

The colonel hesitated and flushed a deeper shade of red, thrown by the younger man’s question and angry that he had allowed himself to fall into the verbal trap.

“Very well,” he tried to extract himself and salvage the argument. “It states in the reports.”

“But doesn’t confirm,” Frampton restated triumphantly.

The colonel sighed heavily to display his boredom with the conversation and sat back, red in the face and fuming.

At the bar across the other side of the lounge Godfrey Henton was sitting on a bar stool listening in on the verbal battle between the pair. His drinking companion aired his view.

“It would appear that the colonel is on the retreat.”

Henton smiled knowingly.

“If he actually knew who he was up against the colonel would not simply retreat but would wave the white flag and surrender.”

“Sorry?” His companion questioned.

Henton stood, smiled again and nodded to his companion before walking out.

***

The location was different again, it had to be to keep one step ahead of the authorities, to keep them guessing and to ensure that the sect remained the secret organisation that it was. The last minute telephone calls via mobile phones gave the members the selected location and all headed toward it, their red velvet cloaks and masks stowed carefully in their cars.

The marshalling and parking took the best part of an hour; the guards at the end of the farm track poised and ready to give the signal at the first sign of police activity. The membership gathered around the makeshift altar and the deputy high priest stepped up and raised his arms to bring the crowd to order.

“Tonight gentlemen,” he announced loudly, deliberately injecting a rising enthusiasm into his voice, “We have a disciplinary matter to deal with.”

“Yes!” the cry went up from a hundred voices.

The deputy high priest continued.

“The slut slave of one of our members has defied him.”

A low moan of disapproval rippled through the ranks of the watching members.

“And!” the deputy high priest shouted excitedly, whipping his audience into frenzy of expectation and excitement, “We have to punish her!”

“Yeeees!” the cry went up and continued with clapping and shouting that necessitated the deputy high priest to call for order. Once silence had returned he gave the signal.

The naked blonde slut, with her wrists bound in front of her, was dragged kicking and screaming from the barn by two hooded attendants. She shouted her protests and voiced obscenities as she was pushed face against the thick upright post, her wrists pulled up high above her head to stretch her onto tiptoe. The slut rested there, her naked breasts pressing against the rough pole, and her buttocks jutting out most temptingly, her slim body stretched painfully to render her helpless. She wailed pitifully as the two attendants, one positioned on either side of her, unfurled the thin leather strands of their lashes.

“Her owner,” the deputy priest announced loudly, “wishes the slut to receive twenty lashes.”

“Nooooo!” the slut screamed.

“Yes!” The membership shouted excitedly as one voice.

“From each attendant.”

The membership erupted in a noisy cheering, the crowd surged forward to gather closer around and to see the action.

Her body bucked violently, slamming hard against the hard wooden pole under the impact of the first lash, five vivid red stripes marked her body instantly and she went into spasm as she screamed. The second attendant swung in to land a most powerful and savage lash to her body, the thin strands of the whip biting cruelly on her buttocks and upper thighs. Blood trickled from the wounds instantly to portray the severity of the lashes and the piercing scream she gave would surely be heard for miles. Again and again her body bucked as the thin leather stung at her soft flesh in a brutal thrashing designed to inflict pain and not pleasure.

All of the membership was hard, their cocks sticking up and pulsing in erection as they watched the slut receive her due punishment. Once she had been dealt with the many captives sluts would be made available, the members knew that then, they could thrash and abuse the sluts to their hearts content and fuck their sweet little pussies raw.

A great cry went up as the tethered slut’s body locked rigid one final time before she slumped unconscious against the post and her restraining bonds. She would then have been unaware of the first of many cocks pushing up inside her pussy from behind; punished sluts were anyone’s meat, there to be used by any and as many of the members that wished to use her.

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