Disclaimer: this is a work of fantasy and should be treated as such. Real rape is a heinous crime that deserves to be punished to the full extend of the law. If you do not recognize the difference between reality and fantasy, you also lack the maturity to read this story.

Geese Night

1. the invitation

It was the week before Christmas, when one morning a message had appeared on the community board of Newnham College. It was printed on good paper and read.

Being far away from home and alone over Christmas?
Dear Ladies of Newnham College,
The Christmas holidays are upon us, and from my own experience I know how unpleasant it is to be in a foreign country and being alone at the end of the year. A time families traditionally unite to celebrate the festival of yule tide or Christmas.
Let me invite you to join me for a goose night, just ladies engaged in a nice dinner, good conversation and companionship. I wouldn’t want to force any religious celebrations upon my guests, so my house is open to ladies of all creeds.
It is up to you, if you would prefer to spend a few cold days at your college dormitories, huddled up with some hot chocolate and reading a book? Or would you rather dress up to the nines and join me at Blythington Hall for a crisp goose and a memorable night.
Yours sincerely
Chantalle Blythington
PS. Please send me your response no later than December 21st to mail@blythington.uk. And I will provide the details for traveling to the hall. It would be appreciated if you could include a photograph, so my driver will be able to recognize you at the train station.

“My gosh, can you believe this Aisha?” Stacy exclaimed, as usual the tall American, butchered her name by putting the pronunciation on the first A.
Aisha sighed, they had gotten close over the last 3 months, she certainly knew more about Stacy and her body, than she ever had cared for. But here they were at Newnham College sharing a room, and she still could not get called by her actual name. Then again it was difficult to stay mad at the girl, whose exuberance and enthusiasm was endearing.
“We totally need to do this” her roommate continued to babble “This is totally going to be like Downton Abbey.”
There it was again her roommates firm believe that every thing in life had to match her expectations formed by TV.
“I don’t know Stacy, this seems to be odd. Why should this woman invite total strangers?” Aisha was skeptical, things sounding too good to be true rarely were. Her glass was not only half empty most of the time, but also filled with something non-alcoholic.
One of the things she and Stacy had in common, they both had parents that had instilled the rigorous demands of their respective faiths into their daughters. While Aisha’s parents might be on the lenient side for Muslims, Stacy’s upbringing had all the hallmarks of southern baptists. Hell, fire and brimstone were the core memories of every Sunday service. Aisha was fairly certain that Stacy had conveniently forgotten to mention that her roommate was from Algeria, when talking to her parents.

Now the blonde American with the hour glass figure was babbling. “You see it’s all in here, she has pity on people being alone and far away from home over Christmas. We should so do this.”
“Perhaps, let’s see if this place even exists.” Aisha produced her cell phone and hastily entered Blythington Hall into the search bar of her browser. She found a website with the picture of a Victorian manor house, announcing its virtues as a company retreat.
Stacy excitedly pointed at the picture “This looks so cool.”
“Yes, but the house seems to be available for rent. So how can there be an invitation to it?”
“Isn’t it a common thing that those old English families are struggling to maintain their big houses? This Chantalle Blythington must be renting out parts of the house for special occasions.”
“That would make sense.” Aisha laughed “Well why don’t we just write Mrs. Blythington and see what happens.”

“What are you up to?” a voice from behind asked as Inez Gonzalez hugged both of her friends.
“Oh hi Inez. Did you see this? Aisha and I are going to spend Christmas at this manor house, are you going too?”
Inez quickly glanced over the note, with a pensive face. “No my Tomas is coming to visit me here in cold England. It’s going to be so good seeing and feeling him again. If you are both going, could I ask for a favor?”
“Sure let’s here it” Stacy blurted out.
“Could I perhaps, make use of your room? The presence of her royal frigid Highness the Ice Queen isn’t conductive to a reunion.”
Aisha nodded Inez had not as much luck with her roommate as she had. Laura Vandernoort was another American student. Who felt her moral standards had to be matched by everyone else.
Stacy quickly looked at Aisha before replying “No problem, just make sure to put fresh sheets on afterward.”
Inez turned red “I … eh … don’t really know what to say.”
Aisha’s stern face split with a grin “I’d say that is a pretty reasonable request, I mean the fresh sheets. You can still introduce us to your Tomas when we come back. That is if either of you can still walk.”

Stacy burst out laughing. Muslim or not, Aisha had a very healthy attitude towards sex, as she was discreet about it, nobody ever made a big deal about it. But her appetites were rather diverse.

2 Arrival

They had written to Chantalle Blythington via email and had expressed their interest in accepting her offer of hospitality. A joint picture of the two was accompanying the message. For the next few days nothing happened and Aisha’s conviction grew that the whole thing was a hoax. When she mentioned it to Stacy, the blonde grimaced and replied “I hope not, for Inez’s sake, or poor Tomas is going to suffer some severe blue balls.” The both giggled at that.

On December the 21st two envelopes arrived via mail. Both written in a beautiful copperplate handwriting and addressed to Miss Stacy Higgins and Miss Aisha Nehrim. The content of both letters except for the salutation was identical.

Dear Miss Nehrim,

I’m very pleased that you decided to accept my invitation. As promised in my earlier announcement, I’m now writing you and my other guests with the details for out little get together. It would be most convenient if you could take the 3:25 pm train on December 24th from Cambridge station to King’s Lynn in Norfolk. The ride will take a bit over an hour. My driver will pick you up at the station and convey you to Blythington Hall.
It would be my privilege to have you also staying over night at my house, so you can travel in comfort, and change into evening wear at Blythington.

I’m looking forward to welcoming you under my roof, for a few delightful hours of companionship.

Yours sincerely
Chantalle Blythington

So on the day before Christmas Aisha and Stacy found themselves in the large compartment of the train bringing them to King’s Lynn. Another guest had turned out to be Reiko Ayami, the willow slender student from Japan, who took the absence from her home as a chance to stress her individuality, currently embracing Goth culture. Her bluish black hair matching her black clothing, yet she had removed the piercing and black make up for this trip. Downton Abbey was apparently also a thing in Japan, and what would be expected of her.

Lastly there was Sarah Bernstein, dark brown locks surrounding an angular face. She always reminded Aisha of a Pitbull ready to strike. It might just be a reflection of her fairly aggressive personality. The native of Tel Aviv, had picked up on her Algerian origin and had declared her the enemy just because of it. So whenever possible the two women stayed away from each other.

Stacy who had picked up on the tension between them weeks ago, looked between her roommate and Sarah. Worry forming on her face.
Aisha whispered to her “Don’t worry, we are adults, we should be able to behave in polite company.”
“Does that now place the burden on me and Reiko or Mrs. Blythington?”
“Neither. I promise I’ll behave at my very best. My mother wouldn’t be able to spot a misstep, and believe me she sees everything.” Aisha replied feeling not entirely as confident, these could become some very long two days.

The train ride passed without any incidents, except for Stacy complaining again, that they should have rented a car and drove straight to Blythington Hall. Aisha had only replied to that.
“Stacy, I know you American’s can’t imagine a life without your independent, but please have a look outside. Do you see those lovely narrow roads streets encased in those incredibly picturesque stonewalls? If that isn’t enough to frighten you, would you kindly recall that they drive on the bloody wrong side of the road.”
“Oh Aisha, you really have arrived in the UK now.” Stacy smiled sweetly “Not only do you express your opinions in a frank manner, you even have started to use bloody. Just like a native.”
The young Algerian response was entirely unprintable, mixing choice expressions in English, French and Arabic.

The sun was setting as the train arrived in King’s Lynn. The four young women, where the only ones leaving the train. Each of them carrying a small suitcase or traveling bag. It looked a bit excessive for just a night away, but Mrs. Blythington had stressed the formal setting of their dinner. So each of them had packed something appropriate. And a dress didn’t look as good, when crammed into a backpack.

On the platform stood a tall man in a dark gray suit, and chauffeurs hat. He was perhaps 6 feet tall and built like a tank. His features were angular, with an aggressive chin, but not to bad looking. He was waiting with a luggage trolley and a printout in hand, which he quickly consulted.
“Misses Ayami, Bernstein, Higgins and Nehrim? Welcome to King’s Lynn. I’m Sebastian your driver for the evening. Allow me to take your luggage.”
They confirmed their identity and offered no resistance to the gallant offer.
“If you would please follow me, the car is in front of the station.”
“Sebastian, how long is the drive to Blythington Hall going to take?” Sarah asked.
“It’s not to bad Miss Bernstein, we should be there in 20 minutes, the Hall is a bit off the main road.”
He led the way pushing the trolley, and Aisha looked at him, thinking he looked like the perfect image of the British chauffeur, only the black sneakers marred the image a bit. She continued to wonder what kind of car Mrs. Blythington would send, perhaps a Rolls-Royce?

The waiting car was not a Rolls, but a dark green Land Rover Discovery with a white decal on the door saying “Blythington Hall”. Sebastian opened the door to the behemoth of a car and asked them to get comfortable, while he stashed the luggage.
The women did as they were told, and enjoyed the softness of the leather seats. As they came from a variety of financial backgrounds, not all of them were used to the luxury this car offered. Sebastian got in, seated himself and started the engine, that was barely a whisper inside the passenger cell. With great confidence he guided the big car on the road. For the next 20 minutes he traversed those picturesque narrow roads Aisha had pointed out earlier.

They entered the grounds of Blythington Hall through a gate made from wrought iron bars. The house itself was Victorian, a staircase leading up the main entrance, with its large brightly lit windows under the slanted roof, with wings protruding left and right. Despite the lack of light the sandstone facade of the Hall made a deep impression on the young women.

Sebastian opened again the door for them, “If you would please step up and inside. Madame Chantalle is awaiting you. You will find your luggage in your rooms.”

The door opened wide and a warm golden glow of light came forth. They stepped into the house and found themselves in a grand hall, with tiled floor and expensive wood paneling, a sweeping staircase lead to the upper floor. It was a grand view, but nothing matched the eye-catching appearance of a woman in her late 50s, with hair so blonde that any silver that might have been shown up in it would be invisible. She was wearing a tweed costume and a beaming smile. Clearly a woman, well versed in welcoming guests.
“Good evening Ladies, Welcome to Blythington Hall. My name is Chantalle Blythington, would you care to join me in a glass of Champaign?.” Her English while immaculate didn’t hide a slight French accent. Turning to a liveried footman “Thomas, you will please take care of the luggage.”
Turning her attention back to her guests “I have taken the liberty of having the champagne already been poured in the library. If you would please follow me.”

3 The Dinner

Aisha checked her reflection in the mirror. Gilded of course, everything in her room was opulent, but tasteful. Her own dress reflected the same tastefulness, if not the same grandeur. Students at Cambridge were required to attend at a few events that required formal evening wear, so Aisha and the others had just the right kind of dress in their respective wardrobes for this evening. She wore an ankle length dress of midnight blue chiffon, which accentuated her slender figure, without being to revealing.

Their reception earlier this evening had been marvelous, the library had been everything Aisha ever dreamed of. Ceiling high shelves of dark wood, filled with a variety of leather-bound tomes, all of them giving of the feeling of having been read. Her eyes had been glancing over some of the titles. There were of course Shakespeare and Dickens, but also Cervantes, Milton and Dumas, some of them appearing to be first editions. Aisha was an avid reader and being so close to such a beautiful collection excited her.

The opened Champaign was resting in am antique silver ice bucket, with crystal glasses waiting on a tray next to it. Mrs. Blythington pulled it out and looked questioningly in the round.
“Are you all partaking? Miss Nehrim?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Blythington, I can’t have any alcohol. If it isn’t too much of a problem, I would love a cup of tea.”
“Why don’t you just call me Madame Chantalle, pretty much everybody does? Let’s see if there is some tea in this house.” she rang a bell “I have no use for it myself, filthy British habit, but they conquered half the world on it. Are you certain I cannot tempt you after all it is champagne, the minimum of alcohol and maximum companionship.”
“Oh I know that one” Stacy burst out laughing “that’s from the Pink Panther.”
Chantalle who had been pouring the glasses raised her hands in mock surrender “You caught me, I’m just an old fraud.”
Stacy started handing out the glasses and smiled “It’s such a good movie, I would quote it at any opportunity as well.”
Sarah raised her glass and simply said “L’Chaim, it’s Hebrew and means to life”
Aisha sighed inwardly, this was so like Sarah, emphasizing her origin.
“What a lovely toast Miss Bernstein. To life” Madame Charlotte replied.
“To life” the other women echoed clinking their glasses.

The door opened and the Butler a man in his later forties entered. “You rang Madame Chantalle?”
“Yes Edward, can you please see if you can scare up a cup of tea for Miss Nehrim.”
“Aisha, if it pleases you”
“Certainly my dear.”

Quite unsurprisingly Edward had been able to find tea and a silver tea pot in the house and poured a steaming cup of the flavorful liquid into a cup for Aisha less than 10 minutes later. By that time the young women and Madame Charlotte were amicably chatting. Learning that she had met her husband Charles in Paris, where else, and had followed him to the cold and rain drenched, her words, British Isles. Regrettably her husband had died a few years ago, leaving her rather lonely over the holidays so she had begun inviting young ladies from Cambridge for this particular feast.
There had been a moment of tension when Sarah asked “What is going to be on the menu, I’ll have to obey the kosher rules, or simply satisfy myself with nibbling a carrot.”
Madame Chantalle had only smiled and replied “Don’t worry ma chere, this isn’t my first party for people with food restrictions. I’m certain you will have more meat than you even desire.”

They broke up and Thomas the footman showed them to their respective rooms, letting each of them know that dinner would be served at 7 pm, and a gong would be rung five minutes earlier. And it was that room with its four-poster bed and gilded mirror that Aisha was now expecting to hear the sound of the gong. A last glance on her cell phone confirmed that it was almost time. She had decided to leave the phone behind as it didn’t go well with her dress. Aisha mused that it would be interesting to see if Stacy and Reiko were foregoing theirs as well. From what she had observed so far, like with her roommate removing the cell phone from Reiko’s hands might require a surgery.

With a melodious note the sound of the gong rang through the house, and Aisha stepped through the door into the hallway. Where she bumped into Sarah, who had apparently used the time in her room to put her brown hair into a high braided bun. She was wearing a low cut emerald green dress. Aisha was not certain what she was trying to draw the attention to, her generous cleavage or the little silver star of David, that she habitually wore on a silver necklace. Considering the composition of their party, Aisha guessed on the latter, after all they all had boobs themselves, even if in differing size.

Silence hung between them, and the next door opened and Stacy came out, wearing a dress in pale pink, that accentuated her figure and clearly made it evident that Sarah could forget about having the biggest tits. Her blonde tresses framed her face and she beamed at Aisha. “Well ladies you clean up nicely.”

“Certainly a feast for the eyes. Looks like we have dressing up to the nines down pat.” Reiko had joined them. The small Japanese girl, wore black sequined dress, hair done up in a bun with chopsticks holding it in place. Her eyes wandered over the other women, it was generally suspected at Newnham, that Reiko had discovered more than just goth culture when she had arrived in England. She was typically seen in female company.

The way Reiko’s gaze lingered on her, made Aisha wonder if the expression undressing with the eyes was something only applicable to men. Leaving Aisha a bit uncomfortable.
“Shall we go down?” she asked to break the tension.
“By all means, let’s not keep our hostess waiting.” Stacy chimed in.
“So where do you keep your phone in this dress?”
“Don’t ask, I left it in the room, and already experience first signs of withdrawal.” Stacy laughed.

They took the stairs to the great hall, and quickly found their way into the dining room. A grand room with, marble floors, and a fireplace with a roaring fire, keeping the cold outside at bay. In the center was an enormous table set for five. The silverware was actual silver and polished to a high shine, cloth napkins neatly arranged. Handwritten place cards indicated that Stacy and Aisha were seated to the right of their hostess and Reiko and Sarah to the left.

A further printed card indicated the menu. It read.

Mulligatawny soup
…
North Sea haddock with green beans
…
Chicken with Rice Pilaf and peas
…
Crème Brulé

Stacy’s eyes grew larger and larger with every line. “So much delicious food, my dress is going to burst from my body before the dinner is over.”
“Wouldn’t that be a sight my dear Stacy?” Madame Chantalle had entered the room.
She wore a well cut gown of deep burgundy, setting of her features marvelously. For jewelry, she wore an emerald necklace. “I must say you all look stunning. Shall we?”
Not even waiting for a response she steered towards her place at the head of the table, and took a seat. Gesturing to the others to follow.

Edward the Butler served the first course, and they all enjoyed the spicy richness of the mulligatawny soup, with a dash of sherry and upon her request water for Aisha.
The conversation at the table was all over the place. They learned that Charlotte usually didn’t live in the Hall herself and rented it out most of the year, while occupying a lovely cottage on the grounds. Which matched her previous internet research about Blythington Hall.
During the fish course accompanied by Chardonnay, Charlotte looked towards Reiko and said. “In a dress like this you must have the handsome young men lining up.”
Reiko deciding to press social limits replied equally sweet. “I wouldn’t know Madame Charlotte, I never had much use for them.”
Charlotte’s laughter ran like a mountain spring. “Mon Dieu, if you’re trying to shock me you need to try harder, I’m French not one of those dried up English ladies.”

During the chicken course. She addressed Sarah “Is it still true that in Israel also the young women have to do mandatory military service.”
“Yes absolutely, and I’m looking very much forward to serve in the defense of my country.”
“So this is still something in your future?”
“Yes the only guns I have ever seen where on TV. Haven’t even hit a barn door yet.”
“Ain’t nothing special in hitting a barn, just carefully squeeze the trigger and let the shot break.” Stacy threw in.
Seeing the bewildered faces of her companions. “Grandpa taught me to shoot when I was thirteen. I have been shooting ever since. It’s a pity I could not bring my gun with me to this country. I would feel much safer.”
“Stacy, I love you to death, but I feel much safer without guns around.” Aisha commented.

Edward was bringing the dessert, the crème Brulé. The caramel top giving of the distinct charred smell.
Charlotte got up “Ladies would you please excuse me for a moment, that fool of my doctor has forbidden me rich desserts anyhow. So please enjoy, and I will be back in a few minutes.”

4 Celebration

Chantalle moved with a natural grace that belied her age out of the dining hall and through a door to an adjoining room.

The scene she encountered was decidedly at odds with the overall impression Blythington Hall was giving. The room wouldn’t have been out of place at Kennedy Space Center. There was a massive bank of monitors and chairs. Sebastian manning a console that displayed the scene in the dining room. On a couch sat Thomas, playing leisurely with a pair of pink panties. There were two other young men, also dressed in the uniform of house personnel.

“Bon soir Gentlemen, I hope you had a good evening so far?” Chantalle asked.
“Very much so Madame Chantalle, you certainly have arranged a delicate menu for us. This place is fantastic, what’s with all the surveillance gear?” Sebastian asked.
“That is part of the setup. Blythington Hall is rented frequently by companies, who do assessment center or company functions here, and want to discreetly evaluate their employees. So all the public spaces are wired up for video and audio surveillance.”
“It’s a pity the bedrooms are not. I have been playing with this set up for the last hour, and really had hoped to watch the young ladies.” Sebastian smirked.
“Ladies? Tarts you mean.” Edward closed the door behind himself.
“Language my dear Edward” Chantalle kissed him on the cheek “You made such a good butler.”
“Well I wanted to see up close what you had prepared for us. And I must say you deliver good value for the money.”
“Don’t I always?” Chantalle’s eyebrow rose.
“Yes you do, but normally you work with your own girls. When Thomas proposed this to me, I didn’t think even you could pull this off. Which reminds me, where did you nick those knickers from Thomas.”
“Well dad, they belong to the blond bimbo, riffled through her bag when I put them away.”
“Grow up son.” Edward grumbled.
“Oh I will, after all this is a graduation party.”

Several weeks earlier Thomas had been in the pub with his friends Gordon, Charles and Sebastian and hoisted a pint on their graduating with firsts from Oxford. Knowing full well that an exciting future lay ahead of them. They all came from money, some old families. But while being attractive to the fairer sex, they wanted to celebrate with a bang, indulging in all their fantasies yet avoid any scandal. With ever-increasing horniness they engaged in one-upmanship on what they wanted to do. All of them being rather harsh.
“What would you guys say, if I could swing such an event?” Thomas had asked.
“That you are full of it.” his best friend Sebastian, Viscount D’Aberville said good-humoredly.
“I’m serious, would you put your money where your mouth is. Let’s say 500 Pounds each?”
“500 quid, that’s some expensive hookers.” Charles objected.
“Yes I don’t pay for it.” Gordon threw in.
“Not paying for it, but allowing for the chance to occur.” Thomas replied.
“And you think you can arrange that, safely for us, for 2000 Pound?” Sebastian was doubtful.
“My father knows the right person to arrange this.” Thomas had to smile caused by the memories coming up. Remembering the memorable night he had at Chantalle Latour’s, his father had insisted that losing his virginity, was best done in a professional and controlled setting.
“I don’t like some outsider possibly holding this over our head for the rest of our lives.” Sebastian said.
“The woman I have in mind is supposedly a bastion of discretion. Her clientele include the crème de la crème, and charges accordingly. I can’t see her risking a good business by making enemies out of customers, especially powerful ones.”
Sebastian still not fully convinced mumbled “That’s the kind you keep especially close notes on.”
“Don’t be such a pessimist Sebastian, let’s see what Thomas can arrange” Charles offered conciliatory.

So on the next weekend Thomas cornered his father and asked for Chantalle’s phone number. After some needling questions form his father, he ultimately revealed what he and his friends were planning.
“Now that sounds like fun, but don’t be surprised when your budget won’t cover it.”
“You don’t think 2000 Pounds will suffice?” Thomas was shocked.
“Likely not, if you just wanted a fun night at one of her places, it would be ample, but you seem to have special wishes. Let me know what she says.”

It proved that his father was right, the sum for the job in question was going to be closer to 5000 Pounds Sterling. The number crushed Thomas idea. Some of his friends where more wealthy than others, but they would not be able to make up the difference. His own funds would not cover the outstanding sum either, he would have to go to his friends and admit he actually could not make good on his word. A feeling that stung incredibly.

In a last attempt to rescue the scheme, he tried to borrow the money from his father. The answer surprised him.
“Loan you the money? Not on your Nelly, you don’t have anything to secure such a loan.” seeing his crestfallen son he added “But I’m willing to buy a 3000 Pounds share in this caper. But there are conditions, the women need to be young and not our kind.”
“What do you mean by our kind?”
“Go on figure it out, after all you are the one with a first from Oxford.”

The next day he called Chantalle and specified his wishes. “Multiple young women, not English, no ties to the aristocracy and perhaps from Cambridge.”
“Bien sur, I can arrange that by Christmas.”

Now it was Christmas and the five men watched the video monitor, like children ready to get to their presents.
“Gentlemen, just to reiterate on what is going to happen. In the next 5 minutes the narcotic in the crème will take effect. It’s an interesting little toxin, it causes full paralysis of the musculature, while maintaining full consciousness. I have tried it myself, the effect is eerie, the paralysis of limbs will last about 30 minutes. After that you strong men will have to retain the little angels by other means.”

“I’m sorry that there are only four for the five of you, but there was only one more applicant, and she had the face of a hag, another American girl by the name of Vandernoort, couldn’t do anything with her, and I will not stoop to murder.”
“Murder?” Charles sounded alarmed.
“Don’t get so high and mighty. After tonight those women will need to vanish. I can make that happen for reasonably pretty ones. Even one with such small tits as little Aisha. I only invited her to make up the numbers and because she and Higgins had applied together. What I was going to say is you need to figure out how to split them between you.”

“I’ll trade you all first dips on them in exchange for their panties. I want the whole collection.” Thomas twirled the pink panties lazily around his finger.
There were no objections to that offer, as at that moment Stacy collapsed on the dinner table.
“My friends, Merry Christmas let’s go unwrap the gifts.” Sebastian announced.

5 Trussed Up Geese

Charlotte saw the men getting up and strolling by her, no strolling was the wrong word, they stalked past her like a pack of hungry wolves ready to sink their teeth into their prey.

Curious on what they had in mind, she followed them into the dining room. All four of the women now lay motionless on their seats, eyes wide open and communicating their fear. As the table had been cleared prior to the dessert being served, there were only the glasses and ramekins left on the white table cloth. She had chosen the crème Brulé particularly as the caramelized and charred sugar would have been a good excuse for any bitter taste.

Edward took charge of the proceeding, so typical of him, this might have been his sons’ idea, but he would never submit to somebody else rule. Poor King Charles III, he certainly had a very disloyal subject.
“Let’s lay them out on the table, before we chose who gets whom first.”
The remaining items were quickly discarded to a side table, and each of the men grabbed on of the motionless bodies and hoisted them to their feet. Madame Chantalle had to suppress a smile. Each one of them had decided for himself the right way to lift a woman up was reaching underneath her arms and grab them by the breast. “Men, they were so predictable.” thought Chantalle.

After a bit of hustling and bustling, they managed to lay all the four bodies on the table, legs dangling of one side the head occasionally on the other.
“So how do we do this?” Charles opined “Is this a free for all, or do we get to pick our favorite. I call first dips on the blonde with the big tits.”
“No you will not. I will have that one first.” Sebastian countered.
“Well we know that Tommy will have sloppy seconds no matter whom he fancies.” Gordon laughed.
“Then let me make a suggestion. As I have no horse in this race. We have here four cunts, to be unwrapped in a moment. Some of them might still have hair attached. Why don’t you pick a number between 0 and 3 for how many with hair we have.”
“Why only 3?” Gordon asked.
“Because in this day and age, there is sure to be at least one with a shaved cunt. Possibly even all of them.” Sebastian replied.
They made their choices.
“Let’s see what we got boys.” Edward laughed and produced a knife from his pocket, that he inserted in the cleavage of Sarah’s emerald green dress, yanking it down. It gave him enough of a start that when he grabbed the silk he could rip it apart now. Revealing a voluptuous chest with brown nipples. She wore frilly white panties. Which he proceeded to pull down her legs, shortly sniff at and toss to his son.
“Bad luck Sebastian, this one has not seen a razor in a while. So your 0 isn’t going to win.”
Sarah’s Mons was covered by a thick delta of brown curls. Edward decided it wouldn’t hurt to immobilize the young Jew. He had come prepared and quickly used some zip ties to secure her wrists to her ankles. In her paralyzed state her knees collapsed and left her in a very exposed state with the coral flesh of her sex being visible through her hair.

Next to her Gordon took a page from Edwards playbook and tried to tear Reiko’s dress of. It didn’t rip as easily as the silk, but after some manhandling he got the dress of, revealing that it was all that Reiko had worn. Her hairless slit looked very inviting to him, two zip ties later the young Japanese also had her most intimate part on display.

Sebastian and Charles lost their patience and stripped Aisha and Stacy respectively, resulting in a blue thong and black lace panties for Thomas’ collection. And the intensive discussion how the two neat landing strips where to be rated. The result was that they were counted as hair. So Gordon had first choice and dropped his pants. He had wanted Reiko, from the moment she had claimed not to be into men. Her preferences didn’t matter to him, and he was pounding that message home, with every thrust.

Aisha and Stacy got tied up the same as the others. Chantalle mused “Now they really look like trussed up geese waiting to be taken.”

Edward decided to make good use of the muscular paralysis and prayed open Sarah’s mouth. Slapping her between the legs chuckling “I have something to fill your mouth with. Not sure about kosher, but it’s long and thick.”
He forced his erection down her throat, and began face fucking her. Something he would not dare to do once she had control over her teeth again. This one was a biter.

On the other end of the table Charles and Sebastian clearly had found an acceptable solution to their difficulty as they fucked Aisha and Stacy’s pussy respectively.

Chantalle sat down in a chair and observed the onslaught, this would be a messy thing. By her guess the young men where about to leave leaking pussies in a few minutes. Thomas clearly felt his duty of leaving the others precedence was fulfilled and there was no reason for an unstuffed pussy. So he joined his father in sampling Sarah’s delights.

The gang rape of the young Cambridge students went on until the early hours of the morning. Once they had regained the control over their vocal cords, they had started to scream and plead, which later turned into whimpering. Each of them had the sperm of at least two men running out of their sexes and assholes. Aisha had turned out to be something of a secret favorite, while not overly well-endowed in the chest, she had a delightful ass, and the men where all over themselves to take advantage of it.
Edward turned out to be right, that the only time to give Sarah a belly full of cum, would be right at the beginning. Reiko on the other hand was easily cowed and willing to suck and swallow to avoid her nipples being twisted.

Once the last man was spent, incidentally Sebastian, shooting his load on Sarah’s chest gluing the Star of David to her skin with his semen, they left to sleep in the guest rooms. Chantalle produced her cell phone and made a quick call.
“Pierre? They are ready for pickup.”

Epilogue

Two days later, Inez Gonzalez started to worry. She and Tomas had used the extra day of a free room as the god sent gift it clearly was. But by now Aisha and Stacy should have returned. After some intense deliberations with her boyfriend she took her phone and called 999.

The task to follow up on the missing persons case fell to DCS Barnaby, he drove to Blythington Hall, and found the gate locked and the Hall empty. A call to the owners revealed that the Hall had been rented to TUSK Enterprises, a Chantalle Blythington was unknown to them. Lady Blythington’s first name was Cynthia, and she spent Christmas in Scotland.

TUSK Enterprises turned out to be a letterbox company on the Cayman Islands, just founded a week before Christmas and now being dissolved. Despite their very best efforts Barnaby and the Norfolk police had to close the investigation into the disappearance of four young women without any trace of them. There was considerable pressure put on him as the four women were foreign nationals, so various police organizations such as the FBI were butting into his investigations.

By this time the women had been trafficked already to their new lives. Madame Chantalle kept her own bordellos usually stocked with eastern European girls, but she had enough connections to make them vanish, for a small finders fee.
Reiko and Aisha were sent to South America, where their features offered some exotic appeal, not exactly high class houses, but they would make the money back. One way or another.
Stacy and Sarah had been so much more profitable. Big breasted women were always in demand. A blonde American, could be sold almost anywhere, but as so often the Saudis managed to outbid everybody else. Sarah also was of big interest in the Arab counties. Piercing her clit to attach her star to it guaranteed the defilement of the sign of her faith every single night.

Nobody that knew them ever heard again of them.

The End.