The Spankfest

By Simon Grail

Desperate to see their favourite band perform at ParkFest7 at Blatchford Manor, but unable to buy tickets, Natasha and Jolene try to sneak in. But they are caught by Lord Blatchford himself, who exacts a painful price for their trespass.

Held naked and chained in an old bunker converted for sex games, the girls must satisfy the perverse desires of a series of hooded men using Blatchford’s collection of ingenious devices for the humiliation of female playthings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiction4All
• Release date: Sep 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463803257

Book preview

THE SPANKFEST

2023 Edition

Simon Grail

Published by Fiction4All (Silver Moon Books imprint) at Smashwords

Copyright 2023 Simon Grail

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author’s Note: All characters in this adult fiction story are at least 18 years of age.

Chapter 1: Saturday Midday

‘No tickets, no entry,’ the man at the gate told Natasha firmly.

Above him a banner had been strung across the iron scroll-work arch spanning the big brick piers of the gate reading: ParkFest 7. About them people were flowing into the festival site in steady streams.

Natasha held up her phone and pointed at the screen which displayed the ParkFest web page. ‘It says you can buy tickets at the gate.’

‘But you’ve got to reserve them first,’ the man explained. ‘And those are only day tickets for locals.’ He eyed Natasha and Jolene and their tightly stuffed backpacks suspiciously. ‘Are you locals?’

‘Yes,’ Jolene lied.

‘And have you got any ID to prove it?’ he asked. The girls squirmed. ‘Then like I said: no tickets, no entry. Now hop it!’

Miserably, the two girls slouched away from the gate long the broad verge separating the road from the high wall enclosing the Blatchford Manor estate. This was the seventh year of ParkFest. Previously they had been too young to go, but this year, having both turned eighteen, they had set their hearts on attending.

‘We’ve come all this way for nothing!’ Jolene wailed. ‘We’ve got to see Quatrainium!’

In their joint and passionately held opinion, Quatrainium was the best band ever, and they loved it to distraction. They had to see it live!

Natasha set her jaw firmly. ‘We’re not giving up yet!’ she declared. ‘There must be another way in!’

She called up the festival site map on her phone and they both studied the screen.

It showed the usual site facilities in Manor Park. There was something called Sir Giles’s Folly near the main event stage, which was fenced off. Then there was a river cutting across one end of the estate separating the park from the grounds of the Manor House itself. These were marked clearly Private No Admittance. There were a couple of bridges over the river that was also closed off, and a note saying No Swimming. The grounds around the house itself were shown in less detail, but there was clearly access to them via a side road.

‘Maybe we can get in the back way,’ Natasha said.

‘But… that’d be cheating!’ Jolene replied.

‘We offered to buy tickets, didn’t we? It’s their fault if they wouldn’t sell us any.’

They followed the boundary wall away from the main site gate and then turned down a tree-lined side lane, which was much quieter than the main road which was swollen with holiday weekend traffic. The wall seemed to go on for ever, but finally they came to the gates of the Manor House drive. They were tall and imposing and firmly shut. There was a notice saying: No hawkers, No vagrants. Trespassers will be prosecuted!

They could just see the roofs of the Manor over the spiked tops of the gate. Everything seemed very still and quiet.

‘Maybe they’ve gone away while the festival is on?’ Jolene speculated.

Natasha led the way a little further down the lane until they came a spot where the branch of a tree overhung the boundary wall, almost touching it.

‘We could climb that,’ Natasha said.

‘But that’s trespassing,’ Jolene said.

‘Not if they don’t catch us. We’re not doing any damage. We only want to get to the park. A five-minute walk through their garden, that’s all. Bet security won’t be watching for people coming from this direction. And once we’re in, who’s going to know how we got there? Come on!’

They scrambled up the tree and then shinned along the overhanging branch. From this fresh vantage point they could see a big square country house with towers at each corner and lots of chimneys. There were terraces and garden surrounded by tall hedges, flowerbeds, statues and fountains. Beyond them was the river and then the park with its growing rows of tents, stages and support facilities. A murmur of distant activity reached them, but the grounds around them seem to be deserted.

Immediately before them was a large, high-walled vegetable garden, laid out with neat rows of runner beans, potatoes, carrots and net-covered soft fruit bushes.

‘We get down here, find a gate out and make for the river,’ Natasha said. ‘It doesn’t look that wide. Maybe we can find a shallow bit and wade across…’

‘All right,’ Jolene agreed nervously.

They dropped their packs onto the path running along the ends of the planting rows, and then twisted around and lowered themselves dangling from their arms until they could drop down safely after them.

‘Let’s try this way,’ Natasha said, shouldering her pack once more and setting off along the path.

They reached the corner of the garden marked by the last of a tall row of runner beans hung on canes and turned the corner.

‘Stop right there!’ said a commanding voice.

On the path in front of them stood a tweed-clad, clean-shaven, fortyish man of wiry build. He had a determined jaw, a pronounced Roman nose, and piercing grey eyes. A large pair of binoculars was slung about his neck. But what really caught their attention was the shotgun in his hands, which was pointing directly at them.

Natasha swore while Jolene gave a whimper of fear.

‘I am Lord Blatchford, and this is my private property!’ the man continued while the girls trembled. ‘I’m always on the lookout for trouble during festival time