Marina felt a chill descend her spine. Her knees went watery and her vision began to blur. Who were these people? What did they want from her?
The tall burly man led her to the machine.
The thing looked much uglier close up than it did from a distance. From a distance, you could almost call it a sculpture... some minimalist's idea of a good time.
But it wasn't a sculpture. This wasn't an art museum...
This was a chamber of horrors.
And she was to be the first victim.
"Bruno!" the dykey dominant bitch called to her' husband. "Be sure to check and see if those cuffs are TIGHT! We don't want an accident like we had last time, remember?"
Bruno nodded and took Marina's right hand. Mutely, she let him have it. What else could she do? Protest? Start a discussion group? Write her Congressman?
His grip was solid.
His grip was like steel.
His face was gaunt and determined and his lips were the color of raw veal.
Without even realizing, she let out a high-pitched whine that sounded like a factory whistle at quitting time.
"What the hell are you doing to me?" she said. "I don't WANT this!!!!!"
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
"There goes one," the platinum blonde girl called out as the sleek dark Mercedes rounded the corner at a slow crawl.
"He seems to be looking at you," her friend called back. She slung her beaded bag over one shoulder and practiced looking hot.
"Probably that blonde hair," a third girl said as they all eyed the car with a studied among of nonchalance. "In the dark, it looks like it's plugged into an outlet."
Bunny smiled. Having platinum blonde hair didn't hurt in this business. She ambled toward the curve and cleared her throat.
"Hi!" she said and thrust one girlish hip out. "New in town?"
The third girl let out a low groan. What a corny line. Why didn't she call him "Sailor" just to make it complete.
"Naw," the driver said. He was a wise-ass. The third girl could tell from the way he sounded. He was a fucking wise-ass. "Must be the Jersey plates."
"Yeah," Bunny smiled. "Must be. Nice night, huh?"
"It's raining."
"Yeah, but that means tomorrow the sun will shine."
"Get in."
Bunny then leaned over the curb and looked in the back seat. It didn't pay to be too careful. Sometimes these Johns had extra riders in the back seat.
They had a nasty habit of sneaking up on you while a trick was coming in your mouth. And they wanted a free-bee in exchange for not beating you up.
Before she could get her hand around the door, the girl with the beaded bag sauntered over. "Watch him," she whispered, enunciating the words carefully so that Bunny could see. Bunny nodded.
These late-night cruisers could get to be a handful if they were drunk or had just had a fight with their wife. They could be somewhat mean.
"You're a hot looking chick."
"Thanks," Bunny said, "I charge twenty-five dollars for a blowjob."
The guy behind the wheel made a skeptical face. "Twenty-FIVE?"
"Expect to pay more for the better things in this world," Bunny grinned like an leprechaun who knew where the gold was buried. "That's what my mother told me."
The guy sucked in his cheeks. "Hang on. We're on our way."
The Mercedes raced away from the corner with a low WHOOSH!
"Bunny's gonna have her hands full for the next half hour," the girl with the beaded bag said. She placed one hand on her black shiny hair and ran her fingers through it... toward her face.
She wore her bangs half covering her eyes. Not that she didn't want to be recognized. She wasn't famous anyway.
But she thought it made her look more mature. It wasn't easy for a sixteen year old girl to look mature. Except for her figure, Marina looked like a prom attendant or the most popular girl in the sophomore class of any public high school.
But the figure set her apart. She had the body of a calendar girl for a very frank calendar company. It was young and hot and luscious.
She wore tight sweaters, and the ample rounds of her tits poked up into the fuzzy material, showing the outlines of her thick dark nipples.
It was a bitch not to wear an overcoat in this drizzle.
It was also a bitch to work at night.
Such were the fortunes of an under-age hooker.
The remaining girl strutted back and forth in front of the church on Madison Avenue. She gathered her trench coat around her.
She wore a coat, but there was nothing under it.
Not that she liked it that way, but it made advertising easy. She just had to be careful who she flashed. Cops came in all colors and sizes she was told.
"Hey, Marina," she said after a few minutes of silence except for a distant ambulance wail.
"What?"
"If we wanted to go to the Little Nook in the Cellar, I could get us in. It'd be a whole lot warmer in there."
Marina stared at the girl. She stared at her and kept one eye on the traffic. Unfortunately, it was moving steadily.
"How we gonna pick up the boulevard trade indoors?"
"We switch customers. Forget the commuters. Hell, they all smell like New Jersey factory smoke. We should go after the guys with suits on."
"What about their dates?"
The girl shook her streaky blonde hair and shifted her weight to one hip. That could pose a problem. Most guys with dates didn't want a third wheel.
"There's gotta be some singles in that place. The last time I went in, there were a couple of strays hanging out at the bar."
Marina shook her dark head of hair and leaned against the brick wall of the church behind her. That Georgann was one dumb cookie.
She couldn't believe she'd been on the streets for nearly a year. She acted like she was hatched the day before yesterday.
"How did you get into the Little Nook in the Cellar anyway?"
Georgann gnawed at her lower lip. She didn't like giving out information like that. But what the hell, Marina was a fellow traveler.
"I blew the bus boy."
Marina let out a low howl. "Smart, Georgann. Really smart."
"We kept a low profile, so don't let it worry you."
Low profile, Marina thought and wondered how Georgann was still alive. She probably blew him under one of the tables or in the locker room. That kind of action was just begging for trouble.
"He paid top dollar."
"You're taking a chance working on somebody else's premises like that. A guy pulls up in his own car... that's taking a chance, too. But at least if you look in the back seat before you get in, you can minimize your risks."
"If I wanted to minimize my risks, I would have stayed in Columbus."
True, Marina had to agree. But Georgann was dumb for other reasons as well. Like the fact that she wore nothing under that trench coat.
She was stunning as they make them for a fifteen year old girl, though she looked older from just her year on the street. Marina liked her okay. At least she didn't jump off the curb at the guys cruising by.
But working with her gave her the shakes. Walking into a restaurant and blowing the bus boy just wasn't too bright.
Guys could sneak up on you. And bus boys were usually so stupid. None of them spoke English. They were always trying to get you to go to the movies with them or home to meet mother.
"Here's another one," Georgann said and tossed her streaky blonde head back. "If he blinks his headlights I'm gonna flash him."
"What?"
"Oh, yeah. Didn't I tell you? I got a regular. He comes here every night about now and he flashes his lights. That's our signal. He flashes his lights; I flash my hot young teenage body. He pays me, too."
"Top dollar," Marina said mockingly.
Georgann looked out into the rain-soaked gloom. It was a Cadillac. Not the likeliest car to see looking for twenty-five dollar head on Madison Avenue... but not unheard of either.
"It ain't him."
"Then who the hell is it?" Marina said, shading her eyes from the reflected glare of the surrounding lights.
"A man and a woman, I think... "
Marina shook her head. Georgann was even dumber than she gave her credit for. Men did not bring their dates, wives, girlfriends, sisters, mothers or employers to this kind of scene. She was clearly mistaken.
The big smoky gray car came to a silent stop. The headlights went off and the fog lights went on. Marina could see inside better now.
She approached the curb from the left as Georgann steered in from the right. Somebody inside lit a cigarette. The automatic window lowered down.
"Shit!" Marina said between her teeth. There was a man and a woman in there. Anybody with knockers that size HAD to be a woman.
* * * * *
"But why a motel?" Bunny said and blinked her big golden eyes. She wrinkled her nose, hoping the guy would see that she was uncomfortable with the idea. "Couldn't we just work... uh... do it in your car?"
"It ain't my car, I told you."
"So it's on loan. Hey, my shoes are on loan."
She held up one foot bound into a platform sandal with a wedged heel that made her nearly a foot higher than she was.
"It belongs to my boss."
"Nice of him to lend it to you."
Bunny gripped the door handle. She could snap the thing down and jump out provided the guy slowed down a bit.
She had done it before. In fact, she had done it enough times to be pretty good at it. As good as a Hollywood stunt woman.
Now if the guy would only slow down. But all the lights on Forty-second Street seemed to be in his favor. And there was damned little traffic at this hour of the night.
She tried another route.
"You're a big strong guy. What do you do for a living?"
"I butcher hogs."
"Sounds like a nice job."
"It bites. Why don't you pipe down and be a good girl, okay?"
Hog butcher. Neat-o! She could sure pick them. Problem was, he didn't act like a trick. He acted like a man in hot pursuit of a Seven Eleven.
There were none of the cheap feels or filthy talk she was used to when a John drove her to their appointed destination... like under the Westside Highway or in front of an abandoned wharf warehouse.
No, this guy was not a typical John.
What the hell was he then?
"We're practically in the tunnel, man. I don't want to go to Jersey."
""""The guy reached in his pocket and took out a wad of bills. He tossed them onto the seat. Bunny reached down and picked them up.
"That ought to cover traveling expenses."
Bunny separated a few of the bills. They were tens, so maybe she was holding a hundred. Not bad, but not a king's ransom.
The question was, what the hell did he want for all this dough?
"How old are you?" the guy said out of nowhere.
Bunny watched out the car window as the guy pulled up to a toll booth. "How old do I look."
"Thirteen. Now answer my question."
"What's it to you?"
"I just gave you a hundred. Does that make me serious?"
Bunny screwed up her nose. She looked down at the deep cleavage between her tits. It wasn't terrifically deep. Not nearly as deep as she knew it would be someday.
"I'm fifteen."
"There's an extra fifty for you if you can prove it."
"What is this?"
The tunnel was loud and full of echoes and filth. Bunny shivered.
"Here," the big guy said and tossed her his jacket. "If you ask me, you're a really dumb broad to be standing out in the rain with nothing on your ass."
Bunny grinned into the night.
This dude wasn't too bright either for taking an under-age girl over the state line for purposes of committing.... what??????
The car hummed along the Jersey turnpike. The driver turned off at Secaucus. He turned into a sign that boasted "Motel" in pink and green letters.
"Now don't mind Mr. Potvin," he said numbly. "He's just short-tempered."
"Wait a minute." Bunny said and grabbed the door handle again. "I didn't sign on for a double tonight." She looked around at the darkened terrain. It wouldn't be easy to make a run for it, but she could if she had to.
"No," the guy said aiming the car into one of the motel parking slots. "I told you, this is my boss's car."
It figured. This guy was a muscle-head. He worked for the guy with the Mercedes. The guy next to her never owned a Mercedes in his life.
The door opened and a corpulent bald-headed man stood framed in front of the light. He waved and beckoned them in a way that Bunny thought looked oddly friendly.
"Over here," the driver said and led her over.
The man greeted her at the door with a big handshake. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn this was a business meeting between associates. "Come in, yessss."
He sounded faintly like W.C. Fields. He looked a bit like him, too. But Bunny was SURE he was dead. His movies were so old looking.
"Come right in, mah dear. Sit down. Have a cigar."
"No thanks."
"Can I go now, Sir?"
"By all means. By all means."
The driver turned toward the door.
"Ooooh, Jasper," the old codger said, and Bunny could not get over how much he SOUNDED like W.C. Fields as well as looked like him.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Do not fail to mind your post... should I prevail upon you to come to my assistance at a moment's notice. Eh?"
The driver nodded and slipped out the door.
W.C. Fields... or Mr. Potvin as he insisted Bunny call him turned around and rubbed his hands together. He pulled his white gloves up toward his wrists and stared down his huge bulbous nose at her.
"And who are you, my little lost petunia in the onion patch?"
"Bunny."
"Bunny... Bunny... sounds positively lapin."
"Sir?" the blonde nymphette said and looked at the broken blood vessels in the old goat's nose. There were about a jillion of them.
"I understand you're but a winsome filly in this interminable horse race of life."
"Do you mean, 'Am I under-age?,' Sir?"
The huge head nodded.
"Yeah."
"Such symmetrical mammaries."
"Oh, thanks," Bunny said and stuck her tits out.
There wasn't a lot there to stick out, but she was damned proud of what she did have. The guy wiggled his gloved fingers down into her tight tit valley.
They felt like giant sausages.
"Why don't you slip out of that tired frock and join me in the ante-chamber, fair damsel?" So saying, he rose and waddled toward the bathroom.
"Uh, sure. Yeah. Okey-doke."
Bunny stood up and unbuttoned the impossibly tight dress with the low cut neckline. Maybe he was W.C. Fields's son. That was possible.
She loosened the wraparound skirt and eased out of it. Her lithe hips bounced as she bent over and unhooked the long leather strap around her ankle that held the platform shoes in place.
From the other room, she could hear him puttering around. Something clanked. Clank?
What the hell was clanking in there anyway? It sounded like steel. It sounded like metal against metal and some chains for maximum effect. Chains. Definitely chains. Bunny tiptoed into the bathroom. She peered around the corner and opened her mouth when she saw what was in the next room. Mr. Potvin was unclamping an oddly shaped metal bar.
He looked very busy with the project. And a little perplexed.
"Damned cheap scrap iron anyway," he muttered. "Next time I'll ask for something post-Crimean when I'm buying war salvage." Bunny ducked back.
She twisted her face up and grabbed a chunk of her elbow. What the hell was she going to do now? She was in a motel room with W.C. Fields and a metal torture machine from the looks of it.
"Why the long face, my little daffodil."
"Huh?"
Bunny stared at the odd little man. He was holding a cuff with a chain dangling from it. He looked all lumpy and slightly pickled.
How the hell could a guy like him hurt anybody? W.C. Fields never hurt anybody. Not in any of his movies anyway. She didn't know much about his private life. Well, not until tonight.
"Step this way," he said, beckoning her with his free hand. "We've much to do before curfew. Much to do... much to do... "
He turned around and muttered some more gibberish as he unscrewed a huge rubber screw from the base of the metal bar. It curved up and around a bit. and Bunny guessed the screw was the size of a loaf of French bread.
It looked like a vaudeville prop piece.
But it fit inside the metal bar.
She winced when she thought of what else might fit in there.
"You must remove your unmentionables, my little pullet," the randy old man said with a sly wink. His face was puffy like a jelly doughnut.
Well, Bunny thought. She was here. She'd already taken the money. W.C. Fields was pretty much calling the shots. Besides, there was Jasper sitting out in front behind the wheel of the Mercedes.
There wasn't much else to do but give over.
Maybe she could even learn to like it.
Whatever IT was.
"Step into the tub. Munchkin," the old man said and picked up his white walking stick. "Hurry now. Be quick about it. I haven't got all day."
Bunny flipped her bra off and two hot upturned tits popped into view. But the guy hardly noticed. It was an odd response. Most guys drooled over a pair of genuine fifteen-year-old boobies. W.C. was practically yawning.
Well, she would get him with her cunt. Nobody could resist that thing. She peeled her garter belt down and the mesh stockings came alter them. She stepped out of them and threw the whole works down. It made a little tinkling sound as the garter buttons hit the bathroom tile.
No response.
Bunny stood in such a way that her cunt lips gaped open slightly. Her pussy was a sight to behold. Genuine platinum blonde cunt hair ringed the bright pink gash of her adorable snatch.
Her cunt fleece looked like angel hair... just a wisp of it, too. And feathering out in delicious trails of wispy down in a perfect radiant circle from her pussy crack.
She was soooo proud of her cunt.
W.C. looked up, snorted, and looked back at his machine.
"Don't be shy," he snarled. "Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly."
Bunny stood in front of him.
He set about his business with real dedication.
He untangled a length of chain and gave her the end to hold.
"No harm in flaunting slave labor," he said with a wicked grin. "Provided it's free."
He opened a huge cuff and Bunny watched as he slipped it around her forearm.
It fit snugly.
He closed it shut and she heard the toothed steel lock.
A tiny length of chain dangled down to her elbow when she held her arm straight.
The man repeated the procedure on the other arm.
She was now secured inside her cool steely elbow cuffs.
The guy bent over and picked up the long bar with the U-turn end. Bunny noticed the opposite end now... the end he had been bending over and working on before.
It had a mask on the end like she had seen frogmen wear when they went diving in the ocean. Only where the plastic visor would have gone... the one that fit over the face... there was a hole.
But it was green and rubberized, like she imagined that apparatus would be.
It did have a metal collar around the visor, though. And long lengths of chain dangled off either side of this metal visor.
At the end of both chains there was another set of steel cuffs.
An odd thing happened then.
Bunny got hot. She felt her cunt lips twitch.
Fuck!!!! She hadn't gotten hot since Richard Gere had stopped his motorcycle under the Fifty-ninth Street bridge and slapped her ass on the back of it.
But there was something about the glint of that metal... the sound the chain made when it dangled... the jiggling...
Damn!!! Her cunt was running melted butter now.
Naturally, Mr. Fields., or Mr. Potvin... or whatever his name was picked that moment to reach up and slip his huge pinkie finger inside her cunt slit.
"Nice and moist... nice and moist. Excellent. Five and a half stars... "
He went on muttering, but she guessed from the tone of his comments that he was fairly pleased with her response here.
He worked his finger out of her spasming cunt and sucked the end.
"Ah, sweet nectar of the gods!!!!" he said as he slurped up her juices.
He reached over and fished for the enormous screw on the floor next to the tub. He found it and held it up.
That's when Bunny noticed the over-sized hold in the U-turn bend of the metal bar.
"Let's put this on for size," he said dapperly and held the bar with the diving mask and turned-in piece up to the light.
He slapped the frogman's strap over her head and it fit well enough. The opposite end of the thing fit rather well against the curve of her cunt, too. It also felt rather pressing.
That is, it pressed into her soft, puckered cunt mound. The bar fit her like a fucking bikini bottom... a VERY brief one.
She could feel where the big hole in the metal curve of the bar was. Her pussy hole was directly above that... and juicing like a lemon squeezer.
The man grabbed her right arm and held it up, bending it at the elbow, just below where the first metal cuff had gone on.
He picked the open cuff up from where it dangled past Bunny's right tit and snapped it around her wrist. Odd, she thought.
But the sound was making her feel weird.
She could hardly let out a word of protest now, however, since the frogman's ear piece was now directly over her mouth.
W.C. Fields picked up her left arm and bent it at the elbow. The second wrist cuff was snapped on and Bunny blinked at him.
"Patience, my sweet petunia... patience... "
The green rubber mask turned out to be mesh, and Bunny found breathing tedious but entirely possible. She had begun to breathe a little harder, owing to the increased climate of her arousal.
Now, her captor picked up the short, dangling end of the right elbow cuff. He pinched the last link and the thing widened like a set of animal jaws.
He let go and jaw snapped shut with a sudden click.
Oh my goodness!! Bunny was about to get her nipples pierced.
She hadn't even wanted a tattoo when the other girls got them. Now she was going to have a metal ring stuck through her nipple.
She wondered if there would be blood.
She wondered how much there would be.
She closed her eyes in horror.
She felt the man's gloved hand enclose around her nipple, pinching it to a dusky rose point of perfection. She felt the man roll her nipple around between his pinching fingers, preparing it for- !
!!!
The pain at the tip of her tit was excruciating. But only for a moment.
Then it was just ugly. An ugly scorching pain. A brutal pain. "Mrrrrrrfffff!!!!!!" she let out. But the man only smiled and patted her head.
"My proud beauty," he said over and over again... "my proud beauty!"
The left nipple proved no less painful. If anything, it smarted worse.
The man locked the jaw of the gold metal final link around the searing nubbin of Bunny's sweet nymphette nipple. He locked it tight.
And if Bunny tried to move... as she made the mistake of doing once... she only succeeded in pulling her bruised ruby nipple out even more.
She was stuck.
Caught between a rock and a hard place.
She blinked in mounting terror as the old geezer bent down and picked up the huge rubber screw. He grinned like a banshee.
"Open wide thy portals that I may pass unscathed."
When Bunny did nothing, he rapped her a sharp one on th backside with his walking stick. She opened her legs.
She felt frightfully exposed and vulnerable.
But she felt a whole lot more once the old goat got that screw threaded into the hole between her flaring pussy lips.
CHAPTER TWO
"It's an awfully cold night to be out, isn't it?"
The woman with the monstrously huge tits sounded chatty, almost chiding. Marina wondered if she thought the two girls had been standing out in the rain for the fun of it instead of trying to turn a trick.
"Some nights it isn't so cold," Georgann said and held the lapels of her trench coat in tighter. No point in flashing these two unless they asked for it.
Marina leaned forward and planted her dark head in between the couple in the front seat. She knew she had better find out what they wanted before they got too far down the street.
It wasn't hard to get off on Madison because no car could pick up much speed on that street, but if they should turn off and head for a bridge or tunnel, things could get tricky.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, employing her best manners, "but just exactly what do you two want us to do?"
The lady with the monster jugs turned around and smiled mysteriously. "Enjoy the ride for one thing. And here's a little something that ought to make you both more comfortable."
She handed them a tightly rolled wad of bills.
Marina counted the cash as the car pierced the corridor of blinking neon. One hundred, two hundred... shit!!!!
These two wanted something big. Nobody gave out that kind of money unless it was for a good cause. And she and Georgann were not a charity.
She eyed the two again.
They seemed quite content to look out the window and pass the ride amiably chatting among themselves in a tedious exchange of inanities.
"I see Kandel's changed their window. I was so tired of those mouton bathrobes."
"Halston's looks ready for spring."
They seemed to be fairly oblivious of the two in the back seat. But not ENTIRELY oblivious. One of them had just tossed Marina four hundred dollars.
"Now where is this place again?" Marina said scratching her head. She tried to nudge Georgann who was almost asleep.
"Nyack."
"Guess it's a long ride, huh?" Georgann said as she rested her head against the huge upholstered back seat. It was soooo fucking luxurious in this car.
"Less than an hour."
Marina felt the car swing right. They were about to leave Manhattan for parts unknown. She had never been to Nyack.
"Will you please not go to sleep?" Marina said and gave her friend a swift elbow to the ribs. "This is a house call. Stay on your toes."
"Oh, Marina, I haven't sat down all night long."
There was no way she was going to get Georgann to stay alert. She was one dumb hooker and that was for certain.
If she didn't watch it, Marina predicted her friend would be blowing bums under the highway for beers and a warm place to shit before she was twenty.
"Tell us about your friend," the darkly thick voice of the man driving drifted back. "The platinum blonde."
Marina sighed heavily. Georgann had been stupid enough to tell these two that they had to be back on the corner later to meet a friend. She even went so far as to tell them her name before Marina kicked her from behind to silence her.
"Her name is Bunny. We usually work together."
More dumb hooker talk. Marina could not believe that she was sitting next to such a dumb broad. She was sure they would both end up at the police station or worse if she didn't put a lid on it.
"Why don't you just show them your driver's license," she whispered to Georgann once the chatter died down.
"I don't have a driver's license."
"Good. I'll rest a whole lot easier once I get behind the wheel again if I know you're not driving."
"You don't have to be cocky, Marina," Georgann said.
Evidently, the two hundred smackeroos was already going to her head. What passed for her head.
The warmth and comfort of the Cadillac must have gotten to Marina because the last thing she remembered was looking at the Hudson.
Then she put her head on the back of the seat and dozed.
The last thing she thought of was what a square couple the two seemed to be from outward appearances. Well, the lady had big knockers. And the guy was very tall and had a good physique for an older dude.
Other than that, they could have passed for school teachers.
"Here we are," the husky voice of the woman said as the car pulled in a driveway. It was circular like a driveway, but it was also wildly overgrown with vegetation.
Vegetation., hell!! It was a fucking forest in there.
Marina peered out the window. They could have been in the heart of the country. Any country. All she could see were trees and rocks and darkness.
Then, like a beacon in the night, a light shone out through the underbrush.
The car slowed down and the driver aimed it into what looked like a house. It was big enough. But it was a garage.
At least three other cars were parked there.
And a carriage like Marina had seen in movies about the gay 90's.
Mr. and Mrs. Square were definitely rolling in it.
"This way," the woman said and gestured grandly toward the door in the back of the garage. "We approach the house by an underground route, so don't be alarmed. It was all part of the architect's grand design."
The girls pitter-pattered on their high heels toward the door and looked down a rather dimly lit stone stairwell.
"Nothing to fear," the woman said as she led the way. "By the way, I'm Constance. This dapper fellow here is Bruno. He's my husband."
The woman played her fingers lightly on the man's shoulder. "Aren't I lucky?" She smiled and hooked her arm in his and they went on ahead.
The stairs were as dank and winding as they looked. Every few feet, a huge torch lit the path. The sound of squeaking rodents penetrated the darkness ahead.
"You guys like privacy, huh?" Georgann said as she made her way along.
Marina couldn't help calculating how far down they were going. Or how the hell they were going to get back out again.
Damn that four hundred bucks!
It had been too fucking tempting... too hard to turn down.
And now she could only wait and see what would turn up. Despite her inner twinges of fear... a fear that told her danger might lie ahead... she set her jaw firmly and walked ahead.
What was that old song? When you walk through a storm keep your head up high? She wondered if that applied to teenage hookers.
Constance and Bruno were acting like two kids out on a date. They positively sparkled as they led Marina and Georgann into the dungeon room.
And closed the door firmly behind them.
Marina heard it lock and clenched her teeth together tightly in a little crunching noise. Had someone just sealed her doom?
She looked around. The place was cheery enough. There was a fireplace, a huge wall full of old leather bound books and a couple of very big easy chairs.
There was a white bear skin rug spread out in the middle of the room and a decanter of grape-colored liquid on a coffee table atop it.
All the comforts of luxury living.
"Well," Georgann said as she did a little mock waltz in the middle of the room. "You two certainly know how to live right."
Constance grinned regally. "Thank you, my dear. We like to think so."
She turned to her husband.
"Bruno, darling," she said and sat back in me of the big chairs and crossed her long, svelte legs seductively, "pour us all a glass of wine. These little lambs are chilly, I'll wager."
"Huh?" Georgann said and twisted her face up.
"We're okay," Marina said, "and if you don't mind bringing this up, I usually like to get my night's work in before the socializing."
Constance nodded and blinked her heavily-hooded eyes.
"Business before pleasure. Is that it?"
"Yeah."
She snapped her fingers and Bruno stopped in his tracks. He had the decanter in one hand and a long stemware glass in the other.
He stood there like a mannequin in a store window.
"Our guests have decided to go right to work," she said and pressed her glossy Madame Fu Manchu fingernails into the arms of the easy chair in an attitude of rising out of it. "Shall we accommodate them?"
Bruno smiled gallantly and rushed to his wife's aid.
Marina and Georgann stood and watched. They had never seen a man help his wife up out of a chair before.
"He must be European," Georgann said in a half-whisper to her friend. "They always help ladies out of chairs over there."
Bruno and Constance, their arms linked together, strolled over to the bookshelf. And Georgann and Marina watched with their eyes wide as Bruno pressed a book on the third shelf and the whole damn thing pivoted around like a revolving door.
"Our inner sanctum," the dark sultry woman purred. "Would you be so good as to join us." She made that grand gesture of welcome again.
Marina moved with trepidation.
Georgann walked behind her like a Japanese bride.
"Holy crow!"
Georgann jumped a foot and pointed straight ahead of her. The place was a medieval torture chamber... or the damned nearest thing to it the girls had ever seen before in their young lives.
There were metal bars and racks and hooks and straps and chains and wires and planks and platforms and wheels and nuts and screws and bolts.
Flashing tortures illuminated the place. Metal, wood, iron and steel glinted at them from every corner.
And what flashed through their young minds when they took all this on? Pain.
Degradation. Agony. Torture. Tears.
SURVIVAL!!!!!!
Georgann turned to run and hit Constance smack dab in the mouth. The woman smiled lasciviously. Georgann stretched one hand out to whack her and the woman blocked it with a solid right.
Marina tried to run Bruno down, but she got nowhere. The man was not only silent, he was a tower of power. He stood like a statue... an iron statue.
She kicked.
She spat.
She pummeled his chest with her fists.
He barely responded, except to smirk... and that was just once.
But he did finally reach out and turn her around in one easy gesture.
And he picked her up.
He picked her up and carried her to where one of the instruments of God knows what kind of unspeakable torture.
He dumped her on the hard stone floor.
Marina moaned and rubbed her ass. She watched as the big dark lady lifted Georgann up off the floor and threw her down next to her.
The girl hit one of the steel and wood and chain things with a clatter and rolled on the floor until she stopped. Then, she started to bawl.
"Come on," Bruno said, rubbing his hands together, "let's see those tears. That's what we've been waiting for. Come on."
Georgann stopped.
She gnawed her lip.
Damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of crying for his pleasure!
Marina reached out and patted the girl.
"That's it, Georgann. Don't let these assholes see you cry. They may have rented us for a couple of hours, but they don't own our souls."
"Bullshit!" Constance spat. "We most certainly do."
Georgann thought she might start crying again.
Her ass hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Marina grabbed her friend and clutched her tightly.
"What do you want from us?"
She thought it best to confront the two with a reasonable question. She KNEW she would have to earn her money. No hooker expected to get any for free... even a sixteen year old.
But what did these people want them to DO for it exactly. She looked slowly around the room again. It was becoming painfully clear what they wanted.
They wanted to torture her and her friend for their jollies.
Marina swallowed hard.
"Are you going to snuff us?" she said, and she looked at the two smug faces with her wide-eyed long one. So this is how it was to end, huh? Raw deal!
"No, my child."
"You can quit calling me your child right now."
"Such a feisty little girl. I saw that in you right away. I told Bruno, too. I said to him, 'Look at those little girls walking that dark street at this hour of night in the rain. They must be tough little tramps'. That's what I said."
Bruno nodded his consent.
"I'll tell you how tough I am, lady," Marina snapped. "If you come near me or her, I'll bite you square in the nipple."
The big dark woman threw her head back and laughed.
"Charming," she said as though she had just seen a matinee performance she especially liked, "I told you, Bruno."
"You certainly did, darling."
"Now let's strap this one into that little gizmo over there."
In a warm cordial attitude, Constance indicated the thing she was talking about. It was a vertical bar with a series of spikes jutting out from one side of it.
What looked like a hula hoop hung down around it about a fourth of the way down, and Marina assumed the thing was attached... though she couldn't see how.
There was also a horseshoe shaped metal strap at the top that hung by one side. A long, thick chain dangled from one of the beams in the ceiling.
A cross-piece was attached to it that looked to be metal, but definitely had a pair of cuffs welded into it... one cuff on either end. Okay, so they knew which machine they were talking about. But which girl were they talking about.
Marina felt a hard hand grip her forearm.
"No!!!!!" she said glaring up at him. "You can't... you can't make me... "
"Ah, but we can make you," the husky-voiced black widow said as she stood up with her hands caressing her voluptuous hips. "But please... don't force us to. Why not go quietly? It would save us a lot of wear and tear on the place.
"And on you," Bruno said with a fond grin.
"You're going to snuff me, aren't you?" Marina shot.
Georgann could only shake.
"A gorgeous young doll like you cut down in the prime of her young streetwalker existence?" Constance sounded pretty sure of herself.
"But what... what could you possibly get out of... "
She never finished her sentence. What could they get out of it? Plenty, judging from the look on both of their faces.
They appeared totally smitten with the idea of clamping Marina inside that particular piece of shiny equipment and brutalizing her. In fact, Marina couldn't help but notice that they looked positively hot about the whole idea. Bruno was practically salivating and his lovely wife was licking her lips.
So the two of them had fallen into the hands of a pair of kinks.
She always knew that if she kept walking the streets like she had been, she was going to run into something like this some day.
It was inevitable.
If her mother had known she was a hooker, she would have probably warned her against something like that happening, in fact.
And now it was too late to do much about it.
Too late to repent. Too late for anything.
"Just... just don't... just don't think that I'm going to enjoy this," she said and stood up to face them bravely.
Bruno found that immensely amusing. He slapped his thigh over it.
"Well, we certainly hoped you wouldn't."
Marina felt chilly all of a sudden. Or maybe it was just that the hair on the back of her neck was standing up and she THOUGHT she was.
Either way, her knees were watery and her vision began to blur.
And it was exactly in that state that Bruno led her to the machine.
The thing was much uglier than it looked from a distance. From a distance, you could almost call it a sculpture... a crazed minimalist's idea of space in motion or three gypsies soaring over Venus...
But it wasn't a sculpture. This wasn't an art museum.
This was a chamber of horrors.
And Marina was to be the first victim.
"Bruno," Constance called to him, "be sure those cuffs are TIGHT. Remember what happened last time?" She made a clicking noise with her tongue.
Whatever happened last time, Marina definitely did not want to know about it. She could not bear to think what might happen THIS time.
Bruno took her right hand. Mutely, she let him have it. What else was there to do? Protest? Start a social discussion club? Write her Congressman?
His grip was solid.
His face was gaunt and determined.
His lips were the color of raw veal.
He arched her arm up over her head and held it there, then reached up himself and grabbed the open cuff on the end of the metal crosspiece that was welded to the base of the dangling chain that hung down from the ceiling.
And he snapped her wrist inside of it. The cuff was cold. The steel felt like ice.
Then, Marina watched in mounting anxiety as he did exactly the same thing with her other wrist.
Now she WAS in a pickle.
Georgann was the one to cry out, though. She let out a high pitched whine in that screechy little voice of hers.
It was like hearing a fingernail graze a blackboard.
"Shut up!!!!"
It was Marina who spoke.
Hearing that girl scream made her feel worse than she did already. There was nothing she could do, so why scream about it.
And why let Georgann scream about it?
Bruno reached up and effortlessly held her head in his hand. She could feel the bottom of his hand press against the nape of her neck.
He pushed her gently but surely into the horseshoe metal strap atop the oblong metal box. And she felt her chin push against one end of it.
He snapped the bar into place and Marina had this overriding feeling of what it must have felt like in the French Revolution.
The moment before the guillotine struck.
Then, she blanched white.
The studs jutting out of the oblong metal bar were pressing against her stomach, poking through the material of her fuzzy sweater, threatening to gouge her nipples out should she move.
She had no intention of moving.
"Hooker clothes," Constance said with mild impatience. "Do let's get rid of those, Bruno. Those tawdry rags. I can barely stomach them."
Marina felt like she had just lost her balance. Or as though someone had just pushed her off the edge of a cliff.
Then, she heard a ripping noise.
Bruno was following orders.
He was ripping the clothes right off her back... showing everything but her bones to all who might care to look.
When he had finished decimating her skirt and sweater, she could REALLY feel the cold steel looming out at her... intruding into her flesh.
The points were sharper than cat's teeth, but she could walk back from them a bit before her arms started to pull at the shoulder sockets.
Somehow, she thought that this little latitude of freedom was only temporary. And she was right.
That hula hoop thing was next set into place.
Bruno worked with assured ease and a little chuckle when things didn't snap into place on the first try. Dear, conscientious Bruno.
He kept on working until he got it right.
The hula hoop was snapped around her and it did hold her awfully close to those spikes... death-defyingly close in fact.
As Marina stood there, her agony building, she had a sudden image that if someone pulled the floorboards out from under her, she would be ripped all the way down her front... as though a bear had clawed her from her neck to her toes!
She didn't like the image of red, raw furrows running down her youthful throat, her upturned tight little teenage knockers, her hungry pink cunt with its proud lustrous bush of black and shiny cunt hair.
This was no way to die... not really.
But just when the steel felt the coldest and the spikes the nastiest, she sensed a new and unbidden sensation... heat!
Not the kind of heat that warms you and makes you feel toasty in your stomach, but a charged-up electric kind of heat.
A metallic punishing heat.
An electric chair kind of heat.
The bar!!!!! It was heated from within. The thing was glowing and she felt like a marshmallow at a weenie roast.
What the hell was this all about anyway?
Who was doing this to her?
Why???????
CHAPTER THREE
"Leave her alone," Georgann said, coming out of her shocked stupor. "That thing is hot. I know because it's turning red."
"Such a bright child," Constance said running her hand through her flaxen hair. "You've got it all figured, don't you?"
Georgann tried to wrest free of the dominant woman's grasp, but it was like trying to squirm out of the eye of a hurricane.
She was all around her, and she was as strong as an Amazon.
Come to think of it, she was built a little like an Amazon, too.
Maybe she WAS an Amazon.
And if she wasn't, somebody in her family was.
"You are bright, aren't you, Georgann, dear?"
"How did you know my name."
"You told me."
The big dominant bitch tickled the flighty blonde nymphette under the chin. She spread her arms out in a welcoming gesture and lunged at her.
Georgann bounded up and began to run. There was nowhere to run, however, and so she ran in circles. She chased herself and dropped in a heap, exhausted.
Constance wasted little time picking her up.
But Georgann began to rave. She shouted and screamed and tossed her blonde hair this way and that in a wide nimbus.
WHACK!!!!!
She stopped.
Constance had slapped her, and that seemed to bring her out of her delirium. For the moment anyway. She looked into the dark woman's big brown eyes.
"You gonna do me like you're doing my pal?"
"Not exactly," the woman said with a sugary whine in her voice. "I like variety. I find it the spice of life... don't you?"
She stroked one long lock of Georgann's streaky blonde hair.
She picked up a tendril of it and sifted it through her fingers. A very disgusted look came over her face... as though she'd found a spider under her plate.
"What the hell did you do to this hair?"
"Streaked it."
"Streaked it!!!!!!!"
"What are you getting so upset NOW for? I did it four months ago."
Constance pressed her hands to the sides of her head like a Greek chorus member about to chew Oedipus out. "What the hell have you done to yourself!!!!!!"
' I m sorry... I mean, nothing. What's wrong?"
"Oh, you vile little bitch!"
Georgann blinked in disbelief. She had no idea streaking her hair could bring this woman to such an agitated state.
"You filthy ten cent glamour girl." Constance was on her feet now, stalking back and forth in front of Georgann like a caged panther. "First you go out and walk the streets... dress in a filthy trench coat that not even Peter Falk would throw up on... and then you go and disfigure your lovely hair!!!!"
The woman spat the words out in gut wrenching agony. As though whatever Georgann had done to her hair was personally OFFENSIVE.
"It washes out," she said, and she made little gestures with her hands to indicate for the woman to calm down. "I can wash it out now if you want me to. Just don't get yourself so worked up."
From the metal bar an agonizing scream arose.
Marina was twisting her head in wild, abandoned circles. She was screaming and writhing. Her mouth was open and a huge white cap foamed out of it.
"What are you doing to my friend?"
"Never mind her," Constance snarled. "She hasn't TOUCHED her hair. It's you who should be afraid... afraid to within an inch of your life."
"Try a centimeter," Georgann said and again she tried to break loose. But the gauche woman held onto her hair and Georgann succeeded only in spinning her wheels.
She felt like an asshole running in place, but she was so fucking scared!
"Guess I'll just have to teach you a lesson you won't forget."
"I won't forget NOW!!!" Georgann screamed and took a swipe at Constance's hand. She was pulling her fucking hair out with it!
"Come over here," the woman said and wrapped her strong arm around Georgann's slender waist. She picked her up like a new born colt and carried her kicking and screaming to a huge metal box that was bolted to the stone floor.
A set of black metallic cuffs was welded to the box... one on either side.
A second set of cuffs dangled from two chains on either side of the box. They were the same black metal and looked every bit as ominous.
"Ouch!!!!" Georgann said when she saw them.
And that was before she felt them.
The woman tossed her down on the metal box and Georgann flopped and wobbled like a beached whale. The woman wasted no time setting her hands in the welded cuff links. And she snapped them shut.
"What are you gonna do to me?" Georgann said as she bared her teeth in furious fear. "What are you going to do?"
"I told you," Constance said, almost lightly.
"I know you told me you were going to teach me a lesson I'd never forget. But just what KIND of lesson? I wasn't a terribly good student."
"This kind," Constance said and produced, seemingly from nowhere, a big long thick leather bullwhip with a split end.
The big dominant woman stood over the girl and snapped the whip for good measure. It must have been twelve feet long.
It made a defiant crack in the still air of the torture dungeon.
Georgann felt her forehead bead sweat. The beads turned to rivulets that ran down over her eyes and temples.
Another loud report of whip and Constance stood at her feet like a lion tamer. "Now I think it's time we took that raincoat off."
She trained her whip up into the air. It snapped. Then, the tip of it hurled down to the lapel of Georgann's beige trench coat.
It split the lapel in two like a pair of shears cutting lace.
Another smack of the whip.
Georgann's other lapel met a similar fate.
Her round upturned pert titties poked out the slits and toward the ceiling.
Georgann winced as Constance drew nearer.
The big dominant female cracked her bullwhip over her head and the thing snapped like a gunshot, then sliced another gash right down the middle.
The woman stopped a moment She set her hands against her hips and glowered. "I might have known you'd be wearing nothing under that coat. What a cheap fucking little whore you've turned out to be."
"I'm sorry," Georgann whined.
"And stop that whining, for crying out loud. "You sound like a lamb giving birth to an octopus. Shut it up."
The woman reached one hand out now and gripped the shreds of material. She yanked the tattered trench coat off of Georgann's hot young nubile body, exposing it to the elements... and to herself and Bruno.
"I see," Constance said, looking her up and down.
She tapped the butt end of her big bullwhip in her palm as though she were contemplating just what to do with this bound and breathless female.
Constance trembled.
She would have felt a whole lot better if her cunt wasn't gaping open. That sweet little moist slit of hers was splayed out like a sprung clam.
The sweet, feathery crown of pussy hair framed the vertical pink gash and felt incredibly wet right now. Probably because she was sweating.
Or was it something else?
Her pussy lips were tugging a bit much for a girl lying with them spread wide. And her clit had begun to feel extra blubbery, too.
It pulsated and throbbed beneath the tight hood of flesh that sheathed it.
Christ, no!
She COULDN'T be.
It wasn't possible.
Was she getting turned on? She hadn't felt hot between the thighs since that big humpy stud from Long Island porked her on the observation deck of the Empire State building. And that was just a fluke.
Whores weren't supposed to get hot.
So why was her pussy spasming?
Her ripe rosette anus was undulating like a sea anemone taking nourishment.
Constance stood like a palace guard, whip in hand, staring down at her.
"Getting a little steamy under the silks, huh?"
It was an odd thing to say since Georgann clearly was not wearing silks.
"No," she lied, "not really."
"Well, this ought to get you started," the big Valkyrie said and unbuttoned the top of her knit suit. She slithered out of it like a snake shedding its skin.
"Holy Hannah," Georgann whispered as the woman's massive mammaries peeked over the confines of her black lace bra. "You've got a pair and a half on you."
Constance made no reply. She simply peeled her rotund ass out of her knit skirt and undid her under things. She threw them at Bruno who respectfully bent down and picked them up.
Georgann blinked. She blinked again an cleared her throat.
Constance was built like the Statue o Liberty... actual size.
Her tits were bigger than her head. Her nipples were the size of saucers and the nubbins were like corn cobs.
She could stick one of those things down her throat and gag her to death.
Her cunt was enormous. It could have taken the Bulgarian infantry.
The slit was a wide, rippling slit with a thick, kinky black bush surrounding it... like underbrush growing round a hillside.
"Now," Constance said sharply. "That ought to make you feel slightly more comfortable. I guess we should continue with the lesson."
Georgann looked away. Not that she wanted to miss Constance's luscious figure as it moved through space, but she just couldn't stand to watch herself get whipped.
And that sure as hell looked imminent.
The first blow assaulted her pussy lips.
It was biting. It stung like a swarm of bees had bitten her in a straight line.
She couldn't imagine how anybody could be so cruel... especially anybody with such a hot body. The girl could flatten a charging bull with those tits.
"Ow!!!!!" Georgann shouted to the rafters.
That bullwhip had chastened all thoughts of Constance's voluminous jugs from her thoughts. She was now pure of such thoughts.
And free to dwell on pain.
The pain that surrounded her cunt and dug into her cunt crack. The pain that gave her headache yet another headache. The pain that consumed her like a fiery furnace.
Constance was an excellent markswoman.
She found the slit of Georgann's cunt no matter what corner of the room she stood in. She stood still a moment, held her whip aloft, then cracked it down onto the outstretched girl's helpless hole.
Bruno was an excellent audience.
He began to applaud as his darling wife performed her feats of derring-do.
Constance began to show off for him.
"Right labia, halfway up!" she called out as she aimed her whip for the spot. A loud report resounded throughout the cellar and Georgann screamed and writhed as the black serpent bit her pussy.
Constance had found her mark.
Bruno applauded wildly.
"Anus ring... dead center," Constance shouted.
Well, at least she knew where it was going to land, Georgann thought.
A slicing of air.
A smacking sound.
Flesh meeting leather.
"Owwwwwww!!!!!!!"
"Left nipple!"
KEEEEEEEERACK!!!!!
The sound of wild applause and non-stop screams.
But behind the pain, beyond the fear, Georgann was more terrified than she dared to admit to herself. She was turned on, to boot.
And that was dangerous.
More dangerous than a big bitch dominant with a bullwhip.
More dangerous than heated metal spikes in the tits.
More powerful than any pain known to man... or woman.
Being turned on in these helpless, horrifying circumstances was the most terrifying torture of all.
CHAPTER FOUR
W.C. Fields pulled his hat down over his eyes.
His captive prey lay on the bed like an eagle spread against the sky. Her breathing, reckless and coming in spurts now, made her cute little upturned knockers heave irregularly.
The effect was giving him a hard on.
And when he got a hard on, he could be a real prick.
"Why... " the blonde beauty said in jagged breaths, "why are you doing this to me? You never did anything like this to Gloria Jean or Baby Leroy!"
"You're not them," the vile-smelling old fart said with a scowl.
Bunny tried to wiggle, but she was tied to the bed. Tied to the bed of a motel suite in Secaucus. Alone except for the company of a randy old man who was dressed like a dead comedian.
It didn't figure.
But then right now, the entire universe just didn't add up.
Her cunt quivered.
How many times had that ruddy-faced pig man made her come anyway? Four times? Sixteen?
After about a dozen, she'd lost count.
She rolled over and stared at him a moment. He seemed lost in thought. He paced back and forth in the sparsely furnished room and let a little whistle out of the gap between his ferrety front teeth.
"The closet," he said and snapped his fingers.
He wheeled around and ran into the closet door. It was shut. He opened it and bent over so that his wide ass stuck out like a bale of hay out a barn door.
When he came out finally, he was wheeling another contraption.
"What is that?" Bunny moaned low.
"A geodesic dome, Tootsie Roll Pop... a geodesic dome... "
"It is not."
The weird man bent down and inspected it. He stood up and shook his head.
"So it's not... so it's not."
Bunny flopped her head back on the bed. There was no point trying to worm out of this one with logic. This guy had the goods on her.
He was playing the role of a known lunatic to throw her off. That was it. Perhaps he was doing this to keep his true identity hidden.
So who the hell was he really?
"Who the hell are you really?" Bunny said as she rolled her absurdly beautiful head over and found the old guy's pasty face.
"Mr. Potvin," he said with a huffing sound. He was trying to get the see-saw to move on its wheels, but it was slow going.
"Mr. Potvin, my ass."
"No, Mr. Potvan, the third. I don't like it either, but Daddy-o stuck me with it, and there it sits." He stopped in his labors long enough to shake his head and mutter, "I always hated that man."
Bunny's pussy ached.
She thought of asking the guy to loosen the ropes that bit into her flesh a bit, but she passed on it. He didn't look like a guy with much pity in him.
The see-saw finally got pushed and kicked and pulled into place.
It stood in the middle of the room, looking like an abandoned piece of playground equipment left by a Nazi. It was made of metal and plywood and it squeaked a bit when Mr. Potvin moved it.
"Shortly, my dear," he said with a shit-eating grin, "you will know the joys and delights of a brand new kind of affection."
"What kind of affection?" Bunny said, a little tremolo in her voice.
"Total pain."
Somebody around here was crazy, she thought as she closed her aching eyes in mortal terror. She thought about Jasper out in the comfort of the silvery Mercedes.
She wished she was sitting out there now. And she wished W.C. Fields would have died when they claimed he did.
"Hop up here my little parakeet," he said and beckoned with his thick gloved hand like a traffic cop would urge traffic forward.
"I don't feel like riding a teeter-totter just now, thanks."
"Get up here or I'll tan your miserable nymphette hide. "I'm TIED UP!!!!!!!"
"Oh," he said in a much more modulated voice, if a mite gravelly, "so you are. So you are."
Bunny watched as the old man reached in his pocket and took out a pistol. He took careful aim at the ropes that bound her silken thighs.
"What are you doing?" she screamed. "You've got a gun!!!"
The man leaped up and dropped the offending pistol to the floor.
He kicked it under the bed and reached back into his pocket. He pulled out a Swiss Army knife and extracted one of the blades.
"This ought to do the job better," he said with a mild tone.
He cut Bunny's ropes and helped her to her feet.
"Are you sure I can't go home yet? My friends are waiting for me."
The guy was having none of it. He held the plywood see-saw level and shooed Bunny onto it. She straddled the thing, feeling like a dunce.
Her captor smiled wickedly.
"Like Lady Godiva on her gallant steed," he said with approval.
"Like a stupid fucking hooker about to be mutilated," Bunny said as the old goat leaned in and reached toward her cunt.
Bunny held her breath.
Was he copping a cheap feel?
She would have liked to slap him, but her wrists were still tied behind her back. He may have been a crazy person, but he was no fool.
The guy stood back and pulled a long metal thing out after him. It looked like a rod, but it rolled out like a tape measure.
There was a hole in the rounded end of it.
The man ransacked under the bed and came up with an iron bar. He inserted it into the hole as though he were threading a needle.
"Lie down," he commanded.
Bunny started to fall backwards, but he caught her by her left nipple and pulled her toward him until her cheek was flush with the end of the see-saw board.
Then, he grabbed her hair and yanked her even farther toward him.
Her rubbery hot nipples hung over the edge of the see-saw.
The man pressed the metal bar back and squashed her nipples between it and the ends of the see-saw. They hurt like the fringes of Hades.
"Owwwwwww!!!!!!"
"Sorry to inconvenience you, my little buttercup, but you've been awfully bad." He kept puttering around, and Bunny could only imagine what might come next on his daffy agenda of pain and discomfort.
He fished around for another metal rod and sewed it through the base of the see-saw. He wrapped Bunny's knees around it and she felt the cool bar hitting the backs of her knees.
"Alley oop!!!!!"
With that little war cry, the vile old gent sent her flying up into the air. It was as though the fattest kid in school were sitting on the end of the see-saw opposite her.
"Oooooooh, God!!!!!!!!!"
Something Bunny hadn't calculated was this old goat's ability to create pain where there had been none before.
When she slid back, she slid her pussy lips over a little projection that felt like a small pyramid, complete with jagged bricks.
The thing scraped against her bulging clitoris and made her wet and hot and angry and ruffled and crazy with the pain.
"You're hurting me, you know that?"
"Well, I'll be switched if I am."
"You're making my clit raw."
"That sound like an invitation to the dance."
"What dance?" Bunny said, fighting the urge to faint.
"The one my cock is doing right now." The horny toad reached into his flap front pants and felt his weenie. "I think it's the jitterbug."
Bunny was crazy with the pain. But she didn't dare move an inch. Every time she did, that pyramid took another chunk out of her clit.
Just when she was about to give up hope of ever walking again, Mr. Potvin stood and unhooked the flap of his immaculately white pants.
Out flopped a whang as big as a dachshund.
And the horny little character strolled behind her and popped the hard, throbbing head of it square in her poop chute.
CHAPTER FIVE
"But I don't get it," Georgann said scratching one of the red welts that ran down her arm like an ornery ribbon. "How come you brought us here if you only want to whip our skinny asses? You could have done that in the car."
"Ah," the calculating bitch purred back, "but that is sooooo much less sophisticated. Wouldn't you say, dear?"
"Sophisticated?" Marina said as she craned her neck in disbelief. "Where the hell do you get off pulling sophisticated on us? You almost burned my 'cajones' off and you're talking sophisticated!!!!!"
Constance stood up and made her way toward Marina who was still bound to the metal bar with the spikes protruding into her delicate tummy flesh.
"I suggest you don't try to lecture me on the nature of culture, my dear," she said with a toss of her dykey black hair. "You're not in a terribly good position to make a very convincing argument."
"So that's it, is it?" Georgann said. "You're trying to brow beat us."
The big bosomed woman chuckled.
"Among other things."
"Bitch!" Georgann said under her breath.
She rubbed one of the reddening welts that already felt like an old war wound. She hadn't had it for long, but still it felt like it belonged to her... like she had been collecting benefits from having received it in battle for her country.
She had said that word so that Constance wouldn't hear it. She didn't. But her husband, Bruno did. He interceded on her behalf.
"Shut your mouth before I rip your face off."
That settled it. Georgann grew still in an instant.
Marina took up the banner, even though her body was still recoiling from the impact of a mild electrical shock plus an unexpected heat wave that left her flesh raw and tingling.
"I don't think you two know what you're doing," she said, half out of her wits with fear and anger and fright and fatigue.
"How's that?" Constance said, her ears perking up.
"I don't know what end you wish to achieve by bringing us here and... "
"Torturing you?" Constance filled in. It seemed to fit.
"Actually," Constance said, placing a well-timed hand on her hip and jutting it out at an especially provocative angle, "we're not torturing you."
"Well, what the hell do you call this?" Georgann broke in again and thrust one of her inner hips to the light so that all assembled could see.
What she revealed was an especially pink, especially deep welt. It had an ugly discolored furrow in it where the whip had found its mark.
"A lucky shot," Constance snapped. "It's torture pure and simple," Marina argued. "How can you call it anything else?
How can you justify it? It's torture!"
"No," Constance said, still as calculated and calm as an accountant with a steady firm, "it's not torture. It's lessons."
"Lessons?" both girls said at once.
The tone of their voice and the wideness of their eyes indicated more incredulousness than disbelief. What the hell this was about, they knew not.
"You must admit you knew more than when you first came here," Constance offered. Silence.
Bruno backed her up.
"You found out what that metal box was for," he said, almost gleefully.
"Yeah," Marina snapped back, "and I'd rather not have. I wish to hell I'd never seen this thing. Do you know how hard it's going to be for me to ever face a metal box with spikes in it again?"
"You won't have to," Constance said sauntering over to her. "For the next lesson, we'll use something entirely different."
Marina felt frustrated.
This woman was missing the point entirely.
"If you're teaching us something," Georgann tried, "and this is not to say we believe you are. But just supposing you were... what the hell would it be?"
"Pardon me?" Constance said fluttering her sophisticated eyelashes.
Marina tried to get it through to her.
"If this is a lesson," she said, casting her weary eyes down at the metal spikes that still glowed a bit from the heat, "what's the point of it?"
"Ah!" Constance said, the light dawning at last.
"You want to know why this rather unusual classroom," Bruno said with a patronizing smile.
"Yeah."
"Well, in the first place," Constance said, as though she really WERE giving a lecture. She even paced with her hands behind her back in a professorial stance, "most hookers we've encountered don't take well to conventional schooling."
Bruno nodded.
"Most of them are high school... or junior high school drop-outs and quite adverse to learning in any usual sense of the word."
"They need a rather special instruction," Bruno said, considering each word carefully. "A highly individualized sort of education... special ed."
"This is a remedial course," Marina said with a frightened jerk of her lovely head. "We're dumb-dumbs. Is that it?"
"Don't go being so hard on yourself,"
Constance interrupted. "You may have missed a few things the first time you went to school. And you may have missed a few things down here till now. But with repetition and an increased program of applied studies... "
"Oh, shit," Georgann slipped out. Immediately she was sorry.
"I wouldn't make smart remarks in class," the dominant woman snapped with a vicious tone of voice. "You might have to endure some corporal punishment for an outburst of that nature."
That last comment came out as though the idea pleased her.
Marina knew she had better act fast.
"Thus far, we've talked of methods," Marina said, her words rushing out of her mouth like a flotilla of bobsleds descending a snowy peak. "What about ends?"
"Don't give them any more ideas," Georgann said with a shrill tremolo. She rubbed her aching ass in memory of the punishment she had already experienced there.
"Didn't Machiavelli say that the means justified the ends?" Constance seemed especially proud of her remark on the topic. She looked like a chicken who'd just laid a prize egg.
"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Georgann said in mounting fright.
"But WHAT ends?" Marina said, gritting her teeth.
She realized she had just committed a serious lapse in rational thought, but her body had begun to smart again from the heat of that metal box. And she didn't know how much time she had left before she would fry again.
"Re-training," said Bruno with a wide grin.
If he'd had a mustache, Marina felt certain he would have twirled it.
"Re-training?" Georgann said, her blonde head spinning. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I don't get it."
Constance was patronizing.
"I'm not surprised. You streetwalkers are a dumb lot. That's why we've set up this remedial workshop for you... and others like you."
Marina resented this.
"I don't need any remedial workshop. I graduated twenty-first out of four hundred and seven. Advanced placement the last year. So there."
Bruno nearly fell over the fireplace logs. He collapsed into the upright easy chair with laughter.
"Don't you understand?" Constance said, and Marina was glad at least that her laughter was not quite so mocking as her husband's. "You've been brought here to be re-educated... you need a lot of straightening out."
Marina closed her eyes and saw a rack stretching her out to a bone-shattering perpendicular. She cringed. She felt nauseated. She bit her lip.
"You're going to kill us!!!!!" she said and slammed her dainty cheek against the metal box. "We know your game!!!!"
"Silence," Bruno said, drawing himself up like a rooster guarding his coop.
"Education CAN be painful," Constance said softly, "but I don't think it necessarily has to hurt anyone to the pain of death."
"That depends on the subject, my dear."
Georgann made a face.
"We're stupid," Georgann repeated mechanically. "We're stupid and you have to re-educate us. I just don't know why."
"Now there's a bright girl," Bruno said, almost as if he meant it.
"You don't know why just now because we don't want you to," Constance said smartly. "When we want you to... you'll know."
It made sense to both the girls... in a way. But neither of them liked it. The words stuck in there like hard balls of wax.
They were being re-educated with the use of pain for some purpose that they did not know yet. They could only hope they would both be quick studies.
"For our next lesson," Constance said in that regal way she had... as though she were speaking before an assembled audience, "we shall employ a rather unusual technique."
"Oh, joy," Marina whispered and slammed her other cheek down on the still-warm metal box top. It didn't sound auspicious.
"Have you ever taken a big ugly cock up your ass?" Constance said as though she were asking Marina directions to the park.
Marina decided to play it mute.
She might have to undergo this woman's lessons, but she didn't have to raise her hand to answer her morbid questions.
"Have you ever had one of those huffing, smelly tricks of yours take you to a vile, crumbling little hotel room and force his big whang up your teensie little poop chute?"
"None of your business."
"Be quiet, Georgann," Marina told her.
She didn't want anyone else fighting her battles.
"I'm sure you have. Girls in your position have to... once in a while. Usually on a night when, you've blown Five or six dicks, fucked three or four and have made the rather unwise decision of taking just one more John on... am I right so far?"
Marina rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and kept her lip buttoned.
"The guy is obese and overbearing, and your best senses tell you to walk away, but your pocketbook seems to have developed a will of its own in the last hour and a half of growing heavier with the bills you've already stuffed into it. And it wants a little more padding."
Marina tried to break in now, but the woman was off on her high horse.
"There is something about the way this one smells... as though he were a sandwich man for a deli where garlic is the feature ingredient in every dish except the rice pudding and even it, too, smells of the stuff."
Now Marina had to lift her head up and stare at the bitch. What in the world was she on about?
"Enough garlic to scare off a vampire, but you draw close... close enough to look into the stubborn whites of his eyes. They ought to at least reveal whether or not he's psycho."
Marina wondered if this woman wasn't a bit psycho herself.
"The whites are calm, clear, if the skin pouches below are a bit puffy and the total effect of the face is haggard... a loser's face. But you take a chance."
"Then what?" Marina said, eyeing her askance.
"Then, of course, you take him to your room. Well, it's not YOUR room really. That's what you told him, but nobody lives at the Blue Rose permanently. They rent rooms there by the hour... or half hour."
"Sounds like you've been around," Marina said, and she made no attempt to hide the accusatory tone of her voice as she spoke.
Constance ignored it in favor of plunging ahead.
"Before you even get up the first flight, you're thinking you've made a mistake. The guy is huffing and puffing as though he might have a heart attack on you at any minute... leaving you with a corpse and having to make up a story about how this man you didn't know followed you to your room... "
"Hardly," Marina said with an impatient lilt.
"But his size and health aren't really what bothers you. It's the way he talks. He says things like, 'I can hardly wait to slip it into you, Cutie', and T got a boner on me you're gonna die over'. Things like that. Things that make you know that you've got a difficult customer on your hands. But you want that money. That twenty dollar bill."
"And if he happens to have two tens?" Marina said snottily.
"Silence," Bruno rushed in. "Silence or I'll tape your mouth shut."
"Where was I?"
"That twenty dollar bill," Georgann reminded her.
"Yessssss.... oh, how you crave that money. Your cunt feels like the inside of a track shoe after the Olympic foot races. Your mouth is one long hollow tube of raw pain from so many blowjobs, but you've got to do one more... "
Marina shook her head.
Whoever she was, this bitch didn't know ALL there was about hooking. Usually the thing on her the most worn out was her right hand.
"And after you get inside the room... after you've turned on the bare bulb overhead and chased the roaches off the bed... "
"Ugh!"
"He opens his coat and shows you a weenie the size of a brick bat. 'I want Greek', he says with mud in his eye."
"I don't do Greek!" Marina snarled.
"Yes, of course. That's exactly what you tell him. You beg. You plead. You tell him your ass is like a virgin's. That you're only eighteen, and nobody ever did that to you before. But he puts his twenty down and... "
"I don't do Greek!!!!!"
"Yes," Constance roared. She had a full head of steam up now, and there didn't seem to be any stopping her. "You tell him you don't do that sort of thing, and would he PLEASE take something else. But he's adamant."
"Huh?" Georgann said, her nose twitching.
"He insists," Constance clarified.
"Oh."
"He HAS to stick that surly brown stick of his up your poop chute or he'll die... or worse... he'll beat you to within an inch of your life."
"Sounds glum," Marina said, baiting her.
She had come to see that the woman was possessed, but at least as long as she was talking, she wasn't torturing either of them.
"He even throws another five on the bed."
"Small potatoes," Georgann threw in. "I wouldn't take twenty-five for Greek. I wouldn't do it for less than thirty."
"Nevertheless," Constance said, her patience growing a bit thin from the look on her face. "Nevertheless you dive for it."
"And when my ass is to him?" Marina said with a playful grin.
"He whips your skirt up and takes you doggie style... "
"No!!!!!"
"Yes!!! He rams his lewd jerking hard dork up into your slimey bung hole with not so much as a drop of spit for lubricant."
"But I can't take that," Marina howled.
"No... no of course you can't," Constance said, her eyes growing round and eager. Her ' cheeks were flaming with anticipation.
"He'll rip my ass out!!!! What the hell will I use for an asshole if he butt fucks me with a his hard slimy meat?"
"He's thoughtless," Constance said, flying into the same rage as her captor. "He's a thoughtless prick. He's going to use that ugly ramrod to pierce your anus without so much as a thought to how painful it is."
"Don't let him!!!!!" Georgann wailed.
"Noooo!!!!" Marina cried out. She could see the whole thing and it made her sick to the gills to contemplate. A big, horny smelly man was poking her. What a raw deal.
"I hate him!!!!!!" Marina shouted.
"He's horrendous," Constance said and she ran to pat the girl's thick dark hair. She stroked her delicately... like a guardian angel.
"He'll rip my rectum."
"He's a bad man," Constance said soothingly as she patted. "He's the worst most foul pervert on Broadway. He stinks."
"Don't let him," Marina said, and she felt as hot as if she had fever then. The bar she was pressing against had heated up, and it was making her sizzle everywhere. "Oh, please, don't let him do it."
"I won't," Constance said softly. "I won't. Don't you worry, Marina dear."
When Marina quieted down, Constance stood up triumphantly.
She motioned for her husband to throw her something.
He tossed her an assortment of leather straps... it looked like something you would put a reindeer in before taking off from the North Pole.
"I won't let him hurt you, darling."
Her voice sounded comforting. Even Georgann felt relieved.
Bruno undid Marina from her post.
He walked her shaking and half-delirious into the center of the room. She was naked as the day she was born. She looked faint.
"Please," Marina repeated again and again... "Don't let him hurt me... don't let him. I beg you. Please don't let him... "
Constance wasted little time.
She and her husband yanked the girl's arms back, and owing to the fact that she was now half-crazed with fear she let them bind her.
They set her arms in a leather strap and hooked it.
Then, Marina snapped to.
The sound of the metal buckle hooking into place brought her back to her senses. The feel of her arms pulling behind her back, made her alert.
"What are you doing?" she said as she swung her head back and forth to take them both in. "What is this?"
"I promised I wouldn't let him hurt you, darling," Constance said softly and with such sympathy that Georgann was impressed.
"So YOU'RE going to instead?"
Slowly and deliberately, the woman nodded.
Marina let out a wild scream.
Bruno capped her mouth with a leather gag. He buckled the strap of it behind the girl's head and muffled the sound.
Marina continued to scream, but the sound died down considerably once the leather gag was set into place. Georgann could barely hear her.
She hoped to hell her friend was okay.
"But I won't rip your ass off," the woman said, proudly, almost haughtily, as though she were above that sort of thing. "I will merely bugger you till you can't sit down."
Then, with a kittenish grin, the woman pointed to another leather strap and Bruno was once again pressed into service himself.
The thing went around Marina's tiny, girlish waist in a thing that looked like a belt, but had a rather unusual feature to it.
This feature was a cross strap that hung down over the girl's navel at right angles to the belt around her waist. It hung down almost pointlessly, except for a strange protuberance on one end of the strap.
The protuberance looked like an enormous nipple that one might attach to a bottle before feeding a baby giraffe its formula.
A thirsty baby giraffe.
A thirsty baby giraffe.
The thing was enormous and rubbery and stuck up at an obscene and fleshy tilt. Marina could not even see it yet.
But Constance showed it to her.
She showed it to her grabbing it, threading it through her slender legs and drawing it back up into the valley of her hot, moist nether eye.
"Oh, God!!!!!!" Marina whined as the thing found its mark.
It was harder than any cock Marina had up her... ever. And being of formed latex, the thing gave little indication that it would go down at any time soon.
The woman was an artist at working it up inside her bung, though. Marina had to give her that... even with all the pain.
She wobbled the big nose cone of it up inside the puckering pink ring of her sweet virgin butt hole with grace and style.
She wiggled it inside daintily while Marina drooled and slobbered all over the leather mouthpiece of the gag that muffled her cries of pain.
Then, she slapped it flush inside of her, digging the head of the dildo down in and working it around, like a rubber spoon in a stew pot.
But Marina's ass was unbelievably tight, and the going was rough.
Constance had an answer for that problem, too. She watched and felt Marina's body go rigid with pain and white with fear and loathing as she rammed the huge hard rubber dildo in place.
But she knew that the girl could not be properly indoctrinated unless she would relax. Making her relax became the dominant mistress's challenge.
A challenge she rose to with ease.
She looked up and found the gold ring that hung from the leather belt and bounced down on Marina's spine. It made a pretty picture, flashing up there just at the tip of the crease that marked the beginning of her ass crack.
She motioned to her husband.
He came running with a leash.
They fed it through the bright gold ring and harnessed the girl to it.
Then, Mistress Constance led her around the dungeon room like a trained dog.
First, the girl was in much too much pain with that dildo sticking up her bung to be able to walk upright. She HAD to crawl.
That suited Constance fine.
"Come now little doggie," she said firmly, "let's go for a walk. Let's take a little walkie-poo. Around and around."
She led the terrified and trembling girl by the leash hooked to the ring at her back. She led her over the cold stones and up onto the sofa.
She ran her around until she panted from fatigue.
Marina struggled to stand upright.
If this was Constance's idea of a lesson, she didn't want to even show up on the day of the test. She'd rather die.
CHAPTER SIX
"Oh, God!!!!!!" Bunny shouted to the glittering paint on the ceiling of the motel suite where the man who looked like W.C. Fields was holding her virtual prisoner.
He was also porking her right up the poop chute at the moment.
She had begun to wonder, however, during the course of this particular event, if he wasn't using a two by four instead of his weenie.
She had never known such pain from anyone in any orifice in her young life.
But the funny thing was... if anything could be considered funny under these trying circumstances... that he was good.
That is to say, he knew what he was doing.
Certainly he knew what he was doing dressing up like that, she thought, so it stood to reason that he was no slouch in other areas.
But in addition to having a honker on him as big as Rhode Island, he really knew how to use it. He had spent about forty-five minutes just getting it in place.
Well, her asshole had required special attention.
It was young and green (in the sense that it was untried) and tight as a miser. It burned hot once the guy started lubing her up.
She had no idea what he used for that... bear grease from the outdoorsy smell of it... but it worked well enough for all that.
In fact, it worked well enough for him to be able to stick his big red hot poker up inside there and handily light her youthful fires.
The pain of his huge hard on hurt at first, and she reacted by struggling, but since she was tied up to that dreadful see-saw thing, she had little hope of actually escaping.
He took full advantage of her helpless straits and porked her with nonchalant prowess as he stroked the round firmness of her girlish ass.
She felt the burning track of his pile driver as he plugged her to the hilt with his hard whang.
It stung.
It burned.
It rammed her like a mountain goat.
She wiggled, but there was no place to squirm to. The thing wedged into her and slipped out again, but not before bruising her delicate tissues and rubbing her bung canal raw.
"You're hurting me," she screamed. "I won't be able to walk again."
"Then you'll crawl," the nervy old gent said as he hauled his mammoth pecker once more out of the hot pipe of her delicious loins.
But there was something else at work here besides mere pain. Bunny knew it. There was a feeling of building something.
But what was building?
Tension?
Pain? Most certainly. Delirium?
Anxiety? What could make her anxious? He was already doing the worst possible thing he could to her? Why sweat it?
But there was sweat.
There was sweat and blood and tears for the old man was working his big hard knob up into the tight fist of her delicious salty-scented bung hole with an ever increasing force.
And she was taking it.
Taking it all.
Not that she had any choice in the matter. Still and all, there was something at work here. Anger?
Hell, yes. The old buzzard was pissing her off something fierce.
The pain was beginning to build now. She was inside the pain and it felt like a ring of fire around her... itching to roll over her in a wall of flames.
But she fought for her sanity.
She bit her lip and screamed and tried to get in touch with her surroundings.
But what was that other thing besides pain that she was now fighting off?
She felt her nipples twitch and erect out.
Her pussy lips began to spasm... a little at first, then like crazy.
Was she?
Could it be?
Was she getting hot?
Impossible.
Hookers never got hot. That was their stock in trade... their safety valve... their security blanket. They never got hot, and that's why they could turn around and coolly claim the bucks owed them.
They could get a guy off and never even come close to the fiery rages of climax themselves. It was walking a thin line, but in the short time that Bunny had been hooking, she had learned to walk it.
Walk it with style.
Nobody... especially not a John... nobody was ever going to get her to come against her will. Not if she was in control.
But this guy with his odd manner, stranger wearing apparel and big thick dick burger were drawing her nearer and nearer the edge of the abyss.
Orgasm??????
She shuddered.
What would she do?
How would she explain her screams of sudden pleasure replacing the screams of pain.
She would have to lie.
And she would have to start thinking fast, because if it WAS pleasure she felt, the sensation was building momentum... rapidly.
"My little starfish," the rutting Mr. Potvin whispered in a juicy rush, "what in the world do you do to your bum to keep it so remarkably fit?"
Bunny was about to tell him she never let anyone pork her up there, but she doubted that he would believe him.
And he might stop doing it if she said that. She suddenly realized that she didn't want him to stop. Not now.
"Oh, yeah," she uttered as the gigantic hard head of his big rod plugged her bung hole yet another furious thrust. "Do it. Do it!!!!!!"
She wiggled her fanny into his face, inviting him in deeper.
She felt his poker burn her brain.
The thing seemed to be battering her butt to shreds, but she knew she could not stop now until she achieved that sweet release she was now welcomed.
Her tits throbbed.
Her pussy quivered.
Her anus creamed.
Then, W.C. Fields... or whoever he was... pulled his whang out. "What the- !!!"
Silence. Then some odd scratching noises.
"Why are you stopping?" Bunny called, aware all of a sudden that beads of perspiration had formed on her head. That made her feel a little conspicuous.
"Because my dear," he said, half to himself, half to the woodwork, "you're enjoying it. Can't have that now, can we?"
"Yes... no... what the hell?"
Bunny was flustered beyond belief.
"Oh, come on," she said, turning her head back and glaring at him over her shoulder. "What's the big deal if I have a little fun. too?"
"FUN!!!!!!"
The dude reached up and scratched the back of his neck, knocking his crooked stovepipe hat forward onto his face.
"So you think this is fun, do you?"
Bunny felt her pussy lips simmer down and her tits stop their throbbing. The guy's whang stood up like a red pagoda. What the hell was wrong with him anyway?
"But I don't see what harm a little- !"
"No, I suppose you don't, my mindless little mink."
"Well," said Bunny with a game grin, "why not continue?"
The guy brought his gloved hand up in the manner of hitting someone sideways and stopped. "Never could hurt a lady," he said lightly.
Bunny steeled herself for the next question. "What's wrong? Don't you... don't you like me?"
"Like you? I loathe you. What's wrong with you anyway?"
"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm hot, hungry, horny ripe young American girl."
His eyebrows shot up to his forehead.
"Keep national boundaries out of this, if you don't mind!!!!!!"
"Okay," Bunny said and shut her trap. The man was impossible. Infuriating. Indecent.
And hung like a horse!
She wondered if she would have to go to a candy store and have the taffy pulled out of her head after this was over. Somebody had a screw loose here.
"Guess I'll just have to teach you to button up," he said with a snarl.
He came over and leered at her.
Trying to keep herself composed wasn't easy.
Bunny held her chin high, though. Damn if she was going to let some two bit old time movie star impersonator get the better of her.
But she miscalculated if she thought she could pull a stuck up routine on him. Being standoffish in these circumstances was worse than foolish.
It could hurt!
The man released her from her bonds and slapped her down on the bed. He had a helluva hard hand. Hard enough for Bunny to rub her face after her'd finished beating her.
"Now stay here till I can get the crocodiles ready."
"No!!!!!!!!"
"Alright. Stay there till I subdue you."
"No, please!!!!"
"Crocodiles or submission... take your choice."
Bunny glared at him. This old-timer wasn't fooling. She could tell from the way he stared back at her... with a mean look in his eye.
His nose glowed like the flame from a candle.
"Submission," she said flatly.
She had no desire to say it as though she relished the idea. She did not intend to give him the satisfaction. Not after what just happened.
Coitus interruptus... and from an old fart like this!
Degradation was only part of the treatment here, she assumed.
And when she saw the next machine her captor brought out from under the bed, she knew that her intimations were true.
This one was tricky.
Only a master of suspense and a damned good hand with fishing tackle could begin to make it work. Mr. Potvin got tangled up in it.
"Infernal wires," he snorted.
He did manage to get them into working order, however, and sat on the edge of the bed rubbing his hands together.
The piece was indeed strange. It made no sense logically or any other way.
There was a round metal collar with a loop welded into it.
A piece of wire was strung through it with a gold hoop on one end that looked like an errant gypsy's earring.
There was a weight on the other end... tied to it... that looked like a stick of dynamite, only where the fuse should have been, there was another loop of metal with the string tied to it.
Bunny couldn't put it together. But her captor could.
And he had it together and around her neck in the bat of an eyelash.
"Ow!!!!" she let out as the beastly collar was clapped around her neck. It felt frightfully cold, like an unfriendly hand strangling her.
But it didn't strangle her.
It held on tight and made her feel more like a slave than ever. It cramped her style in the worse possible way in that it made it difficult for her to speak.
Still, she tried. She spoke in a cracked and constricted voice.
"What's this for?"
"Silence, maiden fair, or I'll clap you in irons."
"What the hell do you think you're doing already?"
"I've only begun to fight, my sweetness."
Bunny bit down on that one and let it pass. There wasn't much else she could do. Mr. Potvin was holding all the cards.
He was also holding the gun.
It was the first time she had seen him with a weapon in his hand. Up to now he had been using his mouth... and his whang.
That thing certainly qualified as a weapon.
She wondered if he would use it on her again.
She hoped he might.
She could almost feel it as she closed her eyes and thought about how round and firm and juicy and hard and thick it was.
When she opened her eyes again somebody had turned the lights off.
"Who turned the lights off?"
Her question was met by a surly chuckle. "No one my little ivy vine. I merely took the opportunity of your closed eyes to slip a pair of mesh glasses over your face."
"What the hell for?"
"To spare you witnessing the terror that is about to befall your ass, bitch!"
That shut Bunny up, but she didn't like being talked to like that.
This ornery jackass was making her cry. She winced when she realized that owing to the dark glasses, the fucker couldn't even see her tears.
And what was that shit about terror to befall her?
She had little time to contemplate before the randy old satyr slapped a gold hook through her left nipple.
"Owwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!"
He'd already pinched her there with the last gold loop he'd clamped on there. And her bruised nipples hadn't gotten over it.
Now, the man was thoroughly intent on drilling holes in them.
Fucker!
But before she could protest, she felt the pinching needles of another gold hoop dig into her right nipple tip.
"That fucking hurts! What do you mean by-!!!!!!"
Something came barreling into her mouth. Something hard and cold and solid. And W.C. Fields was cramming it into her throat.
"Ahhhhhhhhgggggggg!!!!!" But that cry, too, was silenced. The stick of dynamite!
Of course. The dude had stuck that big metal plug in her mouth to silence her.
"Now you'll be taking your orders from me, rose bud."
There was no disputing that.
Then, Bunny had a strange sensation. As though her right nipple were being pulled up. The connection!!!! Of course!
The one gold ring and the metal plug were connected by that wire or string or whatever the hell it was. And now, she was feeling that connection.
She was feeling it from her toes to her hair line.
And it pained her every inch of the way.
She heard a loud, chilling clamp. The metal of the sharp ring had just pierced her tit flesh. She wondered how she would look with a matching set of earrings dangling out her nipples.
It could look exotic.
On the other hand, that pretty much killed it for see-through blouses.
Especially, she wondered what it would be like in a two-piece bathing suit.
But the diabolic old goat wasn't through yet. He laced a chain through the hoop on her left nipple and led her around the room.
The pain was damned close to excruciating.
But worse than the pain was the knowledge that no matter what he did or said, she couldn't protest. She couldn't bitch or cry out or complain or call for room service.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Ouch!!!!"
Bunny turned around amidst her pain to slap Jasper across the face, but he'd run off. She wasn't surprised that she hadn't been quick enough to hit him, because she was in dire pain.
Her rear end still smarted where Mr. Potvin had plugged it up with his ten inch dick. And her wrists and shoulders didn't feel too easy either.
The worst was her nipples.
They burned like twin torches.
But she tried to look on the bright side. One thing was that Mr. Potvin had finally dismissed her. He didn't tip terribly big for all her pain and effort in his behalf, but he did let her go.
Perhaps that had been her reward.
Jasper had driven her back in silence, like a dutiful servant, and she had wisely kept her mouth shut. Now, even closing her eyes here on the curb of Madison Avenue she could see him sitting there with his walking stick and that shit-eating grin on his face.
Whoever he was, she had to hand it to him... he was a dead ringer for that old movie star. But she was certain he was dead.
He HAD to be. She'd never seen a dead man with a weenie like that, but she knew he must be dead or hiding out.
From what?
The curb felt colder than usual. Maybe because her cheek was flush with it. She scrambled up, though it was with more pain than the last time somebody threw her down there.
"Fucking sore ass," she grumbled half to herself as she rubbed it.
That's the last time she would consent to go to Secaucus and that was that!
She looked around for a trick. Not a soul in sight.
Well, hell's bells, it was three in the frigging morning.
She wondered where Marina and Georgann were. Could be anywhere with their track record. They could be below one of the sewer grates making it with a Con Ed team.
A little mist had rolled in off the water and mingled with the pollution. The night felt like octopus ink. At least it would provide a bit of cover.
She needed some cover to get her bra back on.
How that fucking Looney tune man had ever gotten into a position where he had a motel suite and a chauffeur and all those vile machines at his disposal was certainly beyond her.
Way beyond.
She huddled against one of the rough brick buildings and tugged at the white lacy thing till it snapped out of her purse.
She held it up for inspection. It was an expensive little gadget, and she wondered how her nipples would feel with those rings in them against the cup lining.
Probably smart like blazes.
She ruffled up her sweater till she could slip the thing on her free arms. She slid it up the shoulder and reached around to hook it in place.
A little muffled whooshing sounded at her backside and she turned around quickly. A teenage hooker on Madison Avenue with her sweater up was open to all kinds of dangers.
But the car that hugged the curb just now didn't appear to be dangerous... just a long, low very expensive looking smoky limousine with a very dour looking guy sitting behind the wheel.
It wasn't until after the automatic window came rolling down and a head popped out of it that she realized she'd seen the car before.
Earlier in the evening in fact.
* * * * *
"So you're Bunny," the gracious woman said as she extended her hand and gave the shuddering blonde a warm smile with it.
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"Your little friends told us."
"They're still here?"
"Nowhere else."
"Well," Bunny said, relaxing a bit more as she was led into the stone chamber that wound down under the ground and out of sight. "You must like them.
"Immensely," Constance said.
She steered Bunny along at what felt to her like quite a fast clip considering that the stairs were steeped and lit only with an occasional flaming torch.
"They're waiting for you," Bruno said and took the girl's free arm.
Bunny stared up at one bookend, then the other.
"You guys seem to be in a hurry, huh?"
"Oh, I expect we are, somewhat," Constance said and laughed gaily. "We're anxious to have the three of you together... to entertain, I mean."
"I see."
Something about Constance that reminded Bunny of Vampira, but she wasn't sure what. Maybe the voice. Yes, that was it.
The woman had a set of knockers on her that were each bigger than Vampira's head, so that couldn't have been it.
And she had short, cropped hair, though it was shiny and thick. Her husband seemed to be pretty much her follower... as well as her admirer.
Tread softly, thought Bunny for a moment.
But somehow, just the relief of being away from that nasty old goat that had tied her up and made her suffer at the hands of all those machines was enough to lower her guard.
What could happen to her worse than what had already happened to her?
What indeed?
"Here we are," Constance said as the door creaked open. "Bunny!!!!!!!"
Georgann never said another word. Bruno clapped his hand over her mouth and quickly replaced it with a cloth gag.
Bunny stood in her tracks and stared. Her two best friends in the whole world were sitting back to back on the stone floor stark naked and tied up back to back with their knees thrust up... just like in a kidnapping movie.
"What are you guys doing down there."
"Silence, bitch!" Bruno said and grabbed her.
He held her hard with her aching hands pinched behind her back. Bruno had certainly changed his tune since their last exchange.
"Undress her," Constance commanded.
Bruno did as she bade.
He easily held Bunny in place, partly due to the fact that she was exhausted, but he held her in place and systematically tore her clothing off.
He had hands like bear paws.
"There," said Constance as she stood mutely in her bra and panties. "Isn't that much better now, Rabbit."
"Bunny."
"Don't get snide with me."
Bunny opened her mouth, but that was as far as she got.
There just wasn't any point in correcting a woman like this big Amazon. She held all the weight and she acted like she knew it.
"What's this about?" Bunny said boldly.
It was a bluff. She was shaking in her panties.
"Your bra. Take it off.
"You first."
Constance raised her head up as though she were going to spit in Bunny's eye for showing such insolence. But she held her tongue.
And, as she did, she whisked her caftan up and revealed two enormous hooters.
They intimidated Bunny... both of them. The woman must have worn a fifty "D" bra. She had the biggest pair Bunny had seen since the grand Tetons.
If the woman had so desired, she could have smothered Bunny inside them, just by ducking her head in between them and holding it there.
It wasn't her idea of a good way to go.
Nothing was.
She chided herself for even thinking such morbid thoughts.
Something about the place no doubt. It looked like the basement where Edgar Allen Poe set "The Cask of Amontillado."
"Your turn," Constance gloated.
She had a lot to gloat about. Bunny let a pent up stream of air escape the little space between her two front teeth.
No point in arguing.
Hell, she'd lost whatever argument might have ensued anyway.
Who could argue with a set like that?
She felt completely sheepish stripping out of her bra. She hadn't done a particularly thorough job of getting it back on either.
One of the cups was folded up under her right nipple.
And the band with the hook and eye was twisted completely around.
But strip she did anyway. She had a hunch she ought not to have any second thoughts about that. Constance was staring daggers through her.
She didn't especially like the way Bruno was glaring through her either.
"There," she said revealing her twin flapjacks of delicate underage teenager flesh. The dusky rose nipples at the tip proudly displayed two identical gold rings.
"What the hell is that?" Constance said pointing.
"These are... uh... well, I don't know what to call them... I just got them."
Bunny looked down at where Georgann and Marina were sitting back to back. The looks on their faces was odd to say the least.
"Mind if I tell you I think they're atrocious?" Bruno said in that tired faggoty way he had. "Simply disgusting."
"What department in Woolworth's sold you those?" Constance said haughtily.
That annoyed Bunny.
She was a very haughty woman, and she had very snotty ways about her. She didn't like the man belittling what she could hardly help.
"A friend... a personal client of mine, that is... uh... pierced them tonight. A little while before Bruno picked me up actually."
"They look like gypsy castaways."
"Well, then, why don't you do something about it?" Bunny snapped.
She had come to the end of her rope with this woman.
"I shall," Constance said, and Bunny didn't like the tone of her voice. It was sooooo final. Like the closing of a door, Bruno smiled lasciviously as he approached her.
He jostled one of the flashy gold rings with his hand and chuckled. "Cut that out."
Bruno slapped her hard across the face. "Ouch!"
"Silence," Constance commanded. "That will be all out of you."
"It's HIS fault," Bunny said, rubbing the swollen spot.
Nobody was treating her very well tonight.
She was still rubbing her face when a wooden crossed beam apparatus was rolled into view. She hadn't the slightest idea where it had come from.
And she hadn't the slightest idea how the two of them dragged her over to it, slapped her against the frame and bound her wrists behind her.
But it happened.
"Oh, please," she squirmed, "don't tie me up... again."
"You're mistaken," Constance said, supremely confident. "We haven't had the pleasure of tying you up before now... not this evening... not ever. More's the pity, I say."
"Me, too."
Bunny looked from one to the other. There wasn't much sympathy in either of their faces. Cunning, barbarousness, loathing, and psychosis were all there, but no sympathy.
Constance came toward her with her huge dyke hand outstretched. She reached one hand out easily and disengaged the gold ring from
Bunny's right nipple.
"Oooowwwwwwwwiiiiieeee!!!!!!"
"Now the left."
"Jeeeeeeeeeeeeezus!!!!!!!"
Bunny stood shivering half crazed with pain. It felt as though someone had just done root canal on her tits... without an anesthetic.
She looked down to see two bloodied pink rose buds where her nipples had been.
"I... I think I'm going to faint."
Maybe she did.
Her head got light... light as a feather. And her mouth felt like she was foaming out of it. She muttered something in near delirium.
She had no idea what.
But when she awoke, a strange scene was taking place in front of her eyes.
Constance was nude. She was leaning over her with a funny looking blue rubber bulb in her hand, pumping it rhythmically.
She continued to "work even as Bunny came around.
"Welcome back to the world of the living," Constance said as she pumped. She seemed to be picking up speed.
"Huh?"
"Slap her, Bruno."
Bruno slapped her hard enough to jolt her back to the present... and to the awareness of where she was... if not why.
"What are you doing."
"Just pumping your nipples."
"Why?"
Constance smiled her most patronizing.
"Don't you remember, Bunny? You had two gold rings piercing them. They were disgustingly garish. I pulled them out."
"Oh, yeah."
The memory slowly dawned. And with it, a new burst of pain.
But it was a different sort of pain. It wasn't a sharp, burning pain, but a kind of an old pain... a gnawing, almost well-worn kind of pain.
Like an old pair of shoes that still pinched after months of not wearing them.
But the blood was gone... at least most of it was. But Bunny could see that some of it was held in a little transparent bubble of glass that was part of the glass ball that stuck off the end of the rubber pump.
"You passed out for a bit," Constance said, busily pumping. "On your way you said some very jumbled things, young lady."
"Oh, yeah?"
"You were rambling. It wasn't particularly coherent. Something about W.C. Fields." Constance laughed her husky laugh.
"Oh, him."
"Never mind that now," Constance said.
"We've more important things to attend to. Like pulling your nipples out."
"What?"
"Oh, not out by the roots, silly girl. Just extending them a bit. After that hack piercing job you got from God knows what shady jeweler, they need a lift. They went flat as a board once I yanked those rings out."
"What's the point?" Bunny sighed.
"The point is, Bunny," Bruno scolded, "you've got to look your best."
"Why? Who's coming?"
Constance and Bruno smiled sweetly at each other... as though they shared some private little joke. Then, they looked at Bunny.
"You'll see... in time."
Bunny's nose twitched. There was something frightening about what this woman was doing to her... and something mildly arousing, too.
She'd never had her nipples pumped before.
They felt as if a hamster had been gnawing at the rosy pink tip. They WERE redder than usual... harder, too. And VERY sensitive.
She didn't wonder about that.
How could anyone survive a piercing and a pumping and not have the blood rush in?
Her pussy began to quiver.
"Do you have to do that so hard?" she asked her captor.
"Afraid so," Constance said firmly. "You e, we want you in EXCELLENT condition."
"Yeah... for company."
"We didn't say that, but perhaps we might just as well have."
Bunny looked down. She couldn't tell if Constance was getting fluid out of her nipple or putting it in.
Her tits ached, but her nipples positively danced with furious burning and itchy pain. Then, too, there was that surface horniness she was feeling.
It was all pretty wild.
"You like this, don't you, Bunny?" Constance said, pumping now on the opposite nipple. "You wish I'd do it a bit more, don't you?"
"You're doing tine."
"Precisely my point. You DO like it."
"I've felt worse."
"You ought to stop biting that lower lip and twitching. It's a dead give away. You're hot and everybody in the room knows it."
Bunny cast a glance at Marina and Georgann. They couldn't speak, but the look they gave her backed up what Constance had said.
They almost nodded.
"Okay, so I'm hot. You would be, too, if I did that to YOUR nipples."
"I suppose I would be," Constance agreed, "but you're not."
"I would if you wanted me to."
Constance threw her head back and laughed.
That was the signal for Bruno to do the same thing.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha... "
"Such a willing little slave," Constance said, almost sweetly. "You're going to be an obedient girl, I can see that Bunny."
"You can?"
"Of course, I can't take all the blame for it. Someone has gotten to you first, I suspect. A teacher as knowledgeable as myself, I dare to venture."
"I don't know if he knew as much as you," Bunny said smiling a little coy grin, "but he sure knew a thing or two about administering pain."
"My kind of teacher," Constance warbled. "Teacher?"
At the sound of that particular word, Bunny heard Marina and Georgann shuffle and scream loudly in the back of their throats.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bunny repeated the word slowly, tasting it. And again, the girls reacted oddly. Marina beat her feet on the stone floor. Georgann whined like a dog in heat.
"Why are my friends reacting like that?" Bunny said and pointed to them curiously.
"Let's take these gags off and find out," she said and snapped her fingers.
The adoring Bruno rushed over to see what the order was.
"Untie those girls," Constance said with a severe look on her face, and let's start the lessons. I think it's time for some more advanced work."
"Advanced work?" Bunny said and she wrinkled her nose up.
Whatever this woman meant it probably meant pain and trouble and agony... the sorts of things she'd had to deal with a lot lately.
Bruno unmasked the girls' mouths and untied them quickly.
"That's better," Constance declared, sizing up the job.
Marina rubbed her wrists and Georgann hobbled over with a pained expression.
"We'll never get out of this alive," Marina said to Bunny, and the look on her face registered true horror as she did.
"She looks cruel," Bunny said, taking the part of her mistress, "but she hasn't done me that much harm yet. My nipples look a bit tidier thanks to her."
"She's a vile witch!" Georgann moaned.
"Silence," was Constance's comment. "Did I order either of you to speak?"
"Never speak without your mistress biding you to."
Bruno always took her part. That much was certain here.
"Now it's time for a new slice of life," Constance said and she gave a little stretch as she spoke, as if she'd just woken up.
Neither Marina nor Georgann were impressed.
"What sort of torture have you devised for us now?"
"Torture? What a nasty word."
"It sure is," Georgann spat.
"Now girls," Constance said, extending her patience, "I told you this was not torture. I explained to you that it was instruction."
"It hurts worse than any instruction I ever had," Georgann said.
Constance set one dykey hand on her shoulder. "That's because you never did very well in school, I suspect. And not entirely your fault. This permissive education they have nowadays."
She said the words "permissive education" as though spitting out scorpions off her tongue. The girls eyed each other suspiciously.
"You girls need never worry about permissive education around here," Bruno said, leading one hunky shoulder against the fireplace bricks.
"I suppose not," Marina said, "you two wouldn't allow for it."
"But we do have some rather effective methods of re-training people."
"Ah, that old saw again," Marina snapped. Her grouchy voice was followed by Constance snapping her fingers at Bruno.
The obedient husband rolled a huge metal box into the center of the room. It was a deadly looking thing. The sort of box a fakir would manufacture and a normal person run from. A box of pain.
There was a bed of spikes atop the box. A lot of them. They looked to be steel judging from the way they glinted in the light.
But closer inspection proved them a strange sort of ceramic with a glaze on them to make them look metallic. Nonetheless, they were frightening to witness.
There were two very long arms jutting out of either side of the metal box. They looked like pitchforks and were indeed made of iron.
In the tines of the pitchforks a cuff rested on either side.
And Bruno adjusted the thing so that it stuck firmly to the floor without moving. All three girls cringed as they saw a long electrical cord run out from the bottom of the box. Bruno walked a ways with it until he found a socket and fitted it in.
"Georgann," Constance said calmly. "Let the other girls braid your hair. I'd like to watch them do that now."
The three stared at each other oddly.
It was a queer request.
But they sensed it had something to do with the "lesson" about to be imparted by their cruel dominant teacher who even now was making ready.
Bruno handed her something that looked like a silo model with a jeweled chain attached to it. It was a huge phallus projection and the material looked to be red leather.
It was one of the more obscene things any of them had ever seen.
They guessed it wouldn't be for Bruno. He hadn't done much all night except serve the cruelly dominant Constance whenever she flexed her pinkie.
"Now strap me in," Constance said as the girls stood beside Georgann and braided her hair. "Careful now. Mind the latch."
"Yes, darling," Bruno said.
That guy was devoted, no doubt about that.
"Here," Bruno said, tossing the girls a set of rubber bands. They had ribbons attached to them. "Finish the job."
Marina and Bunny did as they were told.
They finished braiding Georgann's hair and tied off the silky thick braids.
Georgann looked like a maiden about to be sacrificed. She looked like a virgin princess about to become fodder for the Norse gods.
"Bruno," Constance said, as he adjusted the phallus thing around her curvaceous hips. "Mind the latch now."
There was something tricky about that latch. She had mentioned it twice now. And Constance was not a woman to repeat herself unless it was important.
All three girls crowded together and stood in mute shock as the thing was slapped against Constance's pubic bone. It stuck up and out and looked quite realistic.
Except for those huge big tits that stuck up and out above it, one might almost take it for a real male cock... one belonging to the devil.
It gave Constance an especially sinister look.
Those dark eyes and huge tit mounds and now this big red dork.
The effect was savage.
Savage and scary.
Wild and untamed.
Barbaric and downright nasty.
And hot.
None of the three girls there could deny that just looking at the way the woman walked around the room, swinging her hips and thrusting that huge hard cock rod out from her hips was anything but erotic.
"There," Bruno said and he latched the thing in back.
None of the girls could see how he did it, so they still had to wonder what was so tricky about that latch. Something mechanical.
"Bring the pupil to me," Constance said and she crossed her arms under her heaving bosom. From the tilt of her stance, the girls knew that she expected them to cooperate fully with her.
Constance was used to having her way.
"Go on," Marina said, "she's waiting."
"Noooooo."
"Don't be a baby, Georgann," Bunny snarled. "We had our turns. Now, it's yours. Go on or we'll think you're sissy."
"I am a sissy."
"Nonsense," Marina said, in an attempt to bolster her spirits.
"I can feel the pain already," Georgann said as she slipped forward. She walked toward Constance with her head held down.
"Now that's the way I like to see my students. Respectful of their teacher. You could all learn from this young lady," she said and pointed to Georgann.
"Shall I?" Bruno said and when Constance nodded, he threw Georgann across the spiked bed atop the metal box- in the center of the floor.
"Ow!!!!!!" Georgann said and tossed her braids around madly.
"I'm afraid it's too hot," Constance said in an attitude of apologizing. "Bruno, dear, turn the heat down a bit."
So matter-of-factly, Marina thought as she witnessed the scene. Those two are so calculating. Who are they? Where do they come from?
Better still, what are they up to?
"I am going to take you anally," Constance said frankly. "I do hope it won't hurt too much." She approached the sprawled out girl.
"Nooooooo!!!!!!" Georgann protested.
"On the other hand," Constance continued calmly, "I hope it hurts a bit. Otherwise, the lesson cannot be fully absorbed."
"What lesson!!!!!!!!!" Georgann howled.
"This one."
Constance snapped her fingers and Bruno came running. He held the tossing and turning girl fast against the spikes and grabbed one wrist.
He slapped it into the cuff and snapped it shut.
He slapped her other wrist down on the opposite side and did the same. The cuff snapped shut with a metallic echo sound.
"It's hot!!!!!" Georgann wailed.
"Yes, dear," Constance agreed softly, "it IS hot."
"But why... why ... why!!!!!!!!!"
"Because," the woman said grandly, "you're a feisty little streetwalker and your will MUST be broken!!!!! Do you understand?"
To make good her point, Constance grabbed Georgann by the hair and pulled her head back. Constance smiled sweetly at this.
"You've broken it, I think," Marina said from the side lines.
"Not yet I haven't," Constance answered, surprising them all. "But soon. Very soon now I will have broken her will. Then she will be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Aha!!!!!" Constance said to them as they watched. "You'd like to know, wouldn't you? Only I'm not going to tell you."
"Not a terribly good teaching technique," Marina exploded.
"Let's call it inductive reasoning," Constance grinned and flattened her hand against Georgann's back.
The girl was forced down onto the heated ceramic spikes. From the look on her face, everyone could tell the pain was overpowering.
And from the look on Constance's face, everyone could tell she was getting ready to pork Georgann up the poop chute.
"The grease, Bruno," the woman said, pausing a moment in her labors to ask her husband for this favor he so quickly did for her.
He practically skidded to her side with his hand outstretched and holding a vat of lube for her to dip into as she wished.
She smeared a generous portion of it on the end of the leather dildo and some on her pupil's sweet pink butt bud.
She followed the wrinkly texture of the girl's sweet hot ass hole as it spasmed in mounting fear and heat. She traced the halo of the girl's flaming anus with her greased up hand, oiling it richly.
"There," she said, "what nature lacks, we make up for. Eh, Bruno?"
"Just as you say, my darling."
Marina and Bunny thought the big oaf was going to kneel down and kiss her ring.
"There!!!!!!"
Constance was thrusting her hips forward now, bringing them back slowly and a little at a time. She was working that big ornery dick dildo into their friend's precious little asshole.
"That fucking hurts!!!!!!!" Georgann cried aloud.
But Constance seemed to enjoy her pain and protests.
"That's it, Georgann my sweet, cry aloud. Cry all you want to. That way, I'll be able to monitor your pain. Should it lesson, I'll be able to apply a big dose of elbow grease to make it increase."
"Elbow grease?"
Marina batted her eyes. Whatever did the woman mean by that?
And when the two girls looked over to where Constance was pointing, they saw what she meant. Her sweet adoring servant and husband, Bruno the bear, was taking his pants down and showing a slice of man meat the size of a salami.
"Now I know what she modeled that one on," Bunny said pointing to the surly red dildo. It was now thrust far into Georgann's tiny bung hole.
It was making Georgann shiver and shudder and curse.
The sounds alone were enough to drive both the girls for cover. STUCKA!
SCHTUUUUKATA!!!
SCHTUCKATOOIE SCHTUCK SCHMACKATOO! SLOSH!
SCHUCKAMUCKA!!!!
They were the sounds of a female ass being penetrated by a rubber dildo with lots of lube all over it... a tight female ass.
"Oh, God," Georgann hollered. "I can't take much more of this."
"You'll take as much as I'm going to give you."
Georgann gasped for breath.
The girls could see she was red and sweating.
The heated ceramic prongs glistened from the sweat of her body. Her nipples looked like two ripe strawberries.
"Ow!!!!!!!"
"That's good," Constance said softly. "You're in pain. That's very good. We can save Bruno's dick a bit if you keep hurting like that."
Bruno waited.
His schlong grew hard and angry looking.
The girls stood in rapt horror as it enlarged and grew a head almost as red as the leather dildo. The veins in his shaft bulged and throbbed.
They snaked around the whitish column from base to head.
His balls tightened as the thing grew heavy, hard and poked toward the ceiling.
He helped it by stroking it a bit.
His hands seemed to know the way, but he cleared his throat just as Constance was about to plunge her mighty dildo into the heart of poor Georgann's put upon asshole.
"What is it, Bruno?"
"I'd love some assistance with this," he said, indicating his giant whang with a toss of his thick, silvery head.
"Girls," Constance said, flicking her fingers at them, "go to my husband's assistance immediately. Do as he instructs."
Georgann moaned in delirious pain and agony and a bit of pleasure as the two girls made their way to where Bruno stood, cradling his giant dork in his hands.
Each took one side and commenced to play with his taut, corrugated balls sac.
They bounced it around until the guy's cock grew so stretched out that the skin made the balls too taut to play with.
Then, they turned their attention to his dick.
It was indeed a two-person job jerking him off.
They spread their smallish hands out and feather stroked the surface of his hardening big dick shaft. They made their way up and down it without a pause in their labor. They stroked the head and watched it vibrate.
The pinprick at the tip gaped open and they watched as a huge bubble of pre-cum jizz oozed out. They used it to lube his shaft and continued to stroke.
"Are they fondling you good, my darling?"
Bruno nodded and leaned back. He dropped his hands and let the girls do a job on him. He bared his teeth as the pleasure mounted.
Back and forth the girls stroked his giant dick meat.
Around and around his pounding round head they skated their hands, pressing in on his corona and massaging the glans head wherever they could get a hold.
And Constance butt fucked the thrashing girl.
She rammed the huge hard head of the dildo into her bung hole and hauled it back out only to slap it up against her crack again and slice it in.
She sawed the fancy leather dildo in and out of the girl's hot, tight asshole. She scorched her poop chute with the fast friction of her movements.
Georgann was going crazy behind that action.
She shouted and bounced her own hips in a crazed display of bodily rhythms that revealed the depth and yearning of her passion.
It was a painful display.
The ceramic prongs dug into her belly and heated it up. She could feel them bite her like a thousand animal teeth.
The woman didn't give up.
She plowed the little girl with the little yellow braids as hard as her dildo could take it. She slammed her hips against the butt crack the little girl offered her again and again. She wormed the thing around this way and that.
She rammed it against the girl's ass canal and slid it out.
She lanced her again.
In and out of the impossibly tight greased up channel she dug.
And Georgann... fired to the bursting point... gave one long, loud whistle before she tossed her rocks up. She screamed and came... almost at the same time.
Constance had a mighty orgasm that forced her into greater and greater shows of bucking her hips.
Bruno, too, let the girls stroke his hard, huge pecker till it exploded from the massive build up of pressure at the base of his dick shaft.
The pressure built and built until there was no room left. Then, he shot.
He shot a long, hot load of frothy come cream all over the girls' hands that had ministered to him. He shot a jet of jism out the slit of his dick and it rained everywhere, leaving him satisfied, though still quite hard.
It was an amazing display of fortitude... on everyone's part.
On Constance, because she had so diligently plowed the girl spread out underneath her until she achieved an awesome climax.
On Marina and Bunny because they witnessed the deed as they jerked off the husband of their cruel dominatrix teacher.
On Bruno because he managed to hold his spunk for so long.
And on Georgann, because she somehow managed to stay awake for the whole thing. She did not pass out. She managed to survive.
And because she did, Constance patted her on the hair.
"Good girl," she said and beckoned for Bruno to release her from her bonds. "You let me know you were in pain, but you took it all the same. You're learning."
"I don't know about that," Georgann said, trying to catch her breath as- Bruno undid her shackles and helped her off the spikes.
Several red wounds dotted her stomach and tits.
"I do," Constance countered.
She offered the continuously hard whang to Bruno who patted it before undoing it from around her sultry hips. He took it away with the machine.
"And what did I learn?" Georgann said, befuddled.
"As a hooker, you would have endured that pain without a peep. You would have taken it all, but NOT gotten off."
"Most of my customers pay for their jollies," Georgann said, rubbing the places where it hurt the most.
"Most of your customers are schmucks."
"They didn't leave me with permanent red dots on my tummy.
"Those aren't permanent," Constance corrected. "Give them a little time and do as your commanded and they'll come off."
Constance sauntered over and sat back in the plush chair. Bruno pulled up the other one and sat at her side, like a lap dog.
"Before our next lesson," Constance purred, "we're going to have a review."
"Why?" Marina said, her hands braced against her hips. "What do we need a review for? We haven't learned anything."
Constance laughed that deep sparkling burgundy laughter of hers. "Oh, yes you have. Come... sit!!!! I'll tell you about it."
Marina looked at her oddly.
Bunny looked at Marina, trying to catch her eye.
"What's she on about," Bunny whispered under her breath.
"Something about this being a school for remedial students and that it's time for a review of everything we've learned up to now."
Bunny wiggled her hips and headed for the chair.
She sat on the arm and winked at Constance.
"You're so clever," she said, patting the woman's shoulder.
Constance's reaction was to slap her silly.
"Just don't try to brown nose me," she said swiftly. "If there's one thing a teacher hates... it's that brown nose shit."
"Sorry," Bunny said, scrambling back up.
She took her place alongside Marina and Georgann who was still rubbing her wounds, though she seemed not entirely the worse for wear in spite of them.
"I really am," she said, her eyes wide with awe. "Really."
She meant it, too.
She meant every bit of it.
CHAPTER NINE
"First things first," Constance purred her huskiest as she crossed the long shapely legs and leaned back into the plush cushions of the easy chair.
"That's what I always say," Bunny tried again.
"And if that brown nose little platinum blonde will shut up and stop trying to butter my cunt with her nose I'll continue."
"Sorry," Bunny said, somewhat flustered.
She felt hurt, but she tried to keep a stiff upper lip. The only way she even managed to graduate from junior high was to blow her teachers. And clearly, Constance did not appreciate it.
"We have had some orientation to our re-training thus far," Constance began.
Marina and Georgann nodded knowingly. They sure HAD.
"And I think all three of you have learned a thing or two about what is acceptable behavior and what is not. Am I right?"
All three heads nodded as if they were attached to the same body.
"For example, when Bruno and I found you two, Georgann and Marina, you were mindless little cunts flaunting your asses on Madison Avenue with grandiose ideas about making big bucks for it, weren't you?"
"We had something like that in mind, yeah."
"You only came with Bruno and I because we tossed you a roll of bucks, didn't you?"
"Excuse me, Constance, but--"
"Mistress Constance," the woman corrected Marina.
"Mistress Constance. You see, Mistress Constance what we were doing was just marketing our skills really- !"
"What you were doing was peddling your ass. But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it was that you were becoming an unbearable little smart ass."
At the mention of those words, Constance grimaced and gripped the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turned white.
"I can't bear smart asses."
"Me, neither," Georgann said.
"Then I take it you can hardly stand yourself," Constance countered.
Georgann made a face at the floor. That woman was just too quick for her. She just knew too much. Maybe there was something to this remedial workshop stuff after all.
"I do not say that to be unkind," Constance went on. "I say that because I have rarely encountered three more impudent little twerps in my life. The three of you should never be allowed out into polite society. You're boorish, puerile and cocky. None of you should be allowed to leave this room alive."
She ended her treatise by examining her fingernails with the utmost disdain.
"I knew it," Marina chimed in. "I knew you wouldn't let us leave here alive. I knew you brought us here to kill us."
Constance laughed and Bruno, true to form, joined her.
"I said you shouldn't be ALLOWED to leave this room alive," their captor said smoothly. "I didn't say you WOULDN'T do so."
"You're hard to follow," Bunny said and wiggled her impish nose.
"Not really," the dominant mistress said grandly. "It's quite simple. You're just not very bright."
That made Bunny feel worthless all over again. She resolved to cling to whatever the big beautiful dyke told them, however, as though she were their lifeline. After all, if Bunny could understand her, she might not be so dumb after all.
"Try to follow," Constance said patronizingly. "This evening I and my loyal husband met three willful, obnoxious girls."
"Us," Bunny said and when no one corrected her, she felt proud of herself
"Later on in the evening, after several lessons that were... shall we say harsh but just considering your defects... "
"Harsh isn't the word for it," Georgann said and rubbed a sore spot on her bum once more. "They were fucking agony."
"Sometimes that's necessary for growth to take place," Constance said firmly.
"Yeah," Bunny said brightly. She was starting to catch on at last.
"A firm hand is always called for where there is unrest and total lack of structure," Constance affirmed. "And when Bruno and I met you girls, there was indeed a marked lack of discipline in your lives."
"I don't know about that," Marina said cautiously. "We may have been peddling our asses, but we worked pretty hard at it. Sometimes, all night."
"Yes," Constance shot back, "but what time did you get up the next morning?"
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Answer my question!!!!!"
"Noon for me," Bunny threw in.
"Around one usually," Georgann admitted.
Marina looked at them both as though they were traitors. And she shot Constance a defiant look and stuck her chin up. "I'm not saying."
Constance rose from her perch.
"Oh, yes you are. You'll tell me everything I want to know. It's not for nothing that I rule with an iron hand. And you're about to find out just what I mean."
Constance snapped her fingers and Bruno came running.
This time, he made a stop at the torture closet first and brought some rather chilling items along with him. He laid them on the sofa next to his beloved queen of darkness.
"Ah, yes," Constance said and fondled them as though they were treasured souvenirs of a favorite vacation. "The training bra."
It didn't look much like a training bra. At least none of the three girls had ever seen anything that looked quite so forceful for a piece of lingerie.
"I don't know if I should apologize or make a run for it," Marina said to her dominant mistress. "That thing is scary."
"Excellent," she replied and threw her hands together in glee. "It has most certainly achieved part of its purpose already then."
She turned to smile at Bruno.
"This is one of Bruno's designs," she went on, as though she were moderating a fashion show. "It's stainless steel and completely adjustable. Note the screw apparatus fitted in the front of the double bands of steel. Tasty, eh?" i
"Depends on your appetite," Marina deadpanned.
Immediately, she regretted her outburst.
Bruno hauled off and whacked her a good one for it.
"Where's the companion piece, darling," the big woman drawled to her constant companion. "You know that huge diaper pin thing?"
"What?" Marina said, her eyes bugging out.
"Here, dearest," Bruno said meekly holding out the thing.
It was a shiny silver hoop, oblong in shape with a movable clasp.
"Bruno made that, too?" Georgann asked dubiously.
"Yes," Constance said proudly. "He certainly did. And it's sterling silver. The best Colorado has to offer. It has to be, you understand, because of the way it's used."
Georgann nodded, even though she didn't really understand. She was just glad the big dyke hadn't turned her attention to HER.
Constance picked up the steel bands and held them over her arm as though they were the handles to a picnic basket.
"Best get started, eh, Bruno dear?"
Bruno stood up and nodded obediently. Surely, he was the most agreeable assistant any dominant dyke torture mistress remedial workshop instructor ever had.
Bruno went around behind Marina's back and tied her wrists together with a stout length of rope. Marina had already decided not to protest. But it was difficult owing to the severity with which the rope was binding her flesh.
"Help me get this over her head," Constance said, nudging her lieutenant.
He held Marina's bound arms up and the two eased the twin steel bands down over her head and onto her chest.
The cold steel bands flattened her upturned tits out as they slid into place. Then, the twin teenage mounds popped through the space between the bands, though they appeared misshapen because they were so horribly pinched.
Still, Marina fought to keep control of herself. Damned if she was going to let out a peep. She looked down and almost wretched.
Her luscious twin titties were drawn so tightly together they jutted out of the steel holder like slices of pizza from an oven.
"Let's get this pin in her lips next," Constance sang happily.
The two busied themselves with the sterling silver piece and the girls grabbed each other in stark terror as they bore witness to the deed.
"Now I've never lied to you, Marina," Constance said flatly. "And I don't intend to start now. What I have to say is most important... and true."
"Yes?" Marina said, hardly daring to raise her eyes.
"This is going to hurt like hell."
"Uh huh... "
Marina shuddered. Just looking at that silver pin made her pussy quiver. She wondered where they were going to put it.
Through her lips so that she looked like a Ubangi?
Or through her cunt lips so that- !!!!!!! "Aaaaiiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!!"
The cunt lips it was.
Marina felt the searing pain of a shark bite into her lips. The tearing noise followed by a crunching sound that went right through her bones made her nauseous as though she were fighting the flu.
But the pain was specific... local. Not a general all over body aching kind of pain. So the two of them had done it.
They'd pierced her cunt lips with that silver pin that Bruno had designed the way some people design jewelry. And it hurt!!!!!
It hurt like the fires of hell.
As though the devil had pierced her pussy lips with a pitchfork.
Perhaps this man and woman were the devil and one of his imps. Maybe this room was hell... or some kind of halfway house either going to it or coming from it.
"Now, Marina," Constance cooed as though she were about to get very intimate with her captive. "You needn't show us such a stiff upper lip. We KNOW you're hurting. Wouldn't it be better to let it out and beg for mercy."
"From you two?" the girl grimaced. "I'd sooner beg for mercy from a Nazi."
The two of them found that immensely funny.
"Very well," Constance said with a flourish, "have it your way. But you are free to recant on that particular attitude, should you wish."
"Not yet."
"Bruno," the woman said sharply, "the screw. Help me with it."
Bruno adjusted the screw in the hole so that his wife could tighten it more easily. Marina gasped when the thing ground in tighter.
Her tits already felt terribly constricted. But it was difficult to focus on them owing to the extraordinary amount of pain her pussy lips were kicking up just then.
"You're wondering if you'll be scarred for life, aren't you?"
Marina nodded, albeit it grudgingly.
"Actually," Constance said grandly again, showing off her superior intelligence, "the cunt hps are quite fleshy where we pierced them. The pain should begin to diminish shortly. Rather like having your ears pierced."
"I'd like to pierce YOUR ears," Marina said. "Maybe with an ice pick."
"Ah, yes!" Constance barked back. "A REAL show of sentiment for a change instead of that stiff upper lip shit. What a welcome relief."
Marina chided herself for speaking the truth.
She had wanted to hide it from her mistress, but that seemed a very heavy duty task at the moment. Constance was indeed brighter than she. It was time to admit it and go on.
The screwing continued.
Constance twirled the head of the thing and it threaded easily enough, though no one could really hear her comments over Marina's shrill screams.
"Marina's showing her true feelings about her lessons now," Constance said in the few moments when Marina was catching her breath. "She is incredibly resistant to learning, but we're trying our best. Thankfully, there are techniques to break her of that intellectual pride she has. You're all witnessing one of them now."
"Aaaaaiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!!!"
Marina's screams were mind-numbing and eardrum-shattering. She hollered her head off, but Constance remained totally impassive.
She tightened the screw a bit more and Marina's face turned beet red.
"Ah," she said, almost motherly, "that is a bit too tight. We'll just have to loosen it some, now, won't we, dear?"
"Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"
Marina's face turned back to a healthy red blush, but her eyes were bugging out something fierce. Both her girlfriends felt terror to their bones watching the spectacle in front of them.
Georgann determined to stand up for her friend.
"What did she do to deserve that?" she said, pointing in an agitated fashion to the sight of her best friend trussed up around her tits and pinned across the cunt lips.
"She did NOTHING to DESERVE that," Constance said calmly. "She is NOT being punished."
"Then I don't understand all over again," Georgann said with a downcast expression.
"You do not have to understand to learn," her captor came again. "You need only accept. Trust that what I have in mind for the three of you far surpasses whatever evils would have eventually befallen you on the streets."
"It's hard," Bunny warbled. "Especially looking at what you're doing to her."
"Don't make me out to be unfair," Constance said. "LIFE is unfair. I subscribe to life. I am one of its great supporters. Your friend is none the worse for wear. Oh, yes, she will have to wear rings in her pussy from now on, but we've done a lovely job of piercing them... haven't we Bruno?"
Bruno sidled up to her and threw his burly arm around her voluptuous hip.
"We certainly have."
"I propose to you, girls," Constance said with a flourish, "that you ought to envy your friend. She is learning a lesson that it would take countless YEARS on the street to learn... and then she might never get it right. Or one of those filthy Johns she takes up to her hotel room to blow might kill her first."
"What lesson is that again?" Bunny ventured.
"That pain hurts," the dykey dominatrix said.
"I got a hunch she knew that already," Georgann whispered.
"Oh, yes, intellectually she knew it. Now she knows it in her cells. And she doesn't try to hide it anymore either. She isn't walking around with a stiff upper lip and acting like nothing's eating her. Are you, Marina?"
"Eeeeeeeeeekkkkkkk!!!!!"
Marina responded with a heart-chilling shriek as the vile bitch tightened the screw yet another turn. Her nipples were purple.
"No stalwart she," Constance proclaimed loudly. "None of this hooker actress number for her today, eh? She's letting us all know that she can't bear another moment of pain, aren't you, Marina dear?"
"Oh, God... yes," Marina said, her lips moving sluggishly.
"And now tell us, young lady, what time do you get up in the day... after you've been trotting your ass all over midtown all night?"
Marina's words were garbled, but the girls caught them. As if they didn't know already what time their girlfriend got up.
"One-thirty."
"Oar!!!!!!"
Constance tightened the screw yet another turn.
"Two O' clock," Marina managed, though her hps were parched from the pain and her tongue was as thick as a loaf of black bread.
"Yes," Constance gloated. She seemed satisfied with that answer. Then, she turned to the girls seated below, gripping each other in terror... terror for their friend and terror that they might be next.
"You see, girls? Marina has learned a valuable lesson. She is speaking the truth. Pain is teaching her how to be honest."
CHAPTER TEN
Marina rolled over on the floor and pinched herself to see if she was alive. She must have passed out at some point and been dumped onto the stones... naked and shivering and debased.
She groped for the edge of the sofa, pulled herself halfway to upright and looked around. Constance was standing in front of a blackboard holding a pointer.
Bruno was handing her chalk.
So she was going on with the lessons!!!!
That woman simply did not know the meaning of the words, "Ease up!"
She ran a twenty-four hour intensive class for recalcitrant girls or something. But Marina had begun to respect her... fear her, yes. But she did respect anyone who could be so fucking persistent.
Constance's clear, calm voice radiated throughout the stone-bound room.
"Of course, there may be some uncomfortable moments along the route... camels can be crusty characters. They need a firm hand... you understand what I mean by that now, don't you?"
Marina watched as Georgann and Bunny nodded like automatons.
And what the hell was Constance talking about anyway? Camels? Routes? What the fuck was going on here? As if anything made sense up to now. But this last little lecture made her think that she was indeed Alice fallen down the rabbit hole.
Georgann raised her hand.
Constance acknowledged her with a professorial point of her stick. "Georgann, you had your hand up, I believe."
"Yes, Mistress. I was wondering... how many Arabs will we have to serve? I mean, I never took on more than two tricks at once."
"An excellent question. As many as you're asked to. Next?"
Marina crawled along until she came to the area where the makeshift classroom had been set up. It was complete with maps and charts and globes and Constance even wore an academician's gown like they did at Oxford or Cambridge or one of those schools in England.
"Ah, a new pupil has just joined us."
Marina looked up to see Georgann and Bunny regarding her as though she really WERE a new girl in school. They looked at her with mild apprehension.
Georgann scooted over to her.
"Marina," she hissed almost under her breath. "Come and join us. Only don't be a troublemaker... it could reflect on the rest of us."
What the hell was Georgann doing using two syllable words, Marina wondered. But she planted her bare ass down in front of the blackboard and gazed up at it.
Indeed there was a map of Arabia there.
It looked exactly she had seen it from other maps. There were some routes traced along it. And there some other pictures, too.
They gave her the willies.
They were pictures of machines... some of them closely mirroring the machines that
Constance and Bruno had devised for their punishment.
"Excuse me," she broke in.
"Not without raising your hand, young lady," Constance said as she placed her hands firmly against the curvy hips.
Marina swallowed hard and put her hand up.
"Marina!" her teacher called.
"Excuse me, but what is going on here?"
"Geography," Constance said, perking up at the question. "We're studying up on some of the routes you're going to be taking."
"Routes?"
"Yes. Your Arab captors may want to take you overland by camel. Doesn't that sound exciting?"
"Not particularly," she said and let out a soft moan. Her tits still ached as though someone had punched them in a bout for the crown.
"Mistress Constance says we're to be sold to the Arabs!!!!" Bunny said with a smart ass little grin plastered on her face. "Isn't that ducky!"
"Calm down," Constance railed. She raised her pointer and smacked Bunny a good one with it. "Don't play at being so enthusiastic when you're not. If there's one thing I hate it's a phony. And those Arabs can spot one in a second."
"Sorry," Bunny said, her head drooping. "Are you really?"
Bunny eyeballed her teacher and mistress. "Sure I am."
"You don't sound penitent to me."
"I'm just a bubbly teenage girl."
"You're a brown nosing little cunt."
"Yeah," Bunny said, offhandedly.
"Your entire attitude shows you have no respect for education whatsoever. You, my child, still have one final lesson to learn before the Arabs come and take you away."
"I do?" Hex eyes grew wider.
"Yes. If I let you go with them in your condition they'll ship you back marked used merchandise within the week... probably without a head."
"Oh, dear."
"Bruno?"
"Oh, no."
Bruno had already gone to do his duty. He opened the sinister closet and rolled out an enormous wheel. It was not nearly so clever as the other machines.
One look at this thing and all three girls KNEW what it was for.
It was a two-parter like most of the other devices, only it would send anyone who viewed it to gasping. It had a medieval look about it.
The kind of look that made serfs confess to all before their masters ever got down to charges. Marina and Georgann almost confessed right there, and they weren't even the ones faced with the torture.
"You're going to shred me up," Bunny said, slapping her hand against her dainty pink cheek. "Shred me and feed me to the Arabs!"
"Nothing so gruesome," Constance assured her.
But somehow, that voice of assurance didn't ring terribly true... not to any of them.
"Bruno," Constance ordered, "bind those arms back."
Bruno nodded and suavely stooped down to retrieve a bar with huge steel arm cuffs protruding from either end of it.
They slid along the bar, and the girls guessed that the only thing that would make them stop sliding was the barrier of human flesh... Bunny's.
Bruno yanked the girl's arms behind her back and slapped her in the irons. Bunny didn't protest, and though the girls were not surprised at this, they noted that neither did she try to charm her way out of it.
Possibly, that WAS progress.
A third metal box was set into place. It was narrower than the others, but no less cruel looking with a row of jagged spikes gleaming from the flat upraised side.
Twin chains dangled from either side of it, and at the end of these chains, huge hand cuffs clanked against the metal.
They were huge enough to fit around two wrists, however, and the girls guessed that they might be thigh cuffs. They were correct.
Bruno wasted little time slapping Bunny's youthful thighs into them and locking them tight. He forced the girl to straddle the metallic toothed bar and both Marina and Georgann winced when they saw the platinum blonde cunt flash them.
She was a natural blonde right down to the halo of transparent fluff that lined her anus. And her ass was upturned and ripe looking.
Both of them grew hot at the sight, as apparently so did Bruno, judging from the little pause he took as he patted her backside.
"Bruno," Constance said impatiently, "come, come now. There's much work to be done still. Bring the wheel up and place it flush against her.
Bruno did as he was bade, though this time, both girls noticed he had a little chip on his shoulder. Apparently, Constance frowned on his playing with the students during class time.
Bruno brought in the wheel. It was huge and rested on two firm poles that held a bracing piece up on which the wheel rotated, luscious front side. Then, it stopped.
Marina and Georgann gasped when they saw another electrical cord running down from the thing and into a wall socket.
They both had a pretty good idea that that meant that Bunny's tits would be heated up like red Christmas tree bulbs any second now.
Still, there was that precious pink juicy hole for them to gaze upon, and that made the thought of her impending discipline seem a bit more cheery.
Marina had to scratch her head when she confronted herself with that one. Could this mean that the two of them had actually come to enjoy watching one of their number receive the training?
If so, maybe they HAD learned some of what Constance was instructing.
"Mistress Constance," Marina said, throwing her hand up eagerly.
"What is it, my child?"
"May I masturbate while Bunny is receiving her lesson?"
"You may," Constance said grandly. "Although I think it would be ever so much more educational if the two of you would jerk me off."
With that, she disrobed, revealing that phenomenal figure of hers.
The wheel must have heated up because Bunny's face flushed a delicate shade of rose.
The rest of her glowed a hot pink color and the girls nearly drooled with mounting excitement.
Indeed, they could hardly keep their clits in their oily hot cunt sheaths. Just staring into the distorted face of the bound beauteous Bunny made their pussies spasm and their cunts run honey.
The wheel started to rotate. It must have been heat charged as well as heat operated, because it began to turn round slowly at first, then it picked up some speed. As it did, it, too, glowed a hot, deadly electric red.
"Those ceramic spikes again," Georgann winced. "I know all about that."
"No better than I," Marina said and parted the girl's delicate pussy curtain of smooth hair with her hand. She rubbed Georgann's clit around and the girl soon began to moan.
"Here," Constance said and spread her cunt lips apart. The woman had a pussy hole the size of a shark's mouth.
It was hot and muscular and when she pulled the thing apart, the girls could glimpse her enormous clitoris bounce into view and throb hotly.
"Touch it," Constance commanded. "Both of you!!!!!"
Bunny had begun to cry aloud.
"Rub it harder," she said, her voice showing its twinge of lust. The woman was obviously as aroused as either of them were.
"What a big, juicy cunt you have," Marina said, stroking the thing with her soft finger pads. She poked at the blubbery clitoris and skated her hands around the snapping pink inner lips.
"All the better to tame you with," Constance grinned.
Georgann's tongue was the first to find Constance's quivering cunt lips. She wrapped it around the woman's hot clit and sucked like a lamprey.
Marina started lunching on her nipples, only to find the lunch turn into a banquet. The woman's nipples were the size of thumbs and she had a lot of work to do to suck them properly.
Still she managed to ingest one of them into the back of her mouth and it made a loud, smacking sound as she chewed it.
Constance seemed to approve.
She made a fist and worked it inside Georgann's hot, teenage cunt. She ground it around up inside the girl's expandable box and Georgann went wet with ecstasy.
Marina managed to play with her own pussy lips and clit while she ate her mistress's luscious red nipples. There were two new gold rings there where that sterling silver pin had pierced them.
They looked rather exotic for all the pain she had had to endure to get them there.
Constance purred as Georgann's tongue lanced her hole.
"Harder," she called out. "Harder. Use both tongues."
Georgann protested that she only had one.
"Both of your tongues," her mistress corrected and pointed two archly domineering fingers at both Georgann and Marina.
Marina made a muff dive for her mistress's lush hot cunt. She swirled her tongue around every which way but loose and tasted the delicious salty and sweet butter cream that the woman was producing as she grew more aroused.
The girls worked their tongues all over the hot, spasming pussy the woman splayed out for them. "That's it!!!!" she cried. "Serve me. Serve your mistress."
"Oh, God!!!!!!"
It was Bunny's voice. She tossed her platinum blonde head around in crazed circles and drooled at the mouth... a clear string of saliva bowed out of her coral lips and ran down her chin.
Georgann and Marina saw her out of the corners of their eyes and wondered if she might be in worse pain than either of them had endured.
Well, fuck her.
They were having a grand time diddling Constance's lusty cunt with their tongues and fingers and whatever else the horny woman commanded.
"Jeeeeezus!!!!"
Bunny's bottom was poking to the sky now, in an attempt to avoid the ravages of that infernal hot wheel with the spikes on it.
"Oh, you guys!!!!!!"
The girl must have been in excruciating pain because she couldn't stop shouting to them. Georgann gazed up once, then flattened her mouth against her mistress's big, hot juicy inviting pussy slit.
"You guys are driving me crazy!!!!!!!"
All three heads turned around to look at Bunny who seemed more crazed than ever.
"I mean it, you guys. Have a heart. Don't include me out!"
Bruno, who had been operating the switch to heat the wheel up seemed to find this rather awkward. He had built a fine machine here, and he wanted to watch it run. This girl had other ideas than minding her lessons from it.
"Stop that," Constance commanded in her regal tone. "Take your lesson and try and learn something from it. Otherwise, it's a waste of good manpower, not to mention electricity."
She stood up and left Georgann and Marina to grovel at her cunt. They both tried licking it from her standing position, but they ended up pushing each other out of the way.
"Give it more juice, Bruno," Constance ordered.
The huge but obedient husband flicked a switch and the girls commenced to diddle their mistress's massive pussy hole while the blonde princess screamed.
And scream she did.
Her screams pierced all eardrums.
Her screams curdled the dank dungeon air.
"Enough!" Constance shot out.
Bruno did his thing, and the wheel slowly stopped spinning.
Bunny could barely walk.
Bruno helped her to her seat and took his whang out.
"Eat it," he said, force feeding her with it.
Bunny could feel nothing but the scrapes of red pain that radiated in rows all down her front side. She had been raked raw by that spiked wheel, and her head was swimming as well.
"I don't think... I don't think I- !."
"Can?" Constance finished. "Of course you can. Just tell yourself that you've done rather well with your lesson and this is your reward."
Bruno shoved her reward into her face.
Bunny managed to stick her tongue out and give the huge dork with the blood red and throbbing head a limp little lick.
"You'll have to do better than that to impress your Arab masters," Constance charged. "Now hop to it or I'll strap you back to the wheel."
Bunny grabbed her backside in the manner of someone's grandmother with a pain in her arthritic butt and dove to her knees.
Bruno wormed his way around until he was seated and grabbed his throbbing dick at the base and aimed it straight for Bunny's mouth.
He pried it open and Bunny began to suck the huge cock. It hurt less than the machines but was no less insistent on teaching her a thing or two.
What, she had long ago forgotten.
Something to do with pain and how much it hurts.
Something to do with getting a reward for showing that it hurt.
And now, Bruno's hard juicy dick stick was her reward.
Well, she reasoned, she had not always gotten rewards in this life. Sometimes she had gotten slapped into the mud when she thought she might get a tip from a John or a "thank you" from her old man.
So maybe Bruno offering her his man dick wasn't such a kick in the head after all. Maybe it was a sign that she had learned how to accept a gift.
"Lick it," Bruno called to his slave.
"Lick it," Constance commanded her nubile nymphettes as they served their mistress's cunt with aplomb and dedication.
"They'll make marvelous slaves for their Arab captors, don't you agree Constance my darling?"
Constance was mute on the subject for a moment. She pulled her pussy lips apart a bit more allowing her twin subjects to lick even deeper into the folds of her hot, wet pussy crack.
"Yes," she said at last. "I think they will."
Bruno felt the girl's servile little mouth take his big man dork up to the hilt. She may have been a pain in the ass as a submissive, but she was one hell of a good cocksucker.
"What time are they coming, darling?"
Constance eyed her watch and grinned. "About an hour from now."
Bruno sat back. One whole hour.
He would let the girl suck him until he blew his stack, then he would mount her and pork that little whore's cunt of hers before the big boys showed.
Constance, too, was planning the hour's entertainment. She would let Marina strap that dildo on and command her to fuck her friend. Then, she would take the dildo and butt fuck both of them at once.
Yes! How delicious.
And all the more gloriously hot and comey since she now had three adoring nymphets to serve her... three spanking new slaves that had had all the feistiness meticulously schooled out of them.
Schooled right out their asses.
EPILOGUE
"Hi, there," the streaky blonde girl as the bottle green sports car pulled up to the curb. "You're cute. Wanna go round?"
The guy was burly and looked a bit sinister, but Bunny didn't mind. She had been to hell and back in a pickup truck, and in comparison to that trip, this guy seemed harmless enough-even though he looked like Lou Ferigno on a bender.
"Show me your box," the guy demanded and tossed her a twenty dollar bill with a weight on it. "I'll stay in the car."
Bunny grabbed the money and smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary. "You look like the sort who would like that kind of action. A real hot guy, huh?"
"Quit talking and flash me, will ya? I'm paying you good money."
"Gimme a minute, okay?" the little blonde hooker said and fumbled with her skirt. It took even longer to get the bra over her budding tit mounds.
"I haven't got all night. If you give me a hard time, I'll go to Georgann. I usually do anyway."
"Hey," Bunny said, recognition dawning, "you're her regular. I remember you now You used to drive up and she'd flash you from under that trench coat of hers."
"Right you are, cunt mouth. Where is she?"
"Behind that hedge over there," Bunny said.
"Hold it, hold it," the guy said and put his hand up. "I don't have time for shaggy dog stories now. Just show me your box. Okay?"
