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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Passions Playpen part 4 of 14 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PASSION’S PLAYPEN
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Four
With ankle chains like webbing around her bare feet, Kate was
pushed forward by Marie out into her back yard. Kate sobbed, openly
afraid of her fate. Her bosoms felt instantly chilly as the late autumn
air clutched at them, tweaking her nipples and making them perk up like
thorns. A lingering excitement dwelled unbidden within her cunt. Sperm
had dried on her back and in rivulets all the way down to her bottom.
It lay still wet on her heaving belly, and within the curls of her
cunt. Beside her, equally frightened, stumbled Cindy. She was no
better off than Kate, except no one had spermed her hair at the back of
her head and she wore no chains. But her babydoll nightie hung from
her, one strap off her shoulder and she too weepy eyed to notice. Her
bottom bulbed whitely at Marie and Trent as they strode behind the
girls. She had light, fading pink marks across one thigh where Marie
had struck her in the breakfast room, when she had the temerity to serve
Marie first in hopes of winning her favor. Kate, marked beforehand on
the backs and front of her thighs, and across her belly and under her
breasts, had only her bottom left to offer, and it was as white as the
new snow that lay melting on the ground under the rising sun.
The gay men had been shown out by Bess. All was quiet in the
back yard. Before the girls loomed the barn. Kate imagined she smelled
animal smells as she and Cindy bumped up against the barn’s wooden
door. Trent, striding forward, naked as a buck in the woods and with
his cock only temporarily out of commission, lifted up the heavy wooden
bar that kept the barn closed. He pushed open the door. The girls saw
darkness within. Fearing rats, or mice, they were nonetheless shoved
inside by Trent and they went bawling into the smells of hay and captive
beasts.
Marie lit an oil lamp and the girls suddenly drew in their
breath. Kate shrieked. Before them, stabled quite securely, were not
beasts but men. There were five of them. Each was secured to a post of
his own. The men were big and strapping and strong but their arms and
legs were pulled back and chained. The post held each man as surely as
if he were a turkey waiting for the axe, or a steer in a
slaughterhouse.
Kate stared dumbfounded at the erotic sight before her. Each
man stood with his feet pulled apart, showing his genitals. Just his
toes touched the hay under his feet. Looking more closely, she saw that
some sympathetic soul had wedged wood under each man’s heel, and she
wondered how long they’d been chained here. The men grimaced at her.
Their arms were drawn back, manacled tightly, two with their hands
pulled back at waist level and three with their hands fixed high, but
yanked back so that their hands were held near the back of the sturdy
post.
Each post was broad and wide, supporting the barn right up to
the ceiling, and holding each man captive as well, for no other post
could have restrained such big and powerful men as these. Each was a
sight unto himself. Each rivalled Trent in beauty and grandeur. Broad
shoulders merged into powerful chests, flat stomachs were met by slim
waists and tree-trunk like thighs. But, blushing, forgetting to cry,
which she’d done so freely just outside the barn door, Kate found
herself looking most of all at the men where their legs joined. Each
man was young and he showed his vigor and strength by an erection that
jolted upright at her entry, as if awakened. The men stared at her and
at Cindy, and at Marie sometimes, but only as if to look at a mother,
afraid she might scold them. Otherwise their eyes lingered over Kate
and Cindy, gawking at their soft curves and the evidence of their play
with Trent’s cock in the breakfast room, smeared all stickly over their
bellies.
Immediately Cindy stuck a finger into her nest and began
masturbating herself. Kate, afraid to do the same, relented after just
a moment of thought (or non-thought, merely a reflex of conscience) and
fingered herself just as eagerly as her friend. With her other hand,
babylike, for she was on auto-pilot now, standing naked before these big
men, Kate stuck a finger into her mouth and sucked it.
“Good morning, boys!” Marie called out happily. The men could
not answer. The only item of clothing they wore was a gag, each fitted
with one over his mouth so that he couldn’t cry out. “I believe we’ve
woken up our horses,” Marie laughed. “My how they stand to attention
whenever I enter!”
“This is obscene!” Trent said. His voice was gruff and he
sounded unhappy.
“This is my stable, dear boy, and you are going to be bound up
just like the rest, for you are my favorite one of all!” Marie laughed.
Before Trent knew what was upon him a hulking shadow had appeared behind
him. It seized him. Marie kept her eye on Kate and Cindy lest the
girls try to run. Cindy, though, had legs weak with fear and Kate’s
chains kept her imprisoned.
Looking at the huge man in coveralls who had grabbed Trent,
Kate heard Cindy breathe, “The gardener!” And she guessed, correctly,
that it was the very man who had cut daisies for Cindy’s garland. Now
he showed his manly side, hefting Trent up like a sack of flour. He was
ugly and there was dirt on his trousers. He lifted Trent with ease,
carrying the man kicking through the barn to an empty post that stood
waiting. He reminded Kate of the Cyclops grabbing Odysseus. The
seafarer had been strong as any man, but he’d been no match for a
giant.
Marie laughed as she watched Trent struggle. “It’s quite
hopeless, my dear boy,” she called out. “He has the IQ of a 60 watt
bulb but the strength of a team of bulls. Let him chain you or when
he’s done cutting the bushes he’ll come and shear your bush as well!”
Marie drove the girls in front of her, hitting Kate and Cindy
lightly on their thighs with her many-thonged cat. The blows were
light, but the girls knew they were in trouble already and Marie had an
eager hand. They walked as quick as they could, despite their weak
knees and Kate’s chains. They approached the post where the gardener
was binding Trent.
Hoping that perhaps it was all a game, Trent relented a
little. Kate saw his penis rise anew as the gardner spread him open and
fastened him to the post in front of Marie. Kate wished her lover would
not find himself aroused by being made Marie’s prisoner.
“Trent! Please!” Kate begged in a hushed voice, lest she
offend Marie, who heard her anyway for Kate was standing right in front
of the woman. Trent stared right past his love and directly at Marie.
She stood just a little behind and between both girls, naked except for
her black leather boots and her matching gloves and her unsatisfied
cunt. She had taken off the dildo inside the house and Trent seemed
eager to plunge his newly awakened rod into her pussy. Marie responded
by thrusting out her cunny at him. She placed her hands on her hips and
watched as her eyes dueled with Trent’s. His stare darted from her face
to her genitals and her staring eyes did the same.
“God, how quickly you recover,” Marie complimented Trent. He
tugged at his bonds and found that his moment’s admiration of Marie had
left him quite well trussed up. The gardener stepped back. All Trent’s
limbs except his hard-on were completely restrained. Kate shivered as
she looked at him. Never had she seen such an erotic sight. Her own
lover completely at her mercy, if only she could beat Marie to him! His
balls swung lightly between his legs. They looked mostly empty but Kate
knew they would rise again soon. She wanted to rush forward and coax
them up with her hand and then suck upon his stamen cock until he
spurted fresh sperm into her mouth.
But it was no use. Marie had other plans for the girls. She
reminded them of her presence by a quick slash across their bare
thighs. “Come, girls,” she beckoned. “It’s time to attend to your
bottoms!”
With her long, healthy legs, still lightly tanned from her late
autumn pool sunnings, Kate struggled across the barn floor. It had been
neatly swept recently, and had a thin layer of fresh hay sprinkled upon
it, but it was still a dirt floor, and Kate did not like getting the
soles of her feet dirty. She tossed her hair, looking down at her
bosoms as they bounced beneath her chin, merrily innocent of her fate,
their nipples perked up so happily and delicately, as if she might be
going to breast feed her baby. Kate looked at Cindy. Unlike Kate,
who’d never been pregnant, Cindy was with child. Yet her bosoms bounced
with the same carefree innocence as Kate’s. The nipples were just as
hard. And in feeling the hay and the dirt beneath her feet, the thought
that entered Kate’s mind, strangely, as she brushed her hair back with
both hands from her face, was ‘I hope I don’t have to sit down in this
dirt.’
How odd that the mind and the body would react this way, Kate
thought. Her cunny buzzed, her bottom wanted to stay clean. Her
nipples protruded from her chest. And all around her, watching her
progress across the barn floor, were the men. Six of them, massively
built but no match for the strong posts which held them or the chains
which the gardener, like some extra from a James Bond film, had wrapped
around them. In looking at them, insidiously, for her mind was
overwhelmed by everything she saw, Kate found herself admiring the glint
of steel on such strong, well-formed male chests. And down below,
between each man’s legs, she saw he was burdened by his lust. His balls
bulged with promise, unfulfilled. Like a sentry, his penis stood ready,
stiff and hard and jabbing at the air.
The inside of the barn was cool. But, Kate realized, not as
chilly as outside, where the numbing frost of early winter had nipped at
her teats and chilled her ass cheeks. Now her bottom cheeks tightened
as she realized that soon they would beg for that winter air. They
would feel like eggs turned sunny-side up on a midsummer’s pavement,
once Marie turned her crop on them.
Oh, why had she ever let her lover take off her panties in the
coach? Surely Kate could have obeyed that simple maxim of her
mother’s: never take off your panties. Except for a bath, alone, or
bedtime, after a day’s studies. But no, Kate had disobeyed. And not
once but quite a few times. And this time, now, she saw the wisdom of
her mother’s words.
Kate froze. Beside her she felt Cindy blanch and stop. They
were like twin horses in the presence of a crack of lightning. There,
against the wall, arranged quite neatly on a narrow shelf, was a bucket
and towels and, lying across the towels, as if a favor left in a hotel,
was a long, slender riding crop, with a tassel waiting at its end to
taste Kate’s bottomflesh. And beside the towels, on either side, as if
treats waiting to be eaten, were two pairs of nipple clamps.
Kate begged her breasts to quiet themselves, to let her nipples
shrink back down to their unaroused state. But like the males with
their penises, sticking out despite all the danger around them, Kate’s
twin nipples remained firmly upraised. They offered themselves like
young firm udders on a cow, except she was not a cow and cow’s udders
did not get clamped by spring-loaded clamps. ‘Oh, if only I were a cow,
at least my udders would be big and possibly able to stand it,’ Kate
breathed in desperation to herself. But her nipples were small and
dainty, precious little stems that hardly needed anything wickedly
clamped to them.
Kate remembered her mother again, telling her to always wear
her bra. ‘Keep your bra on. Boys will want to take it off but you must
tell them ‘no’ and keep it on,’ Kate’s mother warned her. Yet again
Kate had been bad and here was the punishment for it. And Kate wondered
if her mother would be sad or secretly happy that her naughty daughter
had met with bitter medicine for indulging in sin.
Cindy, who was pregnant and quite aware of her impending
motherhood, clapped her hands over her belly. It was no more developed
than Kate’s, just a soft little swell above her pubic hair, indented by
an ‘innie’ navel, but Cindy was aghast that she might be tortured.
“No! My baby!” Cindy cried, spying the clamps and the crop.
Marie swung at the redhead’s ass but, perhaps wilfully, she
missed the girl, letting the whip simply whisk past her, the tips almost
grazing her jiggly bottom.
“Up against the wall!” Marie barked. She would have put a
policeman to shame with the fierceness of her voice. Then, more gently,
but with an ironic gentleness to her voice, she added, “Young mothers
endured far worse than you will, my dear. Why, think of how they
suffered under Genghis Kahn, or Hitler, or Stalin. You, my dear, will
be loved in your suffering. To be sure I admit I’m a little jealous of
how the men stare at you, of how they hunger to make sure you’re
pregnant, but I will love you as I torture you. And tortured you will
be, my pet, for I intend to make the men suffer too, watching you
respond yet unable to touch you... Watching you cry out yet not
contributing to your pleasure or pain, for their penises are far from
your little holes where they might thrust into you to cause your
response. Prepare to be WORKED, girls. You are less my interest than
the men who watch you. I intend to make you peform for them, to the
highest level of your emotional ability.
“Oh, I could let you two just lie down in the hay and make
love. Certainly that would tease the men. But to see you yell and
shudder and weep and bounce to my crop. That will surely inspire their
loins! They will want to save you and they will want to fuck you. And
they can do neither! All they can do is suffer themselves, their
penises sticking out so very hard and gallantly, but finding nothing but
empty air. Cold air, like a cold shower that their fathers always told
them to take. You will be so toasty warm on your behinds, yet they will
be ice-cold, shivering with their cocks frozen in perpetual erection in
the winter air.”
Marie laughed. Despite Marie’s dark hair, Kate thought herself
behind Blondage, the performers with their tawny bodies and fierce
smiles. When Kate met Trent he’d had a Blondage calendar on his wall,
“Double Trouble.” Kate was sure that’s what she and Cindy had found
now, except Marie had combined both Blondage girls into her one,
dark-haired self. She was leaner and taller and her breasts were more
pronounced. She could have performed in Vegas, in plumes and slinky
sequined bikinis, but instead Marie was here, staging devious games of
her own that even Blondage would have admired.
Kate stopped in front of the towels. They were soft and neatly
folded, one pink, another blue, a third white. They sat on the shelf
all quiet and happy, snug and warm in their folds, but Kate knew they
would soon be wet and thrown on the floor someplace, in the dirt. The
clamps waited, their little jaws shut tight, and sure to shut again the
moment they were released over Kate’s nipples. Across the towels was
the crop. It looked brand new and some thoughtful if misguided soul had
applied fresh polish to it. Kate looked more closely, leaning forward a
little, aware how her bottom stuck out behind her, all nude and white,
but curious, all the same, about the implement which would soon cause
her so much shock and pain.
It was worn, Kate saw. The polish had been applied to give it
an appearance of newness. The tassel, Kate saw, was in fact new, and
had been threaded through a tiny hole at the tip of the crop. No doubt
the previous use of the crop had worn the tassel completely away.
With a tentative finger, like a baby reaching for but afraid of
a rattle, Cindy touched the crop.
“Ooooh, it’s so long!” Cindy breathed. She kept her other hand
firmly over her belly, for she feared most for her baby, despite the
fact that the crop would be applied to her bottom.
“You girls may touch it if you wish,” Marie laughed. “Although
you’ll soon be feeling it far more than you can bear, I assure you.”
The gardener appeared. His shadow loomed over the girls as
they both touched and stroked the long crop. Kate was deathly afraid of
it but she couldn’t help picking it up, sharing it in her hands with
Cindy, feeling the length of it and its hardness.
“It’s going to hurt very badly,” Cindy whispered to Kate, as if
sharing a secret. Kate nodded. What could she do? Her hands
trembled. The crop flexed in her palms, its weighted handle drawing it
down, making it springy whenever she or Cindy grabbed hold of the tip.
“It looks... very powerful,” Kate said to Cindy, her voice
whisper-soft, in awe of the implement. “How shall we bear it?”
The girls’ nipples stuck out from their chests, hard as the
crop itself. Their breasts ballooned from their chests, springy in
their heaviness, moving with each frightened breath. Kate looked at the
crop and then at Cindy and then back at the crop again.
“Try... try to squeeze your cheeks after it hits,” Cindy said.
“That will make the sting wash off you a little. Squeeze. Squeeze your
bottom cheeks and try to think of anything else, anything else at all.”
Kate felt tears well in her eyes. She might have been back at
college, enjoying the day and doing her studies, but instead she’d
decided to flirt with her boyfriend, and he’d brought her to this awful
barn. Now even he couldn’t help her. Even he had misjudged Marie. He
was naked and captive, and she was too.
A shudder. A movement. Kate felt her bottom squirming behind
her. Oh, how could it move about so at such an inopportune moment? Yet
Kate felt her hips take on a life of their own. They swayed gently from
side to side, even though her feet were firmly planted on the floor.
And with them moved her bulging white bottom, its cheeks tense,
compressed and then opening a little, tentatively, then jamming together
again, so fearful. Between her legs Kate felt an awful desire to touch
herself. She clung to the crop in her hands as if it were a totem
preserving her modesty. And Cindy too, despite being a new mother,
pregnant with child, was similarly afflicted. Her breasts shifted
impatiently inside her babydoll nightie as her bottom gyrated behind
her, inviting attention. Her fingers stoked the long, deadly crop, but
Kate got the impression they did it out of distraction now, no longer
curious, just hoping to keep occupied lest they dive between Cindy’s
legs and earn her extra cuts for frigging herself.
And behind them, watching them inspect the instrument of their
doom, stood Marie. Her long hair remained efficiently pinned up, like
the hair of a coach ready for a game. Her tawny body moved with catlike
grace whenever she moved a limb. Her slumbrous breasts hung heavily in
front of her, their nipples febrile, demanding attention. Kate and
Cindy were all softness and peaches and cream, but Marie was slim and
hard like the crop. A man might have felt pity on Kate and Cindy, the
college girl and the new mother, both so young and innocent. But not
Marie. She regarded them both as young women. While she might pamper
them inside, to tease them and please the men, out here, in the barn,
she saw them as nothing but female animals. She was not fooled by their
beauty or their feminine affectations. They were flesh and bone just
like any creature and, being a woman, she knew what a woman could take.
Really take. You had to expect the most from a girl, in her opinion, if
she were to be properly trained. Letting a girl slide or give less than
her best or less than she was capable of led to feminine weakness.
Marie did not take kindly to weakness. Men spent too much time
treasuring and cherishing the female body, in her opinion. Females were
strong. Stronger than men, perhaps, in endurance, and that’s what she
intended to teach Kate and Cindy today.
Marie moved behind Cindy. She grabbed handfulls of the girls
hair.
“I must pin up your hair for your whipping,” Marie said.
Cindy, still clad in her baby doll, and striving to still her
hips as she felt Marie grab up her hair, said, “Why?” A simple word. A
babyish word, that a two-year-old speaks whenever it wants attention.
Cindy still stroked the crop with curious fingers, Kate holding it for
her.
“Because I want to sight a few strokes into your back,” Marie
said.
Kate heard the sound of the someone filling something with
water. At first she thought it was the sound of a man giving a vigorous
pee. But, turning her head and looking again at the shelf, she saw that
the bucket next to the towels had been removed. Beyond Cindy and Marie
the gardener stood, with his back to them. He moved slightly, and Kate
saw that he held the bucket up near his face and was filling it from
some kind of post.
“Add rock salt to it,” Marie called to the gardener, turning
and looking back over her shoulder “I want each stroke I deliver to
give the maximum sting.”
“Oh, please ma’am!” Cindy cried. Tears burst from her eyes.
Both she and Kate, like children confronted by toys, had stopped crying
when they saw the men in the barn. But now Cindy, and Kate too, began
weeping again. Their soft tears ran down their faces and dripped onto
their breasts.
Marie pinned up Cindy’s hair.
“May I-- May I keep my babydoll on?” Cindy asked Marie as the
woman stood behind her inserting pins in her hair.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t cover your bottom,” Marie
said. Her voice was casual, like Cindy was in a beauty shop and Marie
was about to do her hair.
“I’ll keep it on, then,” Cindy breathed.
“It might rip when I hit your back,” Marie said.
“I’ll take my chances,” Cindy said in a sobby voice. “It’s the
only protection I have!” And her voice caught in a weeping half scream,
and Kate knew they were both on the brink of some little girl’s
nightmare, lost in their sensations, overwhelmed by their nipples and
their brimming cunts and their awkward tight bottoms. With her knees
shaking, Cindy was clasped by her shoulders and turned around by Marie,
the woman moving to stay behind her. Cindy’s bottom kept gyrating. Her
cheeks, like liberated mounds of jello, wobbled and shook.
A little in front of the barn’s inside wall, past the end of
the shelf with the towels, stood a slender post. The gardener moved
away from it, his pail full, and took rock salt from a bag on the floor
and sprinkled it into his bucket. Marie pushed Cindy past the end of
the shelf to the post. It was tall and made of wood and topped by a
metal nozzle. The ground around it was free of hay and it had a circle
of tiles around it, old tiles, but none of them broken, or if any had
been broken they’d been carefully replaced. Behind the post the tiles
indented themselves into the ground and there was a drain built into the
floor.
Kate, mesmerized by the crop lying on top of the towels, had
barely noticed the shower post. Yet now, studying it, she regarded it
as someplace where sheep might be washed after a shearing. Or a calf,
castrated, might be cleaned there. But surely it was not meant for
humans! Behind it lay coiled chains, pushed up against the wall,
waiting to secure jumpy legs. Kate, following Cindy’s eyes, looked up
to the nozzle topping the shower post. Just under the nozzle hung two
pairs of handcuffs.
“Reach up and put your hands into the cuffs,” Marie told
Cindy. “Kate, come here and help her!”
Cindy, the pregnant waif who worried about the baby in her
belly, had no desire to lift up her hands and grab at the cuffs hanging
high up on the post. Kate stepped close and took hold of her wrists,
one at a time, and drew them up for her. She buckled Cindy’s hands into
the cuffs. Resistance was hopeless. Kate had no desire to earn extra
cuts for herself by refusing to truss Cindy up. The redhead, though she
shivered mightily, seemed to understand. She let Kate bind her and both
girls knew all six men were watching. Without even looking, the girls
knew the men’s cocks were thrusting at the air as they watched Cindy
bound. Kate, despite her sobs and the nervous shaking of her breasts,
tried to move as gracefully as she could. And Cindy, though weeping,
let herself be fixed with arms high to the post.
“And now you, Kate,” Marie said to the blonde. Kate gulped and
looked at the woman and realized she had no hope of refusing. So, with
the gardener and all the men watching, including her lover, Kate reached
up and caught at the handcuffs waiting for her under the head of the
shower.
“Please not too hard, ma’am,” Kate gasped. The gardener took
her two wrists and bolted them into the handcuffs as quickly and
securely as any policeman might have. Kate closed her legs to try to
protect her cunny. Cindy stood with the same stance, her thighs tightly
together.
“Girls, girls,” Marie sighed. “You offer me nothing to look at
standing like that. Show me your cunts and show your cunts to the men,
for they will be watching.”
Panting rapidly, their hearts pounding, the two captive girls
opened their legs. Marie smiled as she saw their sexes revealed, both
girls’ purses tight and clenching, promising a good workout to any man
who entered.
“That’s better,” Marie said. “The inner portion of your bottom
cheeks, down where they curve into your thighs, is known as the ‘sweet
spot,’ girls. I must have access to that. Hopefully I won’t hit your
cunts but, if I do, I guess it won’t matter, since you’re both crying
already.”
“Ohhhhh, please ma’am!” Cindy bawled. She snapped her legs
shut and Kate copied her. Cindy stamped on the tiles with her feet,
impatiently, like a child who needs to go potyy.
“Bind their legs apart,” Marie said to the gardener. “You must
learn to show yourselves, girls. And to take little risks now and
then. For your excessive concern with your pussies I will give you
extra cuts, two each, and they’ll be hard ones to help you remember how
you’re to stand for the crop. Dip your backs, girls! Do you want me to
have to tie weights round your tummies?”
“Oooooh, Boo! Hoo!” Cindy trilled. Kate sounded no better,
her voice joining Cindy’s in a chorus of broken sobs as the gardener, as
effeciently as if he were dealing with animals, not slender young women,
forced the girls’ legs into wide spreader bars that left them standing
on tip-toe and feeling exquisitely open. For, despite all their
contrary protestations, there was something erotic about being utterly
split and spread and open in front of six randy men. One of the men,
able to offer nothing but his pee to the girls, did so. Kate and Cindy
heard a pissing sound and looked about, bumping their foreheads
together, and saw a man pissing boldly into the straw.
“You’ll be sliced up on your weiner for doing that,” Marie told
the man, calling to him from where she stood behind Kate and Cindy. Yet
there was a smile on her face, and Kate, in a lewd moment, wished she
could be the one to discipline the man’s penis with a crop. And looking
up, for she had not looked up at the rafters before, scolding herself
for wishing to inflict pain on the poor man, she saw it. A knife. It
hung from a string and Kate saw that it dangled directly over the man’s
erect cock. And she saw three more hung in a cluster beside it, each
sharp and deadly, so that if one fell and missed the others might be
given a try. A wind gusted into the barn and across the rafters. It
made the dangling knives turn on their strings, spiraling slowly to and
fro, waiting like bombs to be dropped on Dresden.
“No!” Kate screamed. She turned her head this way and that and
looking amongst the rafters she saw, over each man, the same set of four
sharp knives. Even her lover was placed with his cock under a set of
dangling knives.
As Kate stood screaming, her legs wide apart and her sex
showing, she watched as the gardener took a gun from his overalls. It
was an old revolver, and the gardener cocked it and aimed it at the
knives hanging over her lover.
“Miss, you will take your cuts properly, like a young lady, or
I’ll have to Bobbitize your lover,” Marie said in a cold voice, cold as
the wind that turned the knives as they hung in the rafters. “In fact,
I have a little bargain for you. If you cooperate and do your best,
taking your cuts as gracefully as you can, your lover and all five men
will be spared. But, if they are spared, if you save their cocks, I
will put your bottom to all six and you will have to endure being fucked
by them.”
Kate screamed, louder this time. But Marie laughed, her big
bosoms joggling on her chest. And for awhile Marie’s laugh nearly
drowned out Kate’s screams, she laughed so loud and so long, her hands
on her hips and her cunt thrust forward as if it might devour both
girls.
“I had to string up a lot of those knives myself,” Marie said
when the girls had screamed themselves silly and had no more to give.
Marie had waited for them, letting them cry. She enjoyed the tension
she bred in them. She used the time to pin up Kate’s hair, arranging it
carefully, as if Kate were something other than a nude barefoot girl
with semen splattered on her tummy.
When they were done screaming, all worn out and panting, Kate
and Cindy stood red-faced before the post, just as before, still waiting
for their whipping, their throats choked with tears and their eyes all
bleary. Their crying had done no good. They were still pinned with
their legs wide apart, their cunts showing to all who cared to see. The
top halves of their bosoms were wet with their tears but, otherwise,
nothing had changed. Their bottoms loomed just as palely behind them as
before, waiting, tensing, wiggling and thrusting into the cool barnyard
air.
“Give them something to soothe their throats,” Marie said to
the gardener. “I’d hate to see such lovely voices go hoarse.” The
gardener fetched a wine bottle from behind a sack of fertilizer. Kate
wondered if he secreted it there so he could drink himself through his
daily duties. The gardener uncorked the wine (it had been drunk from
before) and offered it to Kate’s lips.
Kate refused, twisting her head away.
“Drink, little one,” Marie said. She stroked Kate’s throat and
felt her little bobbing Adam’s apple hidden underneath her swan-like
neck. The gardener forced the neck of the bottle into Kate’s mouth, as
if it were his penis. He tilted the bottle up and Kate, feeling rather
like a baby being bottle-fed, was forced to gulp down wine. It was red
wine. The gardener poured too fast and some of the wine slopped out of
her and ran down her chin and spattered her breasts.
“It’s not good to waste wine,” Marie said. She ran a finger
between the cheeks of Kate’s bottom, in her crack, and Kate shivered.
In just a moment her bottom would be a red ball of fire! Marie patted
her white cheeks. “Yes, red as the wine,” Marie said, and Kate knew
what she meant.
Cindy was given a drink of the wine. As the gardener poured it
into her, ignoring her pleas and protests, Marie patted her belly. The
redhead flinched.
“Yes, your baby will bounce in your tummy while I’m whipping
you,” Marie teased the girl. “Perhaps you’ll both get a little
exercise, hmmm?”
“No, please!” Cindy burbled, the wine bottle still jammed in
her mouth. The gardener laughed at her attempt to speak with the bottle
inside her.
“Now they are quite ready, I think,” Marie said. “But gag
them, Bogart. I’m tired of having them beg me for favors.”
The gardener, Bogart by name, though he resembled Bigfoot more
than a Hollywood actor, fetched two strips of rawhide that hung on the
wall. He forced a strip into each girl’s mouth, pushing her tongue
back, so that she couldn’t speak and could hardly muster a scream. When
he was done the girls stood silently, still waiting for the crop. Tears
ran down their cheeks. The tears dripped off their faces and joined the
droplets of red wine on their breasts.
“Yes, my precious little flower. It is time to see what your
bottom can take!” Marie chortled. She ran her crop in a saw-like
fashion across the summit of Kate’s cheeks. They were lily white. Kate
felt new tears well in her eyes as she realized her moment of truth was
only seconds away. “Such peerless rounds. I almost hate to cut them
up!” Marie said. She bent and kissed each of Kate’s bottomcheeks.
“Ah, well. C'est la vie,” Marie said, upon rising. Kate felt
a withdrawal of air behind her as Marie lifted her crop up past her
head. Then, just as swiftly, the crop zinging down, Kate felt a streak
of fire impress itself deep into her skin. It hit right where Marie had
only moments ago touched the crop to her rear and then kissed her.
“Ya hoooo!” Kate called from somewhere within her gag. Despite
being fitted into a spreader bar, she managed to lift one foot and stamp
it back down on the ground.
“There, that’s a nice one, don’t you think?” Marie asked
Bogart. She stood examining Kate’s bottom, which now bore a fiery red
streak across it.
“You forgot to dip the crop, Ma’am,” Bogart said. “And I
forgot myself. Shall I get the bucket for you?”
“Please, dearest.” Marie said. “We must give Kate a challenge
if she’s to win back her lover’s penis. I would so like a nice big
sausage for lunch, you know.” Marie laughed and the gardener, sounding
like a big dolt, for that’s just what he was, laughed stupidly along
with her.
While Kate was left to waggle her bottom, hoping to throw off
the sting, Marie proceeded to award Cindy a similar cut. She struck
hard, hoping to leave a weal, and Cindy howled like a bitch in heat into
her gag. Ignoring the baby in her belly, Cindy stamped her feet and
danced on her toes and shoved her bottom back at Marie, hoping to catch
cool air upon it but looking for all the world like she wanted more.
Marie laughed, watching the girl’s display. “Cindy, for a
mother you certainly are brazen!” Marie said. “I’ll have to give you
extra cuts for immodesty, lest your baby wind up here itself someday,
hmmm?”
Cindy was not amused and shed new tears, hanging her head and
sobbing profusely. All the while her bottom kept gyrating, showing
itself, humping back at Marie.
The dark-haired woman returned to Kate. The blonde’s wigglings
had subsided. Marie gave her a new slash, making her bottom feel like
it had sat down on a hot iron bar. Kate howled and shook her bottom
like she were a stripper at Hooters. Her bosoms jostled under her,
their nipples like thorns, and Marie remembered her clamps.
“Bogart, fetch the clamps, please. These girls must learn a
little tit discipline,” Marie said to her gardener.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bogart replied.
“At least you can keep from showing your nipples,” Marie said
to Kate when Bogart had passed her the clamps. “Your mother would
appreciate a LITTLE modesty, don’t you think?” Marie caught one of
Kate’s breasts in her hand. It was big and Marie had to squeeze it to
keep its satiny, tear stained bulk from slipping out again. Kate tried
to escape, shaking her chest and moving her hips as if she were at some
nudist camp dance.
Marie wrenched Kate’s breast upward. She extruded its pink
thorn-shaped nipple between two of her finely nailed fingers. Then she
positioned the clamp over the teat, squeezed its jaws open, pushed
forward, and released the clamp handles before Kate could escape.
“Owwwww!” Kate howled from behind her gag. Her scream was
barely audible. Marie smiled at her handiwork and set about capturing
Kate’s other breast and putting a clamp on its tip.
When Kate was confined, just her tits covered, the rest of her,
including the cones of her breasts, still bare and exposed, Marie went
to Cindy and did the same to her.
“Yes, you will learn what its like to nurse a baby by having
these little fake mouths biting away at your nipples,” Marie said to
Cindy. The redhead seemed not at all disposed to risking the health of
her breasts in the clamps, but with her hands and legs bound there was
nothing she could do but accept them.
Marie, though she found she didn’t need sighting strokes,
decided to whip the girl’s backs as well as their bottoms. “Between the
bottom of the shoulder blades, not touching the shoulders, of course,
and the middle of the back is best,” Marie told the girls, instructing
them as if they were on their way to being dommes themselves, by
learning first how to receive. “The back may be divided into four
quadrants, top to bottom, and it is the second quadrant that is safest,”
Marie said. Kate and Cindy only waggled their bottoms at her in
response, their hips lewdly performing a dance in the cool barn air,
hoping for relief from the marks already given. Each girl bore two neat
slices across her hinds. Marie had given them with the intention that
they should remain awhile, as evidence of her dominion. Both were
forming into weals, ridges of skin across the girl’s fannies that would
last for days and remind the girls of their submission whenever they
sat.
Marie flogged the girl’s backs. She gave each girl three
hard-hitting, weal forming strokes. The blows shredded part of Cindy’s
baby doll nightie. The little gown was left hanging in tatters from
just her right shoulder. It dipped down on the side of her where it had
been torn away, actually covering part of her bottom.
Marie interspersed the blows to each girl’s back with more
blows to each girl’s bottom. After each sweep of the crop Marie
redipped her crop in the bucket of brine to keep it stingingly wet.
Kate and Cindy found themselves lost in a demi-world of passion between
their legs and hell on their behinds. Their nipples screamed for relief
inside the jaw-hinged clamps.
Kate’s gag was released and she was given more wine.
“It will make it easier for you to accept the cuts. I want to
give you more,” Marie told her. Kate sobbed and let herself be
force-fed the wine. She was beyond resisting now, simply moving her
hips in a kind of auto-dance, lost in her burning cunt and ass and the
pain of her bitten teats. Bogart made her drink down long draughts of
wine.
With Kate re-gagged, Cindy was given wine. Marie did not give
her as much wine as Kate for Cindy was pregnant and, despite her
fondness for seeing Cindy suffer, she did not want to hurt Cindy’s
baby. Cindy seemed to wish for more wine, mouthing at the open neck of
the bottle as it was drawn away. But a few quick gulps was all Marie
permitted her.
The punishment of the girls continued. Marie struck more
lightly now that the girls had slipped into themselves, consumed by
their pain and desire. She concentrated on the men now, hitting the
girls to drive the men crazy. With hot faces and straining loins, the
men watched. There was absolutely nothing they could do to save the
girls. And they were at an equal loss to save, or relieve, themselves.
Several more peed.
When the girls had, in Marie’s opinion, had all they could
take, she went to the first man. She ordered Bogart to release him.
“I’m going to release you one by one,” she said to the men.
Playfully she slashed at the cock of the man whom Bogart was
unchaining. She did not hit him hard, just enough to leave pink marks
on his cock and remind him who was boss in the barn. “I’d order you to
take your pick of the girls and fuck them, but I know that orders aren’t
necessary. You’re quite helpless to do anything else, aren’t you, you
poor souls? Even if you wished to strike me, you wouldn’t. You’re too
hungry to fuck. And poor Kate and Cindy are too available for you to
even try manhandling me to the ground. Take them as you wish,
gentlemen, in the cunt or in their flaming asses. But please be gentle
if you do them in their asses. They’re quite tight in back and Kate’s
never been fucked, except by me, with a cucumber. Show their virginal
bottoms some consideration if you take them that way.”
Marie, seeing that the first man would soon be rid of his
chains, took some oil from a shelf and lubed his cock with it. The oil
warmed as she applied it to his skin. The man thrust himself at her,
hating her for tying him up but nonetheless eager to cum. Marie rubbed
him carefully to keep him from spending in her hands. Bogart slowed the
pace of his unraveling to give Marie more time to get the man thoroughly
oiled.
“Yes, you will do your duty by Kate or Cindy, hmmm?” Marie
asked the man. He stared back at her, frowning. He bucked his hips at
her as if he were trying to batter her down with just his cock. “Oh,
your poor penis! Here you’ve been tied up in this awful barn, unable to
do anything but pee! Now you want to shoot yourself all over me but I
won’t let you, no no. You must fuck Kate or Cindy. Give all your
energy to her,” Marie said. Then, turning to Burton and rising from
where she’d knelt in the hay in front of the man, she said, “He’s
ready. Loose the rest of his chains and let’s see his performance.”
The man flung off his chains as soon as he was able. Ignoring
Marie, his antagonist, entirely, he ran to where Kate and Cindy were
bound. Like a dog in heat, he postioned himself behind Kate and
attempted her bottom. Kate screamed. The gag helpfully
muffled her cry, leaving the man to do as he wished with her. But in
his eagerness he found he couldn’t get himself into her tight ass. So,
readjusting himself, he thrust quickly and vigorously into her cunt.
Kate yelped at the rudeness of his entry. The man, who she
could barely see and who was much bigger than her, held her tightly by
her hips. He penetrated her hard with his cock. He ignored her
pleadings as he rubbed his hairy crotch and belly against her wounded
red bottom.
He did not last long. He jetted into her and held himself
tightly against her. Afterward he let himself enjoy a moment of post
coital bliss. As he softened inside her he kissed her face profusely.
Then he withdrew.
The man grabbed a pink towel off the shelf near the girls and
rapidly dried his loins with it.
“You are one Hell of a woman,” he said to Marie. His voice was
gruff, respectful. Bogart lingered near her, to protect her if needed.
“I hope you’re not too angry with me,” Marie said.
“I’d have killed you this morning, but now I just want to get
the fuck out of here!” the man said. “But if I ever meet a friend who
complains he’s bored by sex, I’ll send him to you.”
“Don’t recommend him unless he looks as good as you do,” Marie
smiled. “I only tie up my favorite men in my barn.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” the man said. He tossed the pink
towel onto the floor. “Mind if I go? I value my dick.”
“Please cum again,” Marie teased.
“You’re a sick, insane woman, and you should be locked up. But
God knows I’ll probably be back, idiot that I am,” the man said. “By
the way that girl’s cunt was delicious.”
And with that back-handed compliment to poor Kate, the man
hustled himself out of the barn. Five were left. Their cocks wiggled
insanely, begging for whatever attention Marie chose to give them. She
might have proposed shortening them with her knives, and if it meant
being caressed by her hands they probably would have accepted. Marie
went to the second man and began lubing him up for his duties.
The morning passed with each girl receiving three penises.
Some preferred Kate, one managing to get into her bottom. The rest
preferred Cindy, two marvelling at the fact that they were fucking a
female who was already pregnant. Each man who fucked Cindy wanted to
take her in her cunt. They seemed inspired by the prospect of getting
‘two for one,’ fucking both her and her growing baby.
Kate’s lover was the last to be released. He fucked Kate hard
in her cunt. His passage was eased remarkably by the boatloads of jism
already pumped into her by the first man. As he banged away inside her
cunt he could feel not only the cum left by the first man, but also the
cum that was leaking out of Kate’s bottomhole from the second man’s
visit.
Marie monitored Kate’s rising orgasm closely as her lover
plumbed her. She was looking for a point at which to pop off Kate’s
nipple clamps. Just as Kate reached her peak, one of many that morning,
this last given her by her lover, Marie sprung the clamps from her
tits.
Kate’s nipples screamed. They had been separated from the rest
of her, caught between the tiny gripping jaw-like mouths of the clamps,
yet now they were returned to her, the full measure of her pulsing blood
rushing into them and making them howl. Kate keened into a second and
third orgasm as her nipples whined out in pain. They were so very
sensitive, and now Marie, wickedly, passed a fingertip over them to
remind them of how free they were after being tightly held within the
clamps. Each brushing touch seemed to fling Kate’s nipples into new
spasms of feeling. They were alive, too alive, and she was achingly,
spasmingly aware of them. She had been a girl once, wearing a neat
white training bra, and then ever larger bras, but now she was a naked
banshee curdling with lust and strange, awkward pains, in her tits and
in her bottom and, deeply felt, in her yearning cunt, forced yawningly
wide by her lover’s indriving penis.
When both girls were quite exhausted and well-fucked, Marie
ordered them to be set free. Kate collapsed into her lover’s arms.
Cindy was caught by a second man. He’d been the second-to-last to have
her. The other four men had left the barn as soon as they’d cum.
“Well, let’s go inside then. It’s rather chilly out here,”
Marie said. She sounded as chipper as if they’d just finished some
party for children, where no one got laid or punished. It was, indeed,
no later than noon. Marie led them back inside the house. Bogart
stayed behind in the barn to clean up.
Trent took Kate upstairs to his bed. She did not want to go
back to the bed made of furs. It was too strange, too erotic. He
placed her face down in the bed he’d slept in the previous night, while
she awaited her first taste of the crop on her fanny. Tenderly he
spread her out on his bed. The sheets were fresh, changed by Bess.
There, where he’d spent the night entertaining two other young ladies,
and whipped a man’s wife earlier in the evening, he devoted himself just
to Kate. He put lotion on her bottom and kissed her endlessly. She
moaned under his touch. She put her hands beneath her and masturbated
for him as he soothed her. Later, after Bess brought them refreshments,
he grew hard again. He took her savagely, upon the bed, venting his
frustraton at being tied up by pounding her cunt. Bess entered while he
was fucking her, to pick up their tray. He did not stop for her. He
kept fucking Kate, making her scream with his passion. In another room,
though Kate didn’t know who was doing it to her, Kate heard Cindy cry
out.
Kate spent four more days at Marie’s. In the later days she,
and her lover, were permitted more freedom. They spent the mornings
lying in bed, afternoons in the barn or the bath, and nights partying
with couples that Marie invited over to meet them.
“I love you,” Kate said to her lover as she was helped up into
the carriage to go back to her school. He could not come with her. He
had to get back to his life at work.
“Again this weekend?” Trent asked, looking up at Kate as she
settled herself in the carriage. She wore clothes given to her by
Marie.
“Perhaps,” Kate said.
“If you say ‘no’ I’ll find someone else,” Trent said to her.
“So will I,” Kate smiled. “Here she comes now.”
And, stumbling out of the house, hurrying so she wouldn’t miss
the carriage, came Cindy. The girls had grown close in the ensuing days
and Cindy, pregnant from one of Marie’s lovers, but not wanting the man
or even knowing his last name, wished to leave also. She’d had enough
of being Marie’s ‘special guest.’
Cindy had a hand clapped to her head and was holding on a
broad-brimmed straw hat, with a ribbon tied to it, lest the early winter
wind blow it away.
Trent found himself with the need to help Cindy into the
carriage. He did so, helping her up, patting her bottom as he did, for
he had always found it as darling as Kate’s.
“You’re going to live together?” Trent asked Kate.
“Yes, love. She needs someplace sane to stay while she has her
pregnancy,” Kate answered.
“Marie is a bit nuts,” Trent said. The girls, Kate and Cindy,
stared down at him from the carriage. Kate had her hand on the door.
She held it open.
“Sure you can’t come?” Kate asked.
Trent shook his head.
“I can come, but, you know, I do need to get back to work,” he
said.
“Well we might meet somebody in the meantime,” Kate said.
She’d never felt so free before. She liked the idea that her lover’s
plan might have backfired. He’d brought her to Marie’s to make her his
forever but instead, on this cold morning, her breath frosting the air
and wearing another woman’s clothes, Kate felt sexually liberated.
Trent looked confused by her sudden change in demeanor. They’d
had sex many times during the week, professing their love for each
other. Yet now, perched in the carriage, Kate seemed to be saying
goodbye.
“You surely can go out with me again this weekend?” Trent asked
hopefully. The driver of the carriage, feeling a little annoyed at the
length of their goodbye, aimlessly cracked his whip in the air.
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Kate smiled. She felt Cindy’s breath
against her cheek. She was sure the two of them could find wonderful
new men together, the two of them partying on the weekends and living
together. She loved Trent but, at the same time, she wanted to meet
other men. For the first time in her life she felt truly free and
content with her body. She was gorgeous. Only 5 foot 2, perhaps, but
gorgeous. Why should she limit herself? And Cindy was a bombshell too,
at least until her tummy swelled.
Trent stood in the cold air staring up, his eyes questioning
but finding no answers.
“Perhaps, perhaps not, she said. Get a life!” Cindy chortled.
“Bye, honey,” Kate said to Trent. She pulled the carriage door
shut. The driver heard it and struck hard at his horses.
The carriage pulled away, leaving Trent standing in front of
the brownstone.
30
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