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Subject: Oct 31 Punished for Pleasure part 3 of 3 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
PUNISHED FOR PLEASURE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Three
It’s easy to be led to your fate if you permit yourself little
apprehension of it. And I, it must be admitted, wasn’t following what
I’d been taught on Safe Street. I was with strangers. I was nude. I
was underground. For all I knew, the only people who knew of this place
(who were still living) were us.
Bridget’s eyes grazed across the slick wet surface of my skin as tea
was served. We lay on flat rocks, grateful for the smoothing of Nature
that had taken place over millions of years in this rock-hewn room. I
took her gaze as one of Platonic (well, erotic) admiration. Sure, we
were both girls. Sure, we shouldn’t compare nipples and admire, with
open eyes, how they stood so readily to attention. But our lust was
gentle, appreciative. Soft stares, embarrassed comparisons. We even
admired, together, the swing of Amber’s bottom as she served us tea.
How could I help not feeling a bit decadent? I had been a normal
girl. I had not pursued girls as lovers, only as playmates. And the
joy of having a girlfriend is the intimate secrets you share. About
everything. Especially things having to do with sex. Every girl knows
this.
Bridget reached over and stroked my nipple.
“Mmmm,” I whispered.
“They think this is just a toy,” Bridget said to me quietly.
“A what?” I asked.
“The men. They think our nipples are just toys,” Bridget said. She
blew across mine. I shivered.
“Yes I know,” I said. My voice felt quick. I didn’t want her to stop
and yet I was beginning to feel embarrassed at our intimacy. We had
touched. We had admired. Wasn’t that enough? Even among friends,
there was a limit to touch.
“Let’s show them it isn’t,” Bridget said. Her face pressed close to
mine. I heard her voice in my ear. She kissed me. Lightly.
Encouragingly. As if to say, ‘I know you won’t let me down.’
I turned my head. I pulled my face a little back from her. We were
too close. Her breath was sweet but I didn’t want it flowing up my
nose.
“What could we do?” I asked. I lifted my body slightly, pulled it just
beyond her probing fingers. She lifted her hand, arched her fingers.
She caught my nearest tit. At the tip. She squeezed, enough to remind
me of her earlier display of power on one of my nipples.
“Let’s give them a demonstration of breast feeding,” Bridget told me.
I looked at her fingers on my tit.
“Okay,” I answered. It seemed the best answer. I didn’t want to
displease her.
“Good,” she said. She let go of my tit. Lightly she brushed it with
her fingernail. Then, as if not to cheat me, she touched my other
nipple as well.
“I want some MILK!” I heard Amber shout.
“There’s just tea, and some champagne, but we might go swimming later
and--” Sherry replied, when Amber issued her demand again.
“No chocolate milk, no white milk...” Amber began ticking off the
faults of the fridges’ contents.
“It may not be the London Bridge, but she expected it to carry that
much food anyway,” Jim remarked to Walter.
I brushed a strand of hair back from my face. Bridget patted my flat
tummy.
“Roll over,” she said. I had no idea what that had to do with breast
feeding, but I obeyed. I felt the worn rock against my freshly wettened
skin. My bottom stuck up behind me. The warm water of the pool lapped
at my body, reasurringly. I kicked my feet freely in the deeper water
beyond, slowly, enjoying the floating feeling it gave me. I was a
beached whale, my upper part on wet, water-washed land and my lower part
still available to the open sea.
Bridget took one of my hands. It lay palm upwards along my bare hip.
Lightly she lifted it, I let her. I still felt soft, receptive, I kept
my legs apart as I slowly kicked so that I would enjoy the luxury of the
water washing between them. Its touch upon my unprotected wet slit.
My hand, Bridget’s new toy, was laid to rest in the small of my back.
Then she lifted my other one. It was made to join the first.
“I must tie them. Please be still,” Bridget said.
What? We didn’t even have bikinis, let alone string bikinis, in this
room. It was for bathing! For--
Eating breakfast? I could smell my tea and the aroma of the sausages,
now joined by eggs, as Bridget passed a rope with expert fingers around
my wrists and bound them.
“But I want to eat!” I squeaked. The pressure of my chin upon the rock
distorted my ability to speak.
“Of course you will eat breakfast,” Bridget replied. Her voice was
soothing. “Mommie will feed you.”
“Mom-- ?” I asked.
“Yes,” Bridget soothed. Not without meaning, I thought, she traced
across my bottom where I had been whacked by Erica’s crop. My fanny’s
tattoo had faded. It was almost white now, my bottom, perhaps entirely
so, but Bridget knew I remembered the line, without or without its mark.
I ate the entire breakfast lying flat on my belly with my food passed
through opened lips by Bridget’s fingers. Amber squawked when they put
her in the same pose. She cried a little. But Sherry, the same who had
met me and induced my compliance, so easily, there upon their big bed in
the bed room, worked upon Amber.
“But its MY cave!” Amber shouted.
“There are still rooms you have not explored,” Sherry answered
soothingly.
Bridget’s finger stroked its way down between the cracks of my bottom.
“Mmmm, we must dress you afterward,” Bridget assured me. “We might be
nude, but the fatted calf must always be decorated for the slaughter.”
“I don’t want to be eaten!” Amber screamed.
“The knife is for the sausages, dear. It is not for you,” Sherry,
giving her kisses, said reassuringly. “Settle down. I must spoon your
eggs between your lips and I don’t want your place getting all messy.”
“My place...” I said to Bridget. I meant the spot right in front of my
face. My place mat, that is, as she began feeding a big, uncut sausage
into my mouth. The rest of my sentence was swallowed as the big round
beef pushed past my lips.
“Hmmm?” Bridget asked. “Your place mat? There are no placemats here,
you know that,” Bridget told me. “Bite now. Carefully. Use your lips,
use all your mouth. I don’t want sausage crumbs all over your ‘place
mat’, dear. Rocks have rights too.”
I chewed. The big sausage remained beneath my nose, pressed to my
lips, waiting for me to take another bite. It was tasty sausage, just
an awkward way to eat it.
“There, see? Look what Erika found for you,” Sherry said somewhere to
a belly-eating Amber. “Stop crying. Don’t cry, dear, we only have your
best interests at heart. See? Erika found Trix Cereal. All the fruity
flavors. I’ll pop them in your mouth one at a time so you can follow
your nose.”
“That’s the Froot Loop Bird!” Amber protested. The offense of
mistaking one cartoon for another stopped her crying. “The Froot Loop
bird has a big nose,” Amber explained. I was shocked at how quickly she
went from hysterics to calm. “The Trix Wabbit has big ears,” Amber
said. Her voice became small, almost too quiet to hear. I realized
Amber had perhaps explored the whole cave, after all, and knew its
potential. She knew more than me, at any rate.
I stood admiring myself in the mirror. Beside me, Bridget was nude.
The sleek lines of her body met at inviting points. Yet nothing hid
what lay there. No scrap of cloth. No top, no bottom. Just the flesh,
all white, letting itself be seen like pale expanses of ivory.
My skin was covered at least with a tan. But zones of promise showed
where my swimsuit usually covered me. There my flesh, like hers, was
white, and unprotected.
There were close to a dozen of us in the room. The bedroom. Where
we’d mated. Yet despite our pleasures earlier in the night, despite our
satisfactions, we were still nude. There was not a stitch of clothing
between us. We were like lost children in Eden, bare, our genitals
exposed and shame unknown to our eyes.
I felt my breakfast in my belly. I felt satisfied, safe. Yet it was
an illusion. My hands were still tied. I was still Bridget’s
prisoner.
I looked frankly between Bridget’s legs. She saw where my wandering
eyes rested and smiled. Quickly I looked away. I looked back at
myself. In the mirror. Hers was black. My nest was gold. As I looked
from her pubis to mine I noted how my curls were glinting in the light
cast in the bedroom’s corner.
Bridget reached down to a pillow lying in front of the mirror. She
picked up a small triangle of cloth. It was white.
“You’ll wear this little bikini over your private until we arrive,”
Bridget said. She presented it to my pussy. She threaded my legs with
it. She lifted it, arranged it over my bush. The cloth pushed against
my springy curls. My slit and the panty crotch touched. Bridget tied
the garment’s drawstrings. My bare hips felt the bite of tightened
string. I was held.
“Why do we have to dress if we’re just going to be nude again?” Amber,
standing next to me, asked Sherry.
“Don’t wiggle,” Sherry replied.
“You’re being prepared, dear,” Erika told Amber. Larissa, already
dressed, stood silently just to my side. Her hands were bound behind
her back. Panties were tied round her hips. They hid as little as mine
did. She was the men’s property. The three of them had dressed her
more quickly than Bridget could dress me. She’d spent breakfast a free
woman, but with penises for her side dish.
“Why are they underpanties?” Amber asked in a high-pitched voice.
“For the same reason you have ribbons in your hair,” Erika answered.
“You belong to us for a little while, okay? We can do as we wish with
you. Don’t whine or I’ll give you a reason to whine, girl!”
Amber said nothing more.
Bridget fingered my slit. The fabric protecting my snatch did nothing
to stop her intrustion. It was too thin.
“You must make them wet,” Bridget said to me.
“I- I’m not...” I lost my words. I felt a wave of pleasure wash over
me.
“Mmmmmm!” a high-pitched voice squealed a moment after mine. “Stop
tickling my pussy!” It was Amber. They had fitted her panties on and
were pleasuring her.
“You are tied but it is good, hmm?” Walter asked.
Beside me, I felt Laurie give a quick, desperate nod.
We were touched until they were sure that our scent would be left in
our panties. Then they stopped. I watched Bridget’s finger as it
withdrew from me. She touched it to her lips. She kissed it.
“You excite me,” she confessed to me. Her voice was husky. I glanced
at her soft, feminine body. How could such supple flesh hide what I now
heard burning in her voice? My eyes darted up over the slopes of her
breasts, past her nipples, to her neck. Her face. She was eager for
me.
I blushed at the fire I saw in her eyes. Consolingly, she kissed my
cheek.
“You will learn,” she whispered. “You will learn to love another...
woman.” She kissed me again. I felt my knees go weak underneath me.
She smiled. She touched my slim shoulder and steadied me. “Yes,” she
said. “You are mine to do with as I please.”
“Look, mommie bought you something else,” Erika said to Amber.
I turned my head.
“A collar?” Amber squawked.
“Yes, don’t you like it?” Erika said to the blonde.
“I don’t need a collar, I need a bra!” Amber answered. But Erika
simply put the collar around her neck anyway. I received one from
Bridget. Larissa was given one by the men. Our necks were buckled like
suitcases.
We were led from the bedroom. We followed the hall. Like gazelles we
walked, gazelles sought by men, captured now, being taken off for
slaughter. The innocence of such animals even in their greatest hour of
danger showed in our eyes. We were large-eyed, observing all, yet
driven forward, hoping for reprieve from our captors as they gazed at
the succulence of our bodies. We were a good catch. Well fatted where
the meat was tenderest, long and lean on our limbs. I could feel the
weight of my breasts bouncing heavily on my chest. My nipples stood
hard. My bush sprouted invitingly between my young legs. My snatch was
a wet promise. Panties, some joke of civilization, ringed my hips,
hiding nothing with a wisp of expensive cloth. My dell sucked against
the intruded material Bridget had jammed up into my snatch in her
explorations. My body was hers, theirs. Only my eyes, large and
frightened, remained free of their control.
They took us down the tunnel toward the two pools that served as
potties. Then, where the bath tunnel began, they turned in. But no
sooner had we turned to go to the bath than we turned again! I had not
seen this hidden crevice in the rocky wall that jutted in on me from the
left.
Bridget’s fingers took hold of me. “You will have to turn,” she said.
“The crack is quite narrow.” And indeed it was. Larissa, going first,
was guided by the men. They had to be careful following her. Their
cocks, jutting out in front of them, sought to scrape the rock walls
every direction they faced. Bridget, when my turn came, clasped my
breasts and eased me through. Sherry followed with Amber.
The cave widened. Enough to walk. I listened to my bare feet make
contact with the rock underfoot as we followed a path. It was a
natural, cave grown trail, where rock had thrust itself up from the
warmth of the earth and then, later, lonely at its fate in the night,
exposed and cold under the fixed staring starlight, it had split. We
were in such a split and as the razor walled rock fell away from me, I
found a sense of claustrophobia pass. We were let go. Not by our human
masters, but by the rock. The path between the rock became quite wide.
I felt my feet touch wood. I looked down. Around the corner, amid the
gloom, I found myself on a board. A makeshift bridge. It was about two
feet long. A foot wide. Carefully I crossed it. A watery fluid passed
underneath it. Water, I guessed, but it had a sulfer smell.
“Don’t get your feet wet,” Bridget chided me.
A room opened. To my surprise, it was another room that played host to
a pool. But along the edges of this pool the walls gradually closed in
so that, at the far end, there was only flat wall. I saw, poised in the
far wall like an entrance, a dark hole.
“Yes, we’ll have to swim across,” Bridget said to me. “We can’t walk
around it.” She gestured toward the hole in the wall. “That’s the
entrance to the training room.”
I stared at the hole. It was big, menacing. It looked like a giant
maw waiting to swallow me up. Within I could see light glimmering. I
felt a tremor pass through me. Somehow I would cross the lake, and find
myself in there, or... or what? I guessed they’d find a way to make me
cross.
“Line up, girls!” Jeff called out. He made Larissa and Amber and I
stand shoulder to shoulder. He took the pose of a drill sergeant in
front of us.
“Girls,” he said. He put a drawl in his voice. Larissa broke into a
giggle.
“Are you laughing at my cock?” Jeff snapped at her.
“No,” Larissa answered.
“Well if you do, I’ll make you lick it!” Jeff said. He put his hand to
his dick. He stroked it. It bulged from his fist at either end like a
fire hose.
Larissa stared at it. She blushed. Then, remembering her breakfast,
she said, “I think you already did.”
“Yes,” Jeff nodded. He grinned. Then he again passed his eyes over
all three of us. He pointed at the hole in the rock beyond. “Girls,
that there is the trainin’ room. We are going to cross this lake single
file. You will not find it easy. However, nothing in the training room
is easy either, so we may as well get started.” He cleared his throat.
He looked at his cock. He seemed for a moment to waver between saying
more, and needing to concentrate lest something untoward happen. “Don’t
shoot on me yet, ol’ boy,” he finally muttered under his breath to his
penis. I looked at the trembling erection aiming itself at us from
between his legs. I felt like I was under a gun. One move, and he’d
shoot me.
“He has to go to the bathroom,” Amber, next to me, confided to Sherry.
“Want me to lick it some more for you, sir?” Larissa offered.
“No,” Jim answered. “Wise of you to ask, though. A drill sergeant
does have to keep his primary weapon well-polished. You’ll be called to
the head of the class if mine needs any polishing during our stay in the
training room.”
“Thank you, sir,” Larissa said. Her voice was respectful. I realized
she would play along no matter what they had planned for us. She was
committed. To the whole thing. I wasn’t sure I was. I still liked
preserving my options, at least in my head. I might, I might not. I
was still free to choose, wasn’t I? I looked at Larissa. Her eyes were
bright. She glanced at me, then away. I felt my belly sink. She had
fallen in love with Jim.
I glanced at the others. I saw them only as friends. They were eager
to try something. It had been fun so far. There had been teasing,
touching. There had been more. Last night had been fun. There had
been no inhibitions then, just as there were none now, and we’d all
gotten to experiment on each other.
And now there was going to be... training.
I felt a tremor. My nipples, already stiff, grew more. I felt a wave
of yearning in my belly. What could they mean, training? Couldn’t they
just tell us? We could learn by listening, not by doing.
“Let’s step over here to the water’s edge, girls,” Jim said. We
obeyed. Me because I was too curious not to. Amber because she knew
something, or perhaps nothing, about how she felt in the cave, and
wanted to go on feeling it. Larissa because she loved Jim. A man we’d
only just met a day before.
Jim arranged us along the edge of the pool. Then he told us to step
into the water. It was cold. Bridget touched her fingers to my hips.
“I must take these off now,” she said to me. I watched as she undid the
ties of my panties. They fell down my legs. They struck the water and
floated upon it.
“Now let’s go forward, girls,” Jim called out. He led the way. Like
Tarzan, but without a loin cloth, he turned and walked into the deeper
part of the pool.
We followed. We stepped away from our panties. They remained behind,
floating on the water. They floated placidly. I looked back at mine,
over my shoulder. But for a million years, and the permeability of the
fabric, already becoming waterlogged, they might have floated forever.
“Single file, girls!” Jim called. He made us rearrange ourselves into
a file. The men took command of Larissa again. Bridget, grinning,
stepped up beside me. Amber walked between Erika and Sherry.
We went forward toward the hole at the pool’s far end. Water sluiced
quietly between our legs as we put ourselves farther from the shore at
our rear. As we did, the water grew higher around our bodies. It rose
to my knees. Then to my thighs.
“No! It’s cold! I’ll get my pussy wet if I walk any farther out,”
Amber told Erika.
“Yes, dear. You’ll be swimming in a moment,” Erika answered. Her
voice was calm.
“But my hands are tied!” Amber protested.
“So? Use your feet,” Erika said.
“You like wiggling, don’t you?” Sherry said.
They made us go forward, despite the water. I felt myself sink deeper
and deeper into the pool. The water rose on my body until it lapped at
my waist. Then my ribs. Then my breasts, supporting them. Finally my
nipples were submerged.
And then my shoulders! My neck thrust above the water like the last
hope of a giraffe in a flood. Behind me, Amber complained that she
couldn’t stretch her “tippie toes” any farther.
Larissa let out a shriek.
“No! I’ll drown!” I heard her cry.
“Forward!” Jim yelled. “You must swim across. It is only a few feet
for you.”
Like gasping puppies, we made the crossing. My eyes bulged. My lips
sought. I sucked in air no less precious because it was from between
the walls of rocks. We emerged wet on the other side, and frightened.
If they could do that to us, what wouldn’t they dare?
“You did it. Life is a challenge,” Bridget told me. She kissed my
cheek. She was happy for my success. I was simply scared.
“Now let’s go up into the hole,” Jeff said to Larissa. He pointed to a
small set of steps in front of her. She mounted them. I watched her
feet go up them, one by one. Then she stood atop the makeshift stairs
and looked inside.
“Ohhh, it’s scary in here!” Larissa said. She drew back. She looked
over her shoulder at me. I stood behind her, waiting to climb the
stairs after her. “Hold your breath,” she said. “We’re about to get
what’s coming to us.”
I felt a chill at the end of my spine. I gazed into her eyes. She
nodded, briefly. Then she turned away. I felt the cheeks of my fanny
tighten.
“Yes, it is quite the place to bring a young woman, isn’t it?” Erika
said. We stood in a bare rock room, with a flat floor. Someone had
taken care to ensure that all the roof’s stalactites had been shorn
away. I gazed at the walls. At the ceiling. All the room’s surfaces
had been smoothed so that they possessed a kind of regular uniformity.
We were in a square chamber, deep inside the mountain. We were in a
place where man’s hand had definitely intervened. No one could mistake
it for a natural formation. It had a flat roof, a flat floor, square
corners. This room, despite being hewn from living rock, was intended
to reflect the best man’s discipline had to offer. No matter how
beautiful the natural rock may have originally been. All the earth’s
natural variation was broken and sanded and swept clean. It was as if
we were in a box.
What the box contained was even scarier. My throat was raw from the
way I’d screamed upon seeing it all. Whips, chains, implements of harm
everywhere! Yet intermingled with it too, as if the two might be fitted
together, were items of pure luxury. Bath soaps, piled in a corner,
next to a bubbling jaccuzzi. Pillows, a teddy bear, tubes of oils and
rolls of condoms. This was truly a weird room. And it was large, too.
Able to accomodate twice our number in any imaginable style, be it the
pain of an inquisition or the soft nursing touch of a mother tending a
newborn.
“Yes girls, you may have a bath or confess your sins,” Bridget told
myself and the rest. “I’ve done both here. And not too long ago,” she
added. She placed a quick hand to her own fanny. “But today its your
turn. You are, after all, our newest friends. And we can’t just let
you into our secret without exacting a price.” She looked at Jim. He
grinned. She smiled and glanced at Amber. “You too, dear. Nothing’s
free.”
“Kids under 10 are,” Amber countered. Her eyes were wider than if
she’d seen a ghost. But I saw her nipples were stiff, all the same.
Just like mine. Was her snatch wettening like mine was, too? Why? Oh,
I didn’t know! But something had drawn us here, and now we were going
to find out about it.
“So? You’re not 10. Quit bringing up irrelevancies,” Bridget told
Amber. “All day long you’ve whined and complained and needed to tell us
all something more. About yourself, of course. Well you’ll tell plenty
here, little Bitch Babe. Plenty you’ll be glad your mommie doesn’t find
out about when I finally see you off at the end of the weekend.”
“That wouldn’t be...” Amber began, but she seemed to lose her voice in
her thoughts and we found ourselves in silence. There was not much to
hear in the depths of the cave.
“Look how perky all three of you are,” Sherry smiled. Her eyes passed
over the tips of my breasts to Amber’s teats, then to Larissa’s.
“Aren’t you frightened you might lose your sweet nipples in a room like
this? Well, you’re right. You won’t. You don’t have a thing to worry
about as long as you do just as you are told. Always remember girls,
whenever you’re here, it’s good behavior that counts more than anything
else. I learned to be very, very good here. That’s why I cook so
well!” She laughed. She looked at Bridget. “Did you like my
breakfast, girls?” she asked us when her eyes returned to ours. All
three of us, myself, Amber, and Larissa, nodded vigorously.
I was aware of my naked breasts bulging out brazenly in front of me. I
wanted to cover them. But I kept my hands by my side. Bridget had
searching eyes, eyes that were looking for a pretext to begin our
games. She scanned our faces, our bodies again. More slowly, as if
sizing each of us up. I felt other eyes upon me. My breasts were young
and ripe and warm. My nipples sought attention. Beside me, Amber was
no different. I sensed a desire on our part to break free of our
childish ways, to conceive, to nurse, to feed millions with our awkward,
large, obvious breasts. Our bosoms that were suddenly too big for the
little girl bodies we still thought we carried with us. Our paps had
grown to teats and our ‘titties,’ as they were briefly called, had
ballooned into full-fledged, womanly breasts. Now we stood revealing
them, seeking permission to use them to console men, to breed with them,
to offer ourselves as incubators for hungry newborns. I felt a
tightness in my belly. It was empty. It wished to be filled. I
squeezed the cheeks of my bottom. I was ready. Let them do what they
might. I would be brave.
“My, how your mothers would remark at your attire!” Bridget laughed.
She glanced conspiratorially at Erika, then returned her eyes to us.
“Yes, such sweet little outfits,” Bridget remarked. Her eyes fell on
me. “You’re collared, leashed, and your hands are tied behind your
back,” she said. “And such sweet panties! But they hide so little, and
you got them all wet crossing the lake. And such company you keep! Men
with penises hard as rock.” Bridget broke off her speech in
mid-sentence and glanced around at the guys. “Come here, gentlemen,”
Bridget beckoned. “I shall command us today. Yes! The victim can
become the oppressor. I know you’re all dangerous. Do you think I can
only receive? No, I can deliver the pain also, and the pleasure. So
come, stand in a straight line over here, next to the girls. There must
be games, and contests, and ceremonies. No wild orgies today. Not yet,
anyway. We had our fun last night. Now we should strive for more
exacting pleasures. After all, we are not animals, but human beings.
To my surprise, all three men shambled over to where I stood with
Larissa and Amber. They looked us over, closely, and might have taken
us right there, standing up or pushed to the floor, but Bridget let out
a scream.
“No! No! Stand in a straight line beside the girls! You aren’t to
fuck them!” Bridget protested. The men left off their inspections and
formed a line beside ours.
“What is this, the fucking military?” Jim groused.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Bridget answered. Her eyes twinkled.
She surveyed the men’s dicks. “My, what eager beavers,” she said. “Or
eager for beaver, as the case may be.” Bridget cast her eyes across to
Erika again, then to Sherry. “We’ve got some heavy equipment here,
girls. Come look! Better yet, let’s huddle. We must decide what to do
with it.”
Amber leaned forward a little. She gazed, her eyes growing quite huge
in the process, at the line-up of penises beside her. Jim’s was
closest. It throbbed with his pulse. He grinned down at her. She
shrank from his gaze. Yet, a moment later, she was sticking her neck
out again, leaning forward and surveying the row of penises displayed so
freely just to her left.
Bridget and Sherry and Erika had formed a three-woman huddle. I could
just hear their whispering voices. Sherry’s bottom stuck out invitingly
toward us. She waggled it aimlessly as she listened. Bridget did most
of the talking.
When the huddle broke, the three woman gazed at us enthusiastically.
They had made plans for us. For our bodies. Their eyes passed to the
men.
“Ah, yes. You three,” Bridget said. “The sperm boys. Well, we’re
going to see just which of you has the strongest penis.” She smiled.
There was a sensusous glow in her eyes. “We must shackle you, though.
All three of you. You’re men. The simple ropes that bind the girls’
wrists you might find a way of breaking. So, no ropes for you, boys.
Heavy shackles, on your hands and feet. But your penises will be given
free reign. In fact, they’ll be put through quite a few paces. But I
want you to focus, men. Just on your dick. forget your arms and legs.
Your past. Your future. You’ll be judged in here solely by what your
penis can do. Can it keep from shooting? Can it hold out a minute?
Three? We’ll see which of you explodes and which of you doesn’t. Think
of it this way, men. You’re a sea captain. But you don’t travel the
ocean. You travel in time. Through time, minute by agonizing minute,
until you reach ‘tommorrow.’
“That’s right,” Bridget continued. “You must transport your precious
cargo of sperm from one end of the night to the other. Don’t lose it!
But don’t expect an easy ride, either. You’ll see your poor Ship Penis
smashed between the Goddesses Skylla and Charibdis. They used their
faces by the way. They kissed, with a big male penis trapped between
them.
“But don’t be too disappointed if you cum,” Bridget advised the men.
“You can, after all, make more sperm, can’t you? But be warned. Don’t
shoot casually. I know there’s an upper limit on how much sperm you can
produce in one night. So hang on tight to what you’ve got. There’ll be
no let up in the action. And at the end of the evening, when you’re
ordered to discharge your cargo, your ejaculate will be weighed. The
man who shoots the most wins.”
Bridget grinned. She walked to a table and picked up a small golden
scale. It was made of gold. It sparkled. She held it aloft. “Here’s
the scale, gentlemen. But we will only use it at the end of the
evening. Only your end of the night discharge will be weighed. So do a
good job keeping yourself in ‘til then, and you just might win.”
I looked over at Amber to see her reaction to Bridget’s erotic
soliloquy. It gave me hot flashes but Amber, perhaps, was too immature
to listen. She was struggling with the rope that kept her hands
securely behind her back. Her body, just touching maturity, was utterly
defenseless to whatever depredations might befall it.
It was still possible to see her 9-year-old figure within the more
curvaceous lines of her 12-year-old’s body. I tried to picture her on a
swing, jumping off, teasing a boy, running away (successfully). I saw
her, in my minds eye. She was small of form. She had long, golden
hair. A petite midriff with budding nipples topped breathtakingly long
legs. Despite slim hips she had a provacative bottom. When she felt
sexy she tied a scarf around her neck. Slowly, her belly button became
revealed as the months slid past. Then her shirt grew even smaller in
relation to her growing body, exposing almost her entire tummy. It grew
tight upon her ballooning breasts. It was her favorite shirt, with a
Care Bear on it, but given her nude tummy and her ever-larger,
shirt-moulded breasts, her mother finally had to insist that she not
wear it anymore. Too many men were drooling over her. Even the
previously chaste father of two next door.
The men in our company were drooling. But not, like a pervert, from
the mouth. Rather it was their elongated, sexually-charged penises
which drooled. Pre-cum. The very description of this overabundance of
male semiotic fluid sent a shiver up my spine. Were they really to keep
their seed all bottled up in their testicles for the entire night?
Pondering this, I realized that despite the different textures of
condoms and sex toys, despite the differnent flavors of the various
sexual aids on display, this room was not about pleasure. Not
primarily. It was about testing. Pushing ourselves to the limit,
sexually. Testing ourselves against the room’s equipment and against
each other. It was, in the case of the equipment, an unequal contest.
Unfeeling machinery (and toys!) against raw flesh. And not just
anyplace on the body, but a test of one’s most sensitive parts. The
nipples. The clitty. The soft, expansive, and inviting roundness,
pierced in its center by a small hole, of the bottom. My derriere
tightened against the inevitable; I would have one or more things up my
ass before the night was over. Seeing what was on display in this room,
I guessed those who oversaw my denoument would choose uncomfortable
things. They would make me receive them. They would make a game of it.
As for testing ourselves against each other, I felt the contest was
unequal in the case of Amber. Still, she would have to ask to be
relieved of her duties. Perhaps even plead. And despite her
disconsolation at being tied, I didn’t yet sense a willingness on her
part to back out. If Amber were to back out, I might try it myself.
After all, she was 12 and I was only 13. Yet as I licked my lips at
Bridget’s soliloquy I felt infinitely more mature than Amber. I felt a
need for the men’s cocks. She appeared to only feel a need to be
untied.
I thrust out my bosoms. I gazed at my nipples, at their display, then
looked sideways to see if any of the men were noticing my arousal. They
were not. They were mesmerized by Bridgette, by her descriptions of
what would be required of them in their denuded state, their cocks all
stuck up and their balls balled up, straining for release. Bridget,
oddly, did notice me, however.
“Yes, dear, your nipples will be seen to,” she said. She tossed back
her straight black hair with a flick of her head. She regarded my tits
for a moment and then nodded to Erika. The blonde stepped over to a
shelf. Her body was lean, athletic. She had a jaunty air as she
walked. She picked up what looked like two jewelled clothespins and
brought them over to me. On closer inspection I saw they were plastic,
mounted with gems of cubic zirconium.
“Have you worn nipple clamps before?” Erika asked me conversationally.
I shook my head ‘no’. My hair streamed back and forth in front of me
with my urgent denial. “Hold still, then,” Erika told me. “They
shouldn’t hurt too badly.”
“Oh, please don’t,” was all I could muster in words. I wished to
retract my nipples but they were febrile with lust. I watched,
swallowed, as the first of my tender pink points was clamped.
“Oh! It stings!” I cried. It felt like a bee had stung my right
breast. It didn’t let go.
“Of course it produces a certain... feeling,” Erika replied. Lightly
she brushed a fingertip over my other nipple to ensure that it was fully
extended. I felt wet in my slit, still wearing my panties, and yearned
for a more substantial, and less painful bra.
“Ooooch!” I cried out. The other clamp was applied to my left tit. It
bit into me mightily and made tears spring from my eyes. “How long must
I wear these?” I asked in a panicked voice.
“Why, you will be proud to display them on your most intimate parts
until permitted to do otherwise, of course,” Erika answered. Woefully I
turned my head to the men. I had their attention now. Jim smiled.
“You’ll survive,” Jim said to me laconically.
“I don’t feel like I can!” I answered frantically.
“Hang bells upon her titties,” Bridget commanded Erika. “That will
increase her pride of ownership.”
“Ohhhh! I’m not a cow!” I answered. But Erika, impressed with the
idea, went to the shelf that had borne the clamps and returned with twin
metal bells. They were small, silver, suspended from threads. She used
small clips at the pointed end of my clamps to affix the bells. I
shivered. A silvery sound tinkled from my breast buds. My bosoms,
despite their mature size, had been reduced to trinkets.
Worse awaited the men. A straw was inserted into the pee hole of each
man’s penis. Rubberized thread was fitted behind the flange of his
cockhead so that the straw woudn’t pop out. Then each man was
encouraged to drink large volumes of water. It was proffered to them by
the ladies; the men drank in a manner reminding me, at least, of
horses. Each of their mouths supped at a shared bottle while their
hands remained conveniently bound and out of the way.
“Yes, you will pee through the straws,” Bridget told the men. “It will
be like a human fountain, watching you. A penis fountain. And you’ll
all pee together, of course. To make the fountain more interesting.”
While the men were being fitted with cock-straws, Erika explained to
Amber and Larissa and myself the rules of a devilish game. There was a
collection of padded wooden trestles. Each was a foot wide. But one
end of each trestle was lower than the other. Picture, if you must, six
sawhorses. With wide tops. The top of each is covered in leather. But
the top doesn’t go straight across, horizontally, as with a normal
sawhorse. Instead, it is angled downward. Rather like a slide. A
kitten might mistake these sawhorses for playground slides, in fact, and
slide down each one.
However, despite the soft leather padding covering the top of each
sawhorse/slide, it had an ominous aspect to it. Near the ‘falling-off’
end of each sawhorse/slide, a large dildo pushed up through the leather
padding. It stuck up straight and Erika explained to us that it was our
job, as girls, to race from sawhorse/slide to sawhorse/slide and shove
the penis up each of our asses. Conveniently, perhaps, the dildo
mounted on each of the sawhorses varied in size from sawhorse to
sawhorse. The nearest sawhorse bore a small dildo, the size of a boy’s
penis. The middle sawhorses held man-sized dildos. But the final
sawhorses each held a dildo fit for a perverted queen. Huge, and
ominous.
“Only the biggest and best for you, hmmmm, girls?” Erika teased.
“We’ll proceed one at a time. You’ll each be timed. The girl who can
shove each dildo up her ass in the minimum amount of time wins.”
“I-I can’t possibly take such a huge thing!” Amber protested.
“There might be a small dispensation for you, Amber, if you try your
very best,” Erika answered. She walked up to myself and Larissa. She
poked a finger into each of our tummies. I didn’t giggle. I was too
scared. My bosoms heaved, though, against the sudden intrusion into my
flesh, and their nipple-hung bells tinkled. “As for you two,” Erika
said to Larissa and I, “You’ll be expected to take the full length.”
She smiled. “Again, it’s effort that’s most important, just like with
Amber. Effort and enthusiasm for doing the job. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Larissa and I answered in quavering voices. We sounded like
small children agreeing, before a long car ride, to be good.
“Fine,” Erika said. “Don’t worry. I’ll jam plenty of lubricant up
your asses before we begin.” She tugged on one of my breast-borne
bells. “Come. I want each of you to place your chin comfortably on the
high end of a sawhorse. Bend over, spread your stance, and give your
chin a rest. Hmmm? So I can drill into your behinds with cream-laden
fingers, of course!”
“Ohhh, I don’t want to,” Amber said. She sounded, curiously, like a
child in a candy shop, I thought, disagreeing with the choice of candy
but not with having a sweet tooth. Erika gazed at her, Bridget too.
Then they glanced at each other.
“I can see we’ll have to take care of you first,” Erika said, looking
again at Amber. She said it in a soft, knowing voice. It sounded not
the least bit threatening, just a statement. But it was one she fully
intended to carry out. Amber shrank from her gaze. Bridget licked her
lips.
“Alright, little Amber,” Bridget said. She tossed back her jet-black
hair. Her sumptuous tits swayed, elegantly, as she walked with
long-legged grace to where the 12-year-old neophyte stood. Gently
Bridget cupped the girls’ breasts. They were so young, so tender, I
wanted to dash forward to protect her from Bridget’s grasping hands.
Amber, her hands tied securely behind her back, her bosoms ripely
displayed, uncovered, unprotected, gave out a small wail as Bridget
suddenly squeezed down on her tits.
“Yes, little one. Sex can hurt as well as being pleasurable,” Bridget
breathed. She kissed the girl directly on her unwilling lips. “Here
you will learn, I hope, that it is a mixture of the two that gives one
the greatest pleasure. Hmmmm?” Bridget concluded her statement with a
question mark, directed her gaze at Erika even as she held Amber’s tits
tightly.
“Mmmmm,” was all Erika said in reply. She dipped her right hand into
the front of her bikini panties. She touched herself. I watched as her
nipples became stiffer. Her fingers played in her slit.
“I’m going to put you in the corner,” Bridget said to Amber. The girl
stiffened. Bridget smiled. “Unspanked. With a white bottom,” Bridget
assured her. She let go of Amber’s breasts. She glanced at the rest of
us, both male and female. All of us who were captives. “Please turn
around,” she said to us. Walk to the wall and face into it. The girls
and I have some preparations to make.” She fixed her gaze on me. “Do
not think your little race will be forgotten,” she said. She glanced at
Larissa, then back at me. “In fact, as you stand facing the wall, think
of me, squeezing vaseline up your ass, for your own good, your own
protection.” She laughed. “And you thought your health class was a
pain-- in the ass.”
Erika took hold of me. She turned me around so that I faced the wall.
She brushed back my blonde hair and, leaning in to me from behind,
whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll see that Bridget doesn’t mistreat you.”
I was shoved forward then, by Erika, as if to make up for what she’d
just said. So that Bridget wouldn’t suspect? I stumbled and made my
way forward across the bare floor to the wall. Something fell into the
water outside, beyond our big stone cell. I listened to the splash,
wondered at it. Did something live in the water we’d just crossed
through? We still had to go back. And we had nothing on, save our
soon-to-be-removed little panties.
The men, already naked at the hips, had the straws pulled from their
cocks. Bridget assured the men that they’d soon be bedecked by the
straws again. At the moment, though, more important matters beckoned.
“Be submissive for a little while, and let me handle all our affairs,”
Bridget said to the men. They complied. I felt it was strange to see
them so visibly eager, yet so docile. But they were, and that sealed my
fate. Only they knew I was being held captive here. But I could hardly
be rescued if they were going to let themselves be made into slaves. If
they were submissive, I must be too. I tried to accept my fate. I
stared at the stone wall. It was implacable. Facing it, I could see
back into the centuries. But at the same time I was prevented from
seeing what was happening in ‘real time’, right behind me!
We were put in a straight line, like soldiers at revielle, against the
wall. Three males stood to my left, presenting their erections to the
bare stone. The girls made them press the tips of their penises to the
wall. Nick, who’d brought us, farthest from me. Then Jim, whom I had a
crush on. And finally, uselessly close, since I had no interest in him,
was Walter. Perhaps I’d have sex with him, given our undressed state,
but it would not be ‘making love’. It would simply be sex.
Next to me, on my right, stood Larissa. She shivered at what lay ahead
for us. I watched, briefly, her boobies, her bottom, as she stood
facing in to the wall. It was like gazing at fresh jello. She was
curvy and cute. Beside her stood the ever-desirable Amber. She was
placed in one of the room’s four corners. She stood contritely, her
legs straight, her back stiff. She was being reprimanded for nothing,
save her desire to preserve her innocence in the face of such awful
depravity. I admired her courage in speaking up. Then, with her hands
softly grasping my neck, Erika turned my head so that I was forced to
look at the wall in front of me.
“Behave,” Erika told me. “Don’t give Bridget an excuse to spank you.
God knows, she’s good at inventing reasons. You dont need to provide
her with extra incentives.”
Time passed. I heard activity behind us but only managed half-glances
to my left or right. I didn’t wish to be punished. Not any more, at
least, than was already planned. I shivered. I felt the cheeks of my
bottom press together. My ass crack became a slim, delicate line. Oh,
how I wished I could take everything back now. Both my promises to them
and to myself. I would be little again, just a small girl, in the swing
in her front yard. Alone. Protected by her daddy. Strangely, thinking
of my father made me more aroused. I wished, suddenly, to fling myself
upon the floor and dare Jim, despite his restraints, to plunge himself
into me. But the party was all about waiting. Denial. We were being
inflated like balloons, stretched, teased. Last night was for fun,
today was for something else. I wasn’t sure what. Penance... for our
fun?
We were permitted to turn around. Or perhaps we were commanded.
Bridget’s clear voice sounded in the quiet room. We obeyed. When we
faced out into the room, I saw some things had changed. Bridget was
without panties. Her pussy showed its soft curls. Lightly she stroked
within it, using her fingers. They were gloved. The gloves covered
just her fingers, her hands. Nothing more. They were made of black
silk. It was patterned with designs. There was a large silk bow
attached to the back of each of her gloves. Upon her thighs, stockings
rose above her knees. They were of the same material as the gloves.
Each had a big bow on it, hung from the outside of her stockinged thigh,
at its apex, as if she were a Christmas tree in need of decoration.
Except for a scarf, tied tightly around her throat, matching her gloves
and her stockings, Bridget was naked. I gazed at her lily-white skin
with amazement. Her cherry tits poked up at me from across the room,
inviting me to sample them. Involuntarily, I licked my lips. She
caught the movement of my tongue and smiled.
“Come, we must have our afternoon tea before you are punished,” Bridget
said to me. Her voice was gay. She was in total command. I was but a
leaf, blown by the wind. Larissa was the head of a dandelion. Amber
was but a puff of pollen. Bridget, despite her nudity, held a big,
demanding-looking horse whip in her hand. It had multiple thongs. Each
bore, at its tip, a small jewel. I wondered if they were real, or fake
like the gems hung from my nipples.
“Oh, this whip is quite valuable,” Bridget said. “Much more so than
your ass, I can assure you.”
Assured that we would be punished with only the finest of implements,
we allowed ourselves to be led over to a table set out for tea. The
china pot holding the tea looked delicate; blue with swirls of
bird-shaped color on it. The cups, exactly the correct number for our
group, matched the pot. Bridget seated herself at the table and put me
on her knee. Erika took Amber. Sherry, better endowed than any of us,
sat Larissa in her lap. My friend, inexplicably, snuggled up against
Sherry’s big mother-like tits and seemed to wish to nurse at them.
“Oh, she wishes to have milk with her tea!” Sherry laughed. She guided
Larissa’s mouth to her nearest teat and began suckling the girl. Of
course, she wasn’t pregnant, Larissa could get nothing but comfort from
Sherry’s tits. But she sucked lustily anyway, and I envied the relative
safety of Sherry’s lap, compared to the lap I sat in, that of the
Vampire-like Bridget.
“Would you like a taste of my tit?” Erika asked Amber. She took the
girl’s chin and pressed it close to her bosoms.
“No, I--” Amber began. But then, seeing how relaxed Larissa looked,
despite our situation, she suddenly grabbed Erika’s nearest tit begween
her teeth and began sucking furiously.
“Oh, hungry baby!” Erika said, startled. She gasped out a sigh. “Yes,
feed, suck all you please,” Erika said. I did not pay Bridget the same
compliment.
How embarrassing it would be for one girl to suck another’s tits in the
normal, everyday world! Yet here all was different. I was being served
tea, in delicate cups, yet my bottom must be scourged, and plied with
vaseline, so I could partake of wicked games ramming dildos up my
unwilling ass. I gazed at the men. They knelt round the table, showing
us their penises. Their nude promise was my only reason for not
screaming out at once that I must be let go, released, sent home like
the little girl I felt, deep down, I still was. Oh, to be impaled on
such cocks! Even Walter’s took my breath away, if I let myself
concentrate just on his member. They were all well-hung, and desperate,
and I was wet to receive them. It’s most unfeminine to discuss one’s
feelings in such matters but, reduced to a pair of wet panties, I
couldn’t help but think of giving myself to their lust. They would take
me, in any case. I had no doubt of that. Bridget’s games were only a
way station to a ravaged fulfillment at their hands.
“You must drink your tea in a ladylike manner,” Bridget advised me. I
sipped. I gasped, not at the heat of the tea, but because as I leaned
forward to take a sip, my breasts tinkling with the bells hung upon
them, Bridget pressed a finger between my legs. She began massaging my
slit with it. “Keep your legs open,” she reminded me. “Always you must
be ready for whatever might transpire.”
It was difficult to drink my tea with Bridget diddling her finger in my
slit. Beside me, I heard Amber gasp as the same trick was performed on
her sex. And Larissa, who had found Sherry’s breasts so comfy, so
reassuring, nonetheless was suffered to entertain her host’s digit in
her pussy.
The men had accepted being bound and facing into the wall. Now,
kneeling before us, watching us have tea, I could guess at their reason
for remaining compliant. Just beyond the tea table lay a large bed. It
was a bed on wheels and our Mistresses of Crime, Sherry and Bridget and
Erika, had taken advantage of the wheels on the big bed to roll it right
up to our tea table. It waited, like a promise, its covers already
drawn back. It was beautifully outfitted, with satin sheets and
matching pillows. But I saw, as did each of the other girls, gazing at
it, cords upon the bed. They were black. There was one tied to each
bedpost. I could guess their use; one of us, at least, was to be tied
into the bed after we were done with our delicate tea cups and our
feminine party. We might sip like ladies, but we would howl, I
surmised, like banshees on that bed. Would we be tied face down? Face
up? I guessed it would be with legs wide apart, for the cords at the
bed’s footboard were widely separated. The cords at the headboard had
the same amount of distance between them. Spread-eagled. That was it,
I saw. But still I didn’t know whether it would be belly-down or
pussy-up. I trembled. My trembling made the bells on my breasts shake.
“Oh, my! It’s way past little Amber’s bedtime,” Erika said with a
smirk when we’d all drunk our fill of tea. We girls, those of us who
were captives, had been made to drink tea till our tummies were
sloshing. The men got nothing, just watched, on their knees. Amber,
hearing her name, sighed with relief that she would have to drink no
more tea. But at the same time her head shot up, worriedly, her neck
straightening out, for she had seen the cords.
“I’m not sleepy!” Amber said. “But I will have to pee soon.”
“Then tonight’s a good night for you to learn bladder control,” Erika
said. She patted Amber’s head solicitously.
“Indeed,” Bridget agreed. Frantically Amber looked at me, then at the
men. I was sympathetic but the men were not. Their eyes glowed at the
prospect of seeing little 12-year-old Amber tied down to the bed with a
tummy full of tea.
“Yeek!” Amber cried. She struggled. It was no use. Erika was tawny
and athletic and handled the girl easily. It only made Amber look more
childish to protest. A minute later, Amber was tied to the bed. Her
back pressed to it, her face looked pleadingly up at us. Bridget,
standing over the bed, admiring her, reached out and stroked the girl
between her split-apart legs. “Oh! You shall make me have to pee!”
Amber said. I marvelled out how, despite her full belly, her tummy
actually sank below the level of her ribs. She was young, thin, with
long, coltish legs, slim thighs, a childish face. Only her bosoms gave
her away as being something other than a girl in primary school. They
ballooned on her chest like ripe, round fruit, a twin pair, each
sprouting a nipple at its tip. I found myself desiring to lick her
cherry-tipped nipples and lick her cunny with my tongue until it wet me.
It was good that my hands were tied behind me. I would have fingered
my slit, impulsively, gazing at such a young, tender creature, spread
out before me. Erika wasn’t restrained. She indulged herself with a
finger up her cunt. Bridget did the same, as did Sherry.
“Oh, how sweet she looks! I should wish to nurse her and protect her
and make her my own child!” Sherry exclaimed, both her motherly and
sexual instincts aroused simultanously as she looked at poor vulnerable
Amber. The men, wickeder in their plans, were kept from massaging their
aching pricks, or from pouncing upon her.
“At least I still have my panties on!” Amber said. Her voice was
rueful. She didn’t like being tied up and yet, I sensed, she was not
utterly averse to being the center of attention. We were all staring at
her, admiring every curve of her young, newly grown body. She had no
reason for embarrassment, she was tied up, and could no more have
prevented our admiration than if she’d been a babe in a crib. We blew
kisses to her, we complimented her, we spoke of her tits as if they were
mounds of delight and wished for a body as slim as hers. Despite her
bonds, she blushed. Then she wiggled and complained that she needed to
visit the toilet.
“Oh, I’m afraid they forgot to put one in down here,” Bridget said,
with false sadness. “Morning’s not too far away. Sleep tight. And
don’t pee in your nice new satin sheets or Daddy will give you quite a
whaling for ruining them. Not to mention your Mommie.”
“I can’t-- I have to go NOW!” Amber declared. She wriggled her hips
violently. Erika laughed. Bridget smiled, and displayed the
multi-thonged whip to the girl’s eyes. “Please!” Amber cried. Her eyes
grew big as saucers. Her pretty thighs tried to clamp upon each other
but they were wide-spread and firmly held by the cords. “Ohhh, this is
awful!” Amber said at last, resigned to her fate and knowing it would
cost her dearly when her pee came spurting from her panty-clad nether
lips.
“Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!” Erika said. She didn’t even have to touch
the girl to make fear run up her spine and her mouth gape. When she
did, Amber writhed like a small snake on the bed and howled.
“Noooooo! You’ll make me peeeeeee!” Amber begged. The men laughed at
the outrageousness of it all.
“Don’t wet your panties!” Jim cried.
“Perhaps she’d prefer that I eat them for her?” Walter said.
“No! Panties are for wearing, not for eating!” Amber shouted. Erika
continued to tease her. The girl wrestled against her cords but
couldn’t escape.
“Tinkle, tinkle, Little Star-let,” Erika sang in a lilting voice. At
the same time, Bridget, reminding the girl of what awaited if she gave
into her natural impulses, dangled the gem-encrusted whip over the
girl’s face.
“Oh! The jewels are so beautiful!” Amber cried. She gazed at them
with childish wonder. And then it happened. Staring at the whip,
working her hips against the diddling intrusing of Erika’s fingers,
Amber suddenly began peeing. We saw the crotch of her panties suddenly
wetten. Then the fluid escaped her lovely, stretched-tight garment and
flooded the bed between her legs and under her bottom.
“Ooooooeeeeeek!” Amber blurted. I don’t think she could believe, any
more than I actually could, that she’d wet the bed. She wriggled,
trying to stop. It was no use. Her legs were tied in a wide vee and
she, feminine creature though she was, had tea in her belly that was
yearning to get out. And so it did. She made a big, wet spot right in
the center of the satin-covered bed. When she finally shuddered to a
conclusion she lay gazing at us with fear-struck eyes.
“Oh, my. My, my. Poor Amber,” Bridget said. “Such a mess you’ve
made, girl!”
“I didn’t know a little girl like her could hold so much pee in her
bladder,” Erika remarked.
Amber began crying.
“Shhhh, we are only playing,” Sherry said. She leapt onto the bed,
next to Amber’s head, where the pee had not, fortunately reached. She
glanced at the girl’s hips, where there was a big stain, then back at
her face. She stroked the girl’s cheek. Amber’s sobs softened. She
began to hiccup.
“Hold your breath,” Sherry told her. “No hiccuping allowed in the
dungeon.”
“You must put sugar under my tongue if I’m - hiccup! - s’posed to stop
-hiccup!- hiccuping,” Amber told her.
“Lick my cunt. It’s sweet,” Sherry said. She straddled the girl. I
watched as her big bottom settled over Amber’s chin. It swallowed it up
in its divide, leaving only her neck showing. I watched as Amber’s neck
strained and then, to my surprise, moving forward slightly, I saw Amber
sticking out her tongue to lick the woman’s snatch. A hiccup seized
Amber. Then, when it had passed, she began to dutifully lick at
Sherry’s slit.
“Oh!” Sherry cried, delighted. Her large bosoms shook on her chest.
Amber’s body sighed. Perhaps she hoped to avoid a whipping by bringing
plasure to one of her tormentors. Sherry clapped her hands behind
Amber’s head. She lifted it from the bed. She begged the girl to
tongue her more deeply.
Amber obeyed. She licked for all she was worth as we gazed at her
slim, alluring form, at its suppleness, its lightness, and at the
pee-soaked panties which wreathed her hips. Mostly she was just skin
and bones, save for her sumptuous young titties. She was a perfect,
albeit junior-sized Barbi, laid out for our pleasure, naughtily wet
between her flamingo-like legs.
“Ah, if only we could all be as young and innocent as she,” Bridget
said in the very first of her heartfelt statements of the evening. She
let the whip dangle aimlessly from her fingers.
“She is truly lovely,” Erika agreed. “Young, but lovely all the same.”
The men made less gallant comments. You’d have thought you were in a
restroom, listening to them.
When Sherry had taken her pleasure, she dismounted, rather blushingly
and awkwardly, from Amber’s face. She stood beside me. She kissed my
cheek. “One to be punished, and the other yet to be tested,” she said,
apparently in reference to Amber and myself. Larissa, forgotten, shrank
back from the women, hoping not to be missed. Jeff grinned at her.
“Don’t forget Larissa,” he said.
“Ohhhh, you!” Larissa scolded. Sherry laughed.
“So many newcomers to be put to the test, I forgot my favorite
nurseling.” She walked over to the girl, oblivious to her own wet,
post-orgasmic snatch, and pressed my friend to her. Larissa resisted,
then relented. She tilted her head down and kissed Sherry’s right
bosom.
“Please, help yourself. My body is yours,” Sherry offered.
“Mmmmm, thanks,” Larissa replied. She nibbled at a tit, perhaps
thought of biting it, then finally settled on sucking it instead.
Sherry gasped with pleasure. The men, watching, made desperate comments
about our beauty and their need to fuck it.
Amber was untied from the bed. Gently she was helped to her feet. She
stood contritely, eyeing the many-thonged whip. She let the women pat
her head. I admired her panties. They were still lovely, despite being
peed in. I looked at the wet spot in the satin sheets of the bed. It
was her mark. Her sign that she had been there.
“It is time for your torture,” Bridget said to Amber. The girl
swallowed.
“Pretend you are a heretic, and must be made to repent by the
inquistion,” Bridget suggested. Hardly helpful, I thought, a comment
such as that. It made butterflies rise in my tummy.
Amber, however, merely, said,
“What’s a hair-tic?”
“Someone who believes bad things,” Erika replied. She stroked the
girl’s blonde mane.
“Well, I don’t believe bad things, but I certainly *do* them,” Amber
answered. She shivered. I felt a sense of shock run through me. Was
she being complicit?
“Yes, yes you do,” Bridget agreed. “But I should so love it if you’d
be a little heretic, and need to confess something,” Bridget said. She
stroked her jewel-tipped whip up the back of the girl’s thighs, then
over her pantied ass, making the girl quiver. Her unadorned nipples
jiggled upon her breasts. My own bosoms, weighted down by the clips,
shook out a quick jingle as I felt a shudder run through me.
“Well I s’pose I could think of something bad and then confess to
thinking that,” Amber said. She popped a finger contemplatively between
her lips. I watched, stunned, thinking she ought to run while she was
untied, her hands and feet free. She could dart out of the dungeon and,
despite the splash of whatever I’d heard outside, probably swim to
safety. Instead, the attention she’d gotten, or something, made her
stay, rooted next to the bed, thinking of bad things to think, while the
women, beguilingly, paid her the utmost attention. I wondered why she
was not simply put over at once and punished. Bridget was strange, with
her black hair and sleek, Vampire’s body. She promised tortures, then
skipped them, keeping all of us, including me, on tenterhooks about what
must happen to us next. The men, conveniently bound, ached to spend. I
gazed at their hard cocks and would have dived to the floor to have
them, or onto the pee-stained bed, but knew they’d only consider me a
slut for doing it, for giving myself to them, and so I waited for
direction from Bridget instead. We all waited. She, I think, indulged
herself minute by minute, with no plan save her own personal pleasure.
“What was the first boy you ever did it with?” Bridget asked.
“Oh! I could never tell that!” Amber said. There was a serious look
on her face. Despite all she’d been through, she’d suddenly placed in a
postion where she was not about to give.
Of course, that gave Bridget just the entry she was currently looking
for.
“Then you must tell us,” Bridget said. “And be tortured if you don’t.”
“What?! It’s-- It’s my secret, and mine alone,” Amber protested. She
looked up at Bridget with her pug nose and her eyes defiant. “Who did
*you* do it with first, hmmmm?” she asked.
“I asked first,” Bridget replied smoothly.
“Oh! I’m not telling!” Amber cried. For in that moment Erika, sensing
an opportunity, had picked the 12-year-old up, and tossed her with a
lithe, quick movement over her shoulder. Amber’s slim legs kicked.
Erika laughed. The woman’s bosoms shook and Amber’s tits, hanging down,
brushed over Erika’s. Both females grew more aroused, but it did not
keep Erika from hauling little Amber into the depths of the dungeon.
She was plopped down, wet panties and all, next to a medieval rack.
Amber’s eyes widened. “I learned about these in school,” she said. “In
hist’ry.” Reverentially she ran her fingers along the surface of the
rack. It was a wooden machine but someone had taken the trouble of
padding the bed of the rack, where the victim was to lie, with leather.
The leather was well-polished.
Amber gazed at the chains waiting to bind hand and foot at either end
of the rack. The links looked old, as if used many times. But their
weakest link had not yet been found. Amber’s bosoms stood out from her
chest, all round and perky. Her tummy dipped inward, just under her
ribs, and above her hips, giving her the look of being underfed. At her
waistline her legs began, stretching in slim columns down to her dainty
feet. Her wet panties clung to her hips. From the front I could see a
few stray wisps of her pubic hair where they escaped out the top of her
too-small panties. From behind, I saw most of her bottom, left
uncovered by the undies. Yet Bridget commented that she would have to
lie nude upon the rack.
“We must bare ourselves before our Lord,” Bridget said. Erika nodded,
but had to put a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. The men looked on
with hungry eyes. They would not save Amber from whatever she got
herself into.
“Be careful, Amber,” I thought to myself. She was getting marvelous
amounts of attention, but she was entirely on her own, and neck deep in
uncharted waters. Did she really wish to play a heretic in the
Inquisition?
“Oh, I’ve had many bad thought,” Amber said reflectively.
“Mmmm, I know you have,” Bridget agreed. She patted the girl’s bottom
with her hand. Amber shivered. She gazed again at the big chains
mounted at the head and foot of the rack. At the large, spoked wheel
that would, or could, be used to stretch her to pieces if she should be
unlucky enough to find herself bound down upon the leather bed of the
device. And, gazing to the wall beyond, she saw several metal saws.
They hung innocuously from the wall, but one was reminded, upon seeing
them, of magical shows where poor girls have to get themselves cut in
half.
Amber sat her pantied bottom down on the leather bench.
“Oh, I think I’m having a bad thought right now,” Amber confessed to
Bridget. The black-haired woman laughed.
“You’re not to confess so soon,” she said. She gave a flick of her
whip. It’s jeweled tips struck her thigh, lightly, but making her
wince.
“What-- what should I do then?” Amber asked, wide-eyed.
“Tell us the name of the boy you first did it with,” Erika suggested.
“Oh, no. Not that!” Amber said, quite seriously.
“Then we have our answer,” Erika said to Bridget.
“Yes,” Bridget agreed.
“But it would be too embarr--” Amber began. She was seized by both
women, head and foot, and shoved down onto the bed of the machine.
“Yook!” she cried, and quite honestly, I think, as she felt her wrists
and feet made fast to the device. When her screams had subsided, and
the women stepped back to admire their handiwork, Amber was once again
stretched out for us, this time on something that could make her shout
much more urgently than tickling her ever had. I found myself shaking,
could do nothing to stop it. The bells on my bosoms jingled. Bridget
told me to quiet myself or I’d be punished. That was fruitless. It
simply made me more nervous, and my tits noisier. Bridget ignored my
tinkling titties for the moment, but my heart sank, for now I’d earned
my stripes, so to speak, and knew I stood little chance of not having
them applied. My ass burned with the memory of my previous encounter
with the whip. Its mark was gone now, but hardly forgotten.
As if in anticipation of my transgression, and my need to be reproved
for it, male fingers grasped at the drawstrings of my panties. Quickly
I turned my head. My eyes darted back over my shoulder, fearful,
seeking my assailant. It was Jim! He grinned. I tried to suppress
smiling in response, found I couldn’t. Oh, why would I smile at a man
intent on seeing me punished?
“Jim, please...” I said. My voice quavered. I lost my thought as I
felt his big fingers on my hips. Gently he stroked my flaring thighs,
savoring their bell shape, and the tiny bit of stringy cloth wrapped
about them. He did not pull my panties apart at once, but rather
savored how delicately they clung to my hips, held there only by the
feeblest of bow-tied strings. Gradually he began to draw upon the ties
of my undies. A tug. Another. A third, and I felt my panties begin to
give way. I gasped as they suddenly came undone. They drooped. They
fell. But a bit of the crotch material was caught in my snatch. I
looked down. I saw my panties, untied, literally hanging by my cunt.
Jim eased a hand between my thighs. He grasped the small panties. He
pulled. They popped out of my sex and fell into his hand. He took my
panties from me. I was left stripped completely nude, save for the
collar around my throat, the leash clipped to it, and the metal
handcuffs round my wrists. Plus the devilish nipple clamps that bit at
my titties. I expected then to be raped, or at least pawed and molested
by my manly thief. Instead, he touched me not at all, leaving me to
shiver in the nude, apprehensive, as Amber’s punishment continued.
“Mmmm, nice,” I heard a female voice say, somewhere behind me. I
recognized it as Sherry’s. Had she uncuffed Jim? With three females in
charge, there were endless possibilities. I wished to turn, to beg her
to untie me too, and most of all to get her away from Jim, so I could
have him to myself. Instead, worried about that jewel-encrusted cat o’
nine tails that Bridget kept gaily swinging about, I kept myself
attentive to her. She was the most dangerous, in my opinion. She was
willing to suffer, and to cause others to suffer in turn. And yet there
was a certain intiguing quality in that. Somewhere deep inside me I
wished to be like her, to be willing to suffer and to inflict
suffering. Sexual suffering. Long, drawn out, exectued with the best
intentions. To give a strange kind of pleasure, mixed with just the
right tang of pain. Was pleasure heightened when there was pain
sprinkled in with it? I was beginning to fear it was, and that I was
desiring just that for myself. Oh, I was only 13! To have such
thoughts at such a tender age! Yet Amber, little seventh grader that
she was, already had plumbed deeper depths. She wished, it seemed, to
have attention above all else, and was even willing to seek it from
Bridget. And from the randy men who, despite their bondage, or sometime
bondage, were complicit in Bridget’s plans. I drew closer to Amber,
hoping perhaps to dissuade her, and thereby myself, from the wicked
things we were falling into. We would escape and be best friends
together, she and I, and confine our adventures in the cave to picking
flowers. The magical flowers she’d spoken of when first I’d met her.
Yes. Just she and I. We would hold hands and explore the cave safely
together, fleeing at the first sign of danger. Ah, but it was too
late. My legs bumped against the leather-covered rack where she lay. I
gulped. It was too late, for us all. We were captives, at the mercy of
masters we barely knew.
Amber gazed up at us with large, liquid eyes. They looked like big,
round marbles, searching for God. She’d gotten her wish. She was the
perfect center of attention. We all crowded round her; myself, with my
jingling, bell-laden bosoms, Larissa (despite her desire to remain as
unnoticed as possible), Sherry, with her bosoms big as pumpkins, hanging
heavily on her chest and inviting, it seemed, a milking with their every
savory bounce. Next to her Erika, with her lanky, perfect body,
beautiful yet surprisingly athletic. Bridget, with her jewel-laden
whip, sizing up the pretty victim she and Erika had laid out for us all
to see. I wished to clap my hands to my cheeks. I wanted to cover my
eyes, but due to my cuffs I was not able to. Behind me I felt the
throbbing cock of a man bump my bottom. He crowded close to me. I
guessed it was Jim. I gasped as his dick invaded between my heinie’s
soft cheeks. But he hardly noticed, it seemed. He was eager to look
past me, to see Amber. She lay stretched out before us. She quivered.
I gazed upon her figure. She struck me as utterly vulnerable and yet,
somehow, utterly safe. Every nuance of her, every breath, was noted by
the close-pressed group. Nothing would happen to her, nothing would be
permitted to happen, without the group’s approval. One could only hope
they would be kind to her, and that the pain they inflicted would be
outweighed by pleasure.
“Yes, little Amber, the rack. To make you tell,” Bridget said in a
soft, but ominous voice.
“Oh no please don’t--” Amber said. She wriggled upon the leather
padding. It was strange, seeing her lie there. The leather padding was
thick, comfy. And yet she was stretched out upon it, tight-stretched,
her hands and feet yanked to their limit.
Bridget swung the cat o’ nine tails over Amber’s body. The girl
shivered. She, truly, did not wish to tell us about her first love.
Yet she liked keeping a secret from us, that we might pay her the utmost
attention.
Bridget touched Amber’s belly with her fingertip. Her nail gleamed
against the soft skin. She pressed it into the girl’s flesh.
“Ooh! You need to cut your nails,” Amber suggested. She winced at the
sharpness of the touch. Her nipples stood rigid upon her plump, bare
breasts.
Amber’s breath quickened as Bridget, still touching her skin, trailed
her finger down to the girl’s waist. Her panties clung there. They
were wet but still tied, still keeping her modest.
“You must be nude before God on the rack,” Bridget said.
“No-- please, they are just--” Amber began, but Erika placed a stiff
finger over her lips.
“Shhhh,” Erika said. “When you wish to tell, simply tell. Otherwise,
keep quiet. Not a peep. We have gags for girls who...” Erika couldn’t
help laughing. “Pee.”
Strangely, Amber grew quiet. There was no sense in pulling her panties
down. Her legs were spread and the panties would have been stretched
beyond their limit in no time. Instead, they had to be untied, or
simply ripped off. Bridget grasped the white bows that formed the
panties’ drawstrings. I marvelled at how much of Amber’s bikini, very
similar to my own, was simply string; drawstring. Tied into a bow at
her hips. Only where her triangle of venus grew was there a patch of
cloth, and then only just a swatch, as if the tailor permitted it simply
to rid himself of a useless scrap. The same was the case in back, where
her bottomcheeks were left to hang freely, save for what little the
overstressed cloth could contain. Yet even this must be removed, for
the morsel of cloth, though small, kept our eyes from seeing her slit.
Like a mother undressing a babe, stripping off its too-small diapers,
Bridget tugged on Amber’s bow-tied drawstrings. She held the whip as
she gave a tug, letting the girl feel it pressed to her hip, then
drawing it slowly away as her panties were undone.
“Ooooh, I--” Amber began, but her voice died as she felt the chill of
the room invade her sex. She was wet, open. Our eyes peered at her
bared muff, her slit, wondered at the soft undercurve of her
bottomcheeks were they pressed into the leathered table.
“Yes, gentlemen, there she is,” Bridget said. She lifted Amber’s
panties into the air and gave them a ceremonial flourish. It was as if
they represented her hymen, though that had been taken already. Bridget
looked at Amber. “If you were pregnant, I might beat the child out of
you, with this whip,” she said. She waved the jewelled cat before the
girls eyes. Each gem glistened, oblivious to the awful harm it could
inflict. “But you are not,” Bridget said. “So instead of flogging your
stomach, I shall whip your sex.”
I clapped my hands to my ears as the first shower of jewels was brought
to bear upon Amber’s crotch. The girl screamed as I’d never heard.
Bridget applied the whip gently, yet ‘significantly,’ as she later told
me, so that the girl would not think her too soft.
What girl wouldn’t love to have such jewels? Diamonds, rubies,
sapphires; all real, all natural. Yet to have them in such a way,
impressed upon one’s sex, how horrid!
“Yes, dear, I know it hurts,” Bridget said, flinging the whip’s
expensive jewels down on Amber’s pussy. “It is meant to. And no one
can hear you, down here. So indulge yourself. Scream as if your life
depended on it. God knows, your sex certainly does!”
When Bridget had given Amber several lashes, she chose to show mercy.
She ordered Erika to find something to cool Amber’s wounded slit.
Perhaps she knew in advance what Erika would choose. It was wicked. It
was Redi-Wip, fetched from a cool hole in the ground at the back of the
dungeon. The hole contained ice. I guessed it had been brought in,
hours before, by the men. The ice, and the cool whip. The latter was
applied in short bursts until it completely covered little Amber’s
muff. Then each man, unshaven though he was, was permitted to lick
between her legs until the Redi-Wip was all gone.
“Not bad for a damaged cunt,” Jim remarked cruelly. Amber was sobbing,
pleading to be let up, but no one paid her any attention, except Larissa
and myself, and we were bound, and torn between the eroticism of her
suffering and its wickedness.
The whip was applied again, this time to the flatness of Amber’s
belly. Each stroke made her jerk, cry out, beg. Like an animal she
begged, but it only made Bridget harder in the application of her whip.
Red lines appeared across the smooth expanse of Amber’s tummy. Sharp
lines, marks that were more deeply made than those that had been placed
within the split of her legs. Each time the jewelled tips hit they left
tiny, deeper marks of their own.
When Bridget commanded it, Erika squirted whipped cream across Amber’s
belly. They were long, loving bursts, able to cover a wider expanse of
skin. Then the men fed in her navel and licked her entire tummy clean.
Amber watched, sobbing, over the rising, falling nudity of her breasts.
We all dreaded what must happen next. Her bosoms. Her upstanding,
perfect nipples had to taste the whip. She had such lovely, young
bosoms. I pleaded with Bridget to put me in her place. I didn’t wish
to see her beautiful young teats marred, even at the risk of my own.
“No, my dear. Each to her own,” Bridget smiled.
“Yes! I did it with my -hiccup!- my foist cousin!” Amber wailed. It
was truly a wrenching, heartfelt wail, and for a moment Bridget’s face
showed disappointment. She hadn’t given a damn who the girl had slept
with first. She had wanted to test her skill with the whip on her
bosoms. Striking them, hurting them, yet not making them bleed. A
jewelled cat could inflict serious injury if not applied with just the
right finesse.
“So you choose to rat on your cousin, eh?” Bridget asked, hoping to
revive the need for punishment.
Erika, however, bent over the girl and clapped a tender hand to her
cheek and kissed her lips. “Oh you poor, poor dear. How much you’ve
endured. And for a cousin? I did it first with my first cousin too.
At a picnic. Get up, silly. All that for a cousin!” At once Erika,
shedding a tear for all little Amber had suffered, reached for her
wrists. She began untying them.
“There are other breasts,” Bridget said. She eyed me.
“You have proven your merit. Put that awful thing away before you
truly hurt someone with it,” Erika scolded Bridget.
“I should use it on your ass,” Bridget retorted.
Calmly, still untying Amber, Erika gazed at Bridget, tossed back her
blonde hair and said, “I could take you, dear, if I had to. And you
know it.”
Bridget tossed down the jewelled whip upon the stone floor.
“Hey! That’s expensive!” Walter cried.
“So’s my pussy!” Amber managed to say, though her face was hidden under
Erika, who was bent over her, untying her wrists. I bent forward and
examined the girl’s dell. It was red-marked, no doubt of that. Little
whip-printed lines covered the insides of the girl’s thighs, right up to
her sex, and upon the soft, moist tenderness of her labial lips. I
prayed her clit, hidden somewhere in her curls and within her lips, had
escaped the whip’s touch. I pressed my face to her muff. I planted a
kiss within it.
“Oooh! Amber cried. I began to lick her. She tasted sweet.
“Forgive me. I must,” Jim said. It is to his credit, I think, that he
was able to surprise me, despite his tied hands, with a sudden,
upthrusting of himself between my legs and into my cunt. The head of
his cock rammed up; I shouted, so surprised was I, then I gasped
prettily. He grunted. He was surprised himself, I think that he had
aimed his organ so well at my dell. I had my legs open a bit already,
so as not to win punishment for modesty. Now I spread them more. I
returned my tongue to Amber’s cunt and feigned helplessness at my fate.
“Oh, you beast!” Bridget, who was not impaled, cried. Did she wish to
suffer my fate? It was I who bore the discomfort of it. Jim shoved,
hard, and paid no heed at all to my virginal tightness. I shrieked as
his organ split me apart. I was riven like a tortured prisoner, forced
to sit on a spit.
Another shove. Another. My twat was filled. Gasping, I managed
somehow to put my face back upon the small comforting triangle of
Amber’s muffin. I kissed her curls there. She sighed. I invaded her
wetness with my tongue. It was nothing compared to Jim, piercing me to
my core with his cock, but it made her shout in a quivering cry of joy.
Jim fucked me. There is no ladylike way to put it. No modest way for
a schoolgirl of 13 to state it, save to say, ‘he fucked me.’ He drew
back, relieving me a little of the pressure of his being, only to jam
himself up me again. He was, indeed, an animal. Like a horse in a
barn. I was his new mare. I tried to console myself by making Amber
shout with invasions of my tongue into her nest. We screamed our way to
orgasm. She honeyed my tongue, quite thoroughly. I received a deluge
of Jim’s juice up my quim.
Yet the games were to continue. Bridget picked up her jewelled cat.
She looked at me. I straightened up, my bosoms jingling, hurting from
bouncing so much under the strain of fucking, whilst hung with bells. I
licked the honey from Amber’s cunt off my lips. I realized Bridget’s
eyes were on me and blanched.
At the time, though the clamps on my titties weighed upon me, and made
me sore, I didn’t realize I’d been more ‘decorated’ than ‘clamped.’
They were just tight enough to keep them on, and me mindful of them,
while not being any tighter. Clamps can be adjusted, and mine had been
fixed to my titties in the lightest of the adjustments. In this way,
since clamps do reduce blood flow, I was able to wear them as long as I
did. Now Bridget determined to free my tits, but only to whip them.
That I could tell just by looking into her eyes. She’d been deprived of
Amber’s breasts. She wished, as I’d promised, to have mine in
substitution.
Frantically I looked at Jim. He only grinned in response. Men! He’d
just had my cunt, yet now he would not even help me avoid a
tit-lashing! I turned my gaze to Erika, but she was too busy getting
Amber untied. She’d waited ‘til I finished fucking her with my tongue
to get her undone. A victim must have some pleasures, I suppose, and
having your wrists bound while a friend licks your cunny must, if trust
is there, be one of life’s better pleasures. Or at least one of its
wetter ones. That she had so recently relieved herself there, wetting
her panties, had not even crossed my mind, I was so intent on consoling
her.
Now I was to be punished, and none stepped forward to save me, not even
Nick. Bridget came to me and removed the first of my nipple clamps. I
howled as the blood, decreased in volume, returned to my teat. Ah, how
it hurt! And the worst of all, as I danced around, shouting at the pain
of it, was that, with one clamp remaining, I knew I must endure it all a
second time.
As I stood sobbing, gazing down at my naked tit, checking its condition
as best I could, Bridget removed my other clamp. Again I went into a
kind of nude, handcuffed rain dance. I cried. Erika and a newly
released Amber calmed me with kisses and dried my tears.
“My titties hurt!” I said ruefully.
“Alligators and alligator clips tend to do that, dear,” Erika said.
Her voice was nonplussed.
“Are they alright?” I asked of my nipples.
“They’re fine,” Erika said.
“You’re just saying that,” I answered. She held me still. I
hiccuped. She bent and kissed each of my nipples in turn. I shouted,
winced. But each kiss was long and as she suckled my teats, one at a
time, they began to feel better. Amber helpfully rubbed my cunt with
her fingers.
“You’re sticky,” Amber said, feeling up between my legs.
“Of course I’m--” I gasped. I hiccuped. Amber giggled.
“You’ve caught my hiccups,” she said.
“Just so I don’t catch that whip that connected with your muffin,” I
said.
“Ah, it is too harsh for the bosoms, in my opinion,” Erika said. I
sighed. “But that doesn’t mean they can be spared,” she added. “You
did promise--” she kissed one of my tits, lovingly, possessively.
“Mmmmm,” I breathed. Bridget stepped behind me and patted my bottom.
“This will be good also,” she said.
With mincing steps I was led on a tour of the dungeon. Bridget wanted
to find something to punish me on. She led me along with her, pulling
me by my leash, as one leads a pet. With my hands cuffed behind me, I
could do little to stop her. Hopefully I glanced at Amber, for help.
She was loose, looking a little like a small pet herself, but without
restraints binding her any more, without even her panties. They lay
crumpled under the rack where she’d been stretched. Perhaps they would
be left behind, a souvenir for other, future visitors. I still
remembered Bridget’s scheme to have Larissa and myself compete in
jamming dildos up our bottoms. My eyes darted to Larissa. She was
submissive. She gazed at the floor. I saw she was feeling the effects
of the tea in her belly for her hips were wiggling excessively. My own
tummy felt full, and I quivered. I had to pee too! Oh, I didn’t want
to do it in front of them, and yet, how could I not? I felt wicked,
silly, both at the same time. I let my hips sway expansively. A shiver
ran down my spine, shook the hinds of my bottom.
“Do you have to pee?” Bridget asked me bluntly. I flushed red with
embarrassment.
“mmmmm, yes,” I finally admitted. I wished I could clap a hand to my
cunny to hold myself in but my wrists were still locked behind my back,
tight in the cuffs. I tugged at them. They wouldn’t give.
“How delightful,” Bridget remarked. “But we must continue our tour.”
She tugged on my leash. I was pulled forward. I stumbled. Jim’s hand
darted out and caught me. I looked at him. My eyes were wide. They
showed worry. He smiled.
“Enjoy it,” he said. He touched a finger to my bosom. He trailed it
in a tight circle around one of my nipples, newly released from the
clamps. It was stiff. He tickled it. I winced, fearfully, but felt
only pleasure. “Feel the need for relief course through you and hold it
and savor it,” he said. “Doesn’t your school start again soon?” he
asked.
I nodded.
“So, you will be back in school soon,” he said. “I can just imagine
you in a soft, pullover sweater. And it will be cold, not warm like it
is now. And there will be books, and homework, and lessons,” he said.
He traced a circle round my other nipple. “But for now, for these few
minutes, there is just you. And us. And you are free and you need--”
In deference to me he did not state what I needed to do.
“Yes,” Jim said. He stroked my flat belly. He passed his hand lower
and tugged at a wisp of my pubic hair. “Gaze around you,” he said. “Do
not be afraid. You and the other girls have been quite brave so far.
Hold up a little longer, and I will rescue you in the end, I promise.”
I gazed at Jim’s penis. It had come up swiftly again, after his first
discharge. Already he was ready to take me again. I smiled, blushed.
I turned from him. Bridget pulled again on my leash. I was drawn
deeper into the dungeon.
Hooks and chains dangled loosely in the dungeon, waiting for victims to
bind. I passed under some, stood beside machines bedecked with others.
I saw a bondage bench, guessed at its use. One might be bent over it,
or lie upon it. A crank underneath it could raise or lower it so the
bent female might be made to stand with her legs bent, or straight, as
her master wished. Near it, incongrously, was a table for medical
exams. I gazed at the two metal stirrups sticking out from the table’s
base. They waited to receive my feet. Bridget had only to lead me
there. Or perhaps I would visit the dentist. A dental chair stood in a
corner, with equipment for filling cavities. I might be made to lie
nude in it, striving to contain my pee, while Bridget played oral games
with me. Near that another chair stood. It hung from the ceiling. It
was a big rattan chair reminiscent of a bucket seat in a sports car.
But there was a big hole cut in the base of the chair, where one’s
bottom promised to fall through. Underneath the hole a wide range of
dildos stood ready for use. Behind them a box of kleenex waited, in
case the poor victim had a bowel movement while she sat in the chair, I
supposed. A suppository and a bottle of castor oil sat on the floor
near the dildos.
Casting my eyes farther afield, I spied a barber pole. Next to it sat
a big leather barber’s chair. There was a hairdryer poised on a small
table next to the chair. Beside the hairdryer was a big,
battery-operated vibrator. The table also possessed a razor and a can
of shaving cream. One might lose more than just one’s modesty down here
in this dungeon, or one’s clothes. I shivered. I didn’t want my muff
shaved. I’d just grown hair on it, within the past year. I didn’t want
my sex made to look like a little girl’s again. I looked at Amber. She
had a fleecier sex than myself, hers only just grown in lately. She
grinned. She was loose as a cat, wearing only her collar. I looked
away. In her happiness she seemed to be looking forward to seeing me
punished.
THE END ? (hopefully she’ll write more - h.j.)
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