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Girl on a Leash Chapter 1 I remember the first time my wrists were tied together behind my back. I was still in high school, still in that phase of my life where image was everything. I was a very sexual girl, but had to hide it. I had a boyfriend, and we regularly had sex. But I never felt free to express myself during sex. Sex with Jason was always complicated, not because of who he was but who were. There were unspoken, unwritten rules about sexuality in school, and they bound me, even if I was not bound otherwise. A girl could enjoy sex, at least at my age, as a senior, but only with a boyfriend, someone she loved. One night stands were heavily frowned upon. I was safe to have sex with Jason, and to enjoy it, but not too much. He was male, and an athlete, and too much of his male ego was bound up in his sexual power - such as it was. I knew full well that if I were to react strongly he would be boasting about it to his friends, who would then pass it on to their girlfriends. I could enjoy sex, but not too much. If I screamed, if I reacted too strongly, Jason would be so proud of himself everyone would hear of it. I'd be humiliated. So I always had to control myself when we had sex. Because even at a young age I had realized that I was a far more sexual person than my girlfriends. I loved sex. I loved to be seen naked by Jason. I loved to be "dirty" with him. And even though he really wasn't that good my body burned whenever he was inside me. It wasn't that I didn't have those fantasies about soft, gentle sex by the fireplace. I did. But raw, hard, dirty, rough, nasty sex just blew my mind away. I never understood why. I still don't. But it so happened, of course, that rough, hard sex was what teenage boys were best at. So I was forced to suppress my reactions, to engage in an intricate dance of responding, but controlling my responses, my movements, my sounds, even my facial expression. Or have him boasting and have all our friends making fun of me. And as I said, at that age I was terribly, terribly conscious of my image. I felt myself lucky to have a boyfriend like Jason. He was a star athlete, after all, and quite large and handsome. I didn't think of myself as beautiful. I was short, barely over five feet, slim-hipped, with glasses. I had decent breasts, not huge, but full and round and firm, and nice hair, a soft, dark, gleaming brown which fell like silk around my face. I was pretty, but not, to my mind, beautiful, not really. I didn't have the classical look of the model. My jaw was too strong, my eyes too wide-set, my face too square. Still, I could not deny the affect I had on boys - and now men, as I reached maturity. They looked at me - all the time. It was an ego boost, but it was also a little unsettling, and, I admit it, a bit of a turn-on as I wondered what they were thinking as they watched me. I guessed they wanted me, my body, sexually, wanted to do nasty, wicked things with me, that they were imagining doing nasty, wicked things with me. And that both embarrassed and turned me on. Jason and I had been having sex for some time when he first got the idea to tie my wrists. I'm not even sure where he got the idea from. We were in his basement, a finished basement rec room, with his parents away at work. We were making out, and I was getting hot, with my shirt and bra already off, my trousers undone and his hand down the front rubbing at my clit. He was mouthing my breasts in his inexpert way, meaning he was chewing too hard, sucking too hard, almost hurting me. But as I said, I liked it rough, and so despite the almost-pain, or perhaps even because of it, my breasts were throbbing with need, my nipples sparkling like live wires. We were on the sofa, and he got my trousers and thong off so that I was entirely naked. This turned me on, as I have already said. But I felt even more turned on that afternoon because he was fully clothed. I don't know why being naked while he was fully clothed was such an added turn-on, but it was. And then he stopped and stood up, grinning wickedly at me. I was a bit breathless, but when he reached for me I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. "I want to try something," he said, leading me across the room. "What?" I asked. He walked me across the room, clutching my wrist now, me naked, him fully-clothed, and my pussy throbbing with hunger. He stopped at a corner cabinet and opened it, bent, and rummaged inside, then came out with a short length of white rope. I stared at it without understanding at first. "Turn around." He put his hand on my bare shoulder and guided me to turn my back to him, then seized my right wrist and pulled it back behind me. I felt the rope being wrapped around it and felt a kind of shockwave roll through me. "What are you doing!?" I gasped, struggling, turning. He didn't fight me but let me turn, and the rope slipped off my wrist as I jerked my hands back. "I want to tie your hands behind you." "What? No way! Why!?" I demanded. "Just - because," he said awkwardly. "I think it'd be hot, you know, kinky." I frowned at him suspiciously. He was my boyfriend, and so I trusted him, and the thought of having my hands tied up made me squirm with excitement because he was right and it would be kinky. "I don't know," I said. I did know. I knew right away, but I could not be seen to give in to easily. I was bound by the rules, and I didn't want my reputation to suffer. "Come on! Please! I think it'll be neat!" he exclaimed. "You won't tell anyone?" I said, glaring challengingly. "I promise!" I chewed my lip uncertainly. "Okay, but if I say untie me you untie me." "I promise," he said eagerly. So I turned around, giving every appearance of doubt and uncertainty, and let him pull my wrists behind me and tie them together. When he turned me around I felt a kind of psychic blow, staring up at him, naked, wrists tied behind my back. And he was still fully clothed. I felt helpless, but in a strange, wicked, exciting way. He grinned at me, and from the bulge in his jeans he was obviously excited by what he saw. He turned me around again, then turned me to face him. "Now you're at my mercy," he said, leering. I didn't reply, and he led me back to the sofa, this time sitting me across his lap. He began to fondle me, running his hands over my body, groping my breasts, rubbing at my pussy, slipping his fingers inside me as he chewed on my breasts. There was nothing new in what he was doing, but having my wrists tied made it seem new, made me feel each touch more powerfully. I was having to control myself almost at once, to suppress groans and gasps of pleasure as my body overheated. He bent my head back, pulling on my hair, so my back would arch, and chewed on my nipples and breasts so they ached and throbbed and burned. He moved his hands more roughly over me than usual, as if my helplessness made me more his property. And he said as much. "You're my bitch," he said, growling at me as he pinched and rolled my nipples and thrust his fingers inside me. I gasped aloud, and spread my legs, and his fingers pushed roughly deeper as he chewed at the nape of my neck. He was clearly getting hotter and hotter and my bare bottom was rubbing against him through his jeans. He pulled more roughly on my hair so it hurt, my head going far back, my legs splaying wider as if to balance myself. I was on the edge of a powerful orgasm and fighting to hold back, not wanting him to think I was this aroused by being tied up. He suddenly threw me off, shoving me roughly aside on the sofa and getting to his feet. He turned, yanking down his zipper and pulling out his erection. He pulled me roughly into a sitting position and thrust his cock into my mouth. I took it eagerly, gasping, moaning, sucking as he pushed it deep. His hands went to my hair, as they always did, combing through it. But now he was more aggressive than he usually let himself become, and unlike other times I didn't feel the need to restrain him. I let him pull on my hair, and let him thrust more deeply into my mouth, more quickly, more violently. I let him use me without correcting him. I thought about protesting several times, about pulling back, glaring at him, demanding he ease up. But I thought about it mostly for the sake of my reputation, not because I wanted him to stop. I didn't want him to stop. Something about being roughly used, like his bitch, as he said, with my hands tied behind me, was doing some really weird things to my mind. I let him thrust into my mouth, through my tightly closed lips, let him gag me repeatedly as he groaned and thrust and humped forward. And when he jerked back he pulled me by my hair so that I slipped off the sofa and found myself on my knees. I liked up the length of his body at him and he looked down with wide, hungry, excited eyes, and all I could do was suck on his cock as it pumped violently into my mouth. "Suck my cock, Emily!" he panted. "Suck it! Suck it!" He thrust into my mouth hard, his fat cockhead jabbing against the inside of my cheeks, scraping along the roof of my mouth, threatening to choke me with each deep thrust. And all I did was obey him, sucking and licking at him as he pumped, moaning, gasping whenever he pulled to hard on my hair, not doing a thing to resist. It was as if my bound wrists had somehow robbed me of my willpower, or freed me of the need to maintain a proper image of equality between us. I could hardly believe I was getting so intensely hot just from having him rutting into my face. But I was almost trembling with the inner heat, with sexual electricity crackling through my body, with my nerve endings spasming and twisting, especially between my legs and on my breasts. I imagined myself as his bitch, his whore, his sexual possession, his slave, and let him jam his cock so deep into my mouth it penetrated my throat. I gagged, but he was so far gone he hardly noticed or cared. He thrust himself right into me, his big hands tight in my hair on either side of my face. He pulled my face forward so that his cock pushed right down my throat and my face was jammed into his groin. I could hear his voice, full of passion and heat "Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he cried. I was in a state of shock, my throat full of cock, my nose jammed into his pubic bone, my head held there by his tight grip on my hair. Oddly, with him filling my throat I felt less of an urge to gag than I had when it first pushed through. But now, in his excitement, he began to fuck my throat, using his grip on my hair to yank me forward every time he thrust into me. He fucked my throat in short, furious little strokes, gasping and cursing with passion as he rammed forward again and again. I just let him. I didn't fight. I was still coping with the shocked realization that he was in my throat, and that filled me with contrary feelings. I was shocked, frightened of being unable to breath, and excited. I had deep throated a guy! But it was really all so quick, so fast, so hard, so violent, that I really didn't have time to think before he came and spurted himself deep into my throat. Then he began to withdraw, pulling his cock free. He let go of my hair and staggered back, and I fell back against the sofa, gasping for breath, coughing violently, red faced, saliva spilling down my chin and onto my chest as I half lay back against the sofa, gulping in air. He was apologetic, not, I think, because he really regretted what he'd done but because he was afraid I'd go ape shit on him. But he was still really aroused. He helped me back onto the sofa and then dropped to his knees in front of it and began to eat me out, to repay me, I guess he thought. He hadn't untied me, and I lay back, slumped low on the sofa, legs spread wide, as he licked at my clit and fingered my pussy. And I was still kind of in shock, still gulping in air, still confused, still conflicted. I was still very, very hot, though, and while he was no expert at pussy licking I was not all that discriminating either. My body began to overheat, and I was soon bucking up against him, moaning and gasping and panting as my body thrilled to the touch of his mouth, his lips, his tongue and his fingers on my hungry sex. My orgasm was violent and extended, and I barely had the presence of mind to try to suppress my responses, to keep from screaming out loud, to keep from making too much of a spectacle of myself as my insides twisted and flared with intense sexual pleasure. And then, teenage boys being what they were, he had gotten hard once more, and so rose up and thrust himself inside me. My orgasm was just beginning to ease off, and being so deeply and roughly penetrated raised it once more. I could see him looming above me, blocking out the light as he began to thrust, feel his hot breath in my face, feel his hard fingers digging into my calves as he forced my legs up and back against the back of the sofa. But I could do nothing but gurgle weakly, my eyes glazed as he pounded his cock into me and his hips slammed mercilessly against my tight little bottom. That was the first incident. The second came only the next day. He wanted me to deep throat him. I wanted to deep throat him. We both knew I could do it since I already had. So we were both naked, still in his basement, and I was on my knees, untied, trying to force my lips down harder on his cock. But every time his cockhead hit the entrance to my throat I gagged and jerked back. It was frustrating for both of us. I really wanted to do it. To be an accomplished at deep throating would be - well, something to brag about, at least to my closest friends. Few could do it, and to us, in our naivety, it marked a really skilled, more mature, more sexually accomplished woman. It didn't mark a girl as a slut, for sluts were pathetic things of no power. No, it would mark me as sophisticated. And then Jason suggested he tie my wrists behind my back, and he take over. I was afraid, but I also wanted it to work, and the idea of being tied up again was hot, surprisingly hot. I let him, and knelt before him as he pumped slowly in and out of my mouth. I was kind of backed against the sofa, with him in front of me holding my hair out to either side of my head to control me. I felt helpless, scared, and excited. He thrust forward and his cock pierced my throat. I tried to jerk back again by he pulled forward on my hair and forced his cock deep into my throat. I fought weakly, but had no strength, and no position. He leaned in, his knees pressing me back against the sofa, his hands tightly clutching my head. My face was jammed against him now, his cock buried in my throat. My throat felt quivery and fluttery and I felt like gagging, but he gave me no choice. He pulled back slowly, and now I felt like I was throwing up. Fortunately, I hadn't eaten, and there was really very little in my stomach. His cockhead popped free and I coughed and gasped for breath, just as red-faced as the other day, saliva still dribbling down my jaw and onto my chest. "You just need more practice," he said. "You know you can do it." It wasn't me that was doing it, but neither of us really thought of that. And both of us wanted me to be able to do it. So I didn't fight as he pushed his cock into my mouth again, and over the course of the next half hour thrust it down my throat again and again and again, until something inside me did realize I could do it and it became much easier to bear. He came in my throat twice during this time, but being young he was still hard. And he wanted to fuck me. He pulled out and roughly pulled me forward so I sort of dropped onto my shoulders, my bottom in the air. He knelt behind me and shifted my legs apart, then ran his hands over my tight little bottom and rubbed my pussy. I found the position - embarrassing - and yet for some reason it really struck something deep inside me. I was on my knees, my ass in the air, my hands tied, and I was really, really hot as he rubbed his spit-wet-cock up and down my warm, moist pussy. He entered me roughly, and began to really pound me almost at once. I grunted helplessly as his hips slammed into my little bottom, as his big cock pounded into my throbbing, overheated sex. My chin was pressed against the rug, and my wrists twisted weakly against the rope as he road me. My insides were quivering and shaking and burning and I felt so incredibly slutty and wanton and used that my mind just flipped over and I came violently, clamping my mouth shut to keep from screaming as Jason continued to pound against me. The next time I tried to deep-throat him I managed to do it without being tied up. And the more I did it the better I got at it. Now bear in mind I was a very slim, petite girl. I wasn't skinny, but my shoulders were narrow, my hips slender, my waist flat. Jason was very strong and more than a foot taller. He could and had picked me up in his arms easily, thrown me over his shoulder, carried me around jokingly, and thrown me into pools. And it really drives home to you how weak you are in comparison to someone else when they can effortlessly pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll. But as I began to really understand, I had power over him when I was on my knees with his cock in my mouth. I began to really explore how I could suck him better. I even went on the internet to look for tips. I wanted to make myself powerful, and the only way I could do that was through sex. And so by the end of the summer I was a really accomplished blow job artist. I could reduce big strong Jason to groaning, wriggling putty, and keep him like that for long periods of time. I could make him beg, make him say almost anything. And if Jason was rough when he thrust himself into me that was because I was so hot, because I was so sexy, because I had driven him wild with lust. Me, little old me. And that was a kind of power. Chapter 2 High school romances don't last. And so I found myself in college, and single, and looking to break loose among a huge college population that didn't know me from Eve. I was feeling my sexual power, dressing provocatively, though never slutty. I was slim, but when I wore a tight t-shirt, believe me men noticed. My butt was tiny, but perfectly shaped, and when I wore tight jeans or trousers, men noticed. I enjoyed being looked at, being noticed, being wanted, lusted after. There was power in that, and a sense of great value. Like a number of freshmen girls I was looking to exploit that power, to get a hot guy. Like many, that meant an older guy who I figured would know a lot more about sex and life than someone my own age. I flirted a lot. I was trying to perfect the art, to see who I could make squirm, blush and flush without being too obvious. I wasn't sure what I was looking for. I did have a few one-night stands with guys I met at parties, but I felt closed in by the rules of dating. I still felt the need to maintain my dignity, my sense of pride. I still held myself in, still fought to restrain my reactions. The only place I really let go was in blow jobs, where I blew their socks off, reducing them to gasping, panting, moaning weaklings with my mouth and hands on their balls and pricks. I don't think I was consciously looking for someone strong, someone who could do to me what I was doing to the other guys, but I was. And the guy I met was Tommy Chow. Tommy was half Asian, half German. He was tall and broad shouldered, with a toned, well-muscled body. He had hair with long bangs that sloped across his forehead, and a handsome face. He had dark, brooding eyes, eyes which showed nothing, which gave nothing away. The way he looked at me made me shiver. His eyes showed no emotion, no appreciation. But he was friendly, despite that, and a great dancer. I met him at a frat party, and we made out a little. I was willing to go further, but to my surprise, he wasn't. No guy had ever put the brakes on sex with me before, and I was very impressed - though frustrated. Tommy was not a frat boy. He had a condo not far of campus and drove a Porsche. His parents had money, and he had the attitude of confidence and almost unconscious superiority that came with growing up in a wealthy family. On our next date we went to a Chinese restaurant, a fancy one, and he was the first guy I dated who wore a suit on our date. He'd told me to dress up, and I had - for a disco. I was wearing a black mini slit on the side almost to my hip and a form-fitting black silk tank top which was of an identical material so it appeared I was wearing a black dress rather than skirt and tank. It made me a little uncomfortable when I saw the restaurant he took me to. It was more brightly lit than I'd anticipated, with a lot of older people there, mostly Asians. I'd never gone anywhere I felt like I was the minority. And I was terribly aware of how short my skirt was, and the slit in the side which bared too much pale skin. The food was good, but I was relieved when we left. I'd felt kind of - inferior, and slutty in there among all those well-dressed, middle aged Asians. We went on to the disco, and Tommy proved to be a great dancer. It was dark, and he ground his body against me, letting his soft hands caress my body all over until I was thrumming with sexual hunger and need. I kept hinting, more and more strongly, that we should go back to his place, but he ignored me, smiling, his eyes dark stones. At one point he led me out of the disco, his strong hand clamped around my upper arm. He led me around back to the parking lot, and I was happy, thinking we were going back to his place. Then, suddenly, he whirled me around and shoved me back against the wall. I gasped, and gasped again as his hand thrust in between my legs, grabbing at his wrist instinctively. He gripped my wrists and shoved them back against the wall above my head, pinning them there with one big hand, and his cold, dark eyes stared at me as his other hand pushed up under my skirt, tore my thong off, and then began to finger-fuck me. "Tommy!" I whined, squirming, twisting. "No! Not here! L-Let's go to your place!" "I'm not ready to leave yet, you hot little slut," he said. I felt a faint whiff of outrage at him using that word, but his tone was amused rather than contemptuous, and his fingers were doing amazing things between my legs. He had two fingers up inside my wet pussy and his thumb was stroking and grinding and rubbing against my clit as my bottom bucked and jerked and wriggled with growing passion. My breathing was becoming hot and ragged, and my bottom was beating a tattoo against the brick wall. People were walking back and forth out in the parking lot, and on the sidewalk, and the cars were driving by. I was in the weeds in the shadow of the building, backed against the wall. His hand had my skirt hiked up to my waist as he fingered me, and I could only squirm and pant and shudder as he roused my already inflamed body to intense heights of passion. He put his mouth in next to my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "Come, little slut. Come for me. Come for Tommy. Come on his fingers. Come for me, little slut." And I did, my back arching so that my spine almost snapped, my hips bucking violently into his fingers, my eyes rolling back as I gurgled and croaked in breathless sexual passion. It knocked the breath out of me and turned my knees to rubber. The only reason I didn't sink to the ground was his tight hold on my wrists. He fingered me through the orgasm and then when I was gulping in air in its aftermath he pulled back, roughly twisted me around and shoved me, face-first into the wall, lifted my skirt up behind and slapped my bare bottom. "Now we're going back in to dance some more. Tell your pussy to have a little patience. It'll get fed later." He slapped my bottom again, hard enough it stung sharply, then yanked me away from the wall and marched me back inside. I should have been angry, but I wasn't. I was dazed, still horny, a little resentful, and impressed by his strength. We danced more, and I got hot again, and drank some more, and then he drove me to his place. He stripped me like he did it for a living, calmly, casually, expertly, and carried me to his bed. That fed my belief in his strength, and when he set me down in the middle of a huge four-poster bed I was ready to be fucked hard. When he pulled my wrists up and out to the sides and drew straps from the corner posts I just watched, dazed, shocked, but growing more aroused as he slipped them around my wrists. I was nervous, because I didn't know him that well, but too hot to really fight or resist as he bound my wrists to the corners, then stretched my legs wide and strapped them to the lower posts. Then he got out of bed and stood next to it, calmly removing his own clothes, his eyes boring into mine as I waited, straining a little, writhing a bit in my bonds with anticipation and excitement, blushing a bit at how naked I was and how wide my legs were spread before this guy I really didn't know that well. I mean, the lights were bright, and it was all so - slow and dispassionate on his part. Finally, naked, he climbed into bed. He had a sleek, powerful body, well toned, well muscled, and he moved like a panther as he knelt between my splayed legs. I blushed again as he seemed to stare into my pussy. Then he bent forward and began to lick his way slowly up and down my legs. I was startled, because no guy had ever done that, and impatient. I wanted him inside me. "Fuck me!" I panted. He ignored me. "Tommy!" I whined. He got up and moved across the room, then opened an armoire and brought out a thing of black leather. I didn't even know what it was as he climbed back into bed. Then he showed it to me. It was like - like a little cock, like a fat little cock with the head taking up half its length. It was attached to a wide leather strap, and even as I was staring and wondering what the hell it was he shoved it into my mouth. My eyes widened, but I didn't really think about resisting until it was already stuffing my mouth full, holding my jaw wide, pressing down against my tongue. The strap attached to it covered my mouth from just below my nose to just above my chin, and he pulled it tight around my head and buckled it in place. I stared at him in disbelief, but he simply returned to his licking, his tongue caressing my soft skin from ankle to thigh. Every time he neared my pussy I could feel myself rising in anticipation, my hips actually physically pushing myself upwards, only to fall back in disappointment as he slid his tongue down the other leg. I moaned and complained through the gag, but my voice was soft, and not recognizable, especially with the music playing softly from his stereo. Then he moved his body up over me, draping it over me, letting his soft, warm flesh cover mine and crush me into the bed. He kissed the nape of my neck, and nibbled at my earlobes, his hands caressing and kneading my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples. I moaned and pushed myself up against him, feeling more and more eager to have him inside me. But he continued to take his time. He mouthed each nipple and worked it over gently with his mouth, sucking, licking, chewing lightly, pinching and stroking until my nipples burned like fire, until I was biting into the rubber cock thing stuffed into my mouth to keep from screaming. His fingers worked on my breasts as his mouth worked over my nipples, and they too were soon throbbing with hunger and need. And then he slowly, slowly, teasingly, licked his way down my belly, down my abdomen, down between my legs. And with his first light lick I knew that this was a man who knew as much about oral sex as I did, but from the other side. I was already sweating and panting and grinding myself up and he hadn't even touched my clit. Now as he parted the lips of my sex and began to work over my steaming insides I pulled and strained on the bonds and bucked upwards as short, sharp little explosive burst of sexual pleasure ripped through my groin. I was moaning, cursing into the gag, finding it more and more difficult to keep control. And then a bright, shocking thought occurred to me: I didn't need to keep control. I could even scream into the gag and he wouldn't know. And who was he going to tell anyway? Nobody I knew. I was writhing, straining, my skin hot, sweating as I panted for breath. His fingers stroked against me expertly, and every now and then he would look up the length of my body and catch my eyes, and he would say "Do you want to come, little slut?" and then he would do something that sent a shockwave of heat rippling up my spine so that my back arched and I cried out in pleasure. He must have done it a dozen times before he gave me my first climax, and it was a powerful, exhausting climax. I don't think I could have suppressed my reactions even if I'd tried. I screamed into the gag and threw myself against the straps binding me, my head thrashing, my insides twisting and tumbling and howling like a maelstrom. It was an intense sexual storm, like a hurricane riding over my body and mind, reducing me to a quivering, writhing mass of mindless burning flesh. And as I lay back, gasping, sweating, eyes closed, he moved down my body to my ankles and started over again. I didn't notice at first. I just lay there basking in the afterglow, body filled with the warm, satisfied languor of a really great climax. But as my mind returned I felt his tongue lapping at my thighs and knew he was far from finished with me. He had infinite patience, and reduced me to quivering jelly again and again, forcing massive climaxes through my system. And in the midst of one he rose over me and plunged into me and I screamed as he rammed his fat cock deep into my dripping pussy and rode me through it and out the other side. He was as good with his cock as he was with his mouth, shifting speeds and angles and directions, grinding his pubic bone against my groin, riding back and forth over my body, using his cock like an artist's instrument to rouse me to even greater heights of sexual hunger and pleasure. The thought ran through my head that this was a guy who had fucked an awful lot of girls, but I didn't really care then as another climax tore through me. This one was even bigger, more all-encompassing, with Tommy's big prick ramming up deep into my belly like a trip-hammer, forcing me to scream again, to scream into the gag and throw my head wildly from side to side. God, he was good! When he finally came inside me he rolled off, lay there panting for a bit, then got up and casually crossed the room to the door. He left me there naked and bound, disappearing for several minutes. When he returned he had a drink in his hand, just one. He crossed the room and sat on the bed next to me, and let his hand casually glide over my body. I stared into his dark eyes and felt a sense of - I don't know, submission, a willingness to do whatever he wanted, to follow him into any sexual adventure he wanted. I also felt strange, oddly degraded and indignant. He was sitting there with a glass in his hand, sipping lightly, casually fondling me as I lay bound and spread open. He pinched my nipples several times, hard enough to make me yelp, and smirked at me. Then he took an ice cube from his drink and ran it slowly over my breasts, causing me to writhe and strain and moan into the gag. But I was completely at his mercy, and the more he continued to do it the more that was driven into my mind. He let the ice cube circle my nipples and roll across them as small droplets of icy water trickled down my breasts. He ran the cube down my belly, around my belly button, and even down between my legs, ignoring my muffled protests and obvious discomfort. He melted the cube on my hot body, then straddled my hips, half sitting on me as he took another cube and ran it over my right nipple. He froze it, froze it so it felt stiff and burning, then bent and took my nipple into his mouth, warming it, sucking it, licking it. He took the ice cube into his mouth then and began to suckle and lick at my nipples and breasts, and slid backwards to run his cold tongue over my clit and pussy. Despite the cold and discomfort he was rousing that fire within me again. I wouldn't have thought it possible. I'd come so powerfully, so many times, that I would have thought my body uninterested in sex, but his mixture of hot and cold brought my hips up again. He laughed after the cube was gone, and moved upward again, straddling my body, now sitting down, naked, on my chest, laying his cock between my breasts as he leaned forward. He set his drink down on the bedside table and reached for the strap of the gag, undid it, and pried it gently from my mouth. My jaw ached, and it was hard to close at first. As it sat open he slid two fingers between my lips, rubbing them over my tongue. "Suck," he said in a soft, deep voice. "Suck." And I did, though it hurt a bit. I closed my lips and sucked, licking at his fingers as he stared down at me. He pulled the fingers out and reached behind him, rubbing them over my pussy. "Are you my little slut?" he asked softly. "Are you?" "Yes!" I croaked. "Say it." "I-I'm your little slut!" I gasped. His fingers pushed into my mouth again, then pulled out and began to roll and caress my left nipple. "Are you my little slut?" he asked again. "Yes," I groaned. He slapped my cheek, not heavily, but enough to sting a little. "Say it," he demanded. "I-I'm your little slut!" I moaned. He pinched my nipple. "Again," he ordered. "I'm your little slut!" I cried. He was getting hard, and he slid up higher, his buttocks rubbing over my breasts. He reached for my head, for my hair, and forced my head up as he pushed his cock through my lips. I groaned and closed my lips around him, sucking, licking as he pushed deeper. He moved his body up higher, pulling hard on my head, and thrust himself right into my throat. I gagged a little, surprised, and he leaned into me, his knees spread wide as he thrust his cock down to the balls and ground himself against me. He began to thrust into me in long, deep, but carefully measured strokes, fucking my throat with a patience Jason never had shown, staring down at me with his dark eyes. I began to run out of air, my head pounding, my chest burning, but he held my hair in both hands, pumping, staring, pumping, in and out, in and out as my face grew more red, my eyes more desperate. When he pulled out I coughed violently and gasped for breath, gulping in deep, desperate breaths as he rubbed his spit-wet cock over my face. "I-I can't h-hold my breath that l-long!" I panted, when I was finally able to speak. "Learn," he said calmly. What? I was surprised at his response, and then he thrust himself back into my mouth, driving it unhesitantly down my throat to the balls. Again he ground himself against me, pumping in slow, steady strokes, holding my head up and forward, pumping a little harder now so that his pubic bone crushed my nose each time he buried himself in my throat. And he waited, again, until the world started to spin and black dots danced before my eyes, before he pulled out. I gasped and coughed and drew in deep, shuddering breaths of air, unable to speak. "Learn to hold your breath longer, little slut," he said. He thrust himself into me again, pumping deep. Now he shifted his grip on my hair, bunching it up in the centre of my head so he could hold it in one hand. He held me up that way as he picked up his drink and sipped it, riding my face, his hips grinding in and out, his long, fat cock pumping slowly up and down in my throat, across my tongue, through my lips. Something about his cold, dispassionate attitude frightened me. But it also oddly aroused me. I could do nothing in either case but lay there helpless as he fucked my throat, casually sipping on his drink as his hips began to work faster and faster, his cock began to pump into me harder. Finally he set the drink down and bent forward, and now he just - hammered himself into me, his groin punching into my nose, his cock sawing furiously up and down in my throat, ripping across my tongue and through my lips as he forced my head up into his groin. I was hardly conscious when he finally came inside me, only conscious enough to feel him moving off me and untying me. I'm not sure why I wasn't angrier. My throat hurt, and my face throbbed, my nose in particular. But by the time my mind was working normally I discovered my wrists were bound together behind my back, my ankles bound together below me. And so it was obvious he hadn't finished. When he picked me up in his arms and kissed my forehead, then carried me easily across the room and into his bathroom to set me down in a huge sunken tub I felt a sense of being pampered and taken care of. The tub was surrounded by a low platform covered in plants and candles, the rest of the room's lights out. He slid into the water beside me as it bubbled softly, put his arm behind me, and poured a glass of something, which he sipped. He then passed the glass to me and let me take a sip as he held it. It was - weird. I felt as though I were being taken care of, yet I was tied up, helpless, at his mercy. He let his tongue lick a trail along the side of my throat, then let me sip again from, as it turned out, a very expensive white wine. He let his mouth move against mine, for the first time, really. And he proved to be as incredible a kisser as he was at everything else. His mouth ravished me, but slowly, gently, and passionately. His tongue skimmed over mine, teased my lips, his lips mouthed and squeezed my own tongue in turn. He took a drink from the bottle, then bent and covered my lips with mine, expelling the liquid into my mouth. It was so intensely - personal, and again, made me feel bizarrely as though he were taking care of me, feeding me the way a mother bird feeds its young. My wrists were locked tightly behind my back, my ankles bound beneath the water ahead of me. I drank from his mouth, and then again, and then again, and in between he let his tongue and lips move over my neck and throat, and forced my head back across the top of the tub so he could mouth and tease and suckle at my nipples and breasts. "Untie me," I groaned, at one point. "Never," he replied. "You were made to be bound and ravished." The sexual heat was soon flaring inside me again, but he only teased and taunted me. He unlocked my ankles, then used his fingers to inflame my pussy without letting me come. He drew me over his lap, sitting back in his arms with my head against his chest, and he fed me strawberries, and let me suck and lick at his fingers as they rose from between my legs. Then he began to soap me up, his fingers moving over my soon slippery, slick body in a way which made me writhe and moan in pleasure and passion. He let the water drain out, and soaped up my feet and ankles, his big hands gently massaging them, working their way up my thighs to my pussy, stroking over my slit until I was grinding desperately against him, on the edge of climax. Instead he turned me around, had me straddle him, facing the other way as he sat back against the edge of the tub, and I felt his cock against my anus. I gasped, never having been sodomised, but I was no kind of mental shape to resist him or anyone else. I felt a sense of embarrassment but it was overridden by my hunger as he pulled me down, as his stiff prick slowly forced its way up into my anus. I sank lower and lower, gasping in discomfort, at first, but he worked me open patiently, and soon I was sitting fully atop him, his cock buried in my ass, throbbing in my belly so I ached. It felt weird, really weird, but intensely hot and sensual at the same time. I moaned and swayed as his hands ran over my body, his fingers teasing my nipples and clit. "Tell me you're my little slut," he breathed. "I-I'm your little slut," I groaned, grinding my buttocks against him. He began to pump, slowly, slapping at my bottom as he ordered me to ride him. "Ride my cock, little slut," he whispered. "That's it. Take my cock up your tight little ass. Yeah. You love it. You love it up the ass. Nasty little slut." He squeezed my breasts and I groaned. He leaned in and bit lightly on the nape of my neck. "Tell me you love my cock," he ordered. "I-I love your cock," I gasped. "Where do you love it, little slut?" "I - I love it - in the ass," I croaked, my voice breaking. "You want me to fuck you in the ass, don't you." And he pinched my nipple as he said it so that I gasped in pain. "Don't you, little slut?" "Yes," I panted. "Say it, little slut. Tell me how you love having my cock up your ass." "I-I do," I moaned. "I love you cock - up - up my ass. God!" "Ride my cock, slut. Ride it," he growled, squeezing my breast. I worked my thigh muscles, hissing, gasping, uncertain, awkward, riding his cock with my ass, feeling it stroking up and down inside my rectum. It was a bizarre and novel sensation, but not at all unpleasant. And when his finger moved between my thighs to stroke my soapy clit my mind almost blew off. I rode him with greater and greater passion and need, impaling myself on his fat cock, taking it deep into my belly as I cried out again and again. "That's it, slut. Ride my cock," he growled. "Take it up your ass." But then he stopped me, gripping my thighs, his cock buried in my belly. "Tell me," he breathed. "Fuck!" I moaned. "I love your cock. I love your cock in my ass!" "Beg me to fuck your ass, little slut," he growled. "Please fuck my ass!" I gasped. "Fuck my ass! Do it! Please! Oh! Oh yes! Please fuck my ass, Tommy!" The word twisted my mind. And as he released me I bounced atop him. I came violently, bouncing and thrashing, arching my back, my anal muscles squeezing and clamping down on him. And in the midst of it he rose up, pushing me hard, throwing me forward across the side of the tub so he could thrust into me much more sharply, more violently. The orgasm screamed upwards as he rammed himself painfully deep into my ass, his hips pounding against my buttocks. My mind felt as though it were coming apart at the seams as I cried out again and again. And then everything sort of faded, slowly, into that kind of deep, satisfied languor where nothing much matters. Still, he mattered, his hips pounding into me mattered, his cock spearing into my ass mattered - sort of. I was grunted and moaned as he continued to thrust, but in a soft, comfortable, dreamy sort of afterglow. And then he came, spilling himself inside me, and we both sank back into the tub as he turned on the water again. I slept over at his place. He insisted. I slept in his bed, falling asleep with him spooned against me, pressed into my slightly bruised buttocks. We were both naked, but my ankles and wrists were strapped together. Chapter 3 There was a large inner courtyard at school, covered over with skylights, circled by three levels of balconies and railings of the inside halls. It was a busy place during the day, with students occupying most if not all of its many tables and chairs and benches, others passing through on their way to various classes, and others buying snacks and drinks from the machines which lined the walls. Near the end of the day it was much more quiet, most of the tables empty, with just a few students sitting around chatting and studying. The day after my wild sexual experience with Tommy I was sitting there trying to concentrate on my art history text. Then he was suddenly there, beside me, and I looked up to find him looking down at me. My face was level with his groin, and I looked around as if subconsciously afraid others present would know, would think - something. "How do you feel, beautiful?" he asked in a soft voice. "Sore," I said. He smiled. "But you loved it." I nodded, a little reluctant to admit it so - so openly, to grant him that superiority, that - victory. I had my childish pride, after all, and I was about to say something to the effect that he loved it to when he shifted slightly forward, bringing his groin even closer to my face. "Tell me you're my little slut," he ordered. I looked past him, and around me, feeling my nipples tightening within the cups of my bra. I hesitated. "I'm your little slut," I whispered. "And you love my cock." Arrogant bastard, I thought, a bit amused. But I was also getting turned on. "And I love your cock," I said. "And you love it up the ass." I flushed, looking around again. "Say it, slut," he ordered. "I love your cock up the ass," I said, blushing. "You love to be fucked in the ass, don't you, slut?" I was starting to get into this game we were playing, and echoed him. "I love being fucked in the ass," I said. "I should bend you over the table right now and stuff my prick up your tight little ass," he said. "I should make you suck my cock right here." He couldn't make me do anything, but his words were hot and steamy. "I want to fuck you," he said. "Beg me to fuck you." "Please fuck me," I said boldly. He let his lips curve into a slow grin. "I want to fuck you right here at school," he said. "Follow me." I cringed now, looking around as he turned away, feeling suddenly anxious, wary. What did he intend to do? But he was already almost at the main stairway, a winding thing which went up through all four levels. He would not be happy if I didn't follow. And besides, if I didn't want to do it, I'd just say no. I scrambled after him, clutching my books to my chest, feeling self-conscious, as if the few students around had watched and knew. We walked up a wide corridor and he paused at the open doorway of a classroom. It was not just a class, but a lecture room, a large one. Three dozen tiers of seats half circled the room and looked down onto the small area before a blackboard where the professor stood. Tommy closed the door behind me and locked it. "What are you planning on doing?" I asked anxiously. "Fucking your tight pussy," he replied. He took my wrist and led me down the stairs past the empty rows of seats and desks to the bottom, then took my books away and set them on the first desk. He grinned at me, but it was an odd sort of grin, almost a cold grin, a determined grin. He picked up a little remote control and the lights went out, then a light came on up high near the top of the room at the far end. At first I thought it was a spotlight, but then realized it was a projector. Still, the affect was the same, a bright, narrow beam of light focused on wall just behind us. Behind me, because Tommy moved back, and when I started to follow he stopped me. "Stay there," he ordered. I complied, blinking a bit at the bright light. "Take off your clothes." I inhaled sharply. "Here!? Are you crazy!?" "Don't worry. The room is locked." "But - " "Don't be a child," he said, his voice impatient. "We can have some fun." I bit my lower lip. I wanted to have fun, and the thought of undressing was kind of exciting in an exhibitionist sort of way. And I didn't want Tommy upset. Still, I was nervous, anxious, and worried about being caught. I drew in a deep breath and expelled it, then looked down at my top and reached for the buttons, beginning to undo them. "Not like that," he said. I looked up in confusion. "Dance. Do a strip tease." I blushed. "There's no music." "You don't need music, little slut. You know how to move like a sexy girl." And I did, of course. I had practiced strip teases in my own bedroom before my mirror. Most girls I knew had. I'd never done it in front of a guy, though. My pulse picked up, and my heart beat more quickly. I felt more anxious, but also more excited. I began to roll my hips, slowly at first, but then with growing confidence. I was hot and sexy, and I knew it. I let my tongue trace along my lower lip, and gave him a sexy look - or at least, looked in his general direction. The light was pretty much blinding me. And then I had this idea, like there was a crowd of men there watching me, row on row of them. I knew there wasn't, of course, but the idea was really, really hot, and I tossed my head, letting my hair dance, rolling my hips, starting to move my legs now as I danced to unheard music and slowly undid the buttons down the front of my blouse. When they were down to the bottom I teasingly flipped open one side, then the other, still dancing and grinding my hips. I slid my hands up through my hair so that the shirt would part and reveal my soft blue bra and trim belly. I twirled and turned, and flung back my arms so the blouse slid over my shoulders and down my arms. I kicked off my shoes easily, then began to flip up my skirt teasingly, undoing the button and zipper and then, with wicked feeling of sexual heat, letting it drop around my ankles. I kicked it off and danced in my bra and thong, looking sexy towards where Tommy was, ran my hands slowly, tauntingly up and down my body, over my breasts. I turned and gripped the edge of the desk, pushed my ass back, shifted my legs apart, and rolled my bottom at him and the light. Then I undid my bra, covered my breasts with my arms, and turned, letting the bra fall off. My heart was pounding now, my pulse racing. I was hot, elated, excited, feeling really nasty and kinky and sexy as I danced practically naked in the classroom. People were walking back and forth just beyond the door, and I could occasionally hear low murmuring voices from the hall. I slid my hands up above me, arching my back, rolling my hips, my head going from side to side, my legs moving. I turned and turned again, then slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my thong, tugging it down a bit, then back up, then down, then up, then finally, down, and I was naked, dancing - naked! - in a classroom. "Squeeze your breasts," Tommy's voices said. "touch them." I did, lifting my breasts, letting my fingers dig into the soft, malleable flesh, rolling them together as I danced. "Pinch your nipples, tug on them." I did that too, giving him a sly, sexy look as I moved forward. "Go back against the desk. Lay back on it," he ordered. I danced back, pressing my bare bottom against the edge of the desk, arching my back, then letting my hands go behind me onto the top of the desk and kind of leaning back across it. "Lay on the desk, little slut." I lay slowly back, a crackling sexual electricity running back and forth over the surface of my skin. I had to draw my feet up and place them on the edge of the desk, and I anticipated Tommy's next order, shifting them slowly apart, farther and farther, blushing as he looked into me. "Run your hands over your gorgeous little body, little slut," his disembodied voice ordered. I let my hands coast up and down my body, sliding across my hot, throbbing breasts and stiff, burning nipples, down my belly, down along my inner thighs. "Squeeze your pussy." I flinched a bit, but put my hand over my pussy, squeezing myself a little. "Nasty little slut," he said. I arched my back, playing to him, playing the little slut. "Spread your pussy lips. Show me your clit. Show me how hot you are for me, little slut." I felt another sharp little jolt of excitement/hesitation. It was a nasty thing to do, but I did it, slipping my fingers against the lips of my sex and spreading them open to reveal the mouth of my pussy. "Yes. Show me that clit. Show me how hard it is," he said. I obeyed, gasping lightly now. "Rub it a little for me, little slut. " And I did, gasping at the sensations which poured out of my exquisitely sensitive clitoris, my juices flowing, heart pounding, blood racing as I rubbed at my clit, naked, under the bright white light. Tommy came forward then, a shadowy figure with the light behind him. He stopped before me, running his hands up and down my body, and I groaned in pleasure. He bent and licked at my belly button, circling it, then spread my legs wider and ran his tongue directly down over my clit. I shuddered, pushing my hips up as his thumbs spread my pussy lips wide and his mouth worked at my clit. But then I felt something pushing into me, something too large to be his finger, and too cold to be his cock. I raised my head, panting, staring, and saw him holding something, a large realistically shaped dildo. I gaped at it, watching as Tommy slowly pushed it into me, pumped it in and out, then pushed it deeper. He looked up at me, grinning, then took my hand and put it on the dildo. It was large and thick, and he pushed his hand against mine, forcing it deeper. I groaned, for it ached, but I loved the penetration, the fullness. I pushed it deeper, and he backed away, and I was alone again as if I were on a stage, working the dildo deeper and deeper into my pussy. I was soon pumping it freely, gasping, my mind rolling with the intoxicating fever of sexual heat. My legs were spread so far apart the tendons in my thighs ached. I was rubbing at my clitoris with my right hand while I pumped the dildo with my left. "Deeper, little slut," Tommy growled. "Ram it up your hot, buttery little cunt." I gasped at his crude language, but it inflamed me, and I pumped the dildo harder, deeper, faster, even though it hurt, fucking myself roughly, just as I loved being fucked roughly, my hips rising to meet the thrusting dildo, circling, jerking, bucking against my fingers as the sexual high grew more intense, until it seemed to take over the entire world and nothing else mattered. I was gasping more and more loudly, panting, moaning, whining like a bitch in heat. The sexual hunger had taken me over, and I was afire with lust due to my own wanton, slutty behavior, playing to my exhibitionist nature as I masturbated before him. I had never acted as slutty before anyone before, and was feeling a sense of wildness and thrill. And then Tommy was there again, running his hands up and down my body, roughly fondling and groping my breasts, pinching my nipples. He pushed my hands away and thrust the dildo deep - painfully deep, ignoring my gasp of pain as he buried it inside me. He gripped my thighs and dragged my bottom over the edge of the desk, then twisted me around. My feet fell to the floor, and I yelped as his hand cracked across my bare bottom. "Spread `em, slut," he ordered. I groaned and raised my bottom, shifting my bare legs wide apart. Another slap to my bottom made me yelp softly, then his fingers were at my pussy, rubbing at my clit, pumping the dildo in and out. He pulled it free, and I felt vacant, then his cock slid into me and I groaned and pushed back against him. He pumped into me in slow, deep motions, and his fingers kneaded my buttocks. I felt his hands at my wrists, pulling them back down along the length of my body, then folding them up and back behind me, pushing them up along my spine until my shoulders ached and my crossed wrists were between my shoulder blades. "Oh! Oh, Tommy!" I gasped. "Quiet, slut. Shove that cunt back onto my prick like a good little whore." I gasped again as I felt my hair pulled back. He pulled it into a kind of rough braid and then wrapped it around my wrists, forcing my head back, and my arms even higher. I started to protest but a moment later the dildo was at my mouth, then inside it. "Suck that cock, little slut. Little cocksucker, suck on it," he ordered, his cock thrusting into me harder, faster. I moaned around the dildo, tasting my own cream with more than a touch of squeamishness. But I had little choice about what to do as he pushed it in and out and I could do nothing to stop it. He plunged the dildo into my mouth, and then made me gag by driving it right down my throat. At the same time he picked up speed, his hips hammering against my tiny bottom, jamming my thighs into the edge of the desk as he pounded his cock into my pussy. He pulled the dildo out of my mouth and I coughed and gasped for breath, feeling the nose pushing against my rectum now, twisting from side to side, pushing in and drawing back. I groaned as it penetrated me, the head slipping past my sphincter. "Tell me you love it up the ass, slut," he ordered. I was too busy gulping in air, and he slapped at my bottom and repeated the demand. "I-I lo-love it up the ass!" I gasped. He thrust the dildo deeper, twisting it, pushing and pulling, jamming it deeper as his cock continued to drill into my belly. "Tell me you're my bitch," he ordered. "I-I'm your bit-bitch!" I panted. "Oh! Oh! T-Tommy! Not so hard!" He slapped my bottom again, the sharp crack of sound seeming to fill the room as I yelped in pain. "Tell me you love my cock, slut." "I love your cock," I panted. "Then beg for it!" he ordered. "Please fuck me! P-please fuck me!" I moaned. "Please fuck my ass," he ordered. "Please fuck my ass!" I groaned. "Oh!" He jammed the dildo up high, and I felt cramps inside me. It was so deep I could feel most of his hand as he laid his palm against the base of it, could feel the pressure as he forced it still deeper. I cried out softly, breathlessly, wincing and moaning as it was jammed into my bowels. All the while his cock pounded into me from behind, thrusting high into my belly as his hips beat a tattoo against my bottom. "Yeah, you love it, slut," he said, slapping my bottom. "you love getting butt fucked, little rape slut." I gasped and moaned at his words, at his hands, at the pain and pleasure. He groped my breasts roughly, slapped my bottom again, and pounded his cock into my pussy. When he reached beneath me and began to finger my clit I was a goner, and all that sexual electricity seemed to erupt in a crescendo of snapping nerve endings and spasming muscles as the orgasm roared inside me. I went limp, gasping for breath, eyes rolled back in my head, but Tommy continued to hammer into me, driving his big prick deep into my spasming, burning pussy for a long minute or two before finally coming inside me and slowing down. He chuckled then, leaning over me, kissing me on the side of the cheek and on the throat. "Hot little slut," he said. "I'm going to rape you ever day. You need to be raped and fucked all the time." I wouldn't have called it rape, but somehow his using the word made what had happened seem darker and more edgy. I was feeling a bit of gratitude, though, that we were done, and I could get my clothes on. Tommy, though, had other plans. He scooped my clothes up, grinning at me, and dumped them into a gym bag I hadn't noticed on the first desk. "Tommy?" I said nervously. Chapter 4 "I brought something else for you to wear, little slut," he said with a dangerous grin. "What?" He kicked my shoes over to me and I nervously stepped into them. "Turn around." I obeyed, and a moment later I felt him behind me, and then rope going around my arms, pulling them back. "Tommy!" I protested. "Someone will find us and we'll get expelled!" "Don't worry, little slut. Just leave all the thinking to me. All you have to do is suck cock, and bend over and spread `em when I tell you to." The words irritated me a bit, but I was more concerned about my arms, which were already sore and aching, as he forced the rope tighter and tighter. It wasn't around my wrists, after all, but my arms up high near my elbows. "Ouch! Tommy!" "Shh, little slut." I gasped and groaned as he forced my arms back further and further. I could actually feel my elbows touch now, as he wrapped the rope around them again and again. "You're going to dislocate my shoulders," I complained. He slapped my bottom in response, then bent me forward. The rope he had used to tie my elbows together was a long one, and he ran it around the side of my ribs, then under my breasts, pushing up against them, then circling back around them once, twice, three times, and then going around the other side of my ribs, where he began to pull on the rope to tighten it. I gasped and moaned as the rope looped around my breasts pulled tighter and tighter. "Tommy!" I exclaimed. "It's too tight!" He eased up - a bit. My breasts were bulging. He let the loops open a bit, so the pressure eased. My breasts were still jammed together, and still taut with the pressure, but no longer bulging. Now he tied the rope around back behind me, around my arms again, before letting it drop down to my wrists. He looped it around them several times, then fed the rope over my hip, letting it circle my waist twice. "What are you doing?" I whined. "Shut up, slut. You love being tied up and fucked." He bent me over the desk again and I gasped as he produced another dildo - or at least, what I thought was a dildo. He grinned and flicked a button on the base and it began to buzz. I'd never felt a vibrator against me, and now he slid it up and down along my sex opening, circling my clit, then thrusting it inside me. I groaned as it filled me, as he drove it deep. It was long and thick, but he was able to push the whole thing inside me, my sex lips folding around the base, not quite able to close. But the vibrator had a sort of little branch at the base, it wasn't even as thick as my little finger, and it curled up and out of my sex to press against my clit. And it moved. It moved slowly, from side to side, and it buzzed. I gasped and my bottom jerked and wiggled, but Tommy slapped lightly at my pussy to make sure the vibrator was properly in place, then drew the rope down my belly and over my partly open sex and then between my thighs and up between my buttocks. He fed it through the rope looped around my waist - and pulled. I cried out as the rope jammed up into my sex, putting pressure on the base of the dildo and the vibrator, jamming their noses against the bottom of my pussy and rectum. He pulled again, then fed the rope back down between my buttock, between my thighs, and up my belly. He jerked me upright by the hair, and then fed the rope up through the loops crossing my belly - and pulled. Again I cried out. "Oww! Oowww! It hurts!" I whined. "You love having long, thick cocks inside you, little slut," he said, feeding the rope up my back again. This time he looped it around my throat several times, tightening it to the point I could only breath shallowly before pulling it back and tying it off. I stood stiffly, panting, tied tightly, arms bound back together, shoulders aching, ropes pulling up into my pussy, squeezing my breasts, pushing up into the dildo and vibrator, and gave him what I guess was a confused, uncertain, forlorn look. It only made him grin as he produced two thin cords. These he tied to my nipples, then fed them up to the ropes around my throat, pulling so that the cords were taut. "This is how we're going home, slut," he said. I stared at him in confusion. What did he mean? I couldn't go home like this. I mean, obviously. And then he took a poncho off a desk and put it over my head. The poncho was green, plastic, and dropped down around me, covering me to mid-thigh. He clipped the snaps in the sides to hold them (mostly) closed, and stood back, admiring his look. "Perfect. No one will be able to notice." I stared at him, aghast. Was he crazy!? Yes, it had been raining out earlier but - I couldn't go out like this! I was naked under the poncho! That would have been daunting enough without the ropes and dildo and vibrator and - . "I can't!" I squeaked. "Sure you can." He put everything into his gym bag, slung it over his shoulder, and then took my arm and led me back up the stairs. "Tommy!" I gasped. "No!" "You can either come or I can leave you behind for the night," he said, letting go of my arm. He continued walking, and after giving him a despairing look I had to hurry to follow. And believe me that wasn't easy. The dildo and vibrator sort of - moved inside me. Or maybe my body was moving around the. I don't know but it felt - weird. And my breasts, despite being bound together, were moving a little as I moved, bobbing up and down a bit, and that was pulling my nipples against the cords, tugging stingingly on them. But I had to move, and my whispered pleadings got nowhere as he opened the door. I followed him out into the corridor, heart pounding and eyes wild as I looked around. Tommy led me right into the central court, and even though it was largely empty I felt as though I had a giant sign on me that said "Pervert!". My breasts pushed out against the cool, slick plastic, and I wondered if anyone I knew would see, would wonder why I was suddenly so much bigger in the chest. "We'll go back to my place so I can fuck your tight little ass," Tommy said in a quite normal tone of voice. I looked around, but no one was near enough to hear. We walked up a white, brightly lit hall, with people passing us in both directions now as we neared the entrance. My mind was squirming with fear and self conscious alarm, certain that someone would notice someone, would question my bare legs, would know somehow that I had nothing on beneath the poncho. But no one reacted. My nipples were tugging against the cords with every step I took, and the vibrator was purring against my clit in a way which, if I wasn't so anxious, probably would have done more to my pussy. As it was I wasn't able to relax until we'd stepped through the big doors and were going down the broad stairs headed for the parking lot. "God! We could have been caught!" I exclaimed. "You could have been. I would have just walked away." I didn't believe that of course. We walked along the sidewalk, crossing into the parking lot. Now the parking lot here was huge, and unpaved in this section. Nor was it very well-lit. And to my surprise, it actually was raining, though lightly. "My nipples hurt," I grumbled. "Not as much as when I bite them." He stopped and turned, his hand sliding into the poncho and up my belly to my taut breasts. "Tommy!" I gasped, looking around. "Tell me you're my bitch," he ordered. "I'm your bitch." "Again." "I'm your bitch." He stroked his thumb and forefinger around my stiff, aching nipple. "Tell me you're my dirty little bitch slut." "Bastard." He pinched my nipple and I yelped, dancing in place, squirming. "Tell me." "I'm your bitch slut," I moaned. "Dirty bitch slut." "I'm your dirty little bitch slut!" Well, it was a bit degrading, but it was also kinky and exciting to say. And then he peeled the poncho up and off me in a single sweeping motion of his arm and my blood seemed to turn to ice. "Tommy!" "Tell me you're my nasty little slut toy." "Put it back on!" "Not till we get to the car and we're not moving until you say what I tell you to." "I'm your nasty little slut toy!" I exclaimed, head twisting from side to side. He turned and started walking - but slowly. "Repeat after me," he said. 'I'm Tommy's little fuck toy." "Fuck you." He stopped at once. "I'm Tommy's little fuck toy!" I gasped. "Again." "I'm Tommy's little fuck toy!" "Again." I squirmed with fear, head turning from side to side, but had to repeat it, and again, and again, before he started forward again, still moving slowly, casually. "I'm Tommy's slut slave," I said, ten times straight. "I'm Tommy's bitch whore," I said, ten more times. If I didn't repeat the words he wanted he stopped dead, even if car lights began to come near. "I'm a cocksucking whore. I'm a dirty little fuck slave. I'm Tommy's bitch meat. I love being fucked in the ass. I love sucking cock. I'm a filthy little fuck toy," I repeated urgently as he tossed the words out to me. Slowly we crossed to the far side of the parking lot. Cars were few and far between now, and I was completely naked, tied, wet, with a dildo and vibrator jammed into my body. And we were right out in the open. Sure it was night, and sure it was raining a bit, but shit! And then we reached his car - finally. He put his bag in the trunk, then turned and unlocked the door. "Want a ride?" he asked. I wanted to curse, but I knew he'd do something else, like get in and close the car door. "Yes, please," I gulped. "Please, master," he said. "Yes, please master," I said. "You'll have to pay for it. Get on your knees, slut." "Tommy!" "Do it, slut or I'll drive off and leave you." I didn't think he would do that, but at that point I wasn't entirely sure. I dropped to my knees, then spread my legs at his order, and he took out his cock and rubbed it over my face. I opened my mouth and he thrust himself into it, then gripped my damp hair and pulled me forward, pumping his cock over my tongue and through my lips, and then thrusting it down my throat as his hands pulled my face in against his groin. He basically face-fucked me there in the parking lot, with my knees jammed into the loose dirt and gravel beneath and the water trickling down my tightly bound body. He pulled my face in and out as he thrust his cock up and down my throat, and all I could do was move my tongue a bit and fight not to choke on his fat meat. It was - surreal. He pulled out several times so I could gulp in air, gasp, chest heaving, saliva trickling down my already wet chest. Then he'd thrust in again, yanking my head in and out with enough force to rattle my brains. My throat ached and my chest pounded as he jammed his prick down my throat again and again. I was very aware of my throbbing, aching breasts, of the way my nipples were tugging against the cords with every movement, and of the dildo filling my ass and the vibrator purring away at my pussy. With the way he kept starving me of air the scene took on a strange, dream-like quality, and I began to care less and less about being spotted, and to feel that exhibitionist side of myself coming forward and growing more powerful. I mean, I was naked, worse than naked, out in the open, in the middle of a parking lot, a largely empty parking lot, being face-fucked by this guy, all tied up and, well, my body began to react, to heat up, to respond to the stimulation it was being given. It was a wild, wicked, kinky, perverted scene, and as my fears faded my excitement rose. "Dirty little bitch," he said, pulling out and slapping my face with his cock. "If your cunt and asshole weren't already filled I'd bend you over right now and ram my cock into your dirty little belly." Then he thrust his cock into my open, gasping mouth and drove it down my throat again, twisting his fingers in my hair as he jammed my face into his groin. He ground my face into his groin, then pulled back, and I gasped for breath, saliva drooling over my lower lip. "Tell me you're my slut," he said, twisting his fingers in my hair. "Tell me!" "I-I'm your s-slut!" I gasped, coughing. "Tell me you're my bitch whore!" he demanded, twisting my head back. "I'm your bitch whore!" I cried. "Suck my cock. Suck it, whore," he growled, thrusting his cock into my open mouth again. He rammed it down my throat, jamming my face into his groin, then again, a third time, a fourth and a fifth time rapidly, then pulled back out again and as I was coughing and gasping for breath he pumped his cock and his semen sprayed over my already glistening wet face. He yanked me to my feet, though I couldn't hold myself up, and thrust me against his car, where I collapsed, belly down, across the hood. "Come, slut. Come for me," he ordered, slapping my bottom. He reached between my thighs and squeezed his fingers up against my groin, jamming the palm of his hand against the base of the vibrator. His fingers jammed against the rope, pulling, twisting at it, and he slapped my ass again, then again as I cried out in dazed pleasure and pain. And I did, shuddering as my muscles spasmed, my bottom jerking up and out again and again as he slapped my wet buttocks and jammed his fingers into my sex. My taut, straining breasts ground against the cool, metal hood of the car as I writhed and jerked and bucked against him, overwhelmed by the nasty, wicked sexual hedonism of what I was doing, and the intensity of the sexual pleasure ripping through my body. There was a large inner courtyard at school, covered over with skylights, circled by three levels of balconies and railings of the inside halls. It was a busy place during the day, with students occupying most if not all of its many tables and chairs and benches, others passing through on their way to various classes, and others buying snacks and drinks from the machines which lined the walls. Near the end of the day it was much more quiet, most of the tables empty, with just a few students sitting around chatting and studying. The day after my wild sexual experience with Tommy I was sitting there trying to concentrate on my art history text. Then he was suddenly there, beside me, and I looked up to find him looking down at me. My face was level with his groin, and I looked around as if subconsciously afraid others present would know, would think - something. "How do you feel, beautiful?" he asked in a soft voice. "Sore," I said. He smiled. "But you loved it." I nodded, a little reluctant to admit it so - so openly, to grant him that superiority, that - victory. I had my childish pride, after all, and I was about to say something to the effect that he loved it to when he shifted slightly forward, bringing his groin even closer to my face. "Tell me you're my little slut," he ordered. I looked past him, and around me, feeling my nipples tightening within the cups of my bra. I hesitated. "I'm your little slut," I whispered. "And you love my cock." Arrogant bastard, I thought, a bit amused. But I was also getting turned on. "And I love your cock," I said. "And you love it up the ass." I flushed, looking around again. "Say it, slut," he ordered. "I love your cock up the ass," I said, blushing. "You love to be fucked in the ass, don't you, slut?" I was starting to get into this game we were playing, and echoed him. "I love being fucked in the ass," I said. "I should bend you over the table right now and stuff my prick up your tight little ass," he said. "I should make you suck my cock right here." He couldn't make me do anything, but his words were hot and steamy. "I want to fuck you," he said. "Beg me to fuck you." "Please fuck me," I said boldly. He let his lips curve into a slow grin. "I want to fuck you right here at school," he said. "Follow me." I cringed now, looking around as he turned away, feeling suddenly anxious, wary. What did he intend to do? But he was already almost at the main stairway, a winding thing which went up through all four levels. He would not be happy if I didn't follow. And besides, if I didn't want to do it, I'd just say no. I scrambled after him, clutching my books to my chest, feeling self-conscious, as if the few students around had watched and knew. We walked up a wide corridor and he paused at the open doorway of a classroom. It was not just a class, but a lecture room, a large one. Three dozen tiers of seats half circled the room and looked down onto the small area before a blackboard where the professor stood. Tommy closed the door behind me and locked it. "What are you planning on doing?" I asked anxiously. "Fucking your tight pussy," he replied. He took my wrist and led me down the stairs past the empty rows of seats and desks to the bottom, then took my books away and set them on the first desk. He grinned at me, but it was an odd sort of grin, almost a cold grin, a determined grin. He picked up a little remote control and the lights went out, then a light came on up high near the top of the room at the far end. At first I thought it was a spotlight, but then realized it was a projector. Still, the affect was the same, a bright, narrow beam of light focused on wall just behind us. Behind me, because Tommy moved back, and when I started to follow he stopped me. "Stay there," he ordered. I complied, blinking a bit at the bright light. "Take off your clothes." I inhaled sharply. "Here!? Are you crazy!?" "Don't worry. The room is locked." "But - " "Don't be a child," he said, his voice impatient. "We can have some fun." I bit my lower lip. I wanted to have fun, and the thought of undressing was kind of exciting in an exhibitionist sort of way. And I didn't want Tommy upset. Still, I was nervous, anxious, and worried about being caught. I drew in a deep breath and expelled it, then looked down at my top and reached for the buttons, beginning to undo them. "Not like that," he said. I looked up in confusion. "Dance. Do a strip tease." I blushed. "There's no music." "You don't need music, little slut. You know how to move like a sexy girl." And I did, of course. I had practiced strip teases in my own bedroom before my mirror. Most girls I knew had. I'd never done it in front of a guy, though. My pulse picked up, and my heart beat more quickly. I felt more anxious, but also more excited. I began to roll my hips, slowly at first, but then with growing confidence. I was hot and sexy, and I knew it. I let my tongue trace along my lower lip, and gave him a sexy look - or at least, looked in his general direction. The light was pretty much blinding me. And then I had this idea, like there was a crowd of men there watching me, row on row of them. I knew there wasn't, of course, but the idea was really, really hot, and I tossed my head, letting my hair dance, rolling my hips, starting to move my legs now as I danced to unheard music and slowly undid the buttons down the front of my blouse. When they were down to the bottom I teasingly flipped open one side, then the other, still dancing and grinding my hips. I slid my hands up through my hair so that the shirt would part and reveal my soft blue bra and trim belly. I twirled and turned, and flung back my arms so the blouse slid over my shoulders and down my arms. I kicked off my shoes easily, then began to flip up my skirt teasingly, undoing the button and zipper and then, with wicked feeling of sexual heat, letting it drop around my ankles. I kicked it off and danced in my bra and thong, looking sexy towards where Tommy was, ran my hands slowly, tauntingly up and down my body, over my breasts. I turned and gripped the edge of the desk, pushed my ass back, shifted my legs apart, and rolled my bottom at him and the light. Then I undid my bra, covered my breasts with my arms, and turned, letting the bra fall off. My heart was pounding now, my pulse racing. I was hot, elated, excited, feeling really nasty and kinky and sexy as I danced practically naked in the classroom. People were walking back and forth just beyond the door, and I could occasionally hear low murmuring voices from the hall. I slid my hands up above me, arching my back, rolling my hips, my head going from side to side, my legs moving. I turned and turned again, then slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my thong, tugging it down a bit, then back up, then down, then up, then finally, down, and I was naked, dancing - naked! - in a classroom. "Squeeze your breasts," Tommy's voices said. "touch them." I did, lifting my breasts, letting my fingers dig into the soft, malleable flesh, rolling them together as I danced. "Pinch your nipples, tug on them." I did that too, giving him a sly, sexy look as I moved forward. "Go back against the desk. Lay back on it," he ordered. I danced back, pressing my bare bottom against the edge of the desk, arching my back, then letting my hands go behind me onto the top of the desk and kind of leaning back across it. "Lay on the desk, little slut." I lay slowly back, a crackling sexual electricity running back and forth over the surface of my skin. I had to draw my feet up and place them on the edge of the desk, and I anticipated Tommy's next order, shifting them slowly apart, farther and farther, blushing as he looked into me. "Run your hands over your gorgeous little body, little slut," his disembodied voice ordered. I let my hands coast up and down my body, sliding across my hot, throbbing breasts and stiff, burning nipples, down my belly, down along my inner thighs. "Squeeze your pussy." I flinched a bit, but put my hand over my pussy, squeezing myself a little. "Nasty little slut," he said. I arched my back, playing to him, playing the little slut. "Spread your pussy lips. Show me your clit. Show me how hot you are for me, little slut." I felt another sharp little jolt of excitement/hesitation. It was a nasty thing to do, but I did it, slipping my fingers against the lips of my sex and spreading them open to reveal the mouth of my pussy. "Yes. Show me that clit. Show me how hard it is," he said. I obeyed, gasping lightly now. "Rub it a little for me, little slut. " And I did, gasping at the sensations which poured out of my exquisitely sensitive clitoris, my juices flowing, heart pounding, blood racing as I rubbed at my clit, naked, under the bright white light. Tommy came forward then, a shadowy figure with the light behind him. He stopped before me, running his hands up and down my body, and I groaned in pleasure. He bent and licked at my belly button, circling it, then spread my legs wider and ran his tongue directly down over my clit. I shuddered, pushing my hips up as his thumbs spread my pussy lips wide and his mouth worked at my clit. But then I felt something pushing into me, something too large to be his finger, and too cold to be his cock. I raised my head, panting, staring, and saw him holding something, a large realistically shaped dildo. I gaped at it, watching as Tommy slowly pushed it into me, pumped it in and out, then pushed it deeper. He looked up at me, grinning, then took my hand and put it on the dildo. It was large and thick, and he pushed his hand against mine, forcing it deeper. I groaned, for it ached, but I loved the penetration, the fullness. I pushed it deeper, and he backed away, and I was alone again as if I were on a stage, working the dildo deeper and deeper into my pussy. I was soon pumping it freely, gasping, my mind rolling with the intoxicating fever of sexual heat. My legs were spread so far apart the tendons in my thighs ached. I was rubbing at my clitoris with my right hand while I pumped the dildo with my left. "Deeper, little slut," Tommy growled. "Ram it up your hot, buttery little cunt." I gasped at his crude language, but it inflamed me, and I pumped the dildo harder, deeper, faster, even though it hurt, fucking myself roughly, just as I loved being fucked roughly, my hips rising to meet the thrusting dildo, circling, jerking, bucking against my fingers as the sexual high grew more intense, until it seemed to take over the entire world and nothing else mattered. I was gasping more and more loudly, panting, moaning, whining like a bitch in heat. The sexual hunger had taken me over, and I was afire with lust due to my own wanton, slutty behavior, playing to my exhibitionist nature as I masturbated before him. I had never acted as slutty before anyone before, and was feeling a sense of wildness and thrill. And then Tommy was there again, running his hands up and down my body, roughly fondling and groping my breasts, pinching my nipples. He pushed my hands away and thrust the dildo deep - painfully deep, ignoring my gasp of pain as he buried it inside me. He gripped my thighs and dragged my bottom over the edge of the desk, then twisted me around. My feet fell to the floor, and I yelped as his hand cracked across my bare bottom. "Spread `em, slut," he ordered. I groaned and raised my bottom, shifting my bare legs wide apart. Another slap to my bottom made me yelp softly, then his fingers were at my pussy, rubbing at my clit, pumping the dildo in and out. He pulled it free, and I felt vacant, then his cock slid into me and I groaned and pushed back against him. He pumped into me in slow, deep motions, and his fingers kneaded my buttocks. I felt his hands at my wrists, pulling them back down along the length of my body, then folding them up and back behind me, pushing them up along my spine until my shoulders ached and my crossed wrists were between my shoulder blades. "Oh! Oh, Tommy!" I gasped. "Quiet, slut. Shove that cunt back onto my prick like a good little whore." I gasped again as I felt my hair pulled back. He pulled it into a kind of rough braid and then wrapped it around my wrists, forcing my head back, and my arms even higher. I started to protest but a moment later the dildo was at my mouth, then inside it. "Suck that cock, little slut. Little cocksucker, suck on it," he ordered, his cock thrusting into me harder, faster. I moaned around the dildo, tasting my own cream with more than a touch of squeamishness. But I had little choice about what to do as he pushed it in and out and I could do nothing to stop it. He plunged the dildo into my mouth, and then made me gag by driving it right down my throat. At the same time he picked up speed, his hips hammering against my tiny bottom, jamming my thighs into the edge of the desk as he pounded his cock into my pussy. He pulled the dildo out of my mouth and I coughed and gasped for breath, feeling the nose pushing against my rectum now, twisting from side to side, pushing in and drawing back. I groaned as it penetrated me, the head slipping past my sphincter. "Tell me you love it up the ass, slut," he ordered. I was too busy gulping in air, and he slapped at my bottom and repeated the demand. "I-I lo-love it up the ass!" I gasped. He thrust the dildo deeper, twisting it, pushing and pulling, jamming it deeper as his cock continued to drill into my belly. "Tell me you're my bitch," he ordered. "I-I'm your bit-bitch!" I panted. "Oh! Oh! T-Tommy! Not so hard!" He slapped my bottom again, the sharp crack of sound seeming to fill the room as I yelped in pain. "Tell me you love my cock, slut." "I love your cock," I panted. "Then beg for it!" he ordered. "Please fuck me! P-please fuck me!" I moaned. "Please fuck my ass," he ordered. "Please fuck my ass!" I groaned. "Oh!" He jammed the dildo up high, and I felt cramps inside me. It was so deep I could feel most of his hand as he laid his palm against the base of it, could feel the pressure as he forced it still deeper. I cried out softly, breathlessly, wincing and moaning as it was jammed into my bowels. All the while his cock pounded into me from behind, thrusting high into my belly as his hips beat a tattoo against my bottom. "Yeah, you love it, slut," he said, slapping my bottom. "you love getting butt fucked, little rape slut." I gasped and moaned at his words, at his hands, at the pain and pleasure. He groped my breasts roughly, slapped my bottom again, and pounded his cock into my pussy. When he reached beneath me and began to finger my clit I was a goner, and all that sexual electricity seemed to erupt in a crescendo of snapping nerve endings and spasming muscles as the orgasm roared inside me. I went limp, gasping for breath, eyes rolled back in my head, but Tommy continued to hammer into me, driving his big prick deep into my spasming, burning pussy for a long minute or two before finally coming inside me and slowing down. He chuckled then, leaning over me, kissing me on the side of the cheek and on the throat. "Hot little slut," he said. "I'm going to rape you ever day. You need to be raped and fucked all the time." I wouldn't have called it rape, but somehow his using the word made what had happened seem darker and more edgy. I was feeling a bit of gratitude, though, that we were done, and I could get my clothes on. Tommy, though, had other plans. He scooped my clothes up, grinning at me, and dumped them into a gym bag I hadn't noticed on the first desk. "Tommy?" I said nervously. Chapter 5 We did not go back to his place, not right away. Tommy pushed me into his car naked and I slumped there against the back and door, panting for breath as he drove. He reached across often as he drove, fondling my breasts, pinching my aching nipples, and rubbing at my pussy. We arrived at a busy shopping mall and he ordered me out, then put the poncho on me again and we went into the store. It seemed much worse than the school, because everything in the store was warm and soft and comforting, and there were so many more people, including housewives, seniors, and children. And I was walking around naked, exposed, tie dup, the dildo and vibrator still jammed inside me, my nipples still tugging against the cords. Only the little poncho protected me from arrest and humiliation. I can't tell you how bizarre it felt to stand in a line of people next to Tommy as we waited at a cash register, with my breasts tied, my nipples bound in cords, my arms tied back behind me and my pussy mouth and anal opening spread wide around the base of the sex toys he had jammed inside me. When we finally got back to his place he untied the lower part of the rope, the loops which went between my legs, pulled the vibrator out of my pussy, and rode me furiously until I screamed in pleasure and he poured his salty cream into my belly. He removed the ropes, then, gently, kissing the red marks on my arms and wrists, licking at the lines around my breasts, and sucking on my nipples until I came just from the intense sensations his tongue and mouth woke in my body. He handcuffed my wrists behind my back, then led me into his big tub again and very gently and carefully cleaned me. He dried me afterwards, and even brushed out my hair and dried it. Then he led me into the kitchen and sat me down - on the floor, on my heels, and cooked dinner, feeding me himself as I knelt there before him. When he poured me a bowl of milk he set it on the floor and I didn't need any instructions on what to do. I leaned in and drank from it on my knees. Yes, it was wild and kinky and sexually thrilling. I felt incredibly wanton, really slutty - but in a good way - in a hot, sleek, sophisticated way. We watched TV after dinner, and I sat across his lap, still handcuffed. We chatted, just as a boyfriend and girlfriend might, and he watched TV as he idly stroked, caressed and fingered my body. He never brought me close to the edge - except once when he drove me wild by licking and suckling at my still-aching nipples - but he kept my body in a low to medium state of sexual heat the entire evening. As we got towards the end of the evening he stroked and caressed me more and more often, until I could not hold my body still, but writhed, wriggled and rolled my hips in response. My breath quickened and I began to moan and sigh and gasp in pleasure. He made me say all kinds of nasty, wicked things, to call myself his whore, his slut, his bitch, his meat, and beg him to fuck and sodomise me. Saying the words was strangely arousing all by itself, for I'd never imagined ever talking like that to anyone. It was so - brazen, so chocking, so crude. And yet demeaning myself like that was turning me on - especially the way his fingers were moving over my body. I wasn't sure why I was drawing the line at "slave-bitch", except that I had been wriggling and writhing for twenty minutes and wanted to provoke him, and because it sounded especially low and degrading. On the other hand, it sounded especially thrilling, too. But I felt suddenly impudent, wanting to provoke him, and so I refused. "Fuck you," I said with a haughty look. "Say I'm your slave-bitch, master," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Bite my ass," I said carelessly, turning my head away. I wasn't really sure what I intended except teasing him. I had not expected to be quickly and roughly rolled over onto her belly, her bottom in the air as his hands caressed my buttocks. "Say it, slut," he ordered. "Fuck you," I exclaimed. His hand cracked against my bottom with a sharp report, and I yelped at the sting. "Say it, slut." "No!" I said defiantly - a little breathless with excitement. He slapped my bottom again, and again I yelped and jerked, and again, and again I yelped and jerked. He thrust his thumb into my overheated pussy, twisting it around inside, then pressed his index and dialing finger against my clit and squeezed his thumb in. He began to grind my clit between them and my insides went wild, my bottom almost immediately bucking up against him. His other hand cracked against my bottom and I yelped again, but the sharp little sting couldn't do a thing to push back the flood of pleasure my body was pumping out. Again he slapped me, and again, and again, as though he were spanking me. He pulled his fingers away from my bottom, using his left hand to caress my body, to knead my breasts as his right gently stroked my bottom. "Say it, Emily, you little fuck toy." "No," I gasped. "And call me master.' "Master asshole!" I cried, taunting him. He slapped my bottom again, and now began to rain blows on it in tight, sharp strokes so that after the fifth or sixth blow I began to kick and yelp and struggle as my bottom warmed. He paused in his spanking to finger my pussy, sliding his thumb up inside me again, his left hand going beneath me to knead my breasts. Again he worked me up into a feverish state of need, and again he demanded I call him master. And again I refused. He began to spank me, and now my bottom was really hot, the blows stinging pretty bad, but I still refused. It was a shaky refusal, though, and I think he knew it. He alternated between spanking and fingering, while I began to sweat from the heat and turmoil inside me. My bottom burned and stung from the blows, but my pussy throbbed even hotter. The pain and pleasure were becoming intertwined, and all I knew was that I wanted to come - terribly. "All right, master, master!" I cried finally. "Are you my bitch-slave?" "Yes!" I exclaimed. "Say it, bitch." "I'm your bitch-slave, master!" I cried. "Show me, bitch-slave. Show me." "How?" I groaned. He shoved me off his lap and onto my knees on the floor. All right, I thought. I would show him my power now. I'd turn his knees into jelly, and I leaned forward to take his cock into my mouth. But he put his foot against my chest between my breasts and thrust me back, not hard, not really rough, but enough that I fell back onto my back. "No, bitch-slave, I didn't say you could suck my cock yet. Show me how you worship me first." And he kind of raised his foot and wiggled his toes at me. I was confused, at first. Well, hell, I was panting, wild-eyed, my hair sticking out, perspiration sheeting my body. I looked at his bare toes and then up at him, and he gave me a significant look like I was supposed to understand. And then I did. The idea drove another wicked shock into my mind and body. At first I thought there was no damned way I was going to do what he wanted. But almost immediately I remembered we had both bathed together recently, and remembered how he had licked at my toes when he'd tied me to the bed, and the idea became extremely hot and wicked. I would be his little bitch slave, showing him how submissive I was! And so I leaned for over and licked at his toes, feeling something like an electrical charge in my belly as my tongue made contact with his skin. "That's it, you nasty little slut. Lick my toes. Suck my big toe, bitch. Show me how you worship me." It was so - over the top - that I just figured it was a wild, wicked sexual game. And it was, of course - sort of. And so I licked at his toes, and took his big toe into my mouth and sucked and licked at it. "Beg for permission to suck my cock, slut." "Please can I suck your cock, Tommy?" I panted. He slapped my face, lightly, but it stung. "Master," he growled. "Can I suck your cock, master?" I begged. It was just a wild, sinfully wicked game, and so I was willing to say almost anything. Every degrading word made my pussy thrum a little, and my nipples quiver. "I'm your little bitch slut, Master. Please let me suck your beautiful cock," I said, my body now starting to almost tremble with the power of the hunger inside. He grabbed my hair, raising me upright on my knees, twisting my head up and back, then down and forward, forcing my lips over his cock. I sucked and licked, taking it deeper, and then felt both his hands on my head, thrusting me down, impaling me on his prick. It drove deep into my throat and my face ground into his groin. Then he pulled on my hair, pulling me up, and then thrust me down again. He spread his hands, gripping my head, pumping it up and down on his cock as I gagged weakly and gurgled in pain. His cock was thrusting up and down too hard in my throat to be anything like comfortable. And yet when he pulled it free and twisted my head back, arching my back, slapping lightly at my breasts as I coughed and gasped for breath, I still felt an incredible wave of lust and excitement. "Suck that cock, bitch-slave," he growled, forcing my mouth down onto his cock again. He jammed my face into his groin once more, his hand holding me there, bent over, his other hand roughly groping my breast, then slapping at it stingingly, then riding over my bottom, kneading my buttocks, slapping them too. "Nasty little slut slave," he said. "Dirty little fuck toy. You're my bitch, my cunt." He pulled my mouth off his cock again and I gasped and panted for breath. Then he turned me around and forced me down across the coffee table. He slapped my ass again and I yelped in pain. "Spread `em, slut. Show me your cunt," he ordered. I did, gasping, chest heaving as I raised my bottom and shifted my knees apart on the rug. He moved into place behind me and slapped my bottom again, then I felt his cock rubbing up and down my pussy slit before he drove it into me - hard. It hurt, but it also felt wonderful, intensely sensual and hot to have him filling me up at last. He rode me hard and fast, using me, slapping at my bottom and groping my breasts, pulling at my hair and calling me names. His hips slammed against my bottom hard enough to send shudders through my entire body, and his hard prick pistoned inside me so that my pussy walls felt beaten and bruised. But God it was good! I came so hard I could hardly keep from screaming. My body was in meltdown, my bottom jerking and pumping back at him, my head rolling and thrashing, my hips grinding, my insides heaving and twisting as the violent sensory storm tore through my mind. "Bitch," he said, slapping my ass while he continued to fuck me. "I should bring in my friends and let them gang bang you. Nasty little slut. Dirty little fuck toy. Take that cock, whore." He stopped, then, leaving me gasping and weak, pulling his stiff prick out of me. He was far from finished. I knew Tommy could go no for quite some time. That was one of the things that made sex with him so hot. He moved away from me, letting me catch my breath, then when he returned he had some rope. I wasn't even watching what he was doing at first, but then I was pulled up off the table, pulled to my feet. He had a hand on my cuffed wrists, and raised them upwards. I groaned, bending forward, bending harder as he raised my wrists higher and higher behind me. I turned and twisted, trying to see and he slapped my bottom stingingly. Then he moved away and I felt that my wrists were locked up above me, behind me. I turned and saw he had attached the rope to a hook in the ceiling and it was tied to the handcuffs. It was an uncomfortable position, bent over with my cuffed wrists raised high, but before I could think about complaining he made it more uncomfortable. He got more rope, and a sort of stick, a long round black tube with rings on either end, to my ankles. This forced me to spread them apart and keep them apart, and it lowered me so that my wrists were forced up even higher. Then he pulled my head up by the hair and thrust the thick penis gag into my mouth, pulling the strap tight around my head and buckling it in place. Next he winked at me, showing me a pair of little alligator clips attached to small metal squares and drew the first to my breast. As I was bent over at almost a ninety degree angle my breasts were hanging down below, of course, and now he snapped the alligator clips around my nipples. I yelled into the gag, twisting and turning, but to no avail. The clips really bit down on my poor, sensitive nipples, and for long seconds it was like fire was consuming them. I yelled and squealed into the gag, but quickly learned that my movements were only making things worse. The things attached to the clips by short chains were heavy, and every time my body moved they swung and pulled harder. I had to stay still, as difficult as that was, and slowly, slowly the intensity of the pain began to fade. But it still hurt! I kept my head up, although it was growing difficult, and glared accusingly at him. He only grinned back. "Slave bitches need to be tortured, you know," he said. I didn't find it amusing. I thought he was going too far with his game, and I was resolved to tell him so as soon as he took the gag out. As the pain faded to a dull throbbing, though, I began to feel a renewed heat. It was pretty damned kinky to be tied up this way, especially with weights hanging from my nipples. How perverted was that!? And I was so, well, so obscenely positioned as he moved around me, fingering my pussy and groping my breasts. A moment later the vibrator began to play over my clit, and my anger dissolved as the heat was stoked higher. My bottom began to quiver and jerk, and I moaned, twisting from side to side. "Time for more torture, slave." I was just starting to feel wary of that when he clipped another weight to my clit. My eyes bulged and I screamed into the gag, but almost immediately realized that just as with the weights hanging from my nipples my movements only made it hurt more. So I was forced to stay absolutely still as the pain tore at my pussy, biting frantically into the gag as I fought through the storm of pain and waited for it to ease. Finally, it did, and I was able to start breathing again. I was now sweating, and moaned into the gag. I couldn't keep my head up any more. It was too heavy, so was forced to drop it, staring at the floor, my face surrounded by a curtain of hair so that I could hardly see anything but what was happening just below me. That meant my legs, my breasts, the weights dangling from them, and the weight dangling from my clit. I cursed him thoroughly in my mind, chewing on the gag, feeling very much hard done by. He bent behind me and slowly fed the vibrator into my pussy. He pushed it deep, and it was the one with the little hook at the end so that it was pressed up against the side of my throbbing, aching clit. And then he began to lick my anal opening. No one had ever done that to me before. I'd never even heard of doing such a thing before. I was shocked, and the shock kind of blew away my anger. And then as his tongue began to slowly, wetly circle my wrinkled little opening I felt the strange sensations sinking into my body and mind and gasped at the power of them. If you've never felt a warm, wet, soft tongue stroking against your anal opening, well, let me tell you it sure takes your mind off everything else! The sensation was amazing, and the harder he licked the more I moaned into the gag. The pain was pushed aside as my sexual heat grew into a fever, and I began to unconsciously thrust myself back against him. Doing so made the weights dangling from my clit and nipples swing and pull, but now, for some reason, the steady little tugging only added to my excitement. Yes, it hurt, but the pain was now feeding my pleasure. "Little bitch slut whore," he said, taunting me, "You want me to fuck your ass, don't you? You want my big cock inside you." And I did! The thought of him fucking my tingling, throbbing ass right then and there was desperately attractive. I moaned into the gag, trying to beg him to put it in, but instead he continued to tongue me, his hands going up to squeeze and knead my breasts, then to slap at them lightly, making them sting and swing and jiggle. He rolled and pulled at my nipples until I yelped in pain, then slapped at my bottom. He got up and moved around in front of me, much to my dissatisfaction, then lifted my face up by pulling at my hair. He undid the gag and pried it out, then thrust his cock into my mouth, driving it deep into my throat. He held my face against his groin, then began to pump in hard, short, sharp little thrusts. This caused my body to jerk back and forth, of course, and made the weights jerk and pull and swing. He slapped the sides of my breasts as he called me his bitch slut, groped them, and slapped my bottom. Then he pulled out of my mouth and let my head fall. I coughed and moaned as he moved around behind me and once more began to tongue my anal opening. I think I was going crazy with all the signals flaring through my body, the pain and pleasure, the wild, kinky sexual heat, and the growing need to come. He pulled his tongue away and pushed something else into my ass. I thought hopefully that it was his cock at first, then realized it was something else, something fat and round which forced my sphincter to open wide, then slid inside me. My anal opening closed behind it - but not all the way, and it seemed to be lodged there, part of it pressed against the outside of my anus, the rest inside. He came around in front of me and pulled my head up by the hair again. I groaned and he thrust his cock into my mouth. "You're my dirty little white slut, aren't you, bitch," he said, pumping steadily in and out of my mouth. "I'm going to bring my friends over to rape you," he said. "I'm going to have a lineup on both sides of you, stiff pricks ready to bury themselves in your hot, slutty body. I'm going to get you drowned in semen." He eased his pumping and pulled his cock out and I inhaled deeply, gasping for breath. He pulled harder on my hair, forcing my head up higher. "You want to be gang raped, don't you, slut?" he said. "Tell me you want to be gang raped. Beg me to have you gang raped." I couldn't talk at first, then did, begging him. "Yes! Please g-gang rape me," I moaned. In fact, at that moment I would have said anything, but the image in my mind of me being gang raped was thoroughly, wildly exciting. He punched his cock into my throat again, pumping hard and fast and pulling out, dropping my head as I coughed and gagged, and going around behind me. He slapped my bottom hard, then again, then again, spanking me, calling me names, then making me call myself names, making me beg for his cock, beg him to gang rape me, beg him to beat me and torture me. Then he pulled the vibrator out, rammed his cock into my pussy, and hammered himself against me for a hard, brutal ride that drove me to an intense climax. As my body shook violently under the blows of his hips the weighted clips pulled stingingly at my clit and nipples, again and again and again, every time his hips struck me, and somehow those sharp little pains drove the orgasm into heights I'd never felt before, so that I couldn't stop myself letting out loud, prolonged cries of pleasure and wonder. And still he wasn't finished. For now he bent and removed the weight from my clit. The pain was intense, worse than when it went on, but when it eased, when the pain had dropped back to the level of relief, and pins and needles, he put the vibrator directly against my clit and ground it back and forth. I almost dislocated my arms. Let me tell you something, the incredible surge of sensations was almost beyond pleasure, almost painful in itself. I howled like an animal and climaxed again and again, my entire body bucking and shaking and jerking so hard I almost tore my arms out of their sockets. I think Tommy was afraid I'd do just that, because he undid the rope from my handcuffs and let me fall to the floor. Then he pulled the clips off my nipples. Just as with the one on my clit they hurt terribly. But just like before when the ache faded into a wonderful sense of relief, and they were almost sparking with pins and needles, he mouthed them and began to lick and suck. At the same time he used the vibrator on my clit and drove me into more orgasms. Again, I spent the night in his bed, folded in his harms, handcuffed hand and foot. Chapter 6 Over the following days Tommy tied me up regularly, most of the time, in fact. I was spending most evenings and nights at his place, almost always naked and either handcuffed or tied up in some way. He spanked me a lot now, but always while fingering and fondling me so that the spanking turned into more pleasure than pain. He always told me what a hot, nasty, slutty, beautiful little fuck toy I was, and often threatened to find a bunch of guys to gang bang me. I was calling him Master a lot now, though I still called him Tommy, too. And I was calling myself nasty names at his direction. One night after he had spread-eagled me on the bed and tormented me for hours, making me come, making me yelp and moan in pain, making me beg for his cock, calling myself names, he showed me that he had put a video camera in the corner. Then he showed me the video of myself, sweating, my face strained, my eyes wild, my body twisting and writhing and bucking. The sight of myself, the sound of my cries, my begging, my own degrading statements made my face burn, and yet it also made my pussy burn. He began to take videos of me then, and it excited me. I masturbated with dildos and vibrators while he took videos. I sucked his cock while he took videos. I begged him to be fucked, sodomised and gang raped. I told him I was a miserable little fuck hungry slut who was his bitch, his slave, his sex toy. It was intensely exciting! One day he produced this leather harness thing, with straps that crossed my chest and belly, and one which dug into my pussy and forced a butt-plug deep into my ass. He clipped weights to my nipples, and put leather restraints around my wrists, forcing them up high behind my back, attached by a short chain to the back of the collar I wore. He proceeded to torment me, to make me writhe and buck in heat, to beg him to fuck me, to beg him to bring in his friends to gang rape me. Then he gagged me with a new kind of gag and made me kneel, sitting on my heels. He strapped my ankles to my thighs and put a spreader bar between my knees so I couldn't move at all. Then he opened the door and two strangers walked in, two Chinese guys I'd never met, both of them broad shouldered and good looking. I was intensely aroused at that point, so hot that I was actually straining myself upwards so that the strap digging into my bare pussy would do so rhythmically and make me come. I was close. When I saw those two guys come in the blood left my face and I was - stunned, shocked, and then mortified. I couldn't believe it, and my instinctive efforts, frantic efforts, to hide myself went for naught. Tommy talked to them, but not in English. They stared at me hungrily, and Tommy pulled back on my hair so my back would arch. My mind was spinning, my eyes bulging, my skin now flaming red with humiliation. I still couldn't believe there were two strange men staring at me naked. Worse than naked! The strap digging into my pussy was half an inch wide, and simply forced my sex lips apart. My breasts were naked, the weights dangling from my nipples, and there was a butt-plug up my back opening. I was kneeling, legs spread, and could do nothing to move away. I couldn't even protest because of the gag I my mouth. They and Tommy spoke in Chinese, obviously about me. But I couldn't understand a word. Tommy pulled my head back and fondled my breasts, and one of the Chinese guys squatted before me, kneading the other breast, his finger going against the little weight so it swung back and forth. They all laughed. Then Tommy got them drinks and they all sat down on the sofa. I knelt with my back to the sofa, Tommy's legs on either side of me, his hands in my hair. The TV came on, and I was mortified again as the three began to watch the videos of me. They laughed, they joked, they made sharp little comments, all in Chinese. For fifteen or twenty minutes they watched videos of me being fucked and sodomised, of me masturbating, and listened to me cry out in pleasure, listened to me beg for cock, watched me cry out in climax. If I could have died of humiliation I would have. At least, in the first five minutes. But after that I kind of started to go numb, though my face still burned furiously. Every new thing that came on made me cringe anew. Believe it or not my humiliation was so great, at first, it didn't even occur to me what them being there meant. I cursed Tommy, I thought of all the things I would say to him, do to him, and I cringed again and again as the video turned to more and more embarrassing things. It was only as the video wound on, as my intense humiliation began to fade, becoming anesthetized, that the thought hit me like a lightning bolt. These guys are going to fuck me. Tommy brought them here to fuck me, to rape me, just like he'd been having me beg for all this week! I was astonished, then frightened, then anxious and worried and embarrassed all at the same time. Of course, they wouldn't think of it as rape, I realized. They weren't rapists. And even that idiot Tommy probably thought I wanted it, since he'd had me begging for it. And I couldn't protest, and I couldn't escape. I watched the video end with dread and fear, and then Tommy pulled back on my hair so my back arched across the edge of the sofa, and the two men got down on their knees on either side of me. They pulled the clips off my nipples, and I bucked and moaned in pain. They began to run their hands eagerly over my body, fingering my pussy, kneading my breasts. Tommy continued to speak to them in Chinese, and they spoke back in the same language. They leaned in at almost the same time, sucking and licking at my throbbing nipples. And it felt good. It felt very good. I was still frantic, though, needing to communicate somehow that I didn't want them to fuck me, didn't want them to touch me. But my head was flat on the sofa, between Tommy's thighs, staring up at the ceiling, and at him. But he wasn't looking at my face. He too was running his hand over my breasts. The strap between my legs was undone and pulled out, and now their fingers began to push into me. I couldn't close my legs, of course, because of the spreader bar. I couldn't straighten my legs either because my ankles were strapped to my thighs. Tommy and they pulled my knees up and back now, so they were pressed against the sofa on either side of my body. My head stayed where it was, and now someone was licking at my pussy, and not doing a bad job of it. They began to strip, and I saw their cocks sticking out stiff and hard - and big, with a sense of dread but also, well, a sort of resignation. They weren't going to hurt me, after all, and they all probably thought I wanted it, and I blamed myself, in part, because, after all, I had begged for it, hadn't I? And hadn't I even got hot thinking about being gang banged? And I had three good looking guys running their hands over me, licking and sucking and fingering me. With them as naked as I was my humiliation faded still further. I don't know why. They jabbered to each other in Chinese, never speaking to me, and I felt sort of - set aside, like I wasn't a part of this group, like I was, I don't know what. It made me feel inferior, somehow. I couldn't do anything, couldn't even communicate with them. Their hands moved me and positioned me as though I were weightless, and after some kind of Chinese language consultation they lifted me up and bent me over the coffee table. I was on my knees now, with my ankles pressed up against my thighs, and the spreader bar still down between my knees keeping them forced wide. I felt the butt-plug pulled and twisted amid laughter, and fingers at my sex, my warm, moist sex. And then someone slid his cock into me and began to fuck me. I didn't know who, at first, but a glimpse of Tommy out of the corner of my eye showed it wasn't him. Then the second guy moved into view. The guy fucking me eased up and they shifted my body towards the end of the coffee table. Then the guy behind me resumed pumping while the second guy, now at the edge of the table, worked at my gag. I thought for a moment he'd pull it free and I could talk, protest, yell, but it turned out this gag had a hard ring which was hollow. I hadn't realized it because there was a plug in it. Now the guy pulled the plug out and this left my mouth open and vacant, save for the ring between my jaws holding my mouth wide. I tried to talk, to say something, but his hand gripped my head, forcing it to the side, pressing my ear against the table. Then his cock pushed through the ring and into my mouth. My body was shaking from the impact of the other guy's hips against my bottom, and now the second guy drove his cock right through my mouth and down my throat. Resignation began to change to acceptance. This was happening. Deal with it. They weren't going to hurt me. The humiliation had faded into something just into embarrassment. And the old fantasies were starting to rise as their hands played over my body, as their cocks moved inside me. How many times in my life was I going to do something as wild and kinky as this, I thought (naively, as it turned out). I should relax and enjoy it. That was easier thought than done. I was still embarrassed, still grossly uncomfortable as these strange men fondled and used me. But my experiences with Tommy had changed my thinking, somewhat, and just as I had been really getting into being used, being roughly taken, even being spanked and degraded with him I now began to think of this along the same lines. I was being raped! Well, not really. But still, the fantasies began to play out, and I began to feel the soft, squishy pleasure turning into something hard-edged and intense. As the cock behind me continued to thrust in and out, as the one in my mouth pushed deep into my throat, as their hands moved over me, mauling and groping my naked body, my insides began to throb and thrum with excitement and hunger. "I can't believe this is happening to me", was a common refrain running through my shattered mind. But so too was "Ungh! Oh! Oh! God! Ooooo!" The two Chinese guys traded turns, the one behind me moving to the side, the one on the side going behind me and driving himself into my pussy. The guy on the side jerked on my hair, holding my head on its side on the table, and thrust his prick down my throat, pumping in and out as he shouted something to the other. A hand slapped my bottom stingingly, and there was male laughter. Hands groped my breasts and pinched my nipples. The man's groin slapped into my face again and again as he fucked my throat. Then with much eager chatter they pulled out and twisted me around. Now I was laying on the coffee table, my bottom at the edge. My knees were pushed back, still bound to the spreader bar, and then jammed down against my shoulders. The man there pulled the butt-plug out of my rectum, and began to slide his cock into me there instead. I moaned helplessly, my head now falling over the other edge of the table, upside down as the other guy moved in and fed his cock into my open mouth. Their hands mauled my breasts and pinched and twisted my nipples as they both buried their cocks in my body and began to pump. Then someone, probably the guy sodomising me, began to pinch and rub at my clit. I was really starting to get into it now, believe it or not. I had now accepted what was happening and decided that it was going to be one of the most memorable sexual experiences of my life, so I threw myself open to it and took whatever they gave me. And they gave me a lot. Embarrassment was still there, but greatly weakened. And with the cock still pounding into my rectum and the finger rubbing at my clit I came, crying out, moaning into the cock raping my throat, twisting and writhing. They twisted my position again and again, putting me on the floor, then on the sofa, then on the table again. They removed the spreader bar, but only to spread my legs even wider. I knelt at the edge of the sofa sucking Tommy's cock as one of the men used my pussy. I was jammed into the corner of the sofa, ankles pressed back against my ears as one of the men sodomised me hard. I was bent double on the floor, and then twisted onto all fours, or at least, onto my knees and shoulders as someone took me or sodomised me. In a way it seemed kinkier, more embarrassing, more intense, when one of them took me and the others just sat back and watched and chatted in Chinese. I don't know why, maybe some kind of exhibitionistic thing. But I felt especially hot then, especially out of control, and I came with even more intensity, my insides exploding with wildfire pleasure. After they left, hours later, Tommy picked up my weary, battered body and carried me into the bathroom. He left my hands cuffed behind me, but removed everything else as he settled me into the water and gently bathed my body. Then he dried it, brushed my hair, and carried me into the front room, sitting me, still naked, but wrapped in a very soft blanket, in front of the fireplace. As the fire crackled, he held me in his arms and fed me a soft, warm hot chocolate, kissed me, caressed me, and told me I was his wonderful, beautiful, special sex creature, like a nymph from the forest, a wild sexual animal that made everyone who saw me wild with heat. My pussy and breasts were bruised and sore, but that just made them more sensitive, and he was able to gently masturbate me to a climax as he held me in his arms. "... and the essence of counter-cyclical fiscal policy is that the federal budget should move towards a deficit during recession and towards a surplus during inflation." I stifled a yawn as I looked down over the heads of the other students at professor Railan pacing back and forth behind the podium below. Economics was not one of my favorite courses, but it was mandatory, and I slumped forward a little across the desk, propped on my elbow, trying to pay attention despite the lack of sleep I'd gotten recently. I was starting to get in trouble in this course, among others, for missing classes and not doing homework. It was hard to do homework with your hands always handcuffed behind your back, after all, and a vibrator sticking inside you half the time. I let my eyes roam over the rest of the students in the lecture room, wondering if any of them had the kind of kinky life I was becoming accustomed to. Almost certainly not, I thought, with more than a bit of smug superiority. Some of them were probably still virgins, I thought, with an inner sneer. Meanwhile I was becoming an incredible sophisticate in the world of sex, learning new things all the time, doing things they could only ever fantasize about. I was wearing loose white cargo pants and a form-fitting red t-shirt. My bare belly was a bit cool in the air-conditioned class, but the coolness wasn't responsible for my stiff nipples. They just seemed to always be stiff nowadays. Maybe it was because Tommy was always tying something to them, or putting clamps on them, or pulling, twisting and biting them. But they were super-sensitive these days, and showed clearly through the red t-shirt and the thin lacy bra beneath. A while ago that would have bothered me. I mean, yes I was kind of an exhibitionist, but I was still a bit shy about things like that. Not now. Now it made me kind of preen. Likewise, the cargo pants, which were loose but low on my hips, so low that the white lace strap of my thong showed over the waistband so that I had to keep tugging them up. And so low that they felt like they could fall down at any moment as I walked. Why did that make me hot? I couldn't say. But it did. I was even more aware of my attractiveness, even more turned on by being wanted, being looked at, being desired, than I had been before. I wasn't exactly flashing people, but I was pleased to be showing what I was showing, very much aware of how I looked with my loose blonde hair flowing over my shoulders. I felt a sense of relief as the class finally ended. I folded my books and grabbed my purse, then stood up and moved into the crowd headed up the stairs for the doors. Guys looked at me. I was aware of it, but didn't really dwell on it. I followed the line out the door and headed through the corridor for my next class, thinking about the gang bang I'd had the other day. Why hadn't I screamed and cursed and hit Tommy and broken our relationship off? Well, because I had come to accept, somewhere in the middle of my gang bang, that I was responsible, and that it was - exciting, fun, kinky, hot. Yes, at first, I'd wanted to kill him, but by the end I'd experienced such intense excitement and thrill that I let him off the hook. I had accepted that what he'd done wasn't that bad, that I'd asked for it, in a way. In a weird way I was even a little grateful. A lot of girls had fantasies about doing something that wild and never dared to try them. I knew that if left to myself I never would have dared to try it. But he'd forced me into it and the memory was thrilling me days later. Especially since they'd taken videos. God! I'd made my own porn movie! And what a porn movie it was! If any of my friends saw it I'd never live it down. Having done such things in front of the camera, having Tommy hold the videos, made me feel like my life was in his hands. In a sense that wasn't bad because I did trust him. But it made me feel, perhaps almost unconsciously, that I had to do what he told me. Even if the master and slave thing was just a hot, kinky game. For the rest of the week he used me while videos of the little gang bang played on his big screen TV in the background, the sound track filled with my cries of pleasure. But every time I let him tie me up I felt a little sense of nervousness, of anxiety. I knew I was truly helpless, that he could do anything to me. And strangely enough that just gave our hot, kinky bondage sex even more of an edge. He called me his bitch-slave a lot, and I called him master a lot, and I was always naked at his place now, and almost always tied in some way. A week after that first little gang bang Tommy decided to punish me and tie me up in a new way. He had leather restraints now that he buckled around my wrists and ankles. I wore them often. I also had a matching collar. He led me into the centre of the room and I saw a pair of chains dangling from the ceiling. Without speaking Tommy raised my right arm high and locked one of the chains to my wrist restraint. Then he took my other wrist and raised it up and out to the other side, shifting my body, and attaching that wrist to the other chain. Next he kicked my legs apart, so far apart I was forced onto the balls of my feet. Then two short chains locked my ankle restraints to rings set into a wall on one side and a narrow roof support beam on the other. I felt a sense of anticipation, of growing excitement. I was naked, of course, and now Tommy put a little chain around my waist and let one part hang down my belly. He put the vibrator inside me and attached the base to that chain, then thrust the butt-plug into my rectum. He put the weighted clips on my nipples and then gagged me and put another on my clit. "I'm going to whip you now, bitch-slave," he said. I gasped, moaning into the gag. "I'm going to whip you like a slave should be whipped, train you to be my obedient little white sex toy. Then I'm going to have all my friends come over every night to gang bang you." He slapped my bottom and I moaned in pleasure and pain. Then he produced something new, a blindfold. He slipped it over my eyes, and I felt a new level of helplessness. Now I couldn't even see what he was doing, would have no warning at all. I heard the video playing in the background, heard my groaning and gasping and panting and whining and yelling in pleasure. It was becoming like a sound track to our kinky sex sessions. He hit my bottom with something, something not his hand, and it stung. My hips jerked forward and I yelped into the gag, then a second time as the weighted clips on my clit and nipples tugged on them. Again I felt a stinging blow to my buttocks. It was thin, and not very heavy, but long enough to hit both at once. He had some kind of little stick or something, I thought, moaning. "Slut. Whore," he said. "Dirty little slave bitch." Another blow struck my bottom, and again I jerked in pain. But I was getting really hot, really high from this. My hands held up and out, my legs down and apart. I felt very into the sex and bondage thing right then, and my mind was baking under the heat of sensual excitement as he struck my bottom again, then again. He plucked the clip from my clit, and the pain tore into me so I cried out, writhing and twisting. But as before it faded, leaving my clit extraordinarily sensitive, throbbing. And now I felt his tongue at me there, licking and lapping. The vibrator was still in place, still buzzing, still purring, the little hook thing pressed against the side of my clit. And together they were driving me wild. I couldn't keep my hips still. I was grinding and bucking and humping against his tongue as the orgasm approached. And then the blindfold was pulled off and I saw that it wasn't him there at all, but a Chinese girl I'd never met. "Whore," Tommy said, as I felt another blow against my bottom. I was - stunned - and then even more stunned as I looked behind the head of the girl between my legs and saw three more Asian men sitting a few feet away in front of me, watching, grinning, licking their lips hungrily. None of them was familiar to me. "Slut!" Another blow struck my bottom, and I saw that Tommy was holding a kind of short handled whip, with a narrow, slim little leather lace at its end, no more than a foot and a half long. But it stung! I was reeling from the presence of the men and from the girl. I'd never done anything sexual with girls before, and never really thought seriously about doing anything with one. I wasn't attracted to women. But now this girl was licking at my clit, and I was so hot and so close to coming that I just couldn't fight it off. She looked up at me through brown eyes as she licked, and her hands rose, sliding up my body, soft, small hands, fondling my breasts, pinching at the base of my nipples, then with a flick, pulling loose the weights. I moaned in pain, twisting and wriggling. "Slave!" Tommy said, slashing his thin whip across my bottom again so my hips bucked into the girl's face. I was enveloped in a torrid, steaming sexual haze, humiliation now a part of it, but adding to it for some reason, rather than dispelling it. And as Tommy struck my now stinging, burning bottom and the girl licked at my pussy and the men stared I felt as though I were in a dream, a hot, intense, perverted fantasy. And I was, only it was real. Tommy talked to the girl in Chinese, and she eased back. The men rose from the sofa, and the five of them encircled me, their hands all over my body, stroking, squeezing, caressing, pinching, groping, fondling. Then the girl and one of the men leaned in from either side and began to suckle at my nipples. They had just reached that point where the pain had faded and they were feeling intensely relieved, and the two mouths on them made them burn with pleasure. One of the men took out his cock and the girl pulled away from my breast, instantly replaced by the third man. She knelt and took his cock into her mouth as I watched, sucking, her lips bobbing up and down on it. Tommy said something, in the same tone as he had been using to call me names, but now it was in Chinese, and he struck my bottom once more. On the video somewhere behind them my voice was crying out in pleasure, begging for cock, begging to be sodomised. The girl moved back and the man with his stiff cock dripping her saliva moved around behind me. I felt his hot breath on the side of my face as he pulled the butt-plug out of my back hole and then slid the dripping wet head of his cock inside me. I moaned in shock, in dismay, in hunger, in disbelief, in hazy, dazed sexual fever. Tommy stood back, as if to observe, not taking part, smirking. The two men sucked on my nipples and let their hands knead my breasts. The third drove his cock higher and deeper into my rectum. And then the girl, naked, with stiff, pointy little breasts topped by pierced nipples, moved in front of me holding a little whip thing. It had a pale brown handle, and a long, thin shaft no wider than my little finger, and at the end of the shaft was a thin triangular flap of leather. She smiled at me and then slipped it between my thighs. My body was beginning to move in and out now in time to the man sodomising me, and she let the narrow shaft of the thing drive up into my slit, pushing against the base of the vibrator, and sawing back and forth. It was all so fucking wild! So incredibly, unbelievably intense! I was still terribly embarrassed, but that wasn't doing a thing to push back the raw animal hunger twisting through my mind and body. The girl pulled back the handle of the thing, then slapped the triangular flap up against me. My clit had swelled, of course, was pulsing and throbbing. The clip on it had made it ache. The girl's tongue had made it burn. And now she smirked at me and slapped the little flap of leather against it with a short little blow that made me yelp into my gag. But the sting from the blow was a dark, wild sensation exploding between my legs. Another blow and another and another struck me as she began to slap the thing against my clit in time to the thrusting of the cock into my rectum. The men at my breasts were squeezing and fondling them more roughly now, and sucking harder, their teeth beginning to dig into my soft flesh as their tongues whipped across my throbbing nipples. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. The girl whipped the little crop against my clit as I twisted and writhed and moaned and cried out again and again, and my tortured clit took that stinging pain and began to blend it with my wild animal sex heat and turned it into something I'd never felt before. It was like my body could no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. I came, violently, and she began to slap faster and harder. My climax grew more intense. I was screaming into the gag, writhing and twisting in my bonds, straining against them, humping and jerking as the crop slapped against my clit, as the man behind me drove his big cock up deep into my rectum in hard thrusts that jarred my body and almost threw me up off my feet. SlapSlapSlapSlapSlapSlapSlap! So fast that one blow became the next and my body howled with something I can only call ecstasy. I was coming apart at the scenes, screaming into the gag again and again, twisting and bucking and writhing in the bonds as they used me. It was so incredibly powerful, so raw and intense I thought it must be damaging me, tearing something inside me. But I didn't care. I wanted it to go on and on forever. And for long, long seconds I thought it might. Every sharp little blow from the crop thing sent a massive shockwave of sensory overload through my body and mind. My muscles spasmed and shook, and I lost control of them. I was hanging freely by my wrists, unable to support myself on my legs, unable to breath, to think. I could only twist and writhe and scream into the bonds as the orgasm tore at my mind. I didn't quite lose my mind, didn't quite lose consciousness. But the world seemed to fade around me. Everything seemed to disappear into a mist. The next thing I knew I was alone, save for the girl, who was now on her knees. The three Chinese men were sitting in front of me, along with Tommy, chatting and staring at me. The girl was licking oh-so gently at my pussy. My clit felt raw and sore and swollen. It ached. At first, the girl's tongue felt like sandpaper, and I moaned and squirmed, my head rolling up and back. But then the soft, gentle licking began to penetrate the pain and discomfort, and though my insides ached from the recent climax I could feel her rousing my body again. I was so tired, though, so drained. It was amazing my body could be roused again, could be heated up. Yet she did it. One of the Chinese guys rose. He was a burly man, short, but with a huge chest like a weightlifter. He was older, in his forties, and scowled at me as he approached. He had a long leather strap, and clipped it to my collar, then barked at the girl, who instantly ceased her licking and eased back away from me. The man reached down and unclipped the chains from my ankle restraints, then did the same for my wrists. I sank heavily to my knees, moaning. A sharp blow across the bottom made me yelp and woke me from the haze gripping me. The man's barked command filled the room at the same time. I didn't know what it was, but it sounded like a command. I looked up at him and gasped as he struck my bottom again, then gripped my head and jerked it down and forward. He moved ahead of me, and pulled on the strap, a leash I now realized dazedly, and responding to the pressure on my collar, I crawled forward several steps. Chapter 7 Have you ever tried to walk with a dildo inside you? It's weird, let me tell you. I had a dildo, a big one, up my pussy and a big butt-plug in my ass. There was no fear of them falling out because I was also wearing skin-tight jeans. The jeans squeezed into my pussy very tightly, and I ached there because my skin was feeling sore and raw. I wore a black turtleneck sweater that was just as skin tight as the jeans. The high collar helped to hide the thin leather collar around my throat, and the two narrow chains which descended to my nipples and were attached to my nipple rings. It had only been a few days since I'd gotten them pierced. Tommy had tied me up spread-eagled on the bed, fondled me, gotten me incredibly hot, then gagged me. He then opened the bedroom door and the Chinese girl who had been in our earlier session had come in. I moaned into the gag, but knew there was nothing I could do about what was going to happen. The girl, entirely naked, had spent a lot of time licking a trail up and down my body, sucking and chewing and biting on my breasts and nipples, then licking my clit until I thought my head would explode. Then she'd abruptly stopped. Tommy had brought over bowl, towels, a bottle, a razor, and other items and set them between my legs, and the Chinese girl had carefully shaved what little hair I had between my legs until I was completely bald. That had embarrassed me to no end, despite my state of arousal, because I could see by raising my head that I was completely bare, completely visible. Then, however, she had rubbed something over my right nipple, and as Tommy looked over her shoulder had squeezed at the base of my areola and pressed a needle against my pink skin. My eyes had bulged and I'd yelled into the gag, but of course, they had ignored me. I wasn't, to be honest, all that opposed to the idea, but when the pain hit I yelled and strained against my bonds. They used a fairly large needle to pierce both my nipples. Tommy said he wanted to be able to put thicker rings into them - and did. They were quarter sized, and thick enough that when I was naked their weight, though not enough to pull my nipples down, was - noticeable at all times, a constant sense of tugging. Then, my legs straining wide, the girl had rubbed more alcohol on my pussy and pierced my clit. She used a thinner needle, but it hurt! I was straining and screaming into the gag for several seconds as she finished and put the third ring in place. That ring was now jammed up against me by the tight jeans, and it hurt. But I was becoming used to sexual pain, and it was only a small distraction, even compared to the dildo. I was pushing a shopping cart slowly along, grabbing items off the shelves, checking my list, just like everyone else here. But I felt apart from them because of what I was doing, because of the dildo and the butt-plug and the collar and chains pulling on my nipples. I was living a life that seemed to have less and less time for anything but sex. Sex was coming to take over everything, even my mind. I was spending more time tied up, and in more and more uncomfortable positions. Lately Tommy had been hog tying me, bending my body back so that my ankles and wrists could be bound together, then leaving me like that for hours. That left my back throbbing even now. Spaghetti. I needed spaghetti. I pushed the cart along and inspected the cans. They were low, and I had to bend, and feel the dildo twisting inside me, my insides moving around it as I bent further. I squatted, then, grunting at my sore back, at the sore muscles in my legs, then plucked the ones I wanted and moved along. The odd thing was I was becoming less attached to Tommy. He was acting like an arrogant, overbearing prick all the time now, and I can't say it was making me feel very affectionate towards him. I put up with it because the sex was incredible, a total fucking rush. And like I said, our relationship was becoming more and more about sex, and less and less about anything else. I finished paying for the groceries and took them out to the car, then drove back to Tommy's place. I was more or less staying there now, though I hadn't really moved my stuff in. Why should I, I thought cynically, when I never wore any clothes there anyway. It was becoming quite natural and normal to be naked around the house, and as long as the place was kept warm I didn't mind. As soon as I got in I set down the groceries, then stripped. I was glad to get out of the jeans, to be honest, and rubbed my bare pussy gingerly as I set them aside. The jeans would have kept the dildo from slipping out but they weren't needed for that purpose. I had a thin belt around my hips, and a narrow chain dangled from it. The chain went through the ring piercing my clit, and was attached to the base of the dildo. The chain, in turn, had a spiky little ball just where it passed through the ring, and the ball had been jammed against my clit the whole time I was wearing the jeans. It had hurt, but it had also been incredibly irritating. Now I gently stroked my clit, feeling the relief as the pain and irritation began to fade. This, of course, made me hot. Hell, almost everything made me hot, these days, and so I just propped my bottom against the narrow table just inside the door, spread my legs, and rubbed myself until I came. It didn't take long. Then I picked up the groceries, brought them into the kitchen, and put them away. With that done I had time to start thinking about my homework. I really did need to find time for it, even if it was hard to keep my mind on my work with the kinds of - distractions - I regularly had to deal with. But Tommy wasn't home, so now was my chance. I put my things on the coffee table and knelt next to it. This kept my sore pussy off the floor, or a chair if I'd been sitting, and I could sort of rest my breasts on the table so the chains didn't pull on my still-sore nipples. I did manage to get some work done, but I was still distracted from time to time by my body. The fact Tommy wasn't in was helpful, but I felt a certain tension about what he'd do when he returned, and whether he'd bring anyone with him. The cordless phone rang, and I plucked it off the table and punched the button. "Hello?" "It's me, slut," Tommy said. "I want you to go upstairs and get handcuffs shackles, and a ring gag with a penis filler. Bring them downstairs, and then put the gag into your slut mouth, shackle your ankles together, kneel in front of the door, and handcuff your wrists behind your back. Do you have all that, slut?" "Who are you bringing home?" I asked, feeling an electrical tingling in my groin, a hot ache and anxious thrill. "Do as I tell you, slut. You have ten minutes." I hung up, my heart starting to pound, then got up and went upstairs. I was wary and worried about who he'd bring home this time, knowing I'd be embarrassed. But I also felt a hot thrum of hunger as I did as he directed and positioned myself before the front door. I stuffed the ring gag into my wide open mouth, then buckled it behind my head. I stuffed the latex penis filler inside and snapped it there, then cuffed my ankles together. I sat back on my heels, knees spread wide, then cuffed my right hand and brought my hands back behind me. After a little fumbling, I got my left snapped tight, and waited. It seemed a lot longer then a few minutes before I heard a key in the door. My heart began to pound really hard and I felt my nipples throbbing as I jerked my back very straight and the chains pulled at them. The door opened, and two Asian men came through, both strangers. I felt the blood rush to my face, but did not move, waiting for Tommy to appear. Neither of the men seemed surprised to see me. Their eyes were appreciative as they looked at my obscenely displayed body, and they said something, one to the other, probably about me. I looked past them at the open door but there was no sign of Tommy. I felt a bit of a panicky flutter, thinking he had simply gifted me to these men, who would use me without him even being present. But such was the state of my mind that even that sent a jolt of excitement through me, a jolt which made my pussy spasm and moisten. The two men reached down for me and gripped my arms, one on either side, pulling me to my feet. I still looked at the door, but there was no Tommy. The men pulled me towards the door, and I started forward, then hesitated at the doorway, trying to pull back. But my ankles were shackled only a foot apart, and so I couldn't exactly brace myself. They pulled me, naked, out the door. Tommy's place had a broad front lawn and a high hedge, so there was no one to see as the two men dragged me down the path to the driveway, where a dark sedan waited. The trunk was open, and they picked me up bodily and placed me inside, then closed it. I felt them get in, felt the doors close, then the car started forward. My heart was pounding as my mind tried to figure out what Tommy planned this time. I was frightened, but not of anything more than experiencing some new humiliation. How many people this time, I wondered, and what would they do to me? The drive was long, long enough for me to calm down, for the arousal to deepen and spread and overcome much of my anxiety. Tommy was a prick, but when would I ever experience this kind of wild, kinky thrill again? I had better damned well enjoy it while I could! Every other boyfriend who followed would seem dull and boring in comparison. After what seemed ages the car finally stopped. The doors opened, and the two men came around to open the trunk and lift me out. Where the hell were we? We were in a forested area, somewhere outside the city. The parking lot was unpaved, and there were several cars parked there. All around us were trees. The men held my arms and led me down an unpaved path through the trees, my bare feet shuffling through pine cones and needles, through twigs and pebbles and dirt as we went deeper into the woods. I felt very wild, excited, amazed. The cool wind blew against my bare skin, and the two men, the two strangers, continued to lead me along, cuffed, shackled, the dildo tugging lightly at my clit, my nipples jerking against the chains. Finally, there was a building, long and low, and they led me inside through a wide door. It was more of a barn than a home, with rough wooden walls, a wooden roof, and stone floor. Two more Asian men stood inside waiting, and my face burned with embarrassment again as the two leading me set me on my knees before them. The two men spoke to each other, then to one of the men who had brought me. No one spoke to me, and no one spoke English. All of the men, I noticed now, wore black shirts and gray trousers. The two in front of me were older, in their forties, but well-built. One was balding and had a narrow face. The other had a square head with short black hair and thin glasses. The nearly bald one said something and I gasped as one of the men bracketing me jerked on my hair, forcing my head back and my chest out. I didn't know why. He released me after a moment and I stared around me, wild-eyed. Where the fuck was Tommy!? I was kneeling naked in a cold wooden shack in the forest with four strange men, none of whom seemed to speak English! One of the men finally looked at me and said something. If I was supposed to understand him he was in for a surprise. I didn't move and didn't react. He said it again, a word, and again I didn't react. Then I gasped in pain as my hair was seized and jerked cruelly back. At the same time I was roughly pushed forward, shoved down on my belly, though my hips were immediately yanked up my knees spread wide. A hand cracked painfully against my bottom, and the word was said again. The hands eased back and I moaned into the gag. The side of my face was pressed against the stone floor, as were my shoulders and breasts. My bottom was raised up, knees apart. The four men stood all around me, looking at me, and I felt a strange dark thrill pass through my body, rippling along my spine like a wave. I'd assumed this position with Tommy before, even with Tommy and others, but it seemed so much more powerful a mental kick to be doing it out here in the middle of the forest, alone, with strangers. It was scary, too, and embarrassing, but my main feeling just then was arousal. Then the balding man produced a long, thin crop. He moved closer to me, and ran the tip up my spine, then slapped lightly at my buttocks. I moaned as I felt the tip rub against my clit. Then he spoke a word. A moment later the crop snapped down across my bottom. I cried out in pain, but didn't move. Another blow, and another stinging explosion of pain as I jerked and whimpered. Another blow, and I closed my eyes, shuddering as I waited for the next to fall. Instead a foot pressed against my side and shoved me so I fell over onto my other side. I lay there, panting for breath as the four men looked down at me. Then the one with glasses moved to the far side of the room. The balding one pointed at him and said a word. I didn't move, of course. The balding man said another word, and still I lay on my side, panting, moaning. One of the other men handed him something, a long metal tube with a handle at one end. He moved to me and pointed at the other man, and at last I understood I was to move there. I tried to rise but was pushed back, and again he pointed at the far side of the room. Then he held that tube in front of my face. I saw that the end had a small sharp tip, and suddenly a spark of electricity snapped on that tip. I drew back with a gasp, and he pointed across the room. I writhed that way, and no one said anything. It was hard to get there. I couldn't stay on my side, and had to roll on my belly. My breasts were crushed against the stone, and I had to wriggle my hips from side to side to push myself along, gasping and grunting into the gag. The balding man thrust the tube suddenly in between my thighs, right against my pussy, and I let out a cry of shock and pain as a low crackle of electricity ripped into my bare sex. It was not at high power, just enough to make my pussy crackle and sting, but it sent my jerking forward. My bottom rolled from side to side, my hips grinding against the floor, my legs turning and twisting as I tried to push myself forward. My breasts ached, especially my recently pierced nipples. I felt the snap of electricity against one of my feet, and yelped again, wriggling faster. Another jolt hit my bottom, right next to my wrinkled anal opening, and I gasped and crawled faster. When I got there the man with glasses pushed out his foot, pressing the bottom of his shoe against my face. I was gasping for breath, moaning. The man said a word, and I recognized it as the one they had used before. I awkwardly got my knees under me and raised my bottom high, shifting my knees apart. I moaned as I felt the tube sliding up and down along my slit, then cried out, jerking violently as another crackle of electricity burned my sex. One of the men knelt behind me and I felt his fingers at the butt-plug. He tugged it slowly free, then slapped my bottom. The men were talking, but I could not understand. Then a cock penetrated me, sliding halfway into my ass before there was any resistance. My neck ached, and my face was cold against the stone as the cock thrust deeper. My knees ached too, and I was starting to feel really badly used. But that sense of sexual masochism and excitement was strong within me, and as the man began to pump in and out, roughly sodomising me, and the other three looked on, I felt very much like their - their prisoner, their slave, their bitch slave, as Tommy would say. I wondered if he were nearby watching, getting off on this. It was so impersonal! The man thrust into me harder and harder, driving his prick deep into my anus, his hips slapping against my bottom. The three others looked on, chatting in low voices, in Chinese, of course. I knew the man had finished when he finished, when the sensation of his hips and belly slapping against me ended and his softening cock came free of my anus. Were they all going to take me like this? I wished they would get a blanket. My knees were scraped and sore. One of the men casually dropped a pile of rope and wooden poles next to me. Then two of them knelt, one on either side. The handcuffs, shackles belt were removed, but my arms were held tightly together behind me. I was lifted up into an upright kneeling position, and they spoke softly to each other as they tied a rope around my waist and cinched it tight. I felt them fingering my clit ring, tugging and twisting it, then they seemed to ignore it. They fed the rope down between my legs, and jammed it up painfully hard against my sex, and against the base of the dildo which was almost flush with my opening. They ignored my moans of pain, my attempts to pull free, pulling the rope up to feed into the loop around my belly, then back again, down between my legs and up between my buttocks. Tommy had done something like this before, though, so I was not unduly frightened or surprised. They lifted me to my feet. There was a wooden post against one wall, a support post of some kind, a foot or so thick. They bent me over, lifting my arms up high behind me, then kind of ran me into the post, forcing my head down, pulling my arms up higher. I grunted in pain as my arms were then tied tightly to the post, straight up on either side. They spread my legs and tied one of the wooden poles in place between my ankles, holding them well apart. I found out now that they had bound a cord to my clit ring, and now they pulled it down and tied it to the centre of the pole, using just enough pressure to stretch my aching clit. Two more cords were tied to my nipple rings, and they were pulled down, as well, and also tied to the pole between my ankles. Then the four men gathered around behind me, still talking softly, in Chinese, and I felt the first blow of the crop against my bottom. I yelped, of course, and jerked in my bonds, but they seemed not to care. The crop cracked down across my bottom again and again and again, and as the pain mounted I began to feel a real sense of desperation, twisting hopelessly against the bonds, moaning, then yelling into the gag as the crop continued to slice into the soft flesh of my bottom. Soon my ass was on fire, and the pain and frustration were beginning to rise to the point tears filled my eyes, tears of pain, frustration and anger. But all the while I knew I was utterly helpless to do anything but take it as the crop continued to cut into my raised bottom. I felt a vast sense of relief when it stopped, when the men began to turn and move away. I was gasping for breath, moaning into the gag, my bottom on fire. They walked out of the low room, the low building, and left me there as I was, bound and helpless. Fucking Tommy, I thought furiously. Did he think he could just give me to anyone he wanted to do anything they wanted with me!? I was going to kick his ass! I was going to tell him we were through! My shoulders ached, almost as much as my bottom, in fact, but I could do nothing to ease them. Slowly, my bottom burned less hot, but I remained in position, alone in the stone building. I was sore, and aching, and felt dirty and miserable. The sexual hunger within me was still there, but it was at a low ebb. And it got lower and lower as time passed. Had they fucking forgotten about me or what!? My neck ached, my head jammed forward and down by the post. My shoulders ached, and my arms were numb. My back was really starting to hurt from my bent over position. I mean, what the fuck! And yet still more time passed, until, finally, when I was almost ready to burst into tears, I heard their low voices and two of the Chinese guys returned. They moved directly towards me and began to untie my arms. I felt a desperate relief and groaned into the gag as they lifted me upright. My shoulders were finally relaxed - somewhat, and my back straightened, and a flood of relief washed through my body. My arms were untied, but held tightly, and I moaned when they shoved my face against the post and looped the ropes around them again. They had been tied upright on either side of the post. Now the men tied them tightly together, the ropes going around them above my elbows and at my wrists, pinning them tight, and making my shoulders ache again. I tried to communicate with them, looking up at them desperately, shaking my head to indicate I didn't want to play any longer. But they hardly looked at me. They bent me over, and looped the rope around my breasts, squeezing them tight. They removed the spreader bar from my ankles, but tied my ankles tightly together now. I twisted and wriggled, but that only drew me a sharp slap on the bottom, then across the face. Tommy had slapped my face before, but only softly, as a part of our game. This slap was harder and made me blink as my ear rang with pain. I was placed between a pair of the rough wooden posts now. Both men were working on the ropes on me, working efficiently, and quietly. A rope was tied those around my ankles and fed to the post in front of me. Another was tied to my wrists and pulled back and down. Then they pulled the loose ends of the ropes circling my breasts up and forward - hard. I screamed in pain as my breasts stretched up and forward, pulling me to the balls of my feet, then my toes. The men said something, and another rope went around my waist, and then was fed up and forward to the post in front. I was eased back a bit, then the rope went tight, pulling against my back. The rope bound to my wrists then pulled back harder and I cried out as my shoulders and back were forced back and down. Way back, way down. The rope was tied against the post behind me, down near the floor. The way the rope pulled me made my breasts stretch again, and I moaned and nearly wept. The cords bound to my nipple rings were pulled forward, so that my nipples stretched out too, and then tied to the post before me. The cord tied to my clit ring was pulled back and down, tied off somewhere else. And then the penis gag was unsnapped, pulled free of the ring gag holding my mouth open. I gasped and choked and tried to talk, but one of the men simply reached in with something like pliers, and seized my tongue. I screamed in pain as the pincers crushed down against it, but he simply pulled my tongue up and out of my mouth. The other man was waiting with some kind of clamp which bit into my tongue even harder, but over a wider area. Then a cord attached to that clamp was pulled up and back, tied to the post behind me but high up. And then the men left me like that, standing on the balls of my feet, breasts throbbing hotly, head and body pulled back and down so my back was very awkwardly arched, bowed back. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It was a terrible, awkward position! And it was so frustrating thinking that if only I could speak for a few seconds, could only talk to them, they would have to let me go! Instead I was alone in the room, every part of my body aching, and growing worse with every passing minute. The worst was my back. It felt like a knife had been stuck into me there, and with every passing minute it seemed to grind and twist more painfully. My shoulders hurt terribly, of course, and my ankles and feet were starting to tremble and shake as cramps made them spasm. My tongue burned like fire, at first, but was starting to get numb. My nipples remained hot and throbbing, my clit stinging terribly. I was alone, hearing nothing but the wind going between the trees. I remember thinking that they couldn't possibly leave me like this much longer. And then an hour passed. Then I thought they must come for me any second, because I couldn't stand it any longer, the pain was too terrible, because my body would collapse, and I'd tear my arms from their sockets. And then another hour passed. Chapter 8 I was - punch-drunk, dazed, when they finally came for me. They no sooner got some of the ropes off me when I collapsed to my knees, moaning weakly. They dragged me to the centre of the room, and removed all of the ropes. But it was not to let me go. They simply tied me again, this time tying the ropes around my wrists, circling each a half dozen times before tying the topes off. Then they lifted them up and apart and bound them to rings dangling from above. I could stand, but weakly, my head hanging low as the ropes helped to hold me up. I felt a tremendous sense of physical relief now, with my back finally straightened up, the terrible tension on my shoulders finally relaxed, and my feet able to go flat on the floor again. Even the pulling at my clit and nipples was gone, though they throbbed and stung. My legs were spread and tied apart, and then as the two men looked on, no expression on their faces, the two others returned, each held a leash to a naked, crawling Asian girl, and I moaned, surprised that I could be surprised by anything at this point, as the two Asian girls crawled up to me. The men spoke to them and the girls rose on their knees and began to lick up and down my thighs. The girl in front of me began to tug gently at the dildo, easing it slowly in and out, while licking up and down along the edges of my slit. The girl behind caressed my buttocks where the crop had bit in, and then slid her tongue up and down along the thin pink welts it had raised. As I said, I was more than a little punch drunk from the long, drawn-out pain, the physical stress, the confusion and the way I was being treated. The relief my body felt at finally easing the terrible stress was intense, and the girls' tongues were doing very nice things to my insides. And this was despite my not having any interest in sex with girls. Well, it wasn't like I was thinking very much. I was slowly recovering, slowly, panting, moaning through the ring gag. My tongue felt sore and swollen, but I could move it now. I just couldn't move my jaw. The girl in front found my clit, and her tongue was driving me slowly insane as she gently pumped the dildo inside me. The girl inside had squeezed my buttocks further apart and was now circling my wrinkled anus with her tongue. Every time she thrust it into me my hips jerked forward in response. I didn't like it. I didn't - like it. But I couldn't stop my body's responses. When I saw the balding man take a whip from the one with glasses I whimpered weakly. It was like something out of a pirate movie; a long handled whip with a number of long leather strips dangling from it. It was a flog, and he moved around behind me, behind the girl whose tongue was thrusting up into my anal opening, and then brought it sweeping around and down against my back. The leather strips spread out before it hit, and they were not individually heavy. Nor did he swing it all that hard. But they stung as they struck my pale back. I cried out in pain, back arching, hips jerking. The stings spread out, easing quickly, but leaving behind thin slices of hot skin. God! I felt a sudden sense of awareness. I was standing naked, spread open, roped, vulnerable, while two women licked at my pussy and ass. And this man behind me, this older man whose name I didn't even know, was going to whip me! I didn't even know any of them! Did they even speak English!? The whip cut into my back and again I cried out, my back arching, jerking forward as the stinging laces snapped into my soft flesh. Again it was not a terrible pain, not something which was beyond me. The stings were sharp, but I could tolerate them easily enough. The concept, the understanding I was being whipped, though, kind of blew my mind. I was both frightened and excited, pulling against the ropes holding me in place, against the small hands on my hips and thighs and buttocks as the girls tongued me. Another blow struck my bare back, lower this time, and my back arched even more as I cried out. The skin was growing warm, even if the stinging wasn't terrible. My anxiety and excitement were both rising, as was the sexual hunger in my body being raised by those hot, moist, soft, nimble little tongues. Another blow, and I was starting to feel a sense of wild abandon. Whipped! I was being whipped! Another blow threw me against the bonds again as I began to grind my pussy against the girl's mouth in front of me. She was pumping the dildo harder and faster now as her tongue licked over my clit, and I began to roll and buck my hips against her as the next blow cut across my shoulders. The balding man moved around in front of me then, and some part of me understood, as he held the flog and looked at my breasts. I cried out in denial, able to make myself understood, I knew, even though the ring gag held my jaw immobilized. He swung the flog out and around sideways, and it cut across my breasts. The sting was just as sharp, but my breasts were softer, more vulnerable, and more sensitive. I cried out in shock and pain, only afterwards realizing the pain was not really that bad. I was shocked, amazed that he would whip my breasts. I hadn't thought - it wasn't a part of any of my fantasies and - The flog cut across my breasts again and I cried out, thrown backwards, the stings sharp and intense. But I was still bucking helplessly into the girl's mouth as she licked at my clit and pumped the dildo, my body spiraling upwards towards and orgasm I could not resist. The orgasm arrived with the next blow, and I screamed, wailed in dazed, shocked pleasure, my mind burning with feverish sexual heat as the climax tore through my body. The whip struck my breasts again as the orgasm shook me, and then a third time, and a fourth. And finally the orgasm eased off and my spasming, jerking motions began to slow. My head dropped and I sagged exhaustedly. The girls dropped back, and the men took their leashes and led them, crawling, out of the building. The men bracketed me, undid the ropes binding my wrists high, then pulled my arms in behind me and retied them. My hair was bound into a loose braid at the top of my head and then lifted up high, so that I at first winced, then cried out in pain. I was forced up to the balls of my feet, then as they tied the cord in my hair, allowed to sink down until my heels were almost - but not quite on the floor. The clamp bit down on my tongue again and they pulled it forward over my lip, running the cord across the room to another post and tying it there. And then they left me as I was. For hours. When they finally came for me it was only to pull the clamp off my aching, numbed tongue, then bend me back, pulling the cord attached to my braid so far back my back was bowed. Cords were bound to my nipple rings, then, and pulled forward sharply, and again I was left in place. For hours. Where was Tommy, I thought weakly. Why was this lasting so long? They came for me again. But it was not to release me, nor even use me. There was a box in one corner, and they dragged it out between the pair of pillars where I was bound earlier. They made me kneel, belly down across the box, then they pulled my wrists back, straight back - hard - so that my head and shoulders came back. My wrists were pulled back along my buttocks, bound to the base of the post behind me. Then they lifted my legs up so I was fully laying on the box, the pulled my feet up and then forward, hard, so they were above my elbows, the rope binding them running up high on the post before me. The cord tied to my braided hair was somehow tied to the butt-plug inside me, helping hold my head up and back, then weights were attached to my nipples, hanging down just off the front part of the box. I was too drained, and too exhausted to try to fight at this point, knowing I couldn't anyway. I was simply accepting. And so I remained for more hours, my back burning like fire, my nipples aching. I didn't even know if it was day or night, nor did I think to care. At some point they came for me and untied me again, repositioning me. This time I hung from my ankles, upside down, legs spread. They brought out the flog once more and slashed it down against my breasts and belly and back, and then between my legs before leaving me to hang there for more hours. Many more hours. I hung slack jawed, unseeing, dazed, moaning occasionally. It was hard to have any real understanding of the passing of time. They flogged me twice more while I hung upside down, and each time I writhed and moaned and bucked helplessly. When they came for me again and let me down it was almost unbelievable that they did not retie me in some new, uncomfortable position. I lay on the floor, recovering from hanging upside down for so many hours. I had on only my collar, and now one of the men attached a leash to it, like the leashes I'd seen on the Asian girls. He tugged on it, and said something in Chinese. I only grunted. Then one of the others jabbed me in the bottom with the electric tube thing and I yelped as a crackling sting of power flung me over onto my belly. I forced myself up onto all fours, eyes blinking fearfully, looking up at the men, and then as the man holding the leash started for the doors, followed, crawling. And glad of it, delighted to be crawling out of that fearful place, to be going on to something new, something which had the possibility of something better, something less painful, less exhausting. My body ached in so many places I couldn't even identify half of them. I throbbed and stung everywhere. The man led me, still crawling, further along that path in the forest, turning and turning again. I didn't try to complain, though the ring gag had finally been pulled from my mouth. My jaw was so stiff and sore that any movement made me wince. I crawled and we came to an open spot of grass. There were several Asian men there, and three Asian girls sitting naked before them, sitting on their heels, knees well apart, hands on their outer thighs. They all turned as I crawled forward, watching me. The man leading me pushed me next to the three girls, barking an order of some kind. I was slow to respond, though I guessed what he wanted, and a quick cuff to my face made me taste blood. Then I was sitting back on my heels next to the first Asian girl, knees spread wide, back as straight as I could make it, hands on my outer thighs. One of the Asian men was short and gray haired. He spoke, in Chinese, of course. I could hear none of it, but when his voice rose and he said a word the there Asian girls suddenly leaned forward, their hands outstretched before them, bent until their hands hit the grass, and then slid forward until their upper bodies were on the ground, their bottoms raised high. I hesitated only long enough to feel a sharp, stinging blow to my back, then threw myself forward alongside them, my breasts sliding through the soft, damp grass as my arms stretched out in front of me, my bottom rising as I got my knees under me. The four of us lay like that as the gray haired man continued to speak. Then he said another word, and I saw the girl beside me moving back into her previous position. I scrambled to do the same, and once again all four of us were sitting in a row on our heels, backs straight, knees spread, hands on outer thighs. Again the man spoke in Chinese, and again he raised his voice as he said a word. The three other girls fell backwards, and I imitated them. We all lay on our backs, and then the three of them got their arms beneath them and raised their bodies. I did the same. With our hands on our hips, and our feet spread wide on the ground, we pushed our lower bodies up into the air like an offering, our shoulders jammed into the ground and chins shoved forward on our chests. It was an obscene display, but one they seemed to expect, and we all held ourselves in position. The older man moved along the line, looking at our pussies, then stopped at mine. He had a long, thin stick and he rubbed it against my sex as he spoke to one of the other men. He nodded, and then moved back up front, speaking another word that brought the girls back into their first position. What the fuck was this!? My jaw was beginning to hurt less, and I was continually working it in slow, grinding motions, wincing and gasping as I did. But I was so tired, and felt like a stranger in a strange land. I wanted to shout "I don't want to do this!", get up and walk off, but I was afraid that they wouldn't let me. I guess, now that I think of it, that I was afraid this might be real, and that if I actually managed to shout that I wanted no part of it, and they understood and said refused, then I'd know I really was a prisoner. And that was scary. We lay back again at another word, fully on our backs, brought our legs straight up, ankles together, then spread our straight legs out to either side as far as they would go, until the tendons in my thighs ached and burned and stretched. We held ourselves like that until he again barked a word, and we resumed our former position. After several more such positions one of the girls was led forward, leashed, and crawling. The older man made comments as she crawled, and reinforced them by snapping his crop across he bottom or back whenever her movements became too slow, or her back sagged, or her head turned or lowered. After the second girl did her crawl, or was walked, as I thought of it, I understood that she must keep her head up and straight, her bottom high, her back straight and unbowed. When it was my turn I didn't protest, but crawled along at the man's side, head up, bottom raised as he led me by the leash around and around in front of the others. Again I wanted to say something, to protest, but still I held my tongue. I was still afraid, and told myself they couldn't speak English. And, well, have you ever been in a situation where you just think it's too late to start protesting, to complain, that you might as well just go along? That's where I was. The four of us girls crawled on the leashes, up and down, up and down, as the old Chinese guy made comments I didn't understand, and followed them up with sharp, stinging blows of his crop on our bottoms or backs. Then we were back in line as he continued to speak. The first girl crawled forward, very - very submissively, brushing and rubbing her head and then her face against a man's ankles and feet, making soft, murmuring sounds. She began to lick at his shoes as we all looked on, rubbing her cheeks against his ankles from time to time. The man made a sound, and she slid upwards on her knees with fluid grace, her tongue licking along his groin, her head turning, first to the left, then the right, her hands caressing his thighs, stroking his hips. Slowly, she undid his zipper, and opened his belt. She pulled his trousers down, then his underwear. The old man struck her across the back then, hard, and she cried out. He shouted something, and the man pulled his underwear back up. The girl licked at his thighs, then mouthed his cock, which was semi-hard, through his underwear. Finally, she seized the waistband in her teeth, and slowly tugged it down so his cock pulled free. She licked at the head, caressing his thighs with her hands, taking her time. Whenever she moved too fast the old man's crop snapped down onto her back. Finally, she took him into her mouth and began to work her lips up and down. She tried several times to take him into her throat, but gagged and drew back each time. Whenever this happened the old man lashed her back with the crop and barked an angry word at her. Finally she took him into her throat, grinding her nose into his pubic bone, and bobbed up and down along the full length of his cock. When he came she swallowed it and then licked him clean and pulled up his underwear and trousers before turning and crawling back into line. What the fuck, I thought. These guys are really nasty! The next girl crawled up to the next man and repeated the performance, doing well until it came time to deep throat him. She couldn't. And after much frustration the old man barked some orders and she was seized, her arms lifted straight up behind her head, pinned together at the elbows. Her body was bowed back, and the old man brought his crop down viciously across her breasts. She screamed in pain, her lower body bucking and twisting, but the man holding her wrists simply tightened his grip as the crop came down again and again and again. When the girl's face was red and awash with tears the man moved in and, with her arms still being held up above her, elbows crossed, rammed himself down her throat again and again, pumping until the point where she seemed about to faint, and only then drawing back to let her catch her breath. They flung her back into place, and the next girl had her turn. She performed almost as badly, also having her breasts whipped and throat raped. Then it was my turn. I did as the others had done, licking at the man's cock and sucking on his balls, then slowly taking him into my mouth and down my throat. They seemed satisfied, and I only took one blow to the back when I apparently moved too quickly to take the man's cock into my mouth. We crawled, the four of us, across the lawn and into a low building. I was still looking for an opportunity to protest, and not finding one as we found bowls of food and water before us and all of us discovered we were ravenous. The crop taught us not to use our hands, and we knelt on all fours eating and drinking until our bowls were empty. It was freaky and kinky and degrading and so it was hot. Weird, huh? But I was getting into that kind of a mood. Like they were treating us like we were animals, and that was turning me on. After eating we were led, still crawling, deeper into the building, and I was again debating opening my mouth, asking them where Tommy was, and maybe telling them I'd had enough. "Oww!" I cried as a crop snapped down across my bottom. I looked over my shoulder and one of the Asian guys was saying something and pointing into a room on the right. So I crawled in there. It was a small, bare room, and since it was just the two of us I tried to talk to him. "Do you know where Tommy is?" I asked. He ignored me, pulling me to my feet and carefully buckling thick leather restraints around my wrists. "Excuse me?" I said. "Hello? Look, I'm not sure I want to keep doing this. I'm really, really tired." He ignored me as if I hadn't spoken at all. "Hey, do you speak English?" I asked. He raised my arm up high and snapped both restraints to a hook hanging over my head. Then he went to the wall and turned a crank. I gasped as my wrists were pulled upwards. I felt myself rising onto the balls of my feet, then my toes, and then I was hanging fully by my wrists, gasping and wriggling my toes. "Hey!" I squealed. "I have to go now! Where's Tommy!?" He said nothing. I guessed he didn't speak English, as he simply turned and left, closing the steel door behind him. That left me hanging by my wrists, my legs kicking weakly, toes twitching as if they were trying to find something to stand on. My arms and shoulders began to ache almost at once, and my wrists burned, even though the restraints around them were padded. The longer I hung there the more my body ached, with all my weight dangling on my poor slender arms. The floor didn't seem that far away. My toes kept wriggling, twisting, my legs straining as if I could almost, just barely touch it. But still, all my weight hung from my wrists, which began to go numb. The ache in my shoulders and, for some reason, my ribs, continued, however, and I was soon breathing more heavily, and starting to sweat. I looked around at the small room, at the bare walls. With a grunt of effort I drew back my head against my arms, looking up at the hook above. "Shit!" I panted. I looked down the length of my body at my toes so very far below, at the floor just beneath. I raised one foot, then the other, then let them drop again. My arms hurt. My shoulders hurt. My chest hurt. I swayed slowly on the end of the chain, my breath shallow. The world seemed very silent around me. And very dark. There were cracks of daylight coming into the room from near the ceiling. They cast narrow beams of light which were filled with drifting dust motes. My lower body felt very, very far away, and after a while, not even part of me. I was up here, and everything else seemed just - weight. Fucking Tommy, I thought, but the thought had little heat. I was very, very tired, and sore, but something within my lower belly still pulsed softly. I heard a small snatch of music, foreign sounding music. I didn't recognize the tune, nor could I make sense of the words. The music was very low, and then slowly faded away. I continued to hang in place, my body feeling really stretched out, way, way below me. Slowly, the beams of light shifted across the floor, inch by slow inch. The room grew warmer, and I found myself sweating more, and my breathing coming in harsher, more ragged gasps. I heard a distant voice calling out to someone, but could not understand the words. And a while later, a girl's scream. Then there was silence again. How the fuck long were they going to keep me like this, I wondered tiredly, groaning at the pain to my shoulders and arms. And then, finally, after what seemed like hours, the door finally opened and a man came through. He wasn't someone I recognized, and he seemed to hardly pay attention to me. He walked right past me as I called out to him. "Let me down! Look, I-I don't have time for this. I-I don't want to play any more. I need to see Tommy! I have to get to work! Hey! You!" He ignored me as if he were deaf, opening a cabinet against the rear wall. I kicked out with one leg, then again, then again, slowly managing to turn myself around so that I faced him, and when I did I gasped, for the cabinet seemed to be full of whips. "Oh no!" I cried. "I don't like that stuff! I'm not into that! Let me down! My wrists are getting numb! Hey! Did you hear me!?" The man turned back to me and he had a very small, thin looking flog in his hands. He walked right up to me, put a hand on my ribs, and slowly turned me around so I was facing away from him. "Don't!" I cried, twisting my head around. "I mean it! Let me go!" He swung the flog down and I cried out as it struck my back, but the cry was a little premature. In fact, the flog didn't really hurt. Well, not much. It hardly seemed to even sting much. I gasped as the flog struck again, then again, flinching just a bit. If this was being whipped it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I could feel the individual strips of - of whatever the flog was made of - striking my shoulders, and lower back, but they seemed to have very little weight behind them. I flinched a bit at each blow. There was some pain, but very slight, and I started to almost feel, well, can I call it intrigued? I mean, here I was hanging by my wrists and being whipped! And it didn't hurt - really. So as the man continued to draw back his arm and send the flog slashing down across my bare skin I began to feel a sense of excitement, a sense of dark, kinky adventurous sexual arousal. The man let the flog sweep down on me from shoulders to buttocks. The repeated blows managed to warm my skin, and arouse me, but that was about all. My body was slowly moving with the flows, swinging a little, and then slowly turning as my body flinched and jerked. I had been very slowly turning towards him. Now he shifted around and swung the flog at my front. I gasped and flinched more sharply as the flog struck my breasts. The sting was a little worse here, especially at my nipples. But it still wasn't really painful. I flinched again and again, though, as the thin, soft strips cut across my breasts and upper chest. The blows felt only a little harder, still not very heavy, but they warmed my skin, warmed my breasts, my belly, my abdomen. And as my skin grew warmer the blows seemed to land a little more heavily. I panted and gasped, my body swinging more now with my reaction to the blows. He let me swing, still saying nothing, ignoring me when I called out to him. He let me twist slowly and brought the flog sweeping in against my back, my bottom, my belly and my breasts as each turned towards him. My skin felt hotter, and despite my tiredness I began to feel a quickening heat between my legs. This was a strange, dark fantasy, and my warmed skin was now more sensitive to the touch. The blows stung a little more now, but also seemed to make my skin tingle where the flog struck, especially over my breasts. And I felt that throbbing between my legs deepen and spread. I gasped now with each blow, and the blows came faster, the light flog slapping against my damp skin again and again and again as I turned and swayed beneath the hook. And then they stopped. But as I slowly turned back towards him I saw that it was only because he had moved back to the cabinet. He put up the smaller flog and returned with a larger one in his hands. I moaned as he waited patiently for me to turn away from him again. He swung, and the new flog struck my back just beneath my shoulder blades. It was heavier than the other, but the strips were wider. They made more sound when they struck, a light, high-pitched cracking sound. But the feel against my skin was a softer, and didn't sting as much. There was pain, but it was dull pain. He let the flog fall across my shoulders, and against my lower back, against my shoulder blades and buttocks, and then, as I slowly turned and twisted, against my sides and ribs, against my belly and abdomen and breasts. The first whip had struck my breasts like thin laces. These slapped more heavily against my ski, so that the surface of my breasts now shook under the impact. I winced more heavily when they touched my swollen nipples, my legs twisting and kicking unconsciously. "Please!" I gasped. He ignored me, the wide strips slapping down across my breasts and belly and ribs and abdomen, and, as I turned, my back and buttocks; front, and then back, and then front, as I continued to twist and pant and moan. My skin felt hot all over now, hot and tingling and pulsing, as if I had a sunburn all over. It felt raw and sensitive, and the more he swung the more it hurt, even though he did not seem to be whipping me any harder. "Ow!" I gasped. "Oww! Don't!" He ignored me, of course. There was not even any sense in his face that I had talked. The long, thin straps lashed my breasts and belly. And then he stopped. He stepped closer to me, and put his hand between my thighs, jamming it in between. He made an impatient gesture with his head, a jerking motion that I apparently was supposed to understand. He looked down at my thighs, and at his hand, and I could felt he pressure on his hand as it pressed against my left thigh. Again he made that impatient gesture with his head, and this time I did understand. He wanted me to open my legs. I shook my head, and his face tightened. He pulled his hand back and then thrust it up and gripped my throat. Even hanging by my wrists I was still only barely at eye level with him. He stared impassively into my eyes as his big hand closed off my breathing. And I felt the handle of the whip thrust between my thighs, pressing against them. I felt my head begin to throb from lack of air, my chest begin to burn. The man looked impassively at me from a foot and a half away, and I jerked my legs open. He continued to squeeze my throat for long seconds, then slowly opened his fingers and stepped back. I gasped for breath, holding my legs apart below me, though they were beginning to tremble. I watched him sweep the whip in and back, then watched it come around again. This time the strips of soft, malleable leather struck at my sex and inner thighs, and I grunted as they hit. It hurt, but as before, only dully. "Fuck!" I gasped. Another blow, and another, and another and another struck my open sex. My legs were trembling more and more, but there was a sense of dark anger in the man's eyes that promised me much worse if I let them close. The leather strips smacked and cracked against my sex again and again, so that it became warm and tender, and the more sensitive. He stopped and turned away, and I let my legs fall closed with a gasp of relief. Yet he paused only briefly, picking up the first light flog again, and turning back to me, raining blows no my breasts and belly especially. At a stiff gesture with the whip, and an angry glare from him, I forced my legs out to either sides again, and let him whip my pussy. The thin, light flogs stung, as before, but the stinging was more like a tingling, and that tingling was starting to feel awfully good against my pussy. He alternated blows between my breasts and my pussy, and the whip seemed to come faster and harder. But the stinging, the tingling only teased me, taunted me. It made me quiver and jerk, spasm and twist and buck. My body wanted something more, much more. It wanted a much firmer touch. The leather caressed my throbbing, tender skin with quick, sharp, sweeping blows that painted my skin with heat. And with pain. And with - a growing hunger. All my skin tingled and crackled with dark energy, and I was sweating more and more freely, especially with the effort needed to hold my legs open. He put down the flog, and calmly, unhurriedly, turned back to the cabinet and drew out another. The new one had thin braided tails, longer ones, and the ends appeared to be knotted. The instant the tails cut across my back I felt the difference. The pain was much sharper, and I cried out, startled, gasping. The stings were like small explosions of light across the surface of my back. My legs kicked wildly and my body twisted, and his next blow fell across my breasts. The rush of sensations was intense, both pain and - and a terrible pleasure at the flickering explosions of sensation. Again I cried out, my body twisting instinctively away, my legs swinging wildly as I turned in place. The whip cut across the small of my back, and then my belly, with sharp, stinging blows. "S-Stop it!" I cried. He swung the whip again as I was turning, and this time the tails cut into my breasts, but with enough reach the knots snapped against my soft flesh in several places. I screamed now at this new intense pain, my legs against kicking out, my body moving more wildly. He whipped more quickly, striking my back and buttocks and breasts again and again. The pain was growing, but the sharp little explosions of dark pleasure seemed to outpace it, if only a little. I was growing, despite myself, more aroused, more hungry for - for something, perhaps just for the sensual feel of being touched, being touched harshly, for the feel of those braided strips of leather snapping down on my skin. I know it seems odd. But something inside me was lapping it up, was swelling and growing in response to the whipping, something I couldn't control or understand. I writhed and twisted and kicked and turned as the whip bit into my throbbing flesh again and again. He concentrated on my breasts now, and I twisted and swung more and more wildly, crying out, nearly screaming every time those hard little knots bit into my throbbing flesh. But the pain seemed to be diminishing, and every little snap, every little bite of the knots was like a tiny explosion of dark, sensual pleasure deep within me. I'd never been this much of a masochist. I'd never enjoyed actual pain. But this wasn't feeling like pain. Oh it was, but - but somehow, the crackling little burst of sexual electricity that swept out from each blow was so much greater that the pain really didn't matter. I was dazed, dripping sweat, gasping for breath when he thrust the whip handle between my thighs and jerked against my right leg. He barked a word, and it was a word I remembered from before. A shock went through my chest as I realized what he wanted, and realized I would obey. I shuddered and moaned weakly as I forced my legs apart. Satisfied, he drew back, waiting until I had spread my legs wide to either side. Then he swung the whip. The knotted laces slashed across my shaven sex like a rain of bee stings, and I cried out as they stung my pussy. My legs jerked closed and my body twisted and rolled. He barked the order again and I laid my head back on my arms, gulping in air. The whip cut across my breasts and again he barked the order. And my legs pulled open. The whip curled in between my thighs, clawing at my pussy, snapping and biting at my slit and clit, and I cried out again, gnashing my teeth with the pain and effort to keep my legs open. A monstrous orgasm was almost upon me, and it hit with the next blow of the whip, with the next series of sharp little stinging bites as the strips sliced in and the knots snapped against my skin. My legs somehow froze open, spread out to either side. But my lower body swung in and out at the hips, the muscles of my chest and arms straining as my upper body twisted, my back arching, my head grinding against my arms. The whip slashed in again and again, biting and slashing at my pussy, the thin strips cutting into my groin and curling up and beneath my body to snap at my buttocks. I cried out again and again, or maybe it was just one long, continuous cry which rose and fell, undulating violently with the storm of sensory overload crashing down around me. I twisted and jerked and bounced helplessly, my nerve endings flaring wildly as the orgasm lifted me higher and higher and then send me plummeting over the edge. Chapter 9 I hardly remember being let down. A mist surrounded me, and I couldn't hear or see very well through it. I crawled exhaustedly up the hall, someone walking along side me, looming over me, sharp little snaps of something against my buttocks quickening my pace whenever I moved too slowly. I crawled up a narrow stone corridor, and a man opened a barred door, a very low, narrow barred down. A snap against my bottom turned me into it and I crawled into a cage built into the wall. The cage was not much higher or wider than my shoulders, and only a few feet long. I crawled in and when the cage door closed, had to fight to turn around. I stared out through narrow cage bars, seeing very little. I was on all fours, and slowly sank down, awkwardly drawing my knees against my chest, and then rolling onto my side so I could lay my head down. I moaned, my body aching everywhere, my skin flaring hot and stinging painfully. But I was so tired, so drained, that somehow I fell asleep. It wasn't for long, but my eyes closed and I relaxed, groaning, curled up in the small cage. I was wakened by the cage door opening, half wakened. I didn't come really awake until a moment later when a hand grasped my hair and dragged me bodily out of the cage. I cried out in pain and confusion, arms wind milling, no idea where I was or what was happening. Strong hands gripped my hair and groin and set me on all fours, and a barked command and a tug at the leash suddenly snapped to my collar made me lurch forward, eyes blinking in confusion, my entire body stiff, sore and aching terribly. "I-I don't want - ." Crack! The crop bit into my bottom and I jerked forward. "L-Let me go - ." Crack! The crop snapped down across my back and the leash tugged on my collar, almost pulling me off my hands. Did he even speak English? Did any of them speak English? Where was Tommy?! I was led, crawling, into another stone room where there were now five Chinese girls my age or younger on all fours eating from bowls and plates on the floor, heads down, bottoms up, eating with their mouths while their hands stayed firmly on the floor, eating - like dogs. The imagery did not escape me. As I was moved in alongside the row and a hand pushed down on my head. I found I was hungry, despite how I ached, despite how tired I was, and licked at the food. It was some kind of rice, and without any seasoning not particularly tasty. But I ate as the others did, and then pushed my mouth into the water and drank. All six of us then crawled down the hall, in a line, several Chinese guys walking alongside us, leading us. We crawled outside. I felt a sense of relief as my bare knees came down on dirt instead of stone, and then raised my head up to look at the sky. The sun was low on the horizon, but it smelled like morning rather than night. A crop cracked across my buttocks and I cried out in pain, jerking forward so that I almost ran into the girl in front of me. The man that had hit me barked out something in Chinese, but I didn't understand. I got the idea, though. I was to look forward, not up and around. I should have been angry, indignant, but I was so tired that I just gave in and continued crawling across the ground, following the other girls, keeping my head up so that I could look into the shaven sex of the girl a couple of feet ahead, but looking down now and again at the ground in front of me, trying to avoid stones and twigs with my hands and particularly my knees. It was slow crawling any distance, but going faster threw us off the steady pace the men wanted. You can't crawl quickly without your body swinging wildly up and down and back and forth and they didn't seem to like that. So we crawled, steadily, one hand and one knee in front of the others, occasionally being stung by the crops if our bottoms were too low or backs not straight enough. The men occasionally said something, snapping out an order of some kind to one of the other girls, but aside from that it was quiet. The air was cool against my bare skin, and I got a little chilly. It woke me up a bit, though, and I started wondering about how long this was supposed to last, about when I could get back home, and, again, where Tommy was and what he'd told these lunatics. We reached a somewhat better made building, though still low and wooden, and crawled up a ramp and across the porch before going inside. The floors were made of wood, and but highly polished. The six of us crawled into a small side room. A carpet lay along the wall, only about two feet wide. We were all placed on it, side by side, sitting on our heels, knees spread, hands on outer thighs and backs - somehow - straight. That was hard, keeping my back straight. I was so tired. The other girls looked tired, too, and I looked along the row - briefly. A flog cut across my back and I cried out in pain again. I still didn't understand what was said, but again, I got the message. I looked towards the balding man standing in front of us as he spoke in Chinese. As we had the other day, we all posed, in unison, at barked commands. I slid forward along my arms, head down, bottom raised, legs apart. I sat back and arched my back, hands behind my neck, breasts thrust out. I lay back, raising my sex up, spreading my legs, hands pushing up against the small of my back. Again and again we changed positions as the man barked orders, and the men behind us began to lash our backs now at the slightest hesitation, at any sign of slowness, until we threw ourselves into every change of position as frantically as we could, the instant the now familiar words were barked out. There was no time to think if we were to avoid the flog. We had to act instantly. Standing up straight, sort of at attention, arms at my sides. Down on my knees, hands behind my neck, back arched. On all fours, bottom raised and pushed out, legs spread wide. Down further, bottom still high, but on my belly and chest, arms out to either side. On my back, knees spread wide. Then crawling, lots of crawling, at different speeds, with the balding man speaking to the girls as they crawled. Again I couldn't understand but could see, could watch as girls crawled, then stopped and began to move more slowly at his words, as their heads raised, their faces took on different expressions, their movements became more fluid, more cat-like. And I tried to imitate them as much as possible. We were at it for what seemed like hours, until we were all sitting there on our heels gasping for breath, chests heaving, sweat trickling down our sides, backs sore and red from the flog. Then we crawled to them, on our bellies, groveling, licking at their feet, rubbing our faces and cheeks against their ankles. The other Chinese girls were crying out a word I didn't know, but I began to echo them. The man above simply looked down at me. He had a flog in his hands, though it was one without knots on the little leather strips, and every now and then he'd bring it down on my back or bottom and say something sharply. I could only go on begging, trying to show more enthusiasm, gasping and wincing whenever the flog struck my back until he finally nodded his hand and rubbed his cock. I'd seen this on the other men as a signal to go ahead, and moaned in relief. No, I didn't want to suck his cock, really. But at the same time I was so glad he'd finally agreed. But I didn't rush. I'd seen the other girls who rushed and were punished. No matter how long I'd been waiting, how hard I'd been trying to persuade him I still took my time, rubbing my face, my cheeks against his legs as I slid slowly up, caressing his thighs with my hands, then my face and tongue. I let my face take on a look of sensual heat and excitement as I licked at his crotch through his pants, then pulled back the tongue of his belt with my teeth. I worked his pants open and then go to work, licking at his thighs, moaning low in my throat, trying to show how excited I was - though of course I really wasn't. I teased his cock into erection and then mouthed him, slowly, first working on his balls, then playing his cock like a flute, my tongue and lips caressing its entire length. The girl who had been flogged the least had shown an amazing degree of enthusiasm for her man's cock, and so I tried to do the same, acting like a girl who was insatiably hungry for the cock in my mouth, my head moving as I moaned, as I panted for effect, licking and sucking on his cock, pumping it with my hands, rubbing the cockhead over my face like it was the greatest thing I'd ever felt in my life. Strangely, the performance was kind of turning me on. Well, people were watching, and that was always exciting. But I was putting such effort into making the oral sex I was performing really hot, into making it as sensual and exciting as possible that it was influencing me. When I took his spit-wet cockhead into my throat I felt a sense of victory, of gladness that I hadn't been flogged once since I'd gotten permission to suck him. I mouthed his entire prick, taking it deep into my throat, feeling it so full and fat inside me. My lips were pressed tightly against his groin as I let that hardness fill me, and I tried to suck. I had actually started getting better at that. When I'd first learned to deep throat it was a matter of holding my breath and simply taking it. Now I had learned that I could breath with a cock in my throat, so long as I controlled myself and kept it still inside me while I inhaled. Sucking requires breath, you see. So now that I had figured out how to breath a little, I was able to suck, even with his cock down my throat. And, of course, I kept my tongue working as best I could, though it was only licking the lower shaft. I slid back, moaning, sucking harder, closing my lips harder, flicking my tongue from side to side as his cock slid back up my throat and across my lips. I let it pop free, and moaned, rolling my head, rubbing the fat, slick cock all over my face, breathing on it, licking at it as it swept past my lips. Then I took it deep again and bobbed up and down, up and down, fucking my own face on it. When he'd come, when I was back in line, and the balding man was speaking again, I tried to think of how to talk, to make them understand I had had enough of their game playing. I didn't want to interrupt him, in large part because I knew I'd be punished for it, punished reflexively, before they even heard what I had to say. And, of course, I still didn't know if they spoke any English. I was starting to feel a need to go to the bathroom, so that was at least an excuse to talk. Surely there must be a bathroom somewhere. A woman came into the room, then. She was Asian, like everyone else, and spoke only in their language. She was in her forties, I'd say, though that's hard to tell with Asian girls. She turned on some music and then, to my astonishment, began to dance. She'd been wearing a black robe, but now dropped it and showed that underneath she was nude, and quite well-built for her age. Her hips rolled smoothly, sensually, her hands moving up and down her body, caressing her skin, sliding up through her hair. Her feet turned and twisted in rhythm with the music. Her body turned and bent, straightened and arched, turned again. Two of the men in black brought in piles of clothing, and set them on a table at the rear, in separate piles. The women stopped dancing and put one on. It was basically a schoolgirl kind of outfit, complete with knee socks, patent leather shoes, and kilt. She dressed up, and then, she stripped, slowly, her tongue caressing her lower lip, her face looking alternately shy and bashful, then sleek, sexy and seductive. There was a thick rounded wood post near the rear wall, and when she was nude she used it, gripping it up high, her back to the post, her body undulating, arching, twisting. She turned towards it, swung around it, and slid downwards. A stripping class. How fun. The music was very loud. I thought it might be cover to ask about the bathroom. I was on the far end of the row of girls. One of the men was nearby. I kind of turned my head to him and instinctively raised my hand, like a girl asking permission in class. "Excuse me, sir. But do you know where the bathroom is?" I asked, as meekly as I could. He glared at me, snapped something in Chinese, and brought the flog down very hard against the center of my back. I hissed in pain, arching my back, and then settled back onto my knees to continue watching. Soon the woman was finished, and we were all instructed to stand, then put on the schoolgirl clothes. We knelt again, and the first girl got up to try and imitate what she'd seen. I was the furthest from the door but - now I was dressed, albeit in a ridiculously short schoolgirl kilt, I was starting to feel more human. I as starting to lose my patience with this game, too. Don't get me wrong, it had its moments, and given some time to rest, eat a real breakfast, have a shower and relax, maybe I'd be interested in all this again tomorrow or the next day. I ran for the door. I got out into the hall and outside too, ignoring the shout behind me. I immediately ran off the trail and into the bushes as I sensed movement behind me. Stupid bloody Chinese, I remember thinking. I was getting irritated, upset, frustrated with them. I turned my head to see two of the men chasing me. "I want to go home now!" I shouted back at them. "I'm through with this!" Instead one of them grabbed my hair and yanked me to a painful stop. I yelled in pain and lashed out at him, but my arms were quickly pinned up painful hard behind my back. "Let me go! Do you hear me! I want to go!" I shouted. A slap to the face silenced me as my cheek exploded in pain and I sagged in the grasp of the man behind me. Then another sharp blast of pain as he struck me on the other side of my face, throwing my head violently to the other side. Another slap, and another, and another, and another rocked my head back and forth, brought blood to my lips and stars to my eyes. I would have fallen but was held up tightly from behind. They tore the clothes off me, ignoring my babbled protests. Then they led me back onto one of the paths, one man on either side, grasping my arms, elbows, really. They ignored my protests, half dragging, half pulling me into another low building, a darker building, a smaller building with a dirt floor. In the centre of the floor were two vertical wooden support posts, each about four inches square and waist high. Atop them was a horizontal block of wood about six inches wide at its base. It was triangular, though, narrowing to almost nothing at its top. A horizontal pole was driven through the middle of one of the supporting posts, about six inches from the top, extending a couple of feet out in both directions. The two men lifted me up over the cross post on the top, placing me atop it, straddling it. They held me there, ignoring my squirming and whining, then pulled my arms up above my head. There was a chain there, and hanging from it was a pole about three feet wide. My hands were lifted up to either end of the pole, and my wrist restraints were locked to rings on the ends. Then two chains which dangled from the ends of the pole were drawn down and in to lock to the sides of my collar. This forced the collar up hard against my jaw and held my head back. I couldn't turn my head very easily, nor lower it. I felt them lifting my feet up and pulling them back, then felt them attaching the ankle restraints I wore to the ends of the horizontal pole which went through the rear support post. My legs were not bent back much, really, because instead they were spread out wide to either side, and this tilted my upper body forward somewhat on the wooden block. But at the same time, the overhead chain and bar were a little behind me, so that both my arms and my head were pulled back, resulting my back being arched. One of the men produced a crop which was longer than most I'd seen. It had the little triangular flap at the end, though, like the one Tommy's friends had first used on my pussy. This man used them on my nipples. The crop was light enough he could move it very quickly, and he slapped my nipples in fast little bursts, ten on one, then ten on the other, until they ached and throbbed and burned. I gasped and moaned as I straddled the horse, feeling a growing sense of discomfort, then pain between my legs as most of my weight was grinding down against the soft flesh of my pussy. At first, I relieved some of it by tightening the muscles in my arms so as to lift my weight up, even though that pulled the wrist restraints painfully tight around my wrists. All the time he was slapping my nipples I held myself up a bit, gasping and moaning, trying to talk to him, to convince him. "Stop! No! Ow! No! I-I don't - ow! - want to do - ow! - this! Owch! Stop it! Ow! I mean it!" I cried. He ignored me completely, focusing on my aching nipples, using the thin little flap to slap at them, first one, then the other, - slap-slap-slap-slap-slap - really fast. Then he moved more to one side and began to bring the longer length, the shaft of the crop across my belly, which ached and stung. The pain made me jerk and twist atop the horse, and the muscles of my arms were quickly getting weak from trying to support my weight. He moved behind me and I yelped again as he brought the crop down across my buttocks. Because of the way I was sort of tilted forward, my ankles being lifted up and out, he could easily strike most of my bottom, and did. But then he did worse. He moved out to one side and brought the crop in against the soles of my feet. None of this was really done with a heavy hand. I mean, he could have whipped far harder and I would have been screaming in pain. But he kept his blows light. None hurt individually. Oh, they stung a bit, but it was not vicious. As the blows continued, however, my skin would warm, then grow hot, and more and more sensitive. He used the crop on the soles of my right foot, then the instep, then the ball of my foot, until the whole foot was throbbing and hot. Then he moved to the other foot and repeated himself, the crop moving in fast little slapping motions. By the time he finished, both feet were throbbing hot and aching. He moved aside, and the second man moved forward, dropped to his knees, and began to lick at my feet, his tongue slowly sliding up and down over my throbbing toes and heels and instep. The other man began to cut the crop across my bottom again, and back, and then directly across my breasts in slow, careful, steady blows that made my body jerk and flinch again and again. Two more men came into the little building, watching. The man moved back, moved around me, and they moved in on either side, their hands caressing my breasts, then bending so they could lick gently across the flaring hot surface of each breast. I moaned helplessly as their lips closed on my aching nipples, as they gently tongued and suckled at them. The man with the crop put it down now, and picked up a thin flog instead. He swept in against my back and I yelled in pain, and again, and again. He swept it up and down my back, raining blows on my skin, warming it painfully, even as the other two were caressing my belly and breasts, and suckling and licking at my burning nipples. The flog made me jerk in and out, to grind myself against the wood I was straddling. It hurt, and the pain was getting deeper as more of my weight came off my arms. The man brought the thin strips of leather down across my feet and toes and against my lower legs and thighs, the first man moving aside, licking on the one foot as this man flogged the other. My body, despite my sense of dazed exhaustion, was getting extremely aroused. My nipples were spasming more powerfully than I could ever remember. The men sucking them would often bit down slowly, teasingly, squeezing and crushing my throbbing nipples until I cried out. Then they'd ease up and lick and suckle gently so that the sensations swirled and twisted away from pain, becoming intensely pleasurable instead. He moved in front of me and flogged my belly, then, as the men moved back, my breasts as I yelled and squirmed and moaned. Almost all of my weight was now down on my groin again for my arm muscles had weakened to the point I really couldn't hold myself up any longer. And since I was sort of tilted forward the wood was grinding right into the top of my pussy, grinding into my clitoris. One of the other men picked up a flog, and he began to bring it down on my back as the first one whipped my belly and breasts. The blows came slower now, but harder, and I gasped and jerked and ground myself against the wood, my body's arousal infecting my mind, which then affected my body even more strongly. The flogs were thin and stinging, and they slashed down on my belly and back and breasts faster and faster as I quivered and shook and shuddered and rocked in place. I felt again like I was in another world, a surreal world of darkness and sexual hunger, and cried out as the sensual heat burned hotter and deeper until it threatened to consume me. I came with a long, gurgling scream, my body rocking and grinding as I tried to deliberately grind my clit against the wood. Oh it hurt, but the hurt was so - good. And the flogs cracked down against my breasts, sending white hot flares of intense crackling sensations up from my nipples. Now the bar above me, the one locked to my wrists and collar, pulled back. I was pulled with it, bowing back more and more, sliding along the wooden horse, then, as my ankles were caught by the rear post, bending backwards. Now the weight was on my tailbone, as my upper body was pulled far back, exposing my raw, tender pussy. One of the men bent and began to lick at it. It hurt. Almost any touch did, but the hurt did not last. Soon it began to fade, and as his tongue rolled up and down my slit the hurt began to change. The relief of the pain became more and more intense by his lapping tongue, and he drove me into another powerful orgasm in shockingly little time. They released my collar and arms from the overhead chain and bent me back. My ankles were still bound to the rear support post, and they bent me back along the horse until my head and upper body bent back over the rear, then pulled my wrists down and back to fasten to the same rings as my ankles. With my head hanging upside down one of them moved in and slid his cock into my open mouth, then drove it straight down my throat. The man licking my pussy continued, and now the man with his cock down my throat began to pump in and out. At the same time someone, presumably him, began to gently pinch and twist my nipples until I wanted to scream. Another orgasm crashed down upon me, and I howled dazedly, my throat blocked, my body twisting and convulsing. Chapter 10 I was placed back in my cage, the men ignoring my whispered pleadings about a bathroom. But it seemed the cage could be slid right out of the wall. They did so while I was inside, and opened the top. They positioned me on all fours within the cage. There was just room to do that. Then they slid iron bars through from one side to the other, two of them. One went beneath my abdomen, pressing against the front of my thighs. The other went over my back, pressing its cold metal into my hot skin. My arms were then lifted up and back, and bent over the top, then drawn downwards so the bar was pressed up hard into the undersides of my elbows. The wrist restraints were pulled down and chained to my nipple rings, and then my head was pulled up and back, my braided hair tied with cord, which was then pulled back down along my spine, down between my buttocks and tied to the ring through my clitoris. At the same time a clamp was placed around my tongue, with a weight attached which pulled it over my lower lip. Then something was thrust through the bars behind me, driven painfully deep into my pussy, and locked in place there. The cage was now slid back into the wall and I was facing the rear, locked in place as the cage door was locked behind me. It was not a hard position to maintain, at first. But I had to be careful of my movements, because every little movement, especially of my head or hands, would jerk against the rings. It was very easy to relax my attention, especially as sore and tired as I was, and suddenly feel the stinging pain as my clit or nipples were pulled hard. The longer I was held in place the more my arms and legs and back cramped up, and the more painful it became. The backs of my arms were jammed down hard against the metal bar to help hold my back up, and my tongue throbbed hotly. And, of course, any movement of my hips twisted my insides around on the stiff thing they had pushed into my pussy. It was fitted to the back of the cage somehow, unmoving. I was hot, dirty, sore and exhausted, and I moaned as the weight tugged my tongue over my lower lip and tried to stretch it down low. Time passed, and nothing got easier. My pussy lips were sore, bruised by riding that wooden horse thing, and felt especially sore and swollen around whatever they had shoved into me. Every movement made my sex lips slide and twist on the shaft inside me, obviously some kind of dildo. And I was so tired, and it was so hard to keep my eyes open, even with the pain. The worst was my head. Nothing was holding it up but the cord bound to my long braided pony tail. And that cord was tied to my clit ring. My neck was soon aching more fiercely than any other part of my body, threatening to fall forward and tear the ring free of my clit. The pain in my clit was mounting as my head, despite my best efforts, came further and further forward. And then, thankfully stopped. Apparently they hadn't tied it solely to my clit, but to something else, as well. Still, as I relaxed the muscles in my neck I had so desperately overworked more and more of the weight was born by the pony tail or braid, and I began to feel the sting of pulled hair. They came for me. Finally. I moaned and whimpered in relief as they unfastened me, as my hair was set free, the pressure finally came off my stretched out clit and nipples, and my back was allowed to move, my legs and arms to straighten and bend. They stood over me, allowing me to writhe slowly on the floor of the hall, to bend and arch and moan and whine in pain. My arms were so sore I could hardly move them, and simply lay out to either side as I lay on my back. One of the black clad men knelt between my spread legs, though, and began to very gently tongue my clit. I hissed and cried out in pain, my back arching. I begged him to stop, but he ignored me and kept licking, his tongue lapping at my clit until the sensations built up higher and higher and then - twisted - and began to set my insides to churning. My pussy started to flare with heat, and the heat spread up my spine, up my body, into my mind. He drew back, and produced a vibrator, then began to run that along my swollen, aching sex. I couldn't keep still, couldn't stop writhing and twisting and grinding my hips up at him as I gurgled and gasped in helpless sexual need. And then he pulled the vibrator back and thrust his cock into me, hard. He lifted my legs up and back, hands under the knees, spread them and let his weight down on the backs of my knees. Then he began to hammer his hips into my upraised bottom, his cock spearing deep into my belly in hard, determined thrusts that had me grunting dazedly at every impact. I came, violently, crying out with every breath, crying out in feverish sexual release, hardly able to see for the lights flashing before my eyes, bucking and shaking as convulsions wracked my body. He rammed his cock down into me all through it, his hips relentlessly hammering my buttocks. I almost lost consciousness. It was that intense. I certainly lost awareness of everything in the world but my pleasure, but the feel of my pulsing nipples and aching clit, and his hips slamming against me as he speared me with his hard cock. I had very little chance to relax in the warm afterglow, however, as I was rolled and slapped onto all fours, and led off on a leash again. This time I was alone as I crawled shakily outside. I could still hear music coming from somewhere, perhaps where the girls were still practicing stripping. I was led crawling into the place where we had had breakfast, and the site of food and water reminded me of my full bladder. There was nothing to do, however, but eat, for I was hungry, and drink, despite the increased pressure on my bladder. That pressure was becoming almost painful, painful enough to make me desperate, to make me dare speaking again, begging for the bathroom. This got me cuffed and slapped, and then tugged on the leash back outside. I did not, at first, understand when I was led over to a kind of ditch. It was a half dozen inches wide. The man pulling my leash had me straddle it, one hand and one knee on either side, then he said something to me, gesturing. He pushed down on my bottom, forcing me to lower it, and he spread my knees wider. Then he nodded again. I still didn't understand and he glared at me. He opened his fly and took his cock out, then aimed it at the ditch and began to urinate. I was slightly shocked, and even more shocked when he gestured at me, obviously telling me to do the same. You would think that I would at least have some privacy for that, but apparently not. And I was so tired and so full that I really had no choice. I released my bladder and started to pee into the ditch. He nodded happily, watching, and I blushed, though not as fiercely as I would have expected. He finished first, and I saw him take a tube from a kind of holster at the back of his belt. He moved behind me, and I turned my head, blushing a bit now as he leaned over to watch me pee. When I was finished, he turned on the tube, which turned out to be a vibrator, and rubbed the shaft up and down my slit, especially over my clit. Well, the relief from holding it in was so intense, my entire groin felt wonderful now, and with the vibrator rubbing and buzzing away I had another orgasm in no time at all, grinding my bottom back against the vibrator as I whined and grunted and moaned in pleasure and passion. As I was led away on the leash I saw the other girls, naked again, crawling in a line towards the place I had come to think of as the kitchen, where I supposed they would eat. I was led in another direction. The next building was made of stone, a shower, obviously, once we got inside. There was another older Asian woman in there, perhaps sixty, with a small, wizened face and gray hair. She looked at me as I came crawling in, and I blushed. The man lifted me to my feet, and pulled my arms up above my head, hanging them from two hooks. He spread my legs and locked them in place by chains attached to my ankle restraints. Then the woman turned on the shower, which blasted me with warm water. The woman picked up a narrow hose, though, and before I understood her intent she had thrust it up into my rectum. It hurt, and I cried out, but she ignored me, working it deeper, paying my words no attention whatever. Like the rest, she might as well have been deaf. She worked the hose in deep, and then I felt warm water gushing up into me. She released the hose, but it did not slip out. Some part behind the head was wider, just like with a butt-plug, and had locked the hose in place inside me. The pressure of the water gradually grew greater, and then still greater, so that my belly felt full, and ached from the pressure. The old woman, meanwhile, was busy with my pussy, thrusting another hose, a narrower one, up inside it, and kind of, well, douching me. She pulled the hose out and thrust a kind of brush up into me, a brush covered with some kind of slick, slippery substance, then drove it painfully high and pumped it in and out a number of times. When she pulled it loose she thrust the hose back up inside me and let the water flow again. With that done she slid a kind of belt around my waist, then picked up a wide pale. The pale had depressions on two sides, and she fit it up close to my groin, my thighs going into the depressions. Then she strapped the bucket to the belt around my waist so it hung just below me. She removed the hose from my pussy, then the one from my backside. Naturally, with them watching, I tried desperately to hold the water in. And naturally, I couldn't, and it sprayed violently down into the bucket, along with everything else in my bowels. A second flushing out occurred, and then the bucket was removed and the water turned on me to soak me from head to toe once more. She picked up a kind of long-handled brush and turned off the water, then began to brush my body. There was soap on the end, and I was soon covered with it as the soft bristles scrubbed up and down my body. I tried to speak and she ignored me. She moved the brush over my breasts, and I hissed in pain. She scrubbed at my pussy and I cried out. She continued, never looking at my face except when she washed it. When she was done my skin felt like it had been scraped raw, and stung much worse than when I'd come in. I was let down, but this time onto my feet. My wrists were locked behind me, and I was again led away by the leash attached to the collar. Now I was led to yet another small building, and inside, then into a luxuriously furnished bedroom. The rug was soft and thick. The bed was huge and covered in soft, colourful pillows. There was lace curtains on the windows. The whole room looked soft, feminine and comfortable. The man waved his arm at the room, and spoke to me, and waved it again, giving me a kind of significant look. I understood him to mean I could stay here, maybe. Then he brought me back out into the corridor, outside, and back to the cage room. He stopped next to the cage I'd been in, and made the same kind of gesture at it. Then he led me back outside and back to the bedroom, where he took off my leash, had me kneel, and moved across the rug to stand next to the bed. He pointed at the floor at his feet. This was the same command I had learned that morning from the balding man, and I immediately threw myself onto my belly and began to crawl across the floor to him. I went through the entire routine, rubbing my face against him, moaning like a bitch in heat, licking at his shoes, begging him. I thought what he meant was that if I was good I'd get to stay here, and if I failed to please him I'd wind up back in the cage. I worked especially hard to please him. This time he did not come in my throat. Instead he pulled off, sat back on the bed, then pulled me into bed with him. We were in each other's arms, and I continued to the pantomime, the game, the show, licking and kissing him, moaning and wriggling in feigned pleasure - or pleasure that was not entirely feigned, to be truthful. I guess I was becoming much sluttier than I'd been. I never stopped moving my hips, my body. I sucked his cock like I was ravenous for the taste, panting and moaning and rubbing it over my face. I ground my pussy against his hand, then against his leg when that was the only thing there. I let my hips roll, my back arching up and down again and again as I panted like a bitch in heat. He got me on all fours and plunged into me, riding me hard and fast, grasping my hair to pull my head back. I bucked back, whining and moaning, getting hotter and more aroused now, as if my own behaviour, as if the whole sex thing had turned me on, even though it was all for his benefit. He was pushing down on my hips, forcing me flat to the bed. He had kind of positioned himself between my thighs anyway, and was still able to jam his cock into me again and again, the head grinding over the front side of my pussy tunnel instead of the back, which usually happened when I was in the missionary position. It - didn't feel bad - let me tell you. Flat, or almost flat, except for being on my elbows, on a warm, soft bed with soft, clean sheets, and a man thrusting into me from behind, well, it was - hot, and I was hot, and getting hotter. But I still never stopped moving, panting, whining like I was so hot I couldn't resist him. And when I came it wasn't feigned. My pussy spasmed around his cock and I cried out, again and again, with every breath, gasping out my pleasure as he drove himself up into my pussy. He must have come at the same time, for he left me there to relax in that lovely bed. I lay back in it, groaning, still sore all over, my skin still raw and sensitive, but loving the colour and warmth and softness around me and under me. I was still exhausted, though, and almost dozed off. Then the door opened and another man came in. He stopped and looked sternly at me, then gestured at his feet. It was the same gesture from before. I hesitated, then hurriedly threw myself out of bed, crawling on my belly to him, putting on the same show as I had for the last man, keeping up the moaning and panting and writhing. And like the first man he led me back into the bed and we continued. But I can't say I was as aroused as I had been. A part of me wanted to finish quickly so he would go and I could relax in this lovely bed once more, just relax, and hopefully get some sleep. Still, I worked at it, and he threw me on my back and thrust into me. His heavy body ground over me and it - wasn't bad. I spread my knees wide, rocking up against him, gasping and panting to his thrusts, kissing his throat, pulling at him, squeezing his bare buttocks as I rocked in time to his thrusts. I apparently pleased him with my phony orgasm. He left me there, and I got to relax, to almost fall asleep before the next man arrived. I sighed a little when the third man came, and I knew I showed less enthusiasm when I crawled to him on my belly and began to lick at his shoes and ankles. He glared at me and I tried to do better, and succeeded. But when we got back to the bed I was even less turned on, and I know it showed. He slapped me and yelled at me, and then flung me out of bed. In seconds the leash was back on and I was led back to the cage room. He bent me over a low bar, strapped me in place, and then used a long, thin switch to set my bottom on fire, cracking it down painfully, again and again, until tears spilled from my eyes and I thought the never-ending little cutting blows would never stop, that the snapping, biting pain would drive me insane. Then I was thrown onto all fours and the man rode me savagely, hammering his hips into my buttocks painfully, using his cock like a spear to stab through the swollen lips of my pussy. Still shouting, slapping and cuffing me, he thrust me back into the cage and locked me in. Over the next few of days I learned that if I was enthusiastic, really, really enthusiastic with the men who came to use me, I'd be brought to the comfortable bedroom and allowed to stay there. If I let down at all I'd wind up in the cold, dark, stone cage room, beaten, and then thrust into the cage. At first I was used by three men in a row, and then allowed to rest, even sleep. Then they moved it to four. I kept up my enthusiasm, begged and feigned excitement with all my abilities, wanting, needing them to think I was aroused, that I was hot and excited for them, needing it desperately. The funny thing was that it became less of an act. For all this desperate yearning, the begging for their cock, produced intense satisfaction when I got it, and all my efforts at making things seem hot and sensual and exciting affected me as much as them. I was starting to get almost as hot and aroused as I was pretending to be. I never got much sleep, no more than a couple of hours in a row. I was always tired, a little groggy, my mind fuzzy. I was seldom really hungry, but the food, the rice, didn't seem all that nourishing. I was sometimes alone, sometimes with the other girls. We continued to do our little position practices. Our begging. We also did exercises, running in circles, doing jumping jacks, deep knee bends. One day me and one of the Chinese girls were placed side by side in front of a little cart. Our arms were drawn tightly back, strapped behind us at the elbows and wrists. Then a kind of harness was placed around each of us, and the harnesses were hooked to the cart. We kind of looked at each other, but did not speak. When the man got into the cart and gave a command the girl strained forward, and I did to. A sharp snapping bite of a long, thin whip against my bottom sent me jerking forward hard, and the girl beside me cried out as she got one too. We pulled the cart along the circular track we had been running on, gasping and panting, crying out whenever the whip snapped at our bare bottoms. After several days of this they added headdresses, with blinders, like the things some old horses wore. They stuffed bits in our teeth, and the bits were attached to reigns. Now the men led us off the circular tracks, and had us pulling them along the trails in the woods, back and forth between cabins, gasping and panting for breath as we strained in our harnesses and yelped at the biting whips. No one ever spoke a word of English. I was the only person there who was not Asian. I was always chained at night, usually in the bed, my collar chained to the headboard, wrists locked behind my back, ankles locked together. I stopped trying to talk. No one ever paid it the slightest attention except to slap or flog me for it. There didn't seem to be any way to communicate with them. The only acceptable response to them was instant and enthusiastic obedience to whatever they wanted. I stopped even thinking about Tommy. Chapter 11 One day they led me into a new building and a new room. The room was small; the size of a closet, with mirrored walls. The centre of it was a narrow object which stood about waist high. It was a saddle. In fact, it looked something like a mechanical bull, for the saddle was on a kind of low post, and there seemed to be wires running up beneath. But the pommel was located rather far back, and there was an enormous, glistening dildo protruding from the saddle not much over a half inch back. The dildo was lightly studded, very round at the top, and widened smoothly as my eyes moved down its length. The bottom was twice as thick as the top, and the entire length looked to be close to a foot. I licked my lips a bit nervously. "I don't know if all of that will fit in me," I said meekly. The man said nothing. He gestured impatiently with his head, and I put a bare foot into the stirrup and threw my leg over the top of the saddle. I had to raise myself up then, with both feet in the stirrups. The man pushed on my bare bottom, guiding my pussy over the fat head of the dildo, then slapped my bottom to indicate I should lower myself. I did - gingerly, feeling the hardness of the rounded head against my bare slit, feeling it pushing aside my soft flesh as it moved into the mouth of my sex, then forcing its entry to the narrow tunnel into my body. I took it in several inches deep, and then felt it widening. The man was now looping a strap around my ankles to bind them into the stirrups and prevent me from getting off. I was adjusting myself slowly to the dildo, slowly easing lower, starting to feel the heat of the situation. The man reached up and took my hand, guiding it up above me. There were two little leather sleeves up above, and he forced my hand through, then tightened the sleeve. He moved to the other side and did the same. I looked around me. There seemed to be nothing else to the small room. All the walls were mirrored. And the only break with them were a pair of horizontal slits about a couple of inches wide; one on the right wall, and the other on the left. I took little notice of them. I was concentrating on the dildo stuffed up into my pussy, trying to work more of it inside me. I felt a straining at my sex as I slid lower. The dildo was getting very wide indeed. The man licked his fingers casually, then reached in and began to rub at my clit. I gave a little jerk, feeling strange indeed. He seemed so indifferent, so casual, like a worker doing a routine task. He never looked at me, at least, not at "me", and never spoke. It was like I was just a thing. He rubbed very expertly at my clit, though, and with the dildo pushing up into me I could feel my body beginning to thrum with heat and hunger. I had to go lower, though. My legs were bent awkwardly as they were, and were getting sore. Besides, it made my insides feel tingly, thinking about taking that fat cock all the way inside me. I always loved to be really deeply penetrated. I slid lower, raised myself, and slid lower again, kind of riding the dildo now, my breathing growing more rapid as I worked at it. I looked at myself in the mirror, and felt a jolt of excitement. I looked hot and sexy and sensuous. I was becoming quite the narcissist! Then again, I always had been. I rode down further, groaning a little as the dildo probed even deeper into my belly, my sex lips straining still wider. The man slid a strap around my leg just above the knee and buckled it in place, then moved to the other side and did the same. I realized what he had done almost at once. I could not rise up very high now. I could rise enough for perhaps two thirds of the dildo to come out, but not the rest. The man then turned and, without a word, left the little room, closing the door behind. I was glad to see him gone, though his fingers had felt very nice. I held still for a bit, but my legs were growing tired just frozen in place like that, and I had to force myself deeper. I was very wet now, and as I rode the dildo my juices slickened it and made it easier to take into my pussy. The base was really wide, though, and I groaned, in that narrow shadowland between pleasure and pain as my sex lips strained wider and wider around it. I just couldn't! It was too wide! I held myself as I was. But it was very difficult. My knees were bent a lot now, and that put even more pressure on little-used muscles. I rose up, but my legs could no longer straighten because of the straps. I groaned as I sank back down, trying to put some of my weight on my wrists to hold me up. But the leather sleeves wrapped around my wrists seemed to be somewhat elastic. They were strong, but would not fully support my weight. I could use them to help pull myself up, but if I held still I would slowly sink again. I sank down deep, and the dildo impaled me. I groaned as my sex lips strained wide, trying to engulf that last inch of dildo. The pain began to sharpen as my pussy opening spread wider and wider, and I gasped and clenched my teeth. Then I withdrew, panting, easing the pain. The base was as wide as a cola can, and my pussy didn't want to stretch that much. But I knew I had no choice. Sooner or later that thing was going to push fully inside me. My legs were already aching and strained. I was cursing softly, gasping, moaning as I lowered myself again, feeling the terrible strain against my sex lips. I eased just a bit lower, gasping, wincing, and then felt the saddle against my buttocks. I groaned aloud, easing lower still, slid back up a bit, then eased back down, moaning once more as the dildo spread me achingly wide. And now I could feel the pressure, a little, of the "pommel" against the front of my pussy, against the top of my sex lips - or against my clit to be precise. It felt slick and soft, with some padding so it had give. It barely touched me as I sank fully onto the dildo and my buttocks pressed down firmly into the saddle. "God!" I said in a chocked voice. I had it all inside me! I stared at myself in the mirror and my eyes fluttered. But a wave of relief swept through my legs as the muscles were able to release my weight. I sat there for a bit, then began to kind of - wiggle - a little, to find the most comfortable position. For several minutes I sat more or less still. But I was aroused by the big dildo inside me, and by the sight of myself. My sex lips ached, but it was a tolerable, and even, in some ways, an exciting ach. I could use the sleeves wrapped around my wrists to help pull me upwards, and I did, sliding up a few inches. I did, and the relief of that ache was - delicious. But, and this was strange, when I sank back down again the stretching of my sex lips was - delicious - too! I pulled myself up again, higher this time, then sank back down once more, groaning at the deep penetration, at how wide my sex lips spread. I ground my hips a little, and the top of my sex rubbed more heavily against the padded pommel. That taught me something immediately. When I pulled myself upwards, using both legs and arms, I found that if I leaned forward my clit brushed much more against that pommel much more firmly. I began to ride the dildo more quickly, letting my hips kind of undulate so that as I rose up and down I pushed myself forward and ground my clit against the pommel. "Yessss," I groaned, eyes closed. I rode harder, feeling my hunger mounting, the sexual energy coursing through my body and lending me strength. And then, out of nowhere - or really, out of those horizontal slits in the walls on either side - narrow leather straps swung out simultaneously, so fast I hardly saw the one and never saw the other. But I felt them both. The one on my left struck my back a sharp, stinging blow, while the one on the right swept in and snapped at my chest just below my breasts. I yelped in surprise and halted, gasping, staring down at the pink line across my chest. I turned my head, but couldn't see my back. Nevertheless, I knew I had a similar pink line across the small of my back. I stared, gaping, at the slits in the walls. I had only barely seen the one which swept in and struck my chest. It had almost been a blur. The stinging had faded quickly, leaving behind flesh which was warmed, and tingled a little. I waited for another blow, but it didn't come, and despite myself I started to ride the dildo again. I was in that hot, steamy sexual frame of mind where almost anything I felt contributed to the heat inside me. What was a little pain to me? I rode the dildo, grinding my hips forward so my clit jammed against the pommel. There was another blur to my right, and I cried out again, my back arching, as the leather straps cut across my bottom and my lower breasts. The stinging blows jerked me out of the momentum, the steady, up and down movement I was engaged in. But they weren't a surprise, this time, and I didn't stop moving. I groaned, my lower breasts stinging until the sensation eased, and I was starting to understand the mechanism now, to understand what was intended by those who had built it. I could have stopped, just stopped dead, and received no blows. Or at least, I guessed so. But I couldn't bring myself to stop, and the pain of the blows was not so bad, any way. It wasn't nearly enough to push me out of that sweltering mood of deep, dark sexual hunger. I moaned and rolled my hips, and leaned in so that my clit would grind against the pommel, and I continued to ride up and down, trying to understand what guided the straps, what movement of mine triggered them. Was it speed? Was it pressure? Was it - . They swept out and again I cried out as they struck my breasts and bottom simultaneously. My upper body was thrown back as my hips were thrown forward. I hissed, but continued to ride, my head now rolling in and out, up and back, my body undulating as I groaned and felt that strange, sense of dark hunger, that masochistic excitement swirling around me. I rode faster, leaning my hips in, grinding my sopping pussy mouth down so it ground heavily over the pommel. The straps whipped out, and this time I had guessed correctly, and cried out in pleasure and pain as the one on the right slashed across my breasts and the one on the left cut into my buttocks. Again my upper body was flung back a bit, my lower body flung forward. But I threw off the blow, the stinging, continuing to ride, gasping for breath now as I used my legs and arms to ride me faster and faster. Then, another pair of slashes whipped out, coming quicker now, once more snapping across my breasts and buttocks. This time the timing was perfection, and they cut right across my nipples. I screamed, letting myself go, feeling a wild, howling animal heat gripping me, feeling my body pulsing with hunger and raw sexual need. Another pair of blows, this time catching me as I rose high, cutting into my lower buttocks and the very base of my breasts, then another, cutting across the centre of my breasts and my upper buttocks. The blows were coming faster and faster, and falling with more power now, so that the stings were deeper and lasted longer. My breasts ached hotly, my bottom throbbing with heat. But I didn't care. No, I did. I was getting off on it, getting off on the pain, and the fact it was largely self-inflicted seemed to make it even better. Because I could stop moving, could stop the blows. But at the same time I couldn't stop, couldn't help myself. I was too close to a climax I knew would be powerful, would be terrible and wonderful. I was feverish with the need for that release. I picked up the pace, feeling myself on the precipice, about to drop off. Now the straps sliced out in pairs. I was struck across the breasts and just below the shoulder blades, struck across the bottom and the lower belly, and I cried out, my head thrown back, my body twisting and writhing even as I continued to ride up and down with frantic desperation. Now the blows were coming in groups, rather than simultaneously, and my body lurched in and back, up and down, as the cries broke from my gaping lips. The crack of pain snapping through my nervous system again and again as the leather straps lashed out at my bucking, heaving, sweating body. Another blow across the nipples. I screamed at the pain, for they were already throbbing and stiff from previous blows, hot and terribly sensitive. The pain had become almost too much, and I desperately wanted to avoid another blow across the nipples. But I couldn't stop myself. I could feel the orgasm spiraling up inside me now, and threw myself against it, ignoring everything else. Another blow cut across my breasts as the orgasm now rose around me, and my body began to almost bounce in the saddle. The straps cut into my back, my buttocks, my belly and my breasts and I arched my back violently, my hair spilling down my back as I rode wildly. Another across the nipples! I screamed, but the pain of my exploding nipples almost seemed to evaporate into the howling maelstrom of pleasure now engulfing me. And yet, it never disappeared, it was simply absorbed, and seemed to fling the climax into a still-higher level as my mind and body began to shatter under its power. Another across the nipples! I screamed out in pain and pleasure, and then again, for the straps seemed to be aimed right at my breasts now, both of the ones on the left, slashing in almost in rapid-fire blows that made my breasts burn and my nipples glow white hot. I was riding as desperately as I could, now, rising up as high as I could go, and dropping down as fast as I could, my legs aching, sweat trickling down my chest and belly and back an forehead as the orgasm continued to shake my mind and body like a terrier with a rat. And then, slowly, slowly, it faded, dropping to a lower plateau, then one still lower, then easing off at last. The blows stopped as my body's movements slowed, and then I dropped heavily into the saddle and sat there, spasming intermittently, gulping in air, moaning, my throat aching, my breasts and belly and back and bottom hot and aching. My eyes were slitted. I sat limp, my arms hanging by the sleeves. I was limp, the sexual energy which had powered me now drained away. I was - sore. My pussy lips were sore, and still stretched wide, still aching. My breasts, and especially my nipples were sore. My back and bottom were sore, though not as much. I felt regret, now, for my enthusiasm, for the way the sexual heat had driven me into ignoring the blows, ignoring the pain. The saddle was wet beneath me. The dildo was jammed high into my belly, but my juices had spilled down its length and soaked the area around it. I grunted weakly, my legs loose, limp, so all my weight was on the saddle. I was sore, my muscles aching. For five minutes, maybe ten, I hardly moved at all. Then, my energy returning, I began to wriggle a little in the saddle, searching for a more comfortable position. But that dildo was still deep inside me, and it was only my imagination, but it felt like it was throbbing. Or maybe it was me. Soon I was riding it again, gasping and moaning, grinding my pussy against the deliciously hard cock inside me. And when the whips began to fall I cried out in pain/pleasure, rolling my hips, bucking up and down, undulating to the sexual high swirling through my mind. I took the blows across my breasts and cried out again and again as my orgasm screamed through me, an orgasm that rose and fell as though it were not one, but a half dozen strung together, as though it or they would never end. A woman was in my room. It was the dancing teacher. She stood just as the men had and pointed and said the word I'd come to know. My reaction was instinctive, despite my confusion, and I literally tumbled out of bed, crawling to her on my belly, my face glad, joyous as I reached her and licked at her feet, as I rubbed myself against her legs and ankles and moaned, moaned like a purring pussy cat. She looked down at me, and I felt uneasy at her frown, and fearful that she would not approve, would send me back to the cold cage and a beating. I redoubled my efforts, and felt a huge sense of relief when she indicated I could go ahead. She was wearing a robe, and I slowly worked my hands and body and head up its length until I could pull the ties with my teeth, and then, realizing she was nude below, licked gently at her belly. I had never performed oral sex on a woman. But, of course, I knew how it was done. They had done it to me, often enough, too, and now I put everything I could into pleasing her, into licking and tonguing, rubbing and blowing and mouthing her sex lips, rubbing my silky hair against her thighs, moaning and purring at her for all I was worth. I should point out that my tongue was much stronger, and longer than it had been. The weights they had often hung on my tongue, and the way I was forced to work on their cocks, and even their anuses, had strengthened and stretched it. Now I could touch the tip of my chin with my tongue, and I put its length to good use, thrusting it up into this woman's bare little hole, pumping it in and out, then caressing her clit. I had come to feel, to know, to understand, that pleasing them - was the most important thing in the world. I had to please them! I had to make them sexually happy! And the fact this was a woman didn't matter at all. I did my best to please her, and felt intense relief when she took me to the bed. I let her lead, as I let the men. Sex with her was different. But I put on the same show, and, oddly, just as with the men, it really wasn't that much of a show, for I really did get aroused, deeply aroused. Maybe it was my own mind fooling me, as I fooled them, but when she mouthed my nipples I gurgled in pleasure. When her fingers thrust inside me I bucked and writhed and rolled my hips. Then her bare sex was jammed in against mine and we were grinding out pussies together, gasping and moaning, humping and rolling until I came - unfeigned, crying out in bliss, rocking violently against her, and then she came as well, pulled into my come. They did not always come to my room, or the room I thought of as mine. Sometimes I came to theirs, hands shackled, led by the leash. And one day when I was led into a room Tommy was at the far end. I didn't even recognize him at first. He was just another Asian man dressed in black. And he made the familiar gesture as soon as I saw him. I felt a shock of recognition run through me, but by now my reactions were instinctive. I threw myself to my knees, then my belly, and crawled across to him, moaning and wriggling, licking at his feet, rubbing my head against his ankles, trying to please him. When I succeeded, I took his cock into my mouth, and it really didn't matter that it was Tommy. My mind wasn't dead. I was thinking about what was going to happen now, wondering if he would take me away at last, wondering for the first time in a while how long I had been there. But I had to continue to please him, to put everything into the act that was not an act. He took me to bed, and rode me hard, rode me into a screaming orgasm, even more intense than the many I had been having lately, and he left me there on the bed, disappearing like the others always did. Tommy came every few days after that, and never spoke. One time, after I had come, and when he was leaving, I called out to him, and he glared at me, rushed back hard and slapped my face so hard it flung me completely around. I spent the next several days in the cage, the crop slashing my bottom every morning and evening. When I next saw Tommy, a week after I had returned to the bedroom, I did not speak. He rode me and left. The days continued, and Tommy sometimes came and sometimes didn't. One day he showed up for our posing and positioning lesson, and he called out the orders. I obeyed, of course. Afterwards he hooked me to the little cart, and I pulled him after me as he visited several of the buildings. I had come to know by now that one was a bathhouse and sauna, one was a comfortable bar, another a residence for the Asian men. I stripped for him and groveled for him, and he whipped me to orgasms, building up the pain gradually, as the others did, until my skin was raw and every touch made me gasp, whipping my nipples and breasts and pussy until I came violently. And then, one day, I was strapped tightly, my arms bound behind me, a gag stuffed into my mouth, a hood locked tight over my head, blindfold placed over my eyes. I was strapped so close I could hardly breath, and placed into a box. The box was lifted into something, a truck perhaps, and I was driven off. Hours later the box was unloaded and opened, and Tommy was there again. He did not speak, except to say the words I had learned, the commands. I was stiff and sore, but I got to all fours, and he leashed me, and I was led into a much nicer building, a wide, low, Chinese style building of wood, surrounded by gardens. I crawled on the leash into a kind of central room, where there were a half dozen other Asians. Tommy spoke to them, and they looked at me with odd expressions on their faces. Then Tommy led me away. I later learned these were servants. But Chinese servants were not like those in the west. These had served his family for generations. And whatever he wanted was law for them. Tommy used me every day. He never spoke to me except for the commands. He often spanked and fondled me, teasing me to the point I could hardly stand the sexual pressure and hunger and tension inside me. Then he would whip me to climax. I was always bound, shackled, chained. Most of the time I crawled, led on the leash, either by him or one of the servants. I was taken outside to go to the bathroom, and was washed inside, hung by my wrists and scrubbed by an older man who often excitedly groped and fondled me, though with evident fear his master would discover what he did. When Tommy ate, at a long, polished table, I knelt beside him, occasionally being given treats of the fine food he ate, licking it from his hands. Otherwise, I had a bowl and dish and would eat like a dog. It was strange how my mind had come to accept this as - just the way things were. I didn't really think much about escaping, about running away. The sex was intense, wild, exciting, thrilling. When Tommy wasn't with me I had a huge pool, luxurious bed and pillows and mats on the floor, big screen TV, video games, movies and books. And, after some months, another slave girl, a Chinese girl a few years younger. I was not unhappy, though at times I was bored and my mind considered whether or not this was right, and whether or not I should try to escape. But the walls were very high, and I didn't even know where we were, and I knew I'd be badly punished if I tried to escape. I was with Tommy for several years. It was a life I was used to, and not an unpleasant one, to be honest. I had no problems in life, no stress, worries, concerns, except pleasing Tommy and his guests, male and female. When the police came, it wasn't for me. It was something to do with drugs, something illegal Tommy had been doing. I was a surprise to them, and they didn't really know what to do with me. My new surroundings were white, and smelled of medicine. I had no more freedom than before, and people treated me very oddly, making me feel uncomfortable, embarrassing me. I didn't like them at all, and I didn't like the people dealing with me. They never had sex with me, and seemed very embarrassed when I offered. They insisted I wear clothes, uncomfortable clothes that were thick and shapeless and ugly and which I didn't like. They kept insisting I had been traumatized and needed therapy, but I resented them thinking I was sick simply because I had lost my inhibitions about sex. Oh, it was true that I had come to be trained, in a sense, to instant obedience. It was hard to argue with that. And I think they preferred to "treat" me on that "problem" rather than the sex one because they found it more comfortable. And after putting up with their treatment for as long as I could, treatment that worked well enough for me to begin to assert myself more, I demanded I be released. I neither wanted nor needed any treatment to address my lack of sexual hang-ups. Needless to say the job market had little openings for a girl with no degree and no experience in anything but sex. Outside the world of sex workers anyway. So my first job was as a stripper. It paid fairly well, but the club was mediocre. As I learned more about the world of erotic dancing I graduated to better and better clubs. It wasn't just that I was good at it, but that I loved it and it aroused me. Most of the other dancers were in the business with great reluctance, and the men could sense their hearts weren't in it. After a few months of stripping I met a woman named Barbara Lee, who recruited me for her escort service. It paid considerably better and provided me with the men I needed to satisfy the desires my body now craved and needed. There too, just as with stripping, the men could sense my excitement, my interest, my lust. I wasn't faking it, and some part of them knew it well. And so I became quite popular, especially with those into bondage and sadism. I suppose you could say that I was a sex slave. That's kind of a shocking admission, I know. But for several years that was indeed what I was, collared, leashed, and beaten for disobedience. The fact my mind had become conditioned to love the role of sexual play toy, even to the punishment I was often given, does not alter that. But I don't look back on it with regret. I enjoyed it, adapted well, and it made me the sexually uninhibited and happy person I am today. end .






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