This story is the main entry… There are four more first chapters of stories following this tale that may be submitted in full later, individually.

WEBCAM VIDEOS

Chapter One… Modeling for the webcam

Inhaling a deep, deliberate breath she hesitates, glances toward the webcam above the computer, the red light blinking on.  Carefully positioning herself across the stool in front of the dark bed sheet pinned to the wall for a backdrop, the black leather hood covering her head melding to the contours of her face, she stares through the narrow eye slits at her image being displayed across the large screen high-def monitor.

Virtually naked, oiled, having freshly shaven from the neck down, her taut body glistens beneath the lights illuminating down from the ceiling.  Sensing the mask’s scruff lining tightening across her nervous smile, another deep breath and holding it, she catches her every movement from the monitor, watches herself as her torso arches forward, her stomach hollowing beneath her protruding ribcage with each breath.  Raising her hands above her head, bending her elbows, letting her arms stretch upwards, outwards, slowly bow back behind her head, she casually interlocks her fingers behind the mask as she finally takes another breath, to again hold it in as she focuses her image filling the monitor.

Curling her body even further outward toward the computer, forcing her firm breasts to harden even more, jaunt tightly outward as they spread toward her sides, the nubs of her thickening nipples jiggle to a standstill.  Another exhale, another deep breath, still eyeing her own every calculated motion, the movement of her knees, her thighs spreading apart, she hesitates, just briefly, almost teasingly.  Nibbling on her lower lip, again spreading her legs a little further apart as her butt cheeks flatten across the stool she exposes her vaginal area, the smooth, puffy folds of her labia spreading, scraping across the cloth covered surface as her knees point outward in opposite directions.  Seductively manipulating her shoulders to allow her breasts to gently sway, glide back and forth just enough for her nipples to jiggle, she tenses her arms, legs, stomach muscles while deeply inhaling and holding her breath in yet again.

       The full frontal view of herself spread-eagled on the monitor, squatting on the stool seems somehow surreal, her lithe body below the glistening black mask so slim and taut, yet so full busted, her symmetrical breasts standing upright as a matching pair of firm mounds seemingly almost too perfect to be natural.  Another few moments as she flexes her pec muscles, watching her perfectly centered nipples visibly twitch, she finally exhales, allows her fingers to seperate, her arms to slowly slide lower toward her sides as she keeps her chest thrust outward.  Allowing her fingertips to glide across her midsection, one hand to turn up across her ribcage, she cups a breast, lifts the supple titflesh.  Melding, stroking, stretching the firm mound to just beneath the mask’s chin, all the while playing to the camera, she curls, slips the tip of her tongue out of the narrow slit, flicks the nub of her nipple back and forth.  Sliding her other hand on down between her thighs, rotating a fingertip gently across her responding clit, she trembles, feels the stirring in the pit of her stomach, quietly moans.

       The timer blinking toward the bottom of the screen, pacing herself, guiding her stiffening finger provocatively between her spreading labia, scooting her hips from side to side on the stool, her dampened finger disappears from view.  Still pinching her nipple between thumb and fingernail with her other hand, softly moaning through the mask, she plays to the webcam ‘till she realizes there’s just under a minute left.

Again provocatively arching, sliding her hands behind her neck, parting her legs even wider, becoming virtually rigid in her almost spread-eagled position, she stares toward the monitor, smiles beneath the mask at the sight of the tribal tattoo circling her left arm, another toward the side of her left hip as she awaits the countdown to end.

       Time up, slowly standing, stepping toward the computer, flicking the switch off on the webcam, she slips the mask from her face, off above her head.  Another sheepish grin as she hits the replay button, watching the teasingly short video replayed, she plays with the keyboard keys, hesitates, nibbles across her lower lip while contemplating, finally taps ‘send’ on the keyboard.  Seeing the video sent, again her heart pounds as she tries to think, to make sure she can’t be recognized, her site somehow located.  Slowly shaking her head, she realizes what’s done, is done.

       Reaching for the salve on her dresser, a couples swabs, rubbing the black greasepaint from her bare flesh, scrubbing the tattoos away, again she has her doubts, glances toward the dresser mirror as she tosses the cotton balls into the waste basket.  Stepping toward her bed after retrieving her favorite sex toy from the dresser, sprawling across the covers, she lays back, thinking of the reaction to her escapade as she spreads her legs, closes her eyes, slides the vibrating toy with a single thrust deep inside her moist slit, replaying in her mind the circumstances that led her to perform for the webcam, how it will be received.

Chapter Two… The beginning… With the day leading up too…

       Friday night.  Baby sitting for her sister, the three year old taking a nap, after checking on her, roaming the hallway, seeing the blue glow from the computer’s ‘on’ light in her brother-in-law’s office, nothing better to do, she slides across his leather chair, flicks the monitor’s switch.  The computer already on, the screen instantly comes to life.  A few searches, glancing across a couple of the host sights, starting to click the computer off, she notices the sites along the bottom, sites not deleted from prior use.  Flicking one, another, yet another, she passes through the obvious men’s domains, sports, weather, more sports.  Again about to turn off the computer as she listens for any sounds from the child down the hall, she flicks onto the last site, his listing of personal favorites.

The domain names obviously adult oriented, surprised, curious, flicking to one, another, she’s incredulous at what’s popping across the screen.  Not just naked women, but bound, disciplined, even worse, much worse, mostly by muscular, half clothed men.  Not able to even imagine her sister allowing such obscene filth on their computer as she eyes one porn image after another, knowing her sister, there’s no way her husband would be allowed to view such sites.  Flicking back to his ‘favorite’s’ page, hearing the car pulling in the driveway, the automatic garage door being opened, she manipulates the keys, hits ‘send’ before turning the computer off as the downstairs door opens.

Spending less then a few minutes chatting, almost eager to get back to her apartment, riding home alone with him, her sister staying with her sleeping child, she senses his flirtations in the past, always with a smile, good natured, just maybe had more serious designs.  Small talk, this time trying to conceal her uneasiness, his peck across her cheek, the palm of his hand across her knee as he parks in front of her building, she can’t help noticing his glance toward her breasts as she slips out the passenger door, shuts it behind her.   Nervous to the point of struggling to get the key in her door, dead-bolting it behind her, going directly to her computer upstairs in her bedroom, shutting and locking that door, flicking the computer on, the seconds seem to take agonizingly longer as she impatiently waits.

       Finally able to run programs as the computer slowly comes to life, flicking the keys, she leans back on her seat as she sees his private page was downloaded, now appearing in front of her on the screen.  Heartbeat escalating, searching down the list, she finds his list of passwords for his sites.  Leaning closer to the computer, glancing around herself from one side of the room to the other, slowly shaking her head at the thought of somehow being watched from through her second story window, again she stares toward the screen, sees the downloads of naked women, the bondage, the humiliation, and the torture.  All victims being women, all good looking, at least she thinks to herself, he’s straight, not into kinky things with men, thank god.  Feeling a sense of embarrassment, yet strangely drawn toward the various, mostly forced poses, the further she enters the various sites, the more she can’t help noticing that more then a few of the models are similar in looks, actually eerily similar to her sister and herself.

       Several sites, all rather universal in their similar sadistic tastes, finally one jumps out above the rest, startling, one that seems to be from some type webcam download.  A view of a naked woman with only a black silk eye mask on facing the monitor, she seems to be hesitantly following instructions as she poses her naked body for the camera.  Somehow familiar, mesmeric, the woman’s appearance, even with the blindfold covering her eyes, could it be… her sister.  Just watching some of the way’s she’s willing to pose uninhibited, the way she’s displaying her naked body’s riveting, embarrassingly stimulating.

       Another short video download of the masked woman, the second one’s much harsher, brutally masochistically painful with nipple clamps, yet just as erotic in its own right with the treatment she’s actually imposing on herself.  The whole thing’s mesmerizing, intoxicating, almost like watching herself performing for the camera, could it possibly be her sister?  Hours turning to early morning as she reviews the short, second video over and over; she’s sure, yet somehow unbelieving who the masked woman is.  Finally ready for bed, eyes burning, exhausted as she clicks off the computer, reaching in the lower drawer of her dresser, rummaging for a couple metal hair clips, retrieving her favorite ‘sex-toy’, it’s time for bed as she lays across her backside, experiments clipping a pin deep across each nipple before spreading her legs, pleasuring herself with the vibrating instrument whirring deep inside her soaked orifice.  Feeling the burning sensations resonating through her nipples, thinking of the video in the darkness of her bedroom, she imagines what real clamps must feel like as her body begins responding, trembling, her womb stirring.

       Moaning, replaying the image of the webcam video over an over in her mind as the vibrator whirs, her nipples ach, swelling inside the flexing hairpins, her naked body twisting, contorting, finally spasms as an explosive orgasm rocks her, followed by a series of unexpected reoccurring ripples.  Rasping breathes, rolling on her side as she painfully slips the clips from her aching nipples one at a time, gripping the dildo with both clenched fists, glancing toward the computer; the thoughts continue to flow through her mind of the first video of the woman posing for the webcam.  Still feeling the lingering effects of her masturbation, she realizes the thought of posing, of displaying herself on a webcam could be exciting, intoxicating, but only if no one knew who she was, and maybe even, even if it was directed toward her brother-in-law.

       Allowing the vibrator to continue to gently whir, still snuggling in a semi-fetal position, thinking of the poses on the video, she closes her eyes, relaxes, thinks of how she could pose too, also how to conceal her identity while doing a video.  Fantasizing, feeling the steady tingling between her thighs, she cups her breasts, gently massages the flattened nipples ‘till falling asleep.

Awakening to the steady patter of raindrops across the windowsill, a damp bed sheet beneath her thighs, the motionless vibrator still burrowed deep inside her, she slowly rolls over, spreads her legs, removes the glistening plastic tube, drops it on the bed as she notices the clock on her radio, nearly noon.  A night spent with the thoughts of the videos, wondering what was a dream, what wasn’t; she glances toward the blank monitor.  Sliding out of bed, a few minutes with the computer, a short list of what she needs, the shower’s quick, the cab’s called.  She’s ready for the quick trip to an adult shop.

       A couple hours later, returning to her apartment, the package in hand, she glances around the room, figures out her plan.  Feeling almost obsessed, nervous yet excited, ripping the brown wrapping open, she feels the supple leather in one hand, the contrasting harshness of the metal in the other.  Thinking of the look on the clerk’s face, the almost lewd, knowing all stares as he rang the items up, his eyes roving as he obviously enjoyed her unabashed embarrassment; she lays the black full face mask on the dresser as she squeezes the Japanese clover clamps between a thumb and finger.

Chest pounding, nervously flicking on the computer from standby, going directly to the second video, she watches the screen as she slowly undresses from her damp clothing.  Following the lead of the blindfolded woman, now convinced it must be her sister, watching her allowing a clamp to squeeze shut across a nipple, raising one of her own clamps up across her own bare breast, she feels the cool metal against her areola, the tongs slipping across the already rock hard nipple as the other clamp sways across her stomach from the short silver chain.

       Sensing the pressure as she hesitantly releases the tension, feeling the metal press into the flattening nub, force it to swell, bulge between the cool steel, she grips her lower lip between her clenching teeth, takes a breath, releases the clamp.  “Oomph!”  A slight grunt, the instant throbbing of her engorged nipple jiggling from the weight of the clamp dangling, being tugged by the connecting stretched chain, she senses her hips trembling as she reaches for the other swaying clamp.

       Hesitating, gently squeezing, removing the initial clamp from her throbbing breast, she lays the glistening chain on the dresser, picks up the leather hood.  Wondering what possessed her to buy the clamps; she makes a decision, flicks the first video back on the screen.  Practically knowing the routine by heart, sitting on the chair, mimicking the screen, she fondles herself, poses, feels the stirring deep inside, decides what she’s going to perform for the webcam.

       The bed sheet for the wall, a stool replacing the chair, centering the webcam, she’s ready as she watches her reflection on the screen.  Feeling more and more a kind of excitement, anticipating modeling naked giving her an unexpected rush, standing, she wonders if she can actually send the video when she’s done.  Time for a long, hot shower, a complete shaving from the neck down, a good massaging coat of body lotion after applying a couple temporary tattoos somewhere on her body to help with the black leather hood to conceal her identity, she feels she’ll be able to work up the nerve to go ahead with her idea. At least make the video for herself.

In a couple hours, her video will be done.

Chapter Three… Stepping up the stakes of posing for the webcam

The familiar leather hood, the grease paint tattoos, she positions the stool in front of the blue sheet covering the wall.  Setting the tray to her left, the implements neatly aligned, sparkling under the lighting, she nervously watches as the timer flicks the webcam on.  Sensing the anticipation, the tingling in her stomach, she begins her private showing.

The second video in two days, this time planned for a few more tense minutes, she glances toward her image dominating the monitor’s screen.  Slowly arching, scooting across the stool, allowing her glistening breasts to sway, jaunt outwards, the enticingly slow spreading of her legs until her waxed pubic mound glistens above her bare slit, she holds virtually motionless in her spread-eagled pose for a few seconds, still teasingly, posing for the webcam with a full frontal nude display, just as in the initial video.

Glancing across the tray through the mask’s narrow slits, keeping one hand behind her neck, she picks up the pair of Japanese clover clamps chained together.  Hardly believing what she’s about to do, she lets one clamp dangle down off her stomach as she presses the other clamp against her hardening nipple.  Starring toward the monitor, slipping her free hand from behind her neck, cupping her left breast, hoisting the firm flesh upwards, the thickening nipple poking out above her fingertips, she squeezes the clamp open, allows the nub of her nipple to slip between the spreading tongs.  Pressing, aligning, allowing the clamp to squeeze shut deep across the engorging nub, her naked body jerks, reflexively responding to the crisp pain, her image noticeably quivering on the screen.

Wondering how her sister, and it has to be her in the brother-in-law’s video, could bear to clamp her nipples, to leave them on for a video lasting over a half hour, she feels the pulsing of her own heartbeat resonating through her chest, the almost searing, burning pain of the metal harshly compressing the engorged nub.

A few moments of allowing the clamp to firmly seat, reversing hands, hesitantly fingering the other clamp swaying across her flexing navel at the end of the chain, cupping her right breast, sliding the opening clamp up across the nipple, aligning, releasing it’s jaws to borrow into that engorging nub, her body again noticeably shutters on the screen as she drops her clenching fists beside her hips, allows the clamps to tug at her stretching breasts, the connecting chain dangling between her painfully compressed nipples.

Stifling a groan, both breasts now pulsing with each heartbeat, she again bows forward as she slides her hands up behind her neck, interlocks her fingers behind the leather mask.  Again referencing her pose by focusing on the monitor, arching, spreading her hips across the stool, a deep breath and she assumes her minute or so of silent stillness.  Finally exhaling, glancing down, again slipping just a single hand from back behind her neck, fingering the chain between her breasts, tugging upwards, aligning, clamping the center links between her teeth as she cranes her neck forward, she assumes the position, interlocks both hands behind the mask , jerks her chin upwards, just as her sister’s pose.

“Ooomph!”  A suppressed moan, her breasts quivering, she stares toward the webcam.

Feeling the tenseness of the clamps painfully tugging at her nipples, another shallow grunt, slowly lifting her chin a little higher, the chain dragging upwards across both sides of the cheeks of the mask, she takes a breath, cranes her neck further back, pulls at her bulging breasts.  Able to watch the monitor, feeling the piercing, burning sensations resonating through both areolas, her breasts stretching higher as the engorged nipples force the clamp’s tongs to fluctuate, spring partially open, clamp shut, drag across the darkened nubs, she inhales, exhales, tugs, inhales, exhales, tugs again, now grunting with each forced breath as her fingers clasp together, fingernails digging into the backs of her hands.

The clamps forced to jaunt upright, the chain stretching, breasts bulging upwards, the searing pain explodes through her left breast as that clamp finally springs free, jerks, swings outward, smacks down across her bellybutton.  Another grunt, another jerk of her mouth, her clenching teeth gnawing on the chain as her right breast stretches up near her shoulder, a sharp twist of her head, another harsh jerk and twist, the second clamp finally tears away from the chaffed nipple, flicks up across her shoulder.

“Ooomph!... Aaaggghhh!”

Her grunts muffled by the mask’s narrow slit, the chain still clenched between her teeth, she rasps for breath, struggles to hold her pose as she again focuses on the monitor, the image of her naked body glistening, trembling as her breasts sway to a standstill.  A deep breath, another, and another, the pain’s excruciating, piercing as she glances down at her reddened, chaffed nipples, her areolas turning a light purplish shade, pulsing with each heartbeat.

Letting the chain drop from her lips, the clamps clanking across the stool, onto the floor, another deep breath, closing her eyes, feeling the dampness spreading across the inside of the mask from her welling eyes, she blinks, glances toward the timer at the lower corner of the screen, holds her pose for the remaining minute and an half.

The cam clicking off, dropping her hands, cupping her aching breasts, the nipples too tender to massage, to even touch, she slips the mask off, wipes her eyes, tosses the clamps and chain back on the tray.  More lotion, cotton swabs, the tattoos hastily scrubbed away, again sitting on the stool, playing back the video, she tries to cup her breasts but senses the raw pain again as she glances toward the monitor, still her nipples too sensitive to touch as she watches the replay of them being stretched, torn by the metal clamps.

Allowing her arms to drop down toward her sides, rest across her hips as she spreads her legs, her hands reflexively slipping between her thighs, she can’t help focusing on her naked image flashing across the screen.  The surprising dampness spreading across her fingertips as her fingers press into the moist slit, her bodily fluids oozing, drips across the stool as she slowly rocks back and forth, plunges her fingers in just a little deeper.  Feeling the stimulating sensations deep inside, the tingling, the churning in her womb as fingers from both her hands begin to burrow, pump into her stretching orifice as she watches the sparkling chrome clamps on the monitor ripping at her stretching nipples, she feels her body trembling, listens to the sounds of her own rasping breaths, senses the rumbling of an approaching orgasm pulsing, spurting, then finally exploding just as the replay on the monitor shows the clamps tearing away from her naked breasts.  Struggling to remain balanced on the stool, twisting back and forth as her thighs spread further apart, her breasts bouncing, swaying, smacking together, she arches forward, exhausted.

Overwhelmed from the reenacting of the second video, again the brief few steps to the bed, laying across on her back, gingerly cupping her sore breasts, she thinks of the new video as she curls up, closes her eyes, contemplates sending it to her brother-in-law’s computer.  Slowly stepping back to the computer, almost reflexively connecting to his site, hitting the send button, she shuffles back to the bed, lays down, rocks herself to sleep, to more disconnected dreams of what she’s becoming addicted to doing to herself.

Again daylight.  Even more rain tapping across her window, she awakens, rolls on her back.  Drawn toward her computer, sliding out of bed and squatting on the stool naked, in moments she again gains excess to his site.  Scanning to the webcam section, her pulse picks up a beat as she notices there are three new additions to the original pair.  Opening the newer files, sure enough the first two are of her, almost like the original two, both bodies so similar being abused in the same ways.

       Flipping to the fifth entry, again it’s the original ‘model’ posing.  Watching, shaking her head in disbelief, she stares at the sight of the woman being suspended by her breasts, twisting, slowly turning in front of the webcam.  Crude, yet again riveting, unable to take her eyes from the monitor, her heart pounding in her chest she notices the hand scrawled message on the cardboard surface partially concealed from view.  Finally able to read the short message behind the swaying body, she cups her own breasts, squeezes, massages the firm mounds as the video continues on, and on.

       Knowing the depth of torment she felt with the clamps, the sight of the ropes embedded so deeply into those breasts, the way they’re stretching upwards from the revolving body, she can’t imagine the pain involved in the latest video.  Still caressing her own breasts, seeing tears for the first time dripping from the model’s cheeks, the sense of her own frustration, of her own humiliations’ shared with a warped anticipation of what it must feel like, how long she could handle being suspended by her own breasts, to video it, to let someone else see it afterwards.  Breathing heavy, stomach churning, the sense of the dampness between her thighs, she realizes she’s going to need to find a way to hang a rope from her ceiling before evening.

Chapter Four

Balancing on the stool, staring toward the cam camera as the final seconds tick down, she inhales a deep breath.  Cautiously lifting a knee, even more vigilant with the other as she tiptoes, nervously lifts her ankle upwards, she finds herself slowly rotating in mid air, the pair of ropes going from lax to taut stretching down from the ceiling fan, creaking as they burrow deeper into the bases of her contorting breasts.  The pain somehow even much harsher then expected, her head tilting back as her chest arches toward the ceiling, the black mask concealing the tears almost instantaneously forming from her welling eyes, she clenches her fists behind her back, fingernails curling, digging into her palms as she nibbles at her lower lip.

       Catching a glance of the monitor as she ever so slowly twirls in a looping circle, her naked body suspended above the floor by her breasts, her image on the screen from the thighs upward, she struggles not to try to locate the stool again with her feet, to end this painful venture prematurely.  Grunting to herself, having tightly bound her breasts, tugged, lifted on the looping ropes with her hands just as an experiment earlier in the day, the actuality of feeling the harsh consequence of actually being suspended by her breasts for this short broadcast is almost overwhelming.

       Turning to her calculated breathing for some sort of relief, a deep breath, holding it, trying to remain motionless with her knees bent, her toes nearly touching her thighs, her naked body slowly arching to a virtual standstill facing the monitor, she squints through the mask’s slits, the ropes twisting just in front of her face, her already purplish breasts engorged, swollen to practically twice their normal size.  Again the digital timer toward the lower corner of the screen blinking, thankfully a shortened setting for performing just a hopefully shocking tease, she focuses on the countdown, for the cam to shut down on its own as she senses the ropes tightening with every agonizing second ticking by.

       Imagining even trying to mimic the newest video, to hang by her breasts for anywhere near the time that the other model, possibly, probably her sister has, she again tightly clasps her fingers together, white knuckled, behind her back, willing herself not to grab the ropes, to stop the webcam.  Slowly swaying back and forth, the ropes creaking, breasts contorting into purplish mounds, she feels the dampness, wetness across her covered cheeks.  Knees continuing to bend, her feet pressing, scrapping across the rear of her thighs, trembling, grunting for breath, again and again, she glances toward the monitor, struggles to finish as the seconds seem to take minutes, minutes to hours.

       At last, the sound of the cam clicking off, letting her feet drop, shuffle to find the stool as she reaches up, frantically grips the ropes; she finally locates the wooden surface with her twitching toes.  Untying, hesitantly unwrapping her bluish breasts one at a time, the excruciating pain tearing through the aching flesh as blood again flows through her chest, the relief’s just as overwhelming as the aches finally slowly fade.  Stepping from the stool, cupping, massaging her discolored globular mounds, again she senses the urge to playback the brief video, to watch her self inflicted torture before sending it. 

End Part One

       

       

       

              

 

     

  

       

                  

MODELING THE SEX APPARATUS

Hired to model a sexual apparatus, briefly trained to its numerous positions, the tale begins.

Chapter One

       Stripping on cue, letting the white terrycloth robe flutter across the floor between her bare feet, she approaches the podium unassisted.  Somewhat hesitant, turning, kneeling on the carpeted surface in front of the gleaming apparatus as she faces the room, her nearly nude body glistens under the lights.  Breasts swaying beneath the thin straps of the overflowing low cut cups covering her firm globular mounds almost overly large for her slender frame, she positions herself as practiced even as the approving whispers filter forward within earshot.  Knees spreading, a deep breath, hands resting palms outward beside her thighs; she glances off to the side, up above the seated patrons as she focuses on the monitor mounted high on a wall.  Her enticing black laced lingerie clothed likeness being videoed reflecting back toward her, a youthful, sexy appearance, she can’t help holding back a slight smirk, her streak of exhibitionism leaving her also with sense of nervous excitement.

Her lone handler stepping beside her runs a hand across her tanned flesh, cups a breast, slides his other hand down between the natural part between her spread thighs, his fingers gently flattening her clit beneath the matching thong bottom.  Sensing the slightest tremor between her legs, her nipple tingling as just the tip of its hardening nub’s momentarily flipped up across the seam of the lace material, she remains otherwise motionless.  Silently waiting as the handler steps around the podium, taking a brief glance downward toward her jiggling breasts, her nipple again partially exposed as she’s arched back, she feels his hands pressing across her neck from behind.  A ball gag slipped between her lips, its straps fastened behind her tightly braided hair, the bright red gags’ unexpected, her lips stretching into an oval while she reflexively grunts as he begins aligning her to the mountings.

Feeling the pencil thin titanium rods of the apparatus positioned, secured with narrow straps first behind her ankles, calves, thighs, she raises her arms outward as similar rods are attached to her wrists, elbows, finally shoulders.  Her tightening body tanned and sleek, feeling the coolness of a slightly heavier rod pressing across the hollow of her spine as she arches forward, she senses its tapered ends being secured to the others with a final strap secured around her forehead.  Inhaling another long, slow deep breath, waiting for the exhibition to begin as she displays herself to the nearly full room, she listens for the whirring sound as he steps away.

       Lights dimming other then from above the podium, the semi-circle of chairs now in the shadows, the erotic image of her on the overly large screen up on the wall off to the side of her stands out as she senses the rods maneuvering, hears the apparatus coming to life.  Trying to relax her stretching body as previously practiced, allowing her extremities to follow the rotation of the rods forming her near naked from into a bowing arch facing upwards; she concentrates, awaiting her initial position to lock into place.

       Blinking, neck craning as she feels herself automatically being positioned into a near perfect semi-circle, she feels the tensioning behind her straining arms, legs as they’re spread apart, the bowing of the connecting steel pressing taut while traveling the length of her spin with her neck tilting back from the tightening strap.  Her bra flattening across her bulging breasts, the thong slipping tautly between her puffy labium, finally a clicking sound, her initial position stabilizes.   Another deep breath as she attempts to follow her practiced script, to remain as placid as possible, she continues to remain virtually silent while hearing more inspired comments being whispered, filtering up from the closest seats surrounding her.   Bowed across the framework, obviously her barely clad body’s contorted to the group’s pleasantly surprised approval, the narrow titanium rods beneath her concealed virtually out of view.

       “Position one… Set.”

       The sound of a woman’s soft, soothing voice cascading across the sound system, the solitary light directly above the apparatus brightening as the rest dim the room into further shadows, she can hear the disturbance of rattling chairs followed by more quiet mummers approaching the edges of the podium.  Another calculated breath, preparing herself for viewing, the sense of fingers sliding across her inner thigh, unsnapping the straps surprises her.  Another hand circling her thrust out firm breasts, scuffing across her exposed nipple, then untying, slipping away the taut material one cup at a time as the fingertips probe across her bare flesh, she can’t control the instantaneous uncontrollable twitches of her bound body arching further upward above the apparatus, now virtually naked.

       Unable to move, to resist, she feels a finger probing between the puffy folds of her hairless labium, freshly waxed along with the rest of her body from the neck down earlier.  The sensation of a thumb then pressing, twisting across the nub of her exposed clit, a nipple being tweaked, all gently, teasingly, she nibbles across her lower lip, squints her eyes tightly shut.  Startled, the unexpected embarrassment of actually being stripped naked, groped in front of the patrons, her heart pounds in her chest even as she realizes her body’s responding to their manipulations.

Recalling her body waxing, the oiled bath, the titillating massage that followed that took her to the very brink without being allowed any sexual relief ending just a half hour or so before the demonstration began, she realizes just how close she could be to an exploding orgasm.  Twitching, silently grunting, slowly twisting her head from side to side, her body continues to arch, to respond.  

       More fingers, hands taking turns manipulating her naked flesh, the titillating sensation of a warm liquid being dripped across both breasts as they sway toward her armpits in firm symmetrical mounds, her thickening nipples tingle, send electrical pulses throughout her chest as they’re worked, massaged.  Another few drops across her pubic mound, the thick fluid tracing its way into her spreading slit, a similar response even before she feels fingers probing one, two knuckles deep inside her twin orifices.  Her puckering rectum reflexively gripping an invading finger, her vaginal muscles flexing, responding to two, three fingers beginning to stroke slowly in and out, the liquid’s warmth becomes a stimulating heat spreading deep inside her groin.

       Barely suppressing her moans, her lower lip quivering inward between her clenching teeth, fists clenching, toes curling, her glistening body trembles across the metal framework.  More hands, more exploration of her bare flesh, both orifices being stretched, probed in a calculated masturbation of three fingers each,  she again deeply inhales, holds her breath, her rippling stomach hollowing beneath the silhouette of her arched ribcage as she can’t help giving into the unexpected totally naked display and use of her body.

       Eyes remaining tightly squinted shut, nipples, clit uncontrollably responding to the occasional antagonistic tweaks, her hips likewise responding to the rhythm of the thrusting fingers, she senses the narrow, yet ultra-sensitive flesh of her perineum separating the twin orifices between her stretching thighs teasingly explored, flicked.  That latest sensation causing the random trembling to become uncontrollable tremors, her hushed moans becoming raspier grunts as traces of saliva trickle from the red ball gag, her body grinds against the concealed framework, hips bucking outward to accept the impaling sets of fingers, her extremities twisting, arching against the taut straps securing her so firmly in place.

Repeated grunts, groans, shoving her breasts upward toward the constant manipulation of roving hands cupping, circling her pendulous mounds, her thickening nipples throb, respond to the flexing fingers.  The warmth spreading deeper inside her womb, her stomach knotting, twitching, both hips rhythmically pumping, thrusting, she senses the stirring rumble building from deep inside, the uncontrollable gyrations of her vaginal walls gripping, contracting, expanding as four fingers of a clenching fist plunges inward past her near tearing cuntlips.  Biting, chewing at the hard rubber ball, anticipating the inevitable, her naked body spasms as she gives a long, raspy groan.   

       “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

       “Position two.”

       The same soothing voice echoing in the background, the fingers plunging just as swiftly outward from between her gripping thighs, the other’s hands trailing just as quickly away from her quivering body, she arches, arches again, gasps for breath, jerks at her restraints, feels the oozing between her quivering hips as her abs ripple across her hollowing stomach.  So close to an orgasm, her naked body trembling, tingling from head to toe, the penetrating warmth of the glistening liquid spread across her breasts, between her thighs adding to her instant frustration, opening her eyes, blinking, attempting to glance toward those patrons returning toward their unoccupied chairs in the darkness as her naked body trembles, ripples across the concealed rails, she hears the whirring, senses the apparatus adjusting beneath her, again.

End Part One  

 

       

       

       

        

   

BOARDING SCHOOL DISCIPLINE DIARY

A girl’s first visit to the Headmaster

Chapter One

‘Swish… Thwack!’

“Oomph!”

The crisp pain rips through her bare breast startling her, the thickness of the tightly wrapped cloth-eye mask keeping her in virtual darkness as a welt instantly rises across the flattened mound.  Her dreaded punishment’s begun.

‘Thwack!’

“Aaaggghhh!”

More piercing pain, her other breast flattening, enveloping the flexing bamboo shunt as she twists, jerks at her bindings, grunts through the soiled mouth-gag.

“You understand yet?”  He asks, lowering the shunt, flicking it upwards between her spread legs.

‘Thwack!’

”Gaaaaaaaddd!... Omph!... Oomph!”

Knees trembling, reflexively pressing inward as she frantically jerks her head up and down, the feel of the damp, flexing cane flicking away from the sensitive flesh between her thighs, the fresh pain resonates through her groin.  Reflexively tiptoeing, just as quickly slumping, wrists already chaffing from the leather bindings borrowing into her flesh, her fists clench as her head droops forward between her outstretched arms.  Hair entangled, spreading from the loose braid unraveling freely across her shoulders while also partially covering her face, she mumbles through the cloth gag, gingerly nods her head again up and down as she practically semi-squats, her quivering legs spreading apart at the knees between the wooden shaft, bound between her ankles.

Stepping slowly around her, the dampness shimmering across her youthful bare flesh beneath the glaring lights, the binding ropes creak, the pulley twisting from the weight of the horizontal rod supporting her from above.  Inspecting the welts, thin, crimson, raising a half inch or so above her otherwise unmarred flesh, watching her stomach hollowing, the silhouettes of her abs contracting, expanding with each forced breath, he flicks the tips of the pair of supple shunts of bamboo together a couple times as he positions himself directly in front of her.

“No… No I don’t think you fully understand just yet.”  He scolds, measuring a shunt deep beneath a breast, lifting upwards with a curling of his wrist.  Raising the symmetrical mound a couple, three inches, letting the firm flesh spread across the supple cane, the thickening nipple flip out and over as it jiggles, he flicks his other wrist as he adds.  “I think I’ll give you a little more to think about with a crisp flick right across this nipple after I center it… There… Right there… Now hold still.”

‘Thwack!’

“Aaaaaaaggggghhhhh!”

An anguished squeal, her jerking body twisting away in the flexing ropes, he lowers the shunts, watches the fresh crimson streak rise across the bruised areola.  Again ‘clicking’ the pair of shunts ominously together, stepping around her as he allows for her heaving breasts to stabilize, slipping the tip of the lower shunt beneath her other breast, watching her squirm, listening to her unintelligible mutterings through the saliva drenched gag, he flicks his wrist, again, just a little harsher.

“Hold that tittie still… I want a good path to the nipple… Might want to hold your breath though, this one’s going to be a little harsher… Now hold it still or I’ll do it twice!”

‘Thwack!’

“Ooooooooommmmmmpppppphhhhh!”

The bamboo momentarily enveloped by her titflesh, his wrist jerking back, the shunt flicking back from her stretching breast as her naked body contorts, she jerks at the flexing ropes hoisting her arms high above her head.

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddd!... Ooomph!”

Another guttural shriek followed with a whizzing breath, she bows forward, her pendulous breasts bobbing, swaying, both areolas, nipples crisscrossed with matching crimson welts.  Again sagging in her restraints, slowly twisting from one side to the other, her naked body glistens with a splotchy, uneven coat of perspiration.

Laying the bamboo down, untying the mask, tugging the damp cloth from her mouth, gripping her hair from behind, he cranes her neck back.  Brushing some loose strands of hair away, glancing into her welling dark brown eyes, across her flushed face, he gently cups a breast, lets it jiggle, bounce between his melding fingers as he drops the rumpled cloth from his other hand.  Her parted lips quivering, swollen eyes starring into his, she knows better then to speak, to beg even as he forces her to tiptoe as he hoists her upwards by her hair.

Bowed forward in his grip, her breasts spreading, swaying, she arches spread-eagled in her restraints.  Lowering her eyes, glancing down toward the pulsing pain resonating from her chest, the red welts crisscrossing both globular mounds, she stifles a whimper as she feels his clenching fist twisting at her hair.

“Understand now?”

“Ye… Yes Headmaster…. Yes Sir!”  Her voice almost a childish whimper as she answers.

Kneeling down, untying her ankles, standing, untying her wrists, he steps back a step, crosses his arms, speaks.  “I’m waiting.”

Sobbing, kneeling on one knee then the other, reaching up, unwrapping her tangled hair between her twitching fingers, she continues to stare down toward his feet as she struggles to hold back her tears.  Nervous fingers pressing through the clumping strands that were just recently a tight braid, shaking her head as she fidgets, pressing her hair behind her shoulders, she finishes, cranes her head back as she interlocks her hands behind her neck.  Thrusting her breasts outward, clenching her fists, spreading her thighs as her ankles slip across the floor in a practiced position, she takes a deep breath, holds steady, silent.

Holding her robe in his hand, the only clothing she was allowed to wear for his meeting, glancing over her fresh welts, none so severe a good lotion massage wouldn’t help heal, handing the robe toward her, he asks.  “Next time I call you to my parlor during the evening, you’ll leave your hair down… Understand?”

END CHAPTER ONE

 

BIKE WEEK RITUAL

An annual Florida fling

Chapter One

       Just off the plane, sliding onto the back seat of the sedan, leaning against the warm leather of the passenger side seat, she nervously glances across as the other rear door opens, watches as he enters, sits next to her.  Her long straight hair cascading down across her shoulders, the scent fresh, glistening in its auburn tint, she gives him a forced smile as the trunk shuts behind them with her single suitcase.

       “Underwear, anything else under that dress Jodi?”  His voice monotone, matter of fact as he rests a hand across her knee, his stares’ obviously toward her breasts.

       A slow shake of her head, she barely responds in a quiet, reserved voice.  “No… No.”  Reflexively glancing down toward her skimpy one piece terrycloth dress, the silhouettes of her nipples outlined through the brilliant white material just beneath the sewn hemline contouring to the natural slopes of her firm breasts, she feels the butterflies in her stomach as she mutters.  “Just like you wanted… No underwear… No bra or… Or panties either… Nothing but this dress you sent me to wear down here.”

       The driver door opening, his room-mate slipping in, starting the engine, the car pulls away from the depot, maneuvers into the three rows of the positioning traffic toward the airport exit.  The warmth of the late afternoon sun magnified through the clear glass of the passenger door feels soothing to her exposed skin, the rows of cars slowly moving on either side while she remains virtually motionless as she senses his hand sliding higher across her thigh stretching the already low cut hemline of her dress upwards toward her waist.

       “Okay… Good then… Lean forward… Hands behind your back… No sense wasting time… Let’s see those titties… Might as well get you naked while we ride, huh?... See how you look all shaven… You did shave for me, right?”

       Again his voice matter-of-fact, his other hand sliding gently up across her shoulder, she slowly nods as she hesitates, but obeys, gingerly shifts her hips back and forth across the leather, knees spreading beneath his roving fingers.  Sensing his fingertips flittering across her freshly waxed pubic mound, tracing the soft folds of her labium, she nibbles on her lower lip, suppresses a moan as she twists her neck, faces the window, just a couple feet between the next row of cars as his other hand reaches up, works the spaghetti strap, slips it down across her shoulder.

“Arch forward a little further… Interlock your fingers… Keep ‘em clasped while I pull this dress down over those titties.”

Shoulders bowing, his hand slipping beneath the other strap, lowering it, she feels the dresses’ material pressing across the firm mounds of her breasts, the hem slipping down across her areolas, the tingling, almost electrical sensations pulsing through her chest as she’s being stripped.  Taking a deep breath, sensing his fingers working the material further down, her breasts flattening, being tugged, the hem scraping back and forth across the hardening nubs of her nipples, she focuses her attention through the door glass, her face flushing as she cant’ help noticing the stares, the nudging of the passengers of the van across from them, the looks of the teenage boys in the back seat pressed against their door glass looking down, wide-eyed.

“Here… Hold still.”

His voice unchanged, her chest bared, the dress’s hem just below the bottom globes of her jiggling breasts, she senses his hands pressing behind her head,  feels the burlap cloth being slid down across her forehead, covering her eyes, just a triangular slit in the cloth cut to fit across her nose.  Tied off behind her neck, the slightly raveled bottom brushing across her upper lip, she reflexively twists her neck, faces forward in her darkness; her heart pounding as she tries to condition herself for what she can more then imagine is instore.

“Raise those hips off the seat so we can get this thing all the way off.”

Pressing the palms of her hands flat against the seat, lifting, pressing upwards, she maintains her arched position as she feels the stretching terrycloth slipping down across her waist, her hips, thighs, down across her knees, her ankles.  Totally nude, just minutes from exiting the plane, she realizes this trip’s going to be even more intense then the last.

“Now interlock your fingers again.”

The warmth of the late afternoon sun spreading across her bare flesh, sensing her breasts jiggling, swaying as her butt cheeks lower across the warm leather, her shoulders bow forward as she feel his hands, one on each thigh, her legs being parted, right knee pressed outward against the car door, left knee against the front of the seat.

“Let’s see that tight little twat now… Keep those legs spread while I play with your pussy.”

Again his fingers probing, massaging, flicking the bare twin folds surrounding her spreading slit, slipping across her flattening clit, she again nibbles on her lower lip, feels her thighs responding, quivering uncontrollably.  Twitching forward as a finger glides just a knuckle deep inside of her moist orifice, another finger pressing, flicking across the sensitive narrow ridge of flesh of her perineum, her breasts gently sway as she bows, the spreading strands of hair brushing across the hardening nubs of her nipples as her shoulders arch further forward.

“Uuuummm!”  A subtle moan, her lips parted, she rocks slowly back and forth as the finger glides in and out, gently, caressingly as his other hand palms a breast, softly tweaks its thickening nipple.  Imagining the cars to either side of theirs, almost thankful he blindfolded her, she senses the churning in her knotting stomach, feels her body stiffening to his touch.

“Yea, I missed this… Damn you still feel good and tight… Just like I remembered… And already wet, too.”  He rasps as he scoots closer toward her.  “I’ve decided… This year we’ll keep you naked most of the time… Let you get all tanned during the days while you’re down here… Let you wear the smallest thong imaginable during the day when we go to the water, but we’ll even take you to a couple nude beaches this year, really show you off… Yea, we’ll have this body bronzed from head to toe before we send you back home to the snow and cold again.”

Letting his fingertips continue to explore her nude flesh, he adds.  “I think for now though we’ll go ahead and show off this tight little body of yours right away… Have you dance naked some more at our favorite bar again, just like last year… Right?... It’s okay with you if we start right off, huh?”  He breathes into her ear.  “Hope so, I’ve done entered your butt in a contest for tonight… Expect you to do anything to win, too.”

Listening, that tingling sensation flowing through her groin as he slips a hand downward across her flexing stomach, spreads her knee wider, holds her thighs apart, lightly taps, spanks her across her pubic mound, she blinks behind the mask, thinks of the crowd, the countless bikers watching her get completely naked, wet, dance on the tables totally uninhibited last year, and the year before that just in a wet t shirt.  Each smack becoming a little crisper, almost painful, yet somehow stimulating, she slowly nods her head between teasing slaps.  “Yea… Oh!... Yes… Oh!... Okay… Okay if you want.”

“Know what happens if you don’t put on a good show though… Don’t you?”  He responds, his voice a little colder.  “If you don’t win… I bet you remember the night before you went back home last year, huh?... My playroom… Back behind the house.”

The smacks becoming even harsher, lower between her spread thighs, the sound of his open palm slapping her bare flesh faintly echoes in the car as her naked body lurches, her hips quiver, breasts jiggle while she reflexively curls forward.  Stomach churning, heart rate escalating as she feels her spread vulva, her exposed clit being spanked by his flattened hand, she can’t help recalling the small garage behind his house, the straps, contraptions, how he abused, punished her body for hours after stringing her up.  She remembers having to hide the marks for over a week when she returned home.  Taking a deep breath, she mutters. “Yea… Yes!... Oh… Yes!... Oooohhh!... Ooohhh!”

“Tell the truth… Jodi… Your pussy being spanked feel’s pretty good right now, doesn’t it?”  He asks in a barely audible whisper, cupping a hand between her quivering thighs, tweaking her engorging clit between his thumb and forefinger as she moans beneath her breath.

“Yea, I can feel how swollen this slippery nub is.”  He whispers.  “Like me working this tight little pussy… Like being treated like this while you’re away from home, don’t you?... Like getting a little wild down here where nobody back there knows what you’re really doing, huh?... Yea… Really liked what I did with you in the garage that last night too, huh?... That’s why I bet you couldn’t wait for me to fly you back down here again, huh?”

“Ohhhh… Uumph!... Aaahhh!”  Her moans raspy, corresponding to his manipulations, her hips flexing across the leather seat, her naked body quivers, breasts sway as the thoughts of how the biker week junkets down here have become so intense and humiliating, yet so stimulating and even somehow agonizingly addictive.  Thinking back to the first year, two three years ago, just her friend Amanda and her driving down for bike week, how they met the couple local beach bum construction workers, wound up partying with them for a couple days at there shack, finally giving in to fucking them, now it’s become an annual thing, but without her friend being with her.  Now it’s escalated to partying and fucking, to dancing in wet t shirt contests to please him, to last year dancing and getting totally naked in his favorite biker bar a couple times, then the very last night, being introduced to his backyard garage, the bondage and intense discipline scene that lasted for hours.

Again sliding a finger deeper inside her moist slit, a couple curling knuckles deep, he leans over, breathes across her earlobe as his fingertip curls forward, presses in against that special spot.  A few gentle twists, her body lightly spasms as his finger begins gliding in and out, back and forth as it flexes.  “Yea, a whole week of being treated like this… I knew what I could do with you now if you decided to keep coming back down, especially after our last night together.”  Keeping her naked body in a rhythm, listening to her low moans, responsive whimpering, he adds.  “Yea… I know what you really are like, want now… Don’t I?... Dirty dancing, getting naked at the bar in front of a full house of bikers and their women… Yeh, and at night getting fucked in every hole more times then you can count back at my place.”  Adding a second finger, probing, slipping both in just a little further into her moist slit, he tweaks a nipple with his other hand, again breathes gently across her ear.

“And best of all… You really liked our special little discipline session that night before you flew back last year, didn’t you?... Really turned you on, didn’t it?... Bet you’ve been looking forward to it again this year the way you responded for me then, huh?”  He continues, watching her, feeling her naked body quivering next to him as she barely whimpers an unintelligible response.  “Yea… Fantasized about that night when you masturbated yourself alone in your bed back in Ohio I bet… Didn’t you?... Tell me… Didn’t you fantasize about having me work over these titties, this pussy while you played with ‘em in bed, naked, all alone back in Ohio?”  He continues rasping in her ear.  “You liked being showed off… Then bound, stretched, whipped by me… Me and my roomie there up front driving us… Didn’t you?… All those things we did for almost that entire night before you got back on the plane the next morning… Just you and us and all my toys in that special little room… Huh, Jodi?... Now push those titties out some more so I can tweak those nipples getting hard as rocks!”

“Ohhhhh!... Uh Huh… Yea… Yesss… Oh Yessssss!”  The recollection while in the darkness of the mask so invigorating, she visualizes everything he’s saying, feels herself trembling as she answers between rasping breathes, her head tilting back, brushing across the seat as her chest bows forward, nipples thick, hard, her globular mounds firm, spreading toward her sides as she arches as ordered.

A harsher pinch of a nipple, a slight tug, twist, he watches as again the tip of her moist tongue flicks out across her parted lips.  “You liked for your clit… Your nipples to be clamped and whipped when I disciplined you while you where in my garage that night?... Huh?... I bet you thought about it a lot on the plane, all the way back to Ohio…  Yea… Couldn’t wait to come back down and spend this week with me, huh?” Continuing his masturbation of her contorting body, his fingers damp, sticky, curling, sliding in and out, he whispers again in her ear.  “Yea… Bet you counted the days for me to work you over again.”

“Uhhhh… Ohhhhh!... Yessssss. Huh huh… Yeeeesssss… Oh yesss!”  Barely listening, stroking to his flexing fingers plunging in and out, she feels the dampness, stickiness of the leather beneath her quivering hips.

“This trip I think we could have a couple, maybe three discipline sessions.”  He whispers. “That sound about right?... Think you can you handle it?... You better!... I’ve got those riding crops… Those clamps and chains waiting for you back there behind the house.”  

Flicking at her lips in a quick, jerking twirl of the tip of her tongue, her thighs quivering, stomach rippling as she breathes deeper and deeper, tensing her fingers into tight clenches behind her arching back with each thrust of his probing fingers, she obediently nods, rasps.  “Huh?... Huh?... Yea… Yes… Oh… Yeeeesssss!.. Oh Gaadddd!”

“Good girl… Oh!... There’s the bar… We’re here… Time to dance.”  He rasps into her ear as he slips his hands away, flicks the mask from her face as the sedan pulls to a stop.  Letting her see the biker bar lined with choppers along the street, the sidewalk, he glances toward her, her glistening flesh, flushed face.  “Might as well walk right in naked… Let ‘em get a good look from the get-go… Remember, its first place or you’ll be spending the rest of tonight behind the house in my garage your first day back.”

End Part One 

 

    

MID EASTERN INTERNMENT

A trip through the dungeons

Chapter One

       Hesitantly stepping past the iron gate, entering the discipline block with the Captain of the guard she hears the mixed groans coming from around the corner of the shadowy corridor.  Female groans, creaking sounds of ropes, the echoing of water dripping across stone floors all become louder as she walks beneath the brick archway, enters the wider chamber.  The low watt strands of lighting cascading shadows, the unexpected vision of the short row of naked women being punished practically startles her.  The wing of the ancient fortress, now an unkempt makeshift prison reeks from the dampness, humidity, the overcrowding of its prisoners, this particular corridor undoubtedly being the worst of the lot so far.

       “They’ve been in their positions for hours already… Will be there ‘til nightfall and their next interrogations.”

       His accent typical Mid-Eastern, the voice authoritive, she nervously listens even as she stares prodigiously toward the trio of young female prisoners, their naked bodies arched back in their rope bindings, gingerly prancing on their tiptoes above individual wooden stools spread just a few feet apart.

       “Gives them something to think about the next time they’re questioned… Gives the guards something to look at and pass the time.”  His voice a smirk, his gesture nonchalant as he steps slowly past the row of struggling women with the supple black riding crop flexing in his fist, he snaps it back and forth through the air.

Cautiously following, her own chest practically throbbing as she reflexively crosses her arms beneath and above her own substantial breasts, almost wanting to cup them, massage them through her own thick robe garb, she stares at the strands of hemp rope bound so tight, loop after painful loop deep across each of the women’s bare individual breasts.  Following the pairs of taut ropes stringing upwards in front of each prisoner to the row of meat hooks hanging from black iron water pipes affixed to the stone, fungus covered ceiling, she realizes how tedious their painful positions must be.

Light skinned overall like herself, obviously not Mid Easterners, the women’s naked body’s glisten, their breasts appearing so hideously similar, purplish, melon sized globular mounds hoisted up just beneath their chins, the flattened nipples, stretched areolas upturned, barely discernable so discolored, tautly spread.  She can only imagine the women’s pain as they struggle to relieve their stress with their arms roped tightly across their elbows behind their bowed backs, wrists bound and secured to more rope circling their compressed waists.

“They know better then to fall off a stool, or heaven forbid, tip one over.”  He smirks as he lets the toe of his boot press across a leg of the last decrepit stool.  “If they fall off… They have to get back on their own or hang by their… Well, you can imagine, can’t you?”  He grins, nodding between her own arms still crisscrossing her well covered chest.  “And, if the stool breaks?... Well, like I said, their preparation continues until nightfall… With no interference as they do what’s become for us a familiar dance in mid air.”

“Why… Why are they being punished so terribly like this?”  She asks with her noticeable French accent, barely able to glance up toward their anguished glances between the continuously creaking ropes, what appears to be like narrow patches of saran wrap circling their mouths, cheeks, stifling their grunts, yet still appearing that all three are somewhat young, even in their distressed state, obviously attractive.

“Punished?... No… No… Oh, no!… They’re being prepared…. Prepared for interrogations… They’re not being, what did you state?... Terribly punished?… That comes later on… After their confessions… Then, I can assure you… They certainly will be punished… And yes, terribly punished!”  He smirks, allowing the tip of the crop to glide around the circumference of one of the second woman’s engorged breasts, flick across the flattened nipple with a hollow ‘thud’ repeated a couple times as she grunts, squints her swollen eyes.  “They’re being given time to meditate for their interrogations.”  He almost scolds.  “Besides… They’re Infidels… Just American whores… Spies… Suppose to be missionaries from some college… All three of them… But… But… Just here to cause trouble though… With our women.”  Glancing up toward the trio, stepping closer behind the last one in line, he adds while shoving his boot menacingly against a wobbly leg of the creaking stool.  “Soon they’ll confess… Trust me… They always do… Then they’ll receive their punishment… Then begin their incarceration and rehabilitation.”

Seeing the flowing tears from their welling eyes, their distant looks similar, almost numbing as their whimpers are obvious pleas for some sort of help, relief from another western woman, she almost embarrassingly turns her head away, feels her heartbeat escalating, throbbing in her chest while she glances toward him as he steps toward the next corridor.

“Come now… Let’s continue through the Infidel section of our facility… Prisoners that’s slipped through the cracks of the western press unreported… I think you’ll be surprised at how many.”

Opening another door, this one just as ominous but made of a thick wood, several cells line one side of the hallway, each with its own solid wood door with a narrow slot eye level.  A single male guard in kakas sitting at his station, a wooden table and chair, he stands nods toward the Captain as he puts down his journal, picks up a tannish cloth sack.

“Lets see… Yes… Open cell three… No… No, make that cell four… Bring out that convicted Infidel for our guest.”

Key turning, door creaking, the guard instantly obeys with a nod, disappears into the darkened cell, momentarily returning with the prisoner, her muffled cries suppressed beneath the sack slipped across her face.

“Here, sir.”

Again a knotting in her stomach, again just as startled, if possible, she stares almost dumbfounded at the virtually nude, battered woman being led, shuffled toward them.  Her head being completely covered with the sack, tied off not too loosely across her throat by the guard, just a triangular slot for her nose, her glistening body carries numerous discolored welts, bruises behind the hideous set of chains dangling out off her naked flesh.  Drawn almost hypnotically toward the tortured woman’s painfully chained appearance as she’s positioned just a few feet in front of them, watching as she’s slowly turned by her cuffed wrists behind her back by the guard, the sights’ barely describable.

The darkened links dangling from metal ‘O’ rings impaling her nipples and clit rattle, brush out across her bruised but still impressive chest as the opposite ends of the trio of chains meet, connecting to another ring just above her hollowing navel.  Bare feet cuffed just a few inches apart with similar restraints, the swelling, the discolored chaffing of her wrists; ankles are obviously from the chains being worn for an extended length of time.

“This is another of our Western Infidels.”  The Captain smirks as he slips his crop beneath a nipple chain, lifts upward, forces her onto the balls of her feet.  “These ‘O’ rings have been installed in those big breasts and down between her thighs, too… Well… I think you can see where down there.”  Pointing at the trio of rings with the tip of the crop one at a time across her nipples, then clit, he continues.  “They’re permanent fixtures… At least while she spends close to the next three years of her sentence with us.”  Lifting, tugging at the connecting ‘O’ ring compressing against her navel, letting the chains again dangle across her front side as he flicks the crop away, he volunteers. “The chains can be disconnected… But usually aren’t.”  Reaching out, spearing a nipple ring, lifting it even higher with the tip of the crop, he again forces her to tiptoe.

Letting the crop drop away, the chains rattling across her stomach as her nipple momentarily stretches downward with her bouncing breast; her muffled grunts emit from the burlap sack, harsh, raspy.  Fists visibly clenching behind her buttocks, shoulders bowing forward as the chains sway back and forth, the thick ‘O’ rings tug at her swollen nipples as she arches forward, obviously trying to relieve the continuous pain.

Slowly stepping around her, glancing toward the series of crimson welts across her back, nodding toward her breasts, their share of faded welts, he smirks.  “This one… I recall… Spent several days on the stools before confessing.”  Slipping the crop’s tip beneath her shimmering breast, tormenting her with a couple harsh pokes, a flick across a nipple ring, he smiles, focuses his attention toward the clanking chains tugging at the rings.  “Yes… As big and firm as these titties are now… Still able to stand practically upright even with the weights of these chains hanging off the impaled nipples… You’d be amazed how swollen they became… Twice as large as they are now as I recall.”  Another couple tormenting taps back and forth across the nipple rings, the clinking of the metal, the hollowed sound of her reverberating breasts, he continues his tale. “Almost burst when she fell off her stool for over and hour… I believe she hung there stretching out so long; her toes finally touched the floor before she was interrogated again… And that’s when she decided to confess.”

“What…What’d she do?... I mean convicted of to be treated so… So cruelly?”

“Actually… She was some kind of model I believe… Came to our land to get her fortune with the Sheik after she met him at some sort of function.”  Smiling, he slowly shakes his head.  “Seems the Sheiks’ attracted to large breasts… Anyway… A ‘Gold-digger’ I think you call them… Don’t you?”  Letting the crop glide up and down the prisoner’s chain from her navel to her clit, tugging, teasing as he draws a mumbling response as she twists back and forth, he continues.  “Didn’t like the harem situation… Insulted a wife… Made stupid threats… Now she’s a nobody… Missed by nobody… Yes, it’s unfortunate for her to disrespect the Sheik… Even more unfortunate to feel the Sheik’s wrath when he feels so.”

“What happens to her after… I mean after her sentence… Her time served… She’s released, right?”

“Oh, yes… Of course she is.”  He smirks.  “That is… As soon as she pays restitution for her keep while here.”

“Pay?... How’s she to do that… I mean how… How can she earn whatever she supposedly owes?”  She asks, not knowing if she really needs to know the answer, even if she wants too.

“Oh… You won’t… They… They won’t… Of course I mean they… They never do.”  He smirks, let’s the crop’s tip slip into the ring between the prisoner’s thighs, tugs at her clit as she arches, grunts, gingerly tiptoes yet again.

“Then… Then wha… What?”  She asks, almost stuttering while watching the prisoner’s trembling body twisting back and forth in her torment.  A chill causing goose bumps to run up her spine as she again crosses her arms in front of her own chest, becoming uneasy to say the least as she can’t help from riveting her stare at the chains, ‘O’ rings, the oozing nipples so similar in size to her own pendulous breasts, somehow she seems to sense the pain herself. 

“Simple… She’ll be auctioned off… Begin paying by becoming a prostitute… Or worse even, if she can’t keep her looks… Probably like most of you type women he tires of… Wind up a sex slave somewhere in the Orient, if not careful.”  Glancing toward the guard, the still open cell door to return the tormented, frustrated prisoner, briefly hesitating, turning toward the shadowy corridor, he nods.  “But come.”  His expression morphing from almost jovial to seemingly deadly serious, even ominous, he orders.  “We’ve got much more that the Sheik especially wanted you to see first hand deeper in the bowels of his dungeon… Actually to experience first hand… You’ve just begun your tour… Believe me… It’ll get much… Much more intense for you!... I’m certain.”  Glancing toward the guard locking the cell door, nodding for him to follow, he glances back at her, adds.  “It’s the Sheik’s wishes for you to receive a thorough, up close demonstration… He told me so, personally after spending some of a not so pleasing evening for what ever reason… Alone with you last night.

End Part One     

  

       

WEBCAM VIDEOS

Part Two

Chapter One

       Staring around the stark room, not even knowing it existed behind the garage’s false wall, the display of bondage paraphernalia’s striking.  Hearing the door shutting behind them, glancing back toward her brother-in-law, his stern expression, almost an overbearing appearance, the silence is eerily quiet for a few uncomfortable moments.

       “This is it.”  Her brother-in-law’s voice firm, to the point as he continues.  “This is our little playroom… Where her performances are videoed.”

       “Per… Performances?”  Her own voice a higher pitch, almost a stutter, she can’t help being overwhelmed by the quantity of the leather, chains, whips, along with the bondage apparatuses positioned throughout the room.  Glancing around, slowly shaking her head as she can’t help reaching out across a wall bench, glancing around toward the items meticulously laid out, she hears herself mumbling.  “God… What… What’s all this… This stuff?”

“Stuff?... Stuff you’re gonna’ have used on you, girl… And stuff you’ll be modeling, too.”  The voice matter-of-fact, again the tone firm.

Feeling the nervousness, the knotting in her stomach, the emotions seem almost instantaneously overwhelming as she stares toward the bench.  Picked up for her Friday night babysitting gig, now it’s just feelings of humiliation, apprehension as she’s been led into their secret room, yet she finds herself drawn to the assortment of bondage gear and pain inflicting devices.

“Yea… I guess it’s obvious you’ve got some of the same genes… The same tastes as your sister, huh?... Deep down, you both enjoy pain… And exhibiting it… Like hanging by your tits.”  His voice still assertive, to the point.  “I’m going to teach you the real price for your kinkiness… Nosing in on my computer… The teasing with your feeble mocking of your sister’s videos… Make it all real for you.”

“Wa…….”

“Hush!”

Seeing a rag in his hand, a half empty plastic bottle, tipped and soaked into the cloth as he steps forward, a quick hand behind the back of her head, the pungent odor, taste of the cloth presses across her face.  Coughing, attempting to struggle, sinking to the floor with instant nausea, her head spins as the room blurs, grows dark.

Head swirling as she awakens, tautly spread-eagled in mid air by four bungee cords with wrists bound to upper arms, ankles to thighs, her bent elbows, bent knees secured in tailored leather cups, she sways by the taut cords attached to the ends of each cap.  A bitter capsule again waved beneath her nostrils as she blinks, stares into the shadowy blankness of the cloth wrapped across her face covering her eyes, she’s barely able to sense light filtering through, just the faintest of the silhouette of her brother-in-law standing in front of her.  Her jaws aching, lips stretching around a hard rubber mouth gag, she mumbles, grunts as she feels his hands roaming her bare breasts.

“You’ll be putting on an exhibition tonight for the webcam… Right here in front of our webcam… Have some things done to you your sister doesn’t really want done to her.”

Hearing his voice as her breasts flattens, twists in his spreading fingers, she again grunts as his fingernails dig into the buds of her nipples, twists, tugs, stretches.

“Ooommmpphh!... Gaaaaaddd!”  More then grunts, her naked body twists in the ropes, fingers and toes curling.

His hands tugging her forward by her breasts, releasing their grip, her body springing back and forth in the flexing bungees, she feels his gripping fingers again digging into her titflesh as she finally sways to a stop.  Still being manipulated, being dragged downward, breasts stretching, the pair of hands again releasing their grip, her naked body springs upwards, jiggles to a standstill, her reddened breasts bouncing, slapping back and forth.

“There… Just right… Nice and taut.”  His voice still a monotone, still precise as he glides his spread hands across her midriff.  “We’ve had requests… Had some requests kinda’ over the edge for our webcam performances… Kinda’ painful requests.”  He continues as he again manipulates her breasts, twists, squeezes, tweaks the nipples while tugging her around in the stretching bungees.  “And to think… She won’t have to do ‘em… Just get the credit… After all… Nobody will know the difference between the two of you with just that blindfold covering your eyes… Damn… It’s amazing just how much you two do look alike though, especially without you sporting those fake ass tattoos.”  Gripping the base of each breast, a couple firm twists, he scolds. “So… You like to pose huh?... Your sister’s right… You’ll make the perfect body double for her for these more painful sessions.”

“Oooommppphhh!... Hhhhuuummppphhh!... Gaaaaadddd!”  Responding to each tug, twist with a whimper, a grunt through the soaking bright red gag, she listens, disturbing, frightening thoughts rippling through her mind.  Arms, legs numbing, tautly stretching, she senses the door opening, shutting.

“Got her ready, huh?”  The voice of her sister, the barely visible silhouette of her steeping beside her husband.  “Damn, got her nice and tight… Look at those titties sticking out there… Like I’m looking in a mirror, almost.”

“Yea… Close enough… Still got a few minutes.”  His voice continues, monotone, matter-of-fact.  “Think we’ll start with those skewers tonight… You know, the request that one guy keeps begging for?

“Ouch!”  The sister’s voice again.  “You mean the nipples?... Clit?... Piercing her on her first show?... Okay, that’ll work for me… It’ll bring in some serious bucks… Go ahead then and finish getting everything ready for her.”

Nervously listening to her sister, brother-in-law discussing her treatment, her heart pounding in her chest, she can’t help imagining the worst, what she’s about to have to endure as she feels her breasts being released, another cloth being wrapped across her forehead.  Now total darkness, a few agonizing minutes passing by, the sounds of metal clanking, things being shuffled, her grunts are intelligible as she mumbles around the ball gag.

Otherwise total silence, her breast again cupped; she feels the cool, prickly sensation against the outer curve of her breast as it’s tugged forward.  “Ready?”  Voice steady, a hood over his face as he stands beside her dressed all in black leather, he waits for the web cam’s final adjustment, squeezes the base of the firm titflesh.  Centering, gently flexing his other wrist, guiding the tip of the glistening skewer against the bulging mound, the razor sharp point probing inward, being enveloped by the swelling flesh, he hesitates, gives a not so gentle thrust.  ‘Plop!’

“Ooooooommmmppphhh!”  The pain searing, feeling her flesh being pricked, pierced by the hardened steel’s probing tip, she senses her naked body reflexively springing back and forth in the bungee cords as the skewer slides inward, well beneath her nipple, halfway, three quarters of the way through. “Huuummpphhh!”

Holding her breast firmer, a trickle of blood oozing down across her chest, he presses further, the sharp tip pressing against, distorting her stretching flesh from inside.  ‘Plop!’ “Aaaaaggggghhhh!”  Her grunt guttural, her head jerking back, the bungee cords flex as her naked body spasms, the skewer sliding completely through between his gripping fingers.

Dropping his hand, standing beside her as either end of the skewer glistens, the pointed tip crimson, dripping a couple specks of blood across her sternum, he reaches for a second skewer, steps around, grips her other breast.  Nipple bulging, her titflesh spreading between his flexing fingers, the sharp tip’s pressed against her discoloring mound.  Momentarily steadying the skewer, again a jab, another ‘Plop.’

“Aaaggghhh!”  Again jerking in the flexing cords, a couple more driblets of blood tracing downward across the outer curve of her engorged breast, his wrist flicking, the tip of the skewer rams through.  ‘Plop!’

“Oooooommmmppphhhh!”  Both breasts throbbing, the warmth of the few drops of her blood trickling down across her ribcage, she gnaws on the spongy rubber gag, reflexively clenches her fists, curls her toes as he again steps away.  Total darkness, silence except for her own stirrings, even blindfolded she surreally realizes her breasts are being impaled during her brief respite.

Again more skewers, left breast, right breast, side to side, top to bottom, the duplicate patterns emerge over the next few agonizing minutes as she struggles with the numbing pain, jerks at the bindings, bounces, sways from the stretching cords as each individual skewers’ jammed through her breasts.  Still the overall silence except for her muffled uttering’s, the creaking of the bungees, minutes pass while each new throbbing pain pulsates in her chest, the exhibition continuing.  Finally a half dozen piercings completed, the skewers glistening, circling her outthrust globular mounds as she sways in front of he webcam, gasping for breath, saliva drooling, mixing with the trickle of mucus from her flailing nostrils as it drips from her chin, she senses fingers pressing against her inner thighs, spreading her labia lips, tugging at her clit.

“Oomph!... Oooommmppphhh!... Oooooooommmmmmpppppphhhhhh!”  Her efforts renewed, rocking, jerking, twisting as her clit’s being tugged outward, sensing the cool metal sliding against the stretched flesh between her trembling thighs, frantically realizing what’s next, her head jerks back and forth, body arches, bows as the prickling point presses inward between his pinching fingers.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

The pain excruciating, the skewer shoved through, the crimson tip pressing freely between her butt cheeks,  the long screech becomes a harsh gurgle as her head tilts forward, her chin brushing across her sternum.  Virtually limp between twitches, traces of blood trickling across her bare flesh, she somehow endures the unmentionable piercing, barely grunts as still another pair of skewers are centered across the nubs of her twitching nipples, probed, pressed inward simultaneously.  The flattened nubs swelling, engulfing the sharp tips, she contorts in a couple reflexive tremors as the skewers jam inwards.

“Oooommpphh!”  A muffled muttering, the skewers gliding inwards two, three, four inches before being released, she slumps forward, limply hangs semi-conscious for the remainder of the viewing as he steps aside, the piercing request completed as the chrome skewers glisten, randomly twitch with her forced breathing, the final minutes passing until the webcam’s clicked off.

End Part Two