Tested by Lothar

TESTED BY LOThAR

By: Charles E. Campbell

CHAPTER 4

STRIVINGS

    The email message I received from sLave 6 was crystal clear, very concise, and quite terse, (along with containing an ominous hint of threatening for good measure). “You are to plan, prepare, and execute a test of your own design. It must incorporate several of the lessons you have learned to date. It is to be videoed and I must receive it within three weeks, in order that it may be included into your six month review. You will not contact me for any purpose until after I have received the video. Remember to keep your log up to date.”

    I began planning my next test right away, trying to think of creative ways of showing off the knowledge I had gotten so far in my training. I knew I would need to enlist the aid of Carmelita for sure, and maybe Princess Rosa as well. Opening a document file on my computer, I began to compile a list of things I might want to include in the test, the actual things I would need to get together, and where we would shoot it.

   A few days passed. I was sitting at my desk trying to work out the specifics of what I wanted to have in the video, things that would have to be done in advance, arrangements that would have to be made, and the like. I got an email from my brother Tommy, saying that he was going on leave from the service and that he wanted to come by Grandma Jo’s to see me, and get me started with some driving lessons. He was coming in two weeks! Now, instead of having the twenty days I had planned on for the test, I was down to just twelve!

   This little “glitch” changed everything I had planned so far, and forced me to have to completely rethink my test from the ground up. The test date would have to be pushed up by a whole week, which eliminated Princess Rosa’s participation, as she wouldn’t be available that soon. This then meant that I would have to rely on the involvement of Terrell and some of his friends, something I wasn’t too keen about. It also meant that I would have to shoot it at my house, and in the garage, and that meant that it had to be done on one of Grandma Jo’s bingo nights, in the window of time her absence would allow, adding even further constraints to my plans.

   Carmelita was a tremendous help to me, ( I never could have pulled it together in such a short time frame if it had not been for her willingness to take over a lot of the organization.) She handled all of the arrangements with Terrell and his friends, two boys and two girls, (one of them was his girlfriend, Shakira). She booked transportation for them the night of the test, a cab to my house and a return cab when it was over, (the cab fares, including the tip, ran me fifty dollars, and on top of that, Terrell wanted to be paid one hundred dollars just for himself, and twenty-five dollars each for his four friends. Two hundred and fifty dollars in all! But I was stuck. I had no choice. Time was the enemy here, and it was certainly working against me. (I’m sure Carmelita cued him in on that as well!)

   The evening of the test, Grandma Jo left for bingo right on schedule, and the cab with Terrell and his friends arrived ten minutes after that. (Carmelita had come over before Grandma Jo had left, as she was often want to do). We spent about fifteen minutes talking over what everyone was going to do, including what I expected to have happen, and what would definitely not happen, (vaginal penetration), and what they would be allowed to improvise on their own. There was a story line involved in the test, no scripted dialogue, but a theme that was tying it together. At the beginning, Terrell’s friends would wait in the garage for a signal to come to the house, (Carmelita would flash the kitchen lights).

   Carmelita started shooting the camera, and the test started, with me, naked of course, on my knees, my face buried in Terrell’s crotch, eagerly sucking his thick black cock. My hands were behind me, pulling my ass cheeks wide apart. A large mirror has propped up against a chair facing my ass, giving Terrell a clear unobstructed view of my open ass and sex. My thickest butt plug was imbedded to the hilt in my ass, the base of it all that remained in sight. Eight fat inches of it filled deeply into my bowels. Adding to the discomfort of my position, I was kneeling on a length of 1/2 inch dowel rod, making my knees throb. (Shakira added that little touch of misery to the scenario. Something her Aunt used to make her and her sisters do whenever she thought they needed discipline). A knock at the door, and Terrell calls out, “Yo. C’mon in.”

   The front door opens, and in walks two young black couples, greeted by the sight of my spread open backside. “Yo, ‘Rell. What it is,” one of the boys asks, all their eyes are focused on my sex.

   “Yo, Tinka. I just be usin’ my bitch. She tried ta stiff me las’ night wiff somma her johns. She needs some re-educatin’. Y’all wants ta help me wiff her?”

  “Sho, ‘Rell. Be glad to.”

   Terrell leans forward from the chair and grabs my hair at the back of my head, and in one quick motion, he yanks me off his cock and tosses me to the floor, flat on my back. The angry raised and swollen red marks that traverse my breasts, belly, and thighs bearing testament to the recent whipped I had received, as well as proclaiming to his friends his hold over me.

   Terrell stands up, buckling his loose fitting low riding jeans and says, “We all gonna have us some fun wiff my ‘ho, then we gonna hurt her, so she ‘members not to try ‘n rip me off evah agin!”

   He hands each of his friends rattan canes. “C’mon bitch,” he says to me, kicking me in the ribs, “Let’s go play!”

   I crawl on my hands and knees across the floor, four canes swishing through the air, cutting my back and ass as I crawl past the four. I wait patiently at the kitchen door until someone deems to open it for me. The canes still whistling, finding their marks. Finally, the door is open, and I crawl, naked, across the grass to the garage, and my fate.

   Once we are all inside the garage, Terrell cinches leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles. Tying a length of stout rope to the wrist cuffs, he then tosses the end of it over one of the ceiling joists, and with the help of his two male friends, they pull on the rope, hoisting me up, until I hang suspended by my wrists, my feet more than a foot off the ground. (The tinglings by now are so intense, that I cum when my feet leave the floor, an embarrassing  fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Shakira).

   “Yo ‘Rell,” she says, “Dis cunt gits off on this shit, don’ she?”

   “Whatchu mean, baby doll?”

   “She be cummin’ when you ties her up.”

   Terrell just smiles, and replies, “She do like it rough.”

   Next on the agenda, Terrell ties a short piece of rope to a concrete cinder block and has his buddies hold the block up while he ties it to each of my ankle cuffs. Secured, he says to them, “Drop it.”

  They drop the block, which falls and stops suddenly. It doesn’t hit the ground. Instead, it hangs from my feet, dangling and adding pressure to every joint, muscle, and sinew from my cuffed wrists down the entire length of my tautly stretched body. A moan escapes from my mouth from the strain. The five of them gather around me, canes at the ready, and watch my torment.

   Shakira approaches me first, and taking a stick of bright red lipstick from her shoulder bag, she proceeds to write the word “WHORE” on my stomach, and CUNT” on my bald mound, smearing the lipstick into my sweaty skin. Putting the lipstick back in her bag, she glares into my eyes and says, “I’m gonna beat you, ‘ho. I’m gonna beats you bad.” She looks at her friends, and they all nod in agreement. Then she adds, “But firs’, you’s gots ta beg me to beat you.”

   My addled brain doesn’t immediately process what she said. Impatient, she slaps my face hard and fast, left cheek, right cheek, and yells, “You listenin’,ta me bitch? You wants me ta beat ‘chu, you gots ta beg me!”

   “Please,” I begin, my eyes focusing on the group, their canes swishing aimlessly at their sides. (Out of the corner of my eye I can  see Carmelita’s camera pointed straight at my face). “Please, I need you all to whip me. Please. I deserve to be punished. I’ll do anything you want. I promise. Just, .......just whip me. Please!”

   The two boys giggle, but Shakira doesn’t crack a smile. “I’ll be rememberin’ what you promised, ‘ho.”  

   The first lash came from Shakira. It was hard and fast, and it landed right across my stomach, bringing a loud grunt from me on impact. The others, somewhat sheepishly at first, followed her lead and began caning me. Instantly I was overcome with the sensory overload of five canes beating me simultaneously from my armpits to my knees. Front, back and sides. Every inch of skin was a fair target. In a very short time I felt like I was having an out of body experience, like I was observing it all from some nearby, and yet, still, a somehow removed location. A witness. Not a participant. Hanging there by my wrists, unable to see some of the blows as they struck, able to see others, the pain from each lash registering and then quickly blurring, blending, mixing together in my foggy brain. The intensity and severity of it all seemed to diminish, until I almost didn’t even feel any of it at all. The tinglings overwhelming me, cumming multiple times.

   I felt like I was floating somewhere. (Later I would learn that, for the first time, I had achieved “sub-space.” A mind state brought on by the endorphin overload and the mental state I was in).

   When at last they stop, (I have no idea at all as to how long the beating lasted), I am hanging limp, turning slowly from the rope, twitching and shaking uncontrollably. Terrell pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the rope just above my wrists. I fall to the floor in a heap. Terrell orders me to satisfy my attackers and thank each one properly. I lick the asses and pussies of the two girls, (Shakira has her period), making them cum. Then I suck off the three boys as well, making sure to swallow every drop of cum I am given. I collapse on the floor as they walk out, leaving me alone and naked.

   Carmelita and I send off the video to sLave 6 even before I take a shower and put antiseptic on some of the welts where the skin was broken.

   Tommy spent half of his leave with Grandma Jo and me, teaching me how to drive. (This time with Tommy didn’t just curtail my garage activities, it halted them completely, as he and I were never apart. Just before he left, Tommy took me to a local car dealership and helped me pick out a car. He wanted to get me something big, (read safe), reliable, and not too expensive. He found a twelve year old Chevy station wagon. Full size. Four doors, bench seating for six, plus two more in the far back facing rear, power everything, good tires, no rust........In short, a great car for a beginner. Not exactly a poster child for some EPA environmental politically correct campaign on fuel efficiency, but safe and dependable nonetheless. I got my license about three months after Tommy had gone back overseas, so I was able to drive to school for my Senior year, taking Carmelita with me each day.

   My six month review was very good. Excellent actually. It said that I had made noticeable progress in male worship and in exhibiting a willingness to accept directives and withstand pain and humiliation. I was being allowed to continue into my second six month training period. I received an email from sLave 6 congratulating me on my accomplishment and telling me how proud she was of the progress I had made. At the end of the email she wrote, “Go to a sporting goods store and purchase some fish hooks, various sizes, monofilament line, and four pounds of two ounce fishing weights.”

   There was an old gas station on the edge of town, down by the river, and they sold bait and fishing tackle, so I went there. My short tee shirt was cropped off, (by me), just below my bra-less breasts, exposing the undersides of my orbs to any and all. The bare midriff coupled with the extremely short cut-offs kept the old man behind the counter mesmerized as I looked for the items sLave 6 required. The lecherous old guy kept telling me everything was on the bottom shelf, making me bend over and exposing my naked ass . I decided to give him a freebie, bending over, spreading my legs apart with my back to him, so he could see my panty-less bald pussy for himself. (He remained pretty quiet after that!).

   I sent a text to sLave 6 telling her I had acquired everything she wanted. The next day I got a text in reply telling me to get Carmelita, and her camera. I was to log onto the REALM site, and there I would receive my instructions.

   I called up Carmelita right away, and after Grandma Jo headed out for bingo, we logged onto the site to read my instructions:

   “You are to follow these instructions to the letter. Your grade will primarily be based upon how well you adhere to the directives I give you. This training session is about obedience first, pain and humiliation tolerance building is secondary. We need to measure your willingness to obey to orders given you. Start the video documentation before you begin. (Carmelita started the camera rolling).

   #1. You are to contact Terrell and his girlfriend, as they are to be involved in this session as well. Pay them whatever they require. Yes, we all know you have been paying him to pimp you out, you little whore. (My tinglings kicked in at this point!). You will arrange to pick them both up and drive them to your house yourself for this test. You are to wear the skimpiest top you own when you do this.

   #2.  All contact with me ceases after this. Everything will be handled by me, through Carmelita, so send me her email address right away. If she accomplishes all of her tasks as instructed, she will be rewarded with a free life-time access to the REALM site and all it’s videos. You will not hear from me again, nor should you attempt to contact me again, until after this test has been completed and graded. Carmelita will tell you nothing about this test, and you will not ask her anything about it as well. She will report to me if you do.

   #3.  This test is to be accomplished within one week from today.

   Carmelita was excited by the idea of her participating more in my next test, as well as the prospect of her highly motivational reward at it’s end. She sent off her email address to sLave 6 right away. We selected the following Tuesday, five days hence, for the test. Carmelita volunteered to contact Terrell and set it up as to time and place where I would pick him and Shakira up for the test.

   (This next part I was not privy to, as sLave 6 had said. I only learned about it later, as Carmelita, being my friend saved all of her emails from sLave 6 so I could read them after everything was through.)

   Carmelita received an email from sLave 6 the next day:

   “Thank you for agreeing to help out with sLut 14's next test. There are, however, a few rules that you will be required to abide by, strictly and confidentially. If you don’t, sLut 14 could possibly lose her status, and have to start her training at the beginning, without your participation ever again.

   You are strictly forbidden to tell sLut 14 anything that will occur. If she even asks you anything about the test, you are to write down the date and time she broke this rule, as well as what she asked you. You are to make contact with me daily about any infractions she has. The purpose of this test is mainly designed to measure sLut 14's levels of obedience and willingness to comply with orders. At this point, all she knows is that she is to arrange to meet Terrell and Shakira and bring them to her house for the test. I will send you more information as the test date approaches.

Please feel free to contact me at any time should you have any questions or concerns.  sLave 6"

   The morning of the test I received an email from sLave 6 which read:

   “Here are your instructions to prepare for this next test:

   #1.   You are to cut four twelve inch lengths of your fishing line and securely tie one pound of weights to the end of each one, (8 on each piece of line). Place them all in a box and leave it on the workbench in your garage. (This task proved to be much harder than it initially seemed. The fishing line was stiff, not easy to work with, and tying knots in the line to hold the weights proved challenging, as the one pound weight easily pulled the knots right out. Finally, after some experimentation, I found a knot that held, and secured the weights to the four strands of line.)

   #2.  Prepare yourself properly: Bathe, Shave, Enema, liberal applications of make-up and perfume. You are to look like a cheap hooker.”

   (Since I had no knowledge of what was to occur,  I will explain the test as it happened.)

   At 5:00PM, I hit the bathroom for an enema and shower to start my prep. I paid careful attention to shaving myself everywhere from my neck down, except of course my thick bushy armpits. I applied a potent perfume under my arms, between my breasts, in the small of my back, behind my knees, and on my lower belly, just above my mound. Then I began the make up: mascara, eyeliner, eyebrow pencil, blush, and bright red lipstick. I used more perfume, three applications in fact, while doing my face. Carmelita came over while I was getting dressed. I had a short spaghetti strap tank top and short shorts with thong panties laid out on my bed, along with a pair of low heeled sandals.

   I told Grandma Jo that Carmelita and I were going to the mall for printer paper and ink for the computer and wished her luck at her bingo game. A quick peck on the cheek and we were out the door. (Grandma Jo never questioned or made judgements about how I dressed. I guess after how I looked when I first came to live with her, she felt that my newfound attention to my appearance was a good sign, and since cousin Kendra dresses very provocatively too, she probably thought it was pretty much normal for all young girls to look like me.)

   We got into my car and I was buckling my seatbelt when Carmelita said to me, “Leave your top on, but I want you to take off your shorts, panties and sandals and give them all to me, right now, puta!”

   Startled, I turned to look at her, and saw that she had her video camera up and running, registering the look of bewildered disbelief on my face. The test had already begun! Right here in my driveway, the test was under way!

  Looking back towards the house to see if we were being watched, I swallowed once, arched my back, and lifted my butt up from the seat. I slipped my shorts and panties off together in one motion. I handed them to Carmelita, looking into the camera lens as I did it, then I bent down and undid my sandals, pulling them off, and handing them over to her as well. She stuffed my clothes into her enormous canvas tote bag that she always carries with her everywhere she goes.

   “Let’s go and meet your friends, Gringa,” she said. “We have great plans for you tonight!”

   I could feel the wetness building in my exposed pussy as the tinglings erupted from deep within me.

   I started the car and backed out of the driveway to go and meet Terrell and Shakira. Carmelita’s ominous threat driving the tinglings in my belly as my mind stated fantasizing over what was in store for me. I knew there would be a big wet stain on the car seat very soon. The anticipation of the events ahead making me heady. I found that concentrating on my driving was very hard.

   Terrell and his girlfriend were standing on the street corner right where they had said they would be. I pulled the big station wagon over in front of them and Carmelita hopped out of the front seat, camera still running, and got in the back. Shakira slid across the wide seat and sat next to me, as Terrell got in behind her and closed the door. It took Shakira all of about three seconds to realize I was naked below the waist. “This fuckin’ ‘ho be naked, ‘Rell,” she announced loudly, looking at my mound. “Whatdafuck?”

   Terrell leaned over and saw my condition, and said, “So what. She jus’ ready for us ta play wit her, that’s all.”

   “You stupid or sumpin’,” She asked him? “We be driving aroun’s wiff some naked white bitch, we get caught we be goin’ ta jail, ‘Rell. She fuckin’ not crazy, ‘Rell, she fucked up. She be a sick mo’fo. Man, I ain’t doin’ this shit no mo’.”

   “C’mon, Shak’” he pleaded with her. “It’s okay. I wouldn’ git chu inta no kinda trouble.”

   Then he turned in his seat and said to Carnelita, “We wants mo’ money, bitch, or we gits out the car right here.”

   “No problem, Terrell. How much do you want,” Carmelita asked him, calm, almost like she had expected this all along.

   “We gits a hunnerd each. A hunnerd now, up front, fo’ we gits to the bitch’s house and fucks her over.”

   “Puta, drive to the ATM and take out the money, or you’ll fail this test.,” Carmelita said to me.

   “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, putting the Chevy in drive and puling from the curb.

   “Two hundred dollars, I thought to myself. Two hundred dollars!”

   I took the money out of the ATM and handed it to Carmelita, who gave Terrell and Shakira $100 each. “There, see? All taken care of Terrell,” she said to him.

   “You better now, baby,” he asked his girlfriend? “When we be finished wiff dis ‘ho, I’ll take’s you out ta dinner.”

   “I still not likin’ this shit, ‘Rell. She’s fucked up. Crazy bad fucked up. We gots ta be careful ‘roun’ her. You know what I be sayin’?”

   I was driving toward my house, when Carmelita said, “Pull over here, puta.”

   I pulled between two parked cars as ordered.

   “Turn off the car,” she said.

   I did as told.

   “I want you to go into the flower shop and buy 1 dozen  long stemmed red roses, puta.” She handed me some cash.

   I was about to get out of the car, when it dawned on me I had no pants or shoes on. I turned to say something, and she said, “Take off your top and hand it to me before you go. A cheap whore like you needs to get used to being naked in front of strangers.”

   I paused a second, my mind foggy. The danger ahead making my tinglings take over my mind.

   “What are you waiting for, bitch,” Shakira said. “ This is what you be wantin’ all along. You dig this sick shit. Take off your shirt and do what you’re told.”

   I took off my top and Shakira grabbed it from me.

   The flower shop was on the opposite side of the street, three store fronts down from where I was parked. I looked to see what traffic was coming from behind and in front, took a deep breath, (yes, I actually did take a deep breath! My heart was racing a mile a minute, and the tinglings had me on the edge of cumming!), took hold of the door handle and got out.

   “No running,” Shakira called through the open window. “Let the world see what a good little ‘ho you is.”

   I walked across the hot pavement of the street, my feet burning with each step, aiming for the narrow space between two parked cars to offer some concealment. (I didn’t see that Carmelita was following right behind me, camera recording all). Stepping out on the sidewalk, I walked purposefully towards the flower shop, no pedestrians facing me, a few well back behind me. I opened the shop door and the tinkling of a bell drew the immediate attention of the girl working the counter.

   She was younger than me, maybe thirteen, fourteen tops. Her jaw dropped when see saw my condition. (Carmelita slipped in behind me before the door closed. I still wasn’t aware she was there). Walking to the well worn counter, I said, “I’d like a dozen long stemmed roses. Red please.”

   The girl kept starring at me, red faced, obviously in shock, not moving. “I...........I’m s....sorry,” she stammered. “Wh.....what did you s........say?”

   “A dozen long stemmed roses, please. Red.”

   She turned hurriedly and went to the refrigerator to pick out the flowers. I looked back over my shoulder  towards the front windows to see if anyone was watching. (That was when I first saw Carmelita). I faced the counter again,  watching the girl select the roses, when I heard the bell tinkle on the door, signaling the arrival of another customer. Instinctively I turned to the sound, as was confronted by my high school English teacher from the past year, Mrs. Arden, a fifty plus year old widow. ( Still very attractive, in a matronly way. Slight build, small breasts, narrow waist, long dark hair with natural streaks of gray rolled into a tight bun on the back of her head, wearing a light blue dress with a slit up the side that ended a good two inches above her knees, showing long, smooth, shapely calves, and the hint of toned strong legs.)

   “Sandy?” she said, stunned at the sight of my nakedness.

   The tinglings gave me a quick cum. I was found out! Now Grandma Jo would find out! Shaking suddenly as the orgasm whipped through me, all I could say was, “M......Mrs..........Mrs. Arden............I...........I”

   She spotted Carmelita with the camera filming me, smiled and said, “Playing a  little prank, are we Sandy?”

   I lowered my eyes, averting hers, “Yes, ma’am. A......a dare actually.” (Not a lie really, just not the entire truth either.)

   “I see,” she smiled, taking a few steps closer to me.  I looked up and saw she was standing right in front of me,  looking me over, from my breasts, nipples rock hard and jutting out,  to my bald pussy. She seemed to be drinking it all in, a twinkle in her eye. “You’re really quite lovely,” she said, brushing my upper arm with her hand. Goose bumps erupted on my body as the sensation of her dedicate hand lit me up inside. The tinglings causing me to pant slightly. “Well don’t let me stop you. You’re really a beautiful sight for sore eyes like this. I certainly don’t mind looking at you.” She leaned in a whispered in my ear, “I’ve often wondered what you looked like underneath your clothes, you little minx! And I am certainly not the slightest bit disappointed.”

   I felt my face flush with embarrassment at my ex-teacher’s revelation.

   The florist came back with the roses, and said, “That’s $48.57, with the tax, please.”

   I started to hand her the bills that were wadded up in my hand, when Mrs. Arden said, “Let me get that for you. Call it a ‘thank you’ for this little treat.”

   “Thank you, Mrs. Arden,” I replied, “But you shouldn’t do that,  it’s not necessary.”

   “I insist,” she countered, placing her credit card on the counter.

   As the girl began processing the card, Mrs. Arden turned to me and asked, “Are these a gift for your Grandmother, Sandy?”

   “No,” I answered her, then realizing I had no clue why Carmelita made me come in here to get them.

   “I made her buy them,” Carmelita explained, coming closer, zooming in on my face, as she added, “This leetle whore is going to be whipped with them ‘til she bleeds!”

   I know my face registered the shock of that knowledge. Mrs. Arden, however, seemed nonplused. “Is she now,” she grinned with a sinister look in her eye. “That’s something I would certainly love to see!”

   No one spoke, until Carmelita prodded me, “Sandy? .........sLut 14. What do you say to this nice lady?”

   “I.......I...........I would be proud to have you witness my whipping, Mrs. Arden,” I stammered, my head drooping down, mortified.

   “And?” Carmelita continued, prodding me, pushing me even further.

   “And.........” my mind rushing, trying to think what I was expected to say, ............, “and...........and if it would please y......you,........ you may wh..........whip me..........whip m......me as well,........if y.....you would like to.”

   “I’d like that very much, you little fucking tramp,” she hissed. My tinglings making my head swoon. My pussy was soaking wet, gushing juices down the insides of my thighs.

   “We’ll be in that big Chevy station wagon across the street,” Carmelita told her, as the florist handed Mrs. Arden her receipt. “We’ll wait for you, and you can follow us to Sandy’s.”

   “That would be fine, thank you. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

   “Let’s go, puta,” Carmelita said. “We have a busy evening planned for you.”

   A few passers by on the sidewalk stopped dead in their tracks as I exited the florist, roses in hand, and crossed the street, (standing tall, almost strutting, feeling most defiant and proud now of my public nudity), to my car, where Terrell and Shakira were waiting. We remained parked at the curb for about ten minutes until Mrs. Arden came out of the shop, carrying what looked to be a bunch of flowers wrapped in paper. I saw her look around until she spotted my car, and then she headed for hers. She followed us to Grandma Jo’s, to participate in my next test.

   Once we all got into the driveway, Carmelita said, “To the garage, puta. It ‘eez time for your next test!”

   I crawled from the car, across the gravel driveway to the side door of the garage. Terrell opened it up for me, and I crawled in, followed by Shakira, Mrs. Arden, Terrell, and lastly, Carmelita filming all the way.

   “We will begin by flogging her,” Carmelita said, “With the roses. You will each be given four of them. You may use them singly, or in a bundle, that decision is your. She may be whipped on any part of her body that pleases you. The only rule is that you must not stop whipping her until your roses are splintered and broken and are of no further use. Any questions?”

   Terrell and Shakira were silent, having participated in my tests before, they knew what my limits were.. Mrs. Arden, however, spoke up; “Will the slave be restrained during her whipping,” she asked?

   “Yes. For this portion of the test she will be restrained. She will hang by her wrists from a cross. She is to be crucified,” Carmelita replied. “I will need all of you to help me to crucify the slave.”

   Fear gripped my stomach, cramps struck my bowels, as the images we all have seen of that most barbarous of Roman tortures filled my head. The tinglings were rampant now, and a loud moan escaped as I came from the mere thought of the suffering,  the pain, and the indignity of crucifixion I was about to be tested with.

   “The fucking slut, came, ‘Rell. I tol’ you she be a fucking sick bitch. We gonna crucify the mutha fucker bitch ‘ho, and she be gittin’ off on it! Dis be some sick ass shit, bro.”

   Terrell was given the task of tying lengths of thick coarse rope to my wrists. He had me kneel before him as he wrapped it around many times, pulling the rope tight, cutting into my wrists as he knotted the rope. Shakira and Mrs. Arden found a five foot length of 2x6, drilled a few holes in the center of it, and then nailed it to one of the lolly columns that supports the garage roof, about six feet off the ground.

   Their tasks completed, Shakira and Mrs. Arden both spit in my face, and Terrell pulled out his cock, and ordered  me to open my mouth to him. He throat fucked me for a few minutes, making me gag and puke on my breasts as his stout cock pushed deep down my throat. But he didn’t cum. Then he pissed in my mouth, stopping frequently, waiting,  and making me swallow the warm acrid liquid.

   “Play with yourself, slut,” Mrs. Arden ordered. “Make yourself cum for us. Tell us why a whore like you deserves to be crucified for LOThAR.” ( It didn’t even register with me then as to why Mrs. Arden would even know of LOThAR, why she’d mention HIS name).

    My fingers found my sopping wet slit and started burrowing in, rubbing, pinching, and tugging on my swollen clit. “Please crucify this unworthy whore slut,” I pleaded. “She deserves the pain and humiliation of being tortured for the REALM. It is all I have to offer up. Please....please... accept......acce.........” I came, shuddering, and fell over, twitching on the floor.

   

   Terrell and Mrs. Arden grabbed me under my arms and I was then made to stand on a couple of old milk crates while they secured my wrists to the ends of the 2x6, and my ankles to the lolly column.

   They stepped back to admire their handicraft. “Ready, puta,” Carmelita asked me?

   “Yes,” I closed my eyes. “Crucify me for LOThAR, I offer myself to HIM, ” I yelled. “Crucify me for the REALM!”

   I didn’t see who it was that kicked the milk crates out from under me, but the drop, and sudden stop brought a loud scream from deep within me. The strain on my wrists and shoulders was like nothing I had ever before felt. Even the simple act of breathing seemed somehow more difficult now. I could feel warmth on my arms and looked up to see that the coarse rope was chaffing and cutting my wrists so that they were both bleeding, the blood running down my arms to my exposed hairy armpits. I also felt warmth between my legs, and realized, mortified, that I had pissed myself in front of my four tormentors.

   Terrell, Shakira, and Mrs. Arden took up positions in front of me, roses in their hands, looking at me, drinking in the spectacle of my naked crucified body, picking out the parts of me they would torment and torture with the thorny stems.

   Mrs. Arden turned to Shakira and said, “Please be a dear and help me out of my dress.”

   Shakira looked at the woman, stunned, but stepped behind her and lowered the zipper down her back. Mrs. Arden slid the dress off her shoulders and it crumpled to the ground at her feet, exposing a black leather bra, open at the tips, exposing her gold ringed nipples. She also wore a black leather corset, and nothing else. Her bald pussy sporting many rings in her labia and a very thick one through her clit hood. She stepped up to my cross and said, “I am a servant of LOThAR, sLut 14, and you will obey me as you would HIM, is that understood?”

   “Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, my eyes wide at the sight of my English teacher’s outfit.

   “I am to be addressed as Mistress K, whore.”

   “Yes, Mistress K.”

   “Terrell, bring me that box on the bench with the fish hooks and weights,” she ordered, not taking her eyes from mine.

   He retrieved the box and held it out for her. She picked up one of the hooks with the line and weights attached to it. “These are going in your pretty little nipples, cunt.”

   “Yes, Mistress K. If it would please you.”

  “It would please me as a matter of fact. It would please me greatly to run these into you!

   “Shakira, hand me a set of pliers.”

   “Yes, Ma’am,” she said, making a quick search of the workbench for them. Having found them, she went to hand them to Mistress K, when she was stopped, “Grab her right nipple with the pliers and pull her tit with it.”

   “I’d like that,” she answered smiling.

   I couldn’t bring myself to watch, but I felt the grooved teeth of the pliers on my nipple, and then a sharp pinching sensation as Shakira squeezed the handles together.

   “Ooh,” I yelped.

   “Grab the handle tighter Shakira. And pull her tit up with the pliers.”

   Obediently, she did as she was told, stretching my tit away from my chest, elongating my nipple.

   I felt Mistress K’s soft hands caress my taut nipple, and then I felt the sharp point of the barb pricking the underside of my nipple. There was a pause, and then I screamed as she pushed the fish hook through the base of my nipple and out through the top. It didn’t slide right through easily, I must add. I had the sensation that it was tearing it’s way through my flesh. There was a lot of pressure and she needed to exert a lot of force to pierce me. (I have since learned that the skin and underlying flesh is quite elastic, and while a slice from a razor blade, or even a piece of paper can cut the skin quite easily, puncturing it is another matter all together.)

   I looked down and saw the hook hanging from deep in my tit, a small drop of blood surrounding the cold steel.

   Mistress K didn’t stop to admire her handiwork, she just told Shakira to put the pliers on my left nipple and she pierced that one the same way. The weight hanging from the hooks was an odd sensation. Not painful really, but very uncomfortable, as my breasts were being pulled down by the weight.

   My labia were next. Mistress K. Had Shakira grab a generous portion of the thick outer lip with the pliers, and she sank the fish hook deep into the flesh. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but the nipples hurt far more.

   Pierced in four places now, weights causing my nether lips to extend far from my pussy, everyone stood back to look at me, while Carmelita came in close with the camera to get some detailed footage. Mistress K licked a finger on her right hand and started massaging my clit, bringing me off instantly, my body awash in the mind blowing sensations of pain and pleasure. She kept rubbing, the tinglings out of control, and I kept cumming, and screaming, hanging, sagging really, on the cross by my wrists. I think I might have passed out at that moment, because I really have no recollection at all as to how long it lasted. I do know, however,  that when I became conscious of my surroundings again, Shakira was whipping my thighs with the roses, ripping at my legs, imbedding the thorns in them as she lashed repeatedly.

   Terrell followed her, whipping my belly in the same fashion, cruelly, viciously, until his roses were broken and destroyed. Next up was Mistress K., who concentrated on my breasts. She, however, took her time, unlike my first two tormentors, who whipped me with a fury that lasted less than a minute each. She paced herself, and her strokes as well, making me wait, and anticipate each lash, and burning pain, as well as the effects the thorny stems had on my pierced and weighted orbs.

   When at long last, Mistress K’s roses were trashed, I looked down at my body to see the spectacle of what they had unleashed. Blood streams ran from my breasts, stomach, and thighs, with numerous thorns protruding from my battered flesh, way too many to count. There was caked and dried blood on my nipples where the fish hooks pierced them. (I couldn’t move my head forward enough to look at my pussy).

   Carmelita was still filming me, as Terrell put the milk crates under my feet so I could be taken down from the cross. Once on the ground, on my hands and knees, Mistress K ordered me to lick Shakira’s pussy until she came, and then she had Terrell fuck my asshole, as I held my butt cheeks wide apart with my hands to make his penetration of my rear hole easier for him. When I had serviced her as well, Mistress K, noticing the time, said she would drive Terrell and Shakira back to town, and that I was to get cleaned up and take care of my wounds myself. “Oh, and by the way,” she added as they left Carmelita and I in the garage, “How you choose to remove those hooks is up to you. You can pull them out, or push them out. Your option. But, however you decide to remove them, Carmelita is to record it.”

   The three of the them were gone. I used a razor blade to cut the fishing line and weights from the hooks, and then picked the thorns from my breasts, belly and thighs, while I thought about my quandary in removing the hooks. The eyes were far larger than the holes in my pussy lips and nipples, but the barbs were designed to be inserted in one direction, and not be pulled back out the same way they went in. I decided to let my tinglings decide for me. Pulling one of the hooks in my labia up to where the eye was near the hole, as Carmelita zoomed in for a close-up, I watched as the skin stretched thin, trying to accommodate the large metal eye. My tinglings were moderate in intensity. I pulled the hook back the other way, and immediately saw that the sharp barb would not line up with the hole. Right away I saw that in order for the hook to be taken out that way, the barb would tear a wider path through the tender skin. The tinglings surged, and I knew there could be only one way for me to do this.

   Taking a firm grasp on the eye of the fish hook, I slowly started to pull on it, watching as my hairless nether lip started to stretch and the point of the barb pricked the skin. I kept pulling, slowly, in order that I might prolong the pain, and the barb began to rip through the skin as the hook started to follow it through the new hole. By the time the hook was out, there was quite a lot of blood, (I feared it might need to be stitched!), and I came.

   I did the same thing with the other labia, before moving to the hooks in my nipples, which were rock hard, and jutting out from my bruised and torn tits. Grasping one hook with my left hand and the other with my right, barbed end first, I slowly pulled both hooks out at the same time.  My breasts were lifted straight out from my chest before the barbs began to tear into my nipples. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as I whimpered and cried at the searing pain. Blood was running down my stomach and settling in my lap. All the while, Carmelita kept the camera focused on the fish hooks, with occasional pans to my tortured tear stained face.  The mascara streaked down my cheeks. (The tinglings were beyond description now, and I was shaking in what seemed to be a continuous state of cumming as I willingly abused my own chest so savagely).

   When my ordeal was completed, I went straight to the shower to clean up and dress my wounds, before Grandma Jo got home,  while Carmelita downloaded the video and sent it off to the Realm. I slept in panties that night, with a sanitary pad against my crotch to prevent any blood from getting on the sheets. I also had band-aids on my nipples for the same purpose. Carmelita got an email from sLave 6 the next day commending her for her role in my last test, and providing her with the access code for her free lifetime access to the website. I was informed a few days later that I had, in fact, done well on this latest test, and that when I went back to school in two weeks, I was to check in with Mrs. Arden, Mistress K, first thing in the morning, everyday for any instructions. (My Senior year promised to be an arduous one!)