In a society that otherwise resembles our own, mass slavery has persisted into the 21st Century. It is a common and accepted feature of public and private life. Males and females of all ethnic backgrounds are held thrall, without status or legal rights. They are quite literally living property, and may be bought, sold and used for any purpose, including: hard labor, breeding, menial work and sexual servitude.
This series of stories, which is not presented in any particular order, explores the daily life of a prostitute-slave named Sara. Purchased at auction by a Las Vegas casino, she is tasked with fulfilling the sexual urges of its clientèle, who pay for her favors along with room service and Wi-Fi access. Subject to their every whim, she has known both anguish and delight, but most often casual exploitation.
When she is not engaged by a guest, Sara must contend with capricious and underpaid corporate overseers and occasionally vicious slave stable politics.
Of course Gretchen keeps me naked around the house these days. Now, you might think that this isn’t as embarrassing as being naked in public, however you probably don’t know how determined Gretchen is to humiliate me.
For starters, there’s a stark contrast between me and Gretchen. She goes around the house fully clothed, whereas I am constantly naked. I’m not even allowed to have any pubic hair. According to Gretchen’s rules, pubic hair is a form of clothing and if she finds any on me (even stubble) I’m punished for disobeying her rules.
Then there’s the way that she’s always having me answer the door. Seeing as how Gretchen is the only one who’s dressed, you’d think that she would get the door when somebody knocks, but Gretchen wants me to be humiliated, so she orders me to answer the door every time.
To make matters worse, she’s placed a number of orders with toys4lust.com. And every time the order arrives in the mail, I have to sign for it.
Gretchen had talked to the UPS delivery person who services our neighborhood and told her that a naked girl might answer the door at our house, but the first time I answered the door naked she just stared at me for about five minutes before she thought to hand me her signature capture pad and asked me to sign for the package.
However after five of six (or is it seven?) times, she’s no longer shocked to see me answering the door stark naked. Now she smiles, greets me name and has me sign for the package and if it’s one of those big, heavy packages, she helps me lift it and bring it inside the house. And she always tells me to “have a nice day” before she leaves.
It’s very humiliating exposing myself in front of a total stranger like that (and also risk being exposed to neighbors who might be driving by or walking down the sidewalk in front of my house), but it’s also very arousing. As scared as I am to answer the door stark naked, my nipples are swollen and erect and my pussy is wet every time. Indeed if it were okay with Gretchen and the UPS girl, I would gladly bring the UPS girl into the house and have her violate me again and again and again. She could use her fingers or her tongue or a wooden broom handle. I really wouldn’t care.
Unfortunately the UPS girl is too professional to ever lay her hands on me. A few times I’ve caught her staring at my shaved pussy, but she’s never touched me and I can’t touch her without Gretchen’s permission.
Mrs. Lassiter has also come over a few times, and I’ve had to answer the door naked to let her in. She used to blush and stammer when I answered the door like that, but she’s starting to get better too.
It seems inappropriate to me for me to be naked and sexually aroused in front of Mrs. Lassiter. She’s old enough to be my mother, but being naked and exposed and helpless in front of anybody seems to cause massive sexual arousal in my body. The fact that Mrs. Lassiter is almost forty years old doesn’t seem to make any difference to my traitorous body. My heart still beats faster and my clit gets hard and swollen and my nipples get so swollen that they ache whenever Mrs. Lassiter comes over and witnesses my naked humiliation. And the fact that she can see my wet, swollen pubic lips every time she comes over just makes me even more humiliated and more aroused.
Her visits are never sexual in any way. She mostly asks how Gretchen is treating me and about my relationship with her daughter. I think she’s worried that Dawn will become “corrupted” and start treating me like Gretchen treats me. Mrs. Lassiter is a big believer in human rights and would probably be upset if her only daughter sexually and physically abused one of her best friends.
Dawn herself doesn’t come over very often. Although she did one time come over with her digital camera to take photos of my naked body.
I’m not exactly certain what Dawn wants those photos for. Dawn has never claimed to be gay, but seriously why would she want photos of one of her friends in the nude if not to lust over them? Of course I was sexually aroused at being exposed to Dawn and her digital camera. A quick look at any of her photos should show that my outer labia were swollen and plump and my inner labia were exposed.
However more significant than any visits by Dawn or Dawn’s mother or the UPS girl are the visits we’ve gotten from Dana.
Dana has a way of making me feel more naked than most women. She really dresses to impress. Expensive and stylish clothing that would allow her to fit in at any of the fortune 500 companies; she looks sort of like an important executive or powerful government figure. At any rate, she exudes authority and self-confidence and perhaps a little bit of arrogance.
And the way she looked at my naked body made me feel like she was evaluating all of my flaws and assets and deciding how much she’d be willing to pay for me if my naked ass were sold at a slave auction. She made my pussy wet when she looked at me like that, but she also made me nervous.
After she dispensed with polite greetings with Gretchen and me, she set her handbag down on the coffee table and announced, “Gretchen I have a business proposition for your slave.”
I noticed that Dana didn’t speak to me directly. She apparently wanted to diminish my status by allowing Gretchen to make all of my decisions for me.
When Gretchen indicated that she was interested in Dana’s proposal, Dana went on to explain that a number of her friends had pooled their money and created a website called www.punishedbeauty.com. The website was brand new, but when it opened for business they planned on selling monthly memberships for thirty-three dollars each.
“So, what does this have to do with Diane?” Gretchen asked.
“We’d like to have her under contract to be one of our models,” was Dana’s reply. “We have a computer expert who set up and maintains our website, two photographers, a business manager to deal with all of the taxes and payroll and boring stuff, we even have some models that can play dominants, but we need models that can be submissive and deal with being punished on camera.”
“And you want my permission to use Diane?”
“Exactly, we’d love to have her. After witnessing what the two of you did at Diane’s birthday party, she seems ideally suited to out needs.”
Gretchen seemed to think about this for several seconds. Then she began to ask Dana questions.
Just off the top of my head I remember Gretchen asking how much money they would pay me for appearing at one of their photo shoots. Gretchen also wanted to know when these photo shoots would be scheduled. She wanted to know how time-consuming they would be. She also wanted to know if she could meet the dominant models. She wanted to know what sort of things they would do to me in these photo shoots and she wanted to know if there could be a contract written up that would guarantee what would NOT be done to me in these photo shoots.
Dana was organized and well prepared for every question that Gretchen had. And indeed I was getting somewhat enthused about the idea of becoming a model for Dana and her friends.
First of all the money they were paying was quite a bit. If they brought me in for three or four photo-shoots a month, I’d be making more money than I made working at the bank.
Secondly, I’d have an excuse to spend even more time exposing my naked body in front of clothed people. And I now seemed to have reached the stage where I was addicted to being naked and observed. I wanted to have the feeling of being abused and sexually exploited that came from being the one naked person in a room full of clothed people. And I couldn’t get any of that at my job at the bank.
“Diane, if this works out you could quit your job at the bank,” Gretchen said, seeming to read my thoughts.
I nodded my head numbly. I could hardly believe this was really happening. It sounded very much as if I would get paid for doing what I love to do!
“I’d like to take some photos,” Dana said as she pulled a small, digital camera from her handbag. “We have photos of all the models we have so far. And of course the investors would like to see what Diane looks like before they draw up a contract for her.”
“Go right ahead,” Gretchen said, giving Dana permission. Nobody asked me if it was okay, and in a way I found that exciting. My nude body was being used by Gretchen and given to Dana. My opinions about how my naked body was to be treated were totally irrelevant.
Dana looked at me with a predatory grin and licked her lips. “On your knees,” she commanded me.
And once I was kneeling on the carpet, she added more commands. “Spread your legs,” she said. Then she ordered me to place my hands behind the back of my neck and thrust my elbows back while thrusting my breasts forward. She also ordered me to straighten my spine and spread my legs even wider.
“That’s good. Hold that position,” she said and then proceeded to take dozens of pictures of my naked, exposed body from different camera angles and different camera settings.
It was a difficult position to hold for long periods of time, but Dana didn’t care about how physically difficult it was for me. She only cared about getting the idea shots for her camera.
“I love the way that this position causes her breasts to stick out,” Dana said, “but I’d like it if her nipples were more pronounced.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Gretchen, and then she proceeded to walk over to where I was kneeling and she grabbed each of my nipples and proceeded to pinch and yank and pull on them until I gasped and whimpered in pain. My arms twitched and shuddered and my elbows jerked forward. Then Gretchen ordered me not to break position.
“Sorry, Mistress,” I replied through gritted teeth, and forced my elbows back again, and thrust my tits out as much as I possibly could.
“Perfect,” Dana said as she observed my now swollen and erect nipples. “This will make her photos look even sexier.”
Eventually Dana had enough photos of me in what she called the “open kneeling” position and then she had me stand with my legs far apart but keep my hands behind the back of my neck and my elbows back with my breasts thrust out. This was simply called the “open” position, and it certainly kept every inch of my body open for examination, fondling or punishment. My breasts, ass, torso, pussy and even my inner thighs were exposed and vulnerable to anything that Dana or Gretchen decided to inflict upon me.
Next Dana had me stand with my legs far apart, my hands flat against the far wall of the living room, slightly above eye level and about shoulder width apart, I was leaning hard into the wall and my ass was sticking out pretty far, leaving my pussy and anus very exposed to anybody standing behind me.
Dana referred to this as this “frisk” position or “search” position.
Dana took quite a few photos of me in this position and Gretchen fondled my pussy to make certain that my pubes were as red and swollen and wet as possible for the photos as possible. I moaned as my pussy received much wanted attention, however Gretchen took her fingers away before my impending orgasm could be achieved.
Then I whimpered in frustration.
Gretchen and Dana both pretended not to notice and Dana discussed how my “darling” ass was my best feature and how “tiny” and “firm” it was and how much her business partners were going to love it. She also loved how “exposed” and “vulnerable” my shaved pussy looked. She also said that any model that worked for them “would have to have her pussy shaved just like Diane’s”.
Gretchen suggested another kneeling position and eventually Dana ordered me back on my knees, leaning forwards, with my wrists crossed, eyes lowered, struggling to put my wrists as far forward and raised up as possible, rather as if I were offering to have my wrists bound by my Mistress.
This position was hard to hold because of the tendency to topple, because of the difficulty in balancing as I was forced to lean forwards. I quickly developed a sheen of sweat on my torso as I struggled to hold position while Dana took her time taking her photographs.
Then to make things even more difficult, Dana said that I wasn’t allowed to rest my ass on my heels, so then I had to raise my ass up while keeping my arms raised up as well. By the time Dana finished photographing me in this position, my muscles ached and I was basically covered in sweat.
Dana called this the “offer yourself” position.
The next position was much easier. It required me to get on my hands and knees with my legs as far apart as possible. Dana pointed out how much this left my anus and my pussy exposed. She called this the “bad dog” position and took a lot of photos with me in this position; including quite of few close ups of my exposed pussy, anus and buttocks.
The next position was almost identical to the “bad dog” position, only this position required me to press my forehead into the ground. Dana called this position the “submissive bad dog”.
“Her ass would look sexier with a few red handprints,” Dana observed. “Gretchen, do you think you could…?” Dana inquired.
Within seconds Gretchen gave me about a dozen hard spanks on my left buttock and four on my right buttock. I gasped in pain and shock, but somehow managed not to break position.
“Perfect” Dana exclaimed with glee and took many more photos of my sore, punished ass.
I was then ordered to kiss Gretchen’s feet and Dana took a few photos of that. Dana then said her goodbyes. She shook hands with both Gretchen and I promised that she would be in touch. She was certain that her business partners would offer me a contract and that the first photo shoot was probably no more than a week or two away. I wondered what sort of things might happen to me at that photo shoot. I was excited about the future, but also scared.
Foolishly I voiced my curiosity about what might happen in the photo shoots. Gretchen got a devious smile on her face and then suggested that we help Dana come up with ideas.
“I’m sure they’ve got ideas of their own,” I said meekly, somewhat afraid of what Gretchen might come up with. If you saw the smile on her face you’d understand.
“Hey, I know,” Gretchen said, “let’s print out some of your ‘adventures of Roberta’ stories!”
Just so you know “the adventures of Roberta” were a series of short fiction stories I wrote when I was a teenager. They were erotic stories about a nice heterosexual girl named Roberta who was always getting abducted by sadistic lesbians, stripped naked, tied up, sexually molested, spanked, whipped and just generally abused. The stories were all highly improbable. Even when Roberta escaped one group of sadistic lesbians, she’d just get kidnapped by another group of lesbians a short time later. Even the police in these stories were lesbians who would handcuff poor Roberta and perform invasive body cavity searches on her and force her into lesbian sex. And more to the point Roberta suffered a lot. I wasn’t really certain I wanted to go through the same sort of brutal physical and sexual abuse that she did.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Mistress,” I said, hoping I could sway Gretchen’s opinion. “Roberta was a fictional character who could take a lot more punishment than a normal human being.”
“It’ll be fun!” Gretchen proclaimed loudly. “And you shouldn’t sell yourself short! Once you set your mind to it, I’m sure you can take lots of pain. You’re tougher than you give yourself credit for.”
Reluctantly I followed my mistress into the bedroom and watched her sit down at my computer. With only the slightest bit of assistance from me, she found the files with the adventures of Roberta and she began to print up page after page after page, so that she could give them to Dana later.
I sighed. I knew nothing good was going to come of this.
* * * * * * * * * *
Of course I still had to go and work at my job at the bank until I got the modeling contract with www.punishedbeauty.com but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on financial transactions and bank policy and bank security when Gretchen was keeping me so sexually stimulated. All day long at work I wanted to rip off my clothes and expose my naked body to my boss and my co-workers and the customers and allow them to ogle and fondle and abuse my naked body.
Of course I couldn’t do that, and the minutes until I could go home and strip my clothes off seemed to tick by with agonizing slowness.
At any rate, there was one Friday when I came home from work and following Gretchen’s orders I stripped naked as soon as I came in the front door.
It wasn’t until I was totally naked and just stepping out of my tiny panties that I noticed I wasn’t alone.
“Hi there,” I heard a female voice say, I yelped in surprise and I looked up.
My sister Amy was sitting on the couch and standing nearby was my friend, Hailey. Of course, I gave Amy a key to the house last year so that she could come over and visit any time she wanted. I guess I was just in such a hurry to get inside and rip off my clothes that I didn’t notice her car parked outside.
“Hi,” I said sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed to have stripped naked in front of Hailey and my sister. I mean, they’ve seen me naked before, but somehow it’s a new and embarrassing experience every time somebody sees me naked. I don’t know why, but I never seem to develop a tolerance to it.
“There’s no need to blush,” I heard Amy say. “We already know the house rules. You had to take your clothes off.”
“Yeah,” Hailey added helpfully, “Gretchen said so.”
“Um, yeah,” I said haltingly, not realizing that I had been blushing before. “So, what brings you guys around?”
“We felt bad that we had gotten you clothes for your birthday,” Hailey said. “We felt that you got ripped off, what with the fact that you’re now going around naked most of the time. So, we got you some new birthday presents.”
Until Hailey said that I failed to notice the boxes with the brightly colored giftwrap on the coffee table. Upon setting my eyes on the gifts, I exclaimed, “That was so thoughtful!”
I walked over to the table and forgetting my embarrassment for a moment, picked up one of the boxes and shook it.
“Open it,” Hailey suggested, “it’s not like you have to wait at all for your twentieth birthday to roll around all over again.”
So I tore through the wrapping paper and found three books, all of the same size and shape.
And upon further examination, I found they were also by the same author; A.N. Roquelaure.
“The author’s real name is Ann Rice,” Hailey explained, “She just used a pseudonym when she was writing the erotic stuff.”
“Erotic?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Ann Rice wrote three books that were centered on bondage, discipline and sexual slavery. A Princess named Beauty is claimed by a prince from a far off kingdom. He strips off her clothes and spanks her and humiliates her in public and gives her to other people so that they can get in on the fun too.”
“A prince,” I asked somewhat disappointed. “So, it’s hetero porn?”
“Parts of it,” Hailey responded, somewhat amused at my question. “However I talked to Karl at the bookstore and he assures me that Beauty is used and abused by a number of different women in the book. For starters the prince loans Beauty to his mother in the first book. And there’s also Lady Juliana and an innkeeper by the name of Mistress Lockley.”
“Mistress Lockley,” I said smiling. “Even her name sounds sexy.”
“Yeah, so you can just read the lesbian parts and skip over the parts of the story that have a penis.”
Hailey was smiling and I could see she put a lot of thought into this gift. Next thing I knew we were hugging and even though I was totally naked, it was more of a friendship hug than an erotic hug. We were just two friends exchanging gifts and I was happy that Hailey cared so much to make sure she got me something she was sure I would enjoy.
“Open mine next,” Amy urged, so I broke from the hug and ripped the wrapping paper off of Amy’s gift. This revealed a small white box, so I opened the box and inside found black leather wrist restraints and a short stainless steel chain with D-clips on either end.
“They’re black leather bondage cuffs with black neoprene padding,” Amy explained. “I was thinking those metal handcuffs you were wearing at your birthday party looked really uncomfortable and they looked like they were biting into your wrists and leaving red marks. So, I bought you these.”
I took the cuffs out of the box and experimentally attached the D-clips from either end of the chain to the metal rings in the cuffs. Then I shook one of the cuffs vigorously to see how sturdy it was.
“Well, it looks like it’ll work,” I said.
“You have doubts?” Amy asked.
“Well, I’m not sure,” I said. “I mean I don’t think I could rip these things off, but there’s no actual lock. I could probably undo the buckles or unclip the D-clip and get free.”
“While your hands are bound,” Amy asked. “Your fingers could never reach the D-clip!”
“But I could unbuckle the wrist cuff, couldn’t I? I mean there’s no lock!”
“Stick out your wrists, Sis,” Amy said as she picked up the wrist cuffs, “Let me show you something.”
So I obediently held my wrists out and allowed Amy to buckle the leather restraints onto my wrists.
“Now try to get free,” Amy encouraged me.
The first thing I tried to do was unbuckle the buckle on my left wrist, using my right hand, however the chain that joined the cuffs was very, very short and it prevented me from achieving the proper angle to unbuckle the heavy leather straps. My fingers were virtually useless.
Next I tried sitting down on the couch and unbuckling the buckles with my feet, but it turns out that my toes just aren’t very talented when it comes to fine detail work. I even tried to unbuckle the buckles with my teeth, but that didn’t seem to be working either.
“I think I’m trapped,” I said, finally admitting defeat.
And of course, Gretchen chose that exact moment to come home and walk through the front door.
“Well, well, well,” she said, “What’s going on here?”
Amy explained how she and Hailey felt bad about buying me clothes when I was going to be naked most of the time. She held up the “Sleeping Beauty” books that Hailey had bought me and prompted me to raise my wrists up, so that the leather wrist restraints would be well on display.
“What considerate gifts,” Gretchen said in a voice that was smooth as silk, “Diane I think you should leave the wrist restraints on for the rest of the evening. Anything else would be disrespectful to your sister.”
“But, my wrists are chained really close together,” I complained. “I can barely do anything with my hands at all now.”
Gretchen gave me a stern look and then in a voice that sounded artificially sweet she asked, “You don’t want to be a bad host, do you? And I’m sure you can do plenty with those wrist restraints on. For instance, I’m sure you can take your clothes down to the laundry room with those on.”
I took the hint and walked over to the front door and picked up my discarded clothes. It was awkward, but I was certainly capable of picking them up with my wrists bound.
Going up and down the stairs took longer with my hands bound. Most people don’t realize how important a role arms can play in balance. If you don’t believe me, just try handcuffing your hands behind your back and try walking up and down stairs. You’ll see what I’m talking about.
At any rate, by the time I returned upstairs, Amy, Hailey and Gretchen were reading though the A. N. Roquelaure books about that poor naked slave girl.
“I must say,” Gretchen began as she saw me returning to the room, “This book is certainly giving me ideas.”
“Is it?” I asked, rather hoping that none of them would get tried out on me.
“Here on pages 36, 37 and 38,” Gretchen elaborated, “After a series of brutal spankings a servant girl rubs some sort of soothing ointment into Beauty’s very sore bottom. It’s surprisingly very erotic. You should read it.”
Gretchen handed me the book, although it was difficult to hold it open and turn the pages with my hands bound the way they were. However I managed to read the pages anyway and Gretchen was right. It was surprisingly erotic. This A.N. Roquelaure certainly knew how to write! She took an act that many authors would have made clinical and turned it into something almost dripping with sexual tension and Sapphic overtones.
“You’re right, Mistress,” I conceded, “It’s surprisingly very erotic.”
Then Gretchen smiled and said, “We should try this right now! It’ll be fun!”
I squirmed nervously and dreaded where this was going. “Can we skip the brutal spanking part?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Gretchen responded. “We have to have a series of brutal spankings first. Otherwise the whole thing loses its emotional punch!”
“But, Mistress,” I protested, “I haven’t done anything wrong! I don’t deserve a spanking!”
“The girl in the book didn’t deserve a spanking either,” Gretchen explained. “She was just spanked as a form of entertainment for the crowd of common folk. And anyway if you’re really my slave, that means I can spank you whenever I want. You don’t actually NEED to misbehave in order for me to punish you.”
Having said that, Gretchen set the book down and stood up and kissed me on the mouth. And then she whispered in my ear, “Don’t mess this up for me. What I’ve got planned for tonight is very erotic. Play along and I promise you’ll have a powerful orgasm before the evening is over.”
It’d been about three weeks since the last time I’d had an orgasm and there was a chronic feeling of need between my legs. “Oh God, yes”, I whispered back, without even bothering to think what else might lie ahead for me.
Gretchen held my naked body close to her clothed one; my aching nipples feeling the friction as they rubbed up against Gretchen’s jacket; and then she turned to Amy and asked, “Amy would you do the honors this time and spank your sister?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was one thing for Amy to be a witness at one of my painful and humiliating punishments, but for Amy to actually *inflict* the punishment upon me?
On the other hand, if I went through with it, Gretchen had promised me a tremendous reward afterwards. My nipples, labia and clit are all swollen with sexual need and I would do almost anything for some sexual release. I decided to go along with it.
“Me?” Amy asked. “I’ve never spanked anybody in my entire life. My mom was always the one dealing out spankings in our house. I’d feel totally awkward and totally out of character. And at any rate, I’m two years younger than she is! Aren’t authority figures supposed to older than the people that they’re punishing?”
“I think I see what the problem is here,” said Gretchen. “You don’t feel like you have the right to be meting out punishments. You feel like only authority figures such as your mother should be meting out punishments. But what if your mother had ordered you to spank your sister? Would you have spanked her then?”
Amy considered the question for a few seconds and finally responded, “Well, if my mom ordered me to spank Diane, then sure, I guess I’d have to spank her.”
“Well, Amy,” Gretchen replied, “As Diane’s mistress, I am also an authority figure. And I am ordering you to take your sister across your lap and spank her very hard.”
Amy continued to hesitate and then Gretchen added, “If you don’t spank your sister I’m going to get out the riding crop and use THAT to punish your sister. And believe me, Amy, a riding crop hurts much worse than your bare hand.”
“Diane, is that true?” Amy asked, apparently a total amateur when it came to spanking implements.
“It’s true,” I responded. “A spanking with a riding crop hurts much worse than a bare hand spanking.”
“And Gretchen would really use one on you?”
I nodded in agreement. I’d been punished with worse things. And once Gretchen made a threat there was no way she’d back down.
“Okay, you better get over my lap then,” Amy said. Amy was sitting on the ottoman, so I basically just placed my hands flat on the floor and my ass across her lap. My legs dangled off the other side and my feet were just barely touching the floor as well.
I was waiting for the first painful swat to come down on my unprotected bottom when I heard Gretchen say, “No, that doesn’t look right at all.”
I was curious as to what Gretchen was objecting to, however Amy and Hailey asked first.
“It’s her legs,” Gretchen responded. “She’s got her legs closed together. A slave girl should always make certain that her pussy is exposed and available.”
Then Gretchen slapped my left buttock hard and I yelped in surprise. “Legs apart,” she barked.
I spread my ankles apart about six inches and then she smacked my ass again. “Further than that,” she ordered. “Everybody in the room should have a clear view of your pussy and your anus!”
This time I spread my ankles at least three feet and then I felt Gretchen gently touch the insides of my thighs. “That’s better,” she said. “A slave should always give her betters easy access to this whole area.” Then she gently slid her finger up my swollen pubic lips and across my exposed anus. I shivered as her touch made pre-orgasmic tingles start to spread though my body. If she had done that three or four more times I’m certain I would have had an orgasm.
I whimpered when she took her finger away and then I heard Amy ask, “How many swats?”
“Hard to say,” was Gretchen’s response. “Let me see how hard you can hit and I’ll decide how many times you should hit her.”
There was an instant of anticipation and then I felt Amy’s hand come down on my right buttock. “If that’s the hardest you can hit, I might as well take over. I’ll go get the riding crop.”
I could hear muffled footsteps as Gretchen walked across the carpeted floor and then suddenly Amy’s panicked voice saying, “I can hit harder than that! Look!”
Then suddenly there was a loud CRACK and a painful stinging sensation as my sister smacked my naked ass with great force. I couldn’t help but whimper in pain and I think my legs trembled. Apparently my sister could hit pretty hard.
“That’s not bad,” Gretchen agreed. “Do you think that you could hit her like that twenty more times?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amy replied.
“Well then, Gretchen said. “Do it and I won’t have to take the riding crop to your sister’s ass.”
Without hesitation Amy’s hand came down on my naked buttocks again and again and again. I’m certain Gretchen was happy with her performance. If anything her slaps were getting harder and harder. Soon my eyes welled up with tears and I was whimpering and gasping with every blow. I squirmed and kicked helplessly and hot wet tears lid down my face.
And when my ass was very, very sore and I was sobbing uncontrollably, Gretchen told Amy she could stop.
Amy apologized over and over again for hurting me and begged me to forgive her. I could barely hear her over the sound of my own sobbing, but I told her that of course I forgave her. She was my sister, and after all she saved me from an even worse punishment.
“That was very good, Amy,” I heard Gretchen say. “Although your sister was rather shameless in the way she kicked her long legs around instead of holding position. I told her to keep her legs far apart, not to squirm and kick her legs about shamelessly.”
I sobbed louder at this announcement and Gretchen said, “You get six more, Slave.”
I braced myself and locked my legs into place, not wanting to break position again and risk having an even greater punishment. “Yes, Mistress,” I sobbed, my lower lips trembling uncontrollably. Amy then laid her hand softly yet firmly across my back and Gretchen took off her leather belt. I had a quick glimpse of the belt in Gretchen’s hands and then I closed my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the first blow.
The belt came down hard across both of my buttocks at the same time and it was an explosion of stinging pain even worse than my sister’s hand. Of course my buttocks were already sore and burning from the punishment Amy gave me, so almost anything would have hurt at this point.
The second blow came across the back and insides of my left thigh. Amy hadn’t spanked that area, but the flesh there is quite simply more sensitive and delicate than the flesh of my buttocks. I screamed in pain and shock.
The third blow once again came across both of my buttocks, adding sharp, stinging, hot pain to the hot, throbbing pain that Amy had already inflicted there.
The fourth blow came across the back of my right thigh, right at the crease where my ass meets the thigh. It stung horribly and I almost broke position. It was only by sheer willpower that I managed not to squirm and buck and kick, however I screamed and sobbed in pain.
The fifth blow lashed across the back of my left thigh and hit my left buttock as well. I continued to sob and cry out, and squeezed my eyes shut tight. The pain was getting worse and worse. It was starting to feel less like a spanking and more like a whipping.
The sixth blow also lashed me across my left thigh, but it curled around the inside of my thigh and missed the tender folds of my pussy by less than a tenth of an inch.
I screamed incoherently, but managed somehow not to break position.
“You did well,” I heard Gretchen say. “Now your sister can give you some comfort.”
I could barely hear anything that was said after that as the sound of my own sobbing filled my ears, but eventually I became aware that Gretchen had given some sort of ointment to Amy and told her to smooth it into my skin.
“Aahhh” I exclaimed. “Ow! Oh, God,”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said as her fingers touched the raw, punished naked flesh of my buttocks. “I’m trying to be gentle.”
“I know, Amy,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’m just really, really sore.”
“Should I stop?” Amy asked.
Before I had a chance to answer, I heard Gretchen reply, “Just keep on going, Amy. She’ll adjust. Just give her time.”
And so my sister rubbed gobs of this ointment onto my naked buttocks and thighs. At first her fingers gliding across my punished flesh just hurt, but eventually her touch began to feel cool and soothing against my punished flesh and then finally when she rubbed the ointment into my inner thighs, near my pussy I began to moan in sexual longing.
“Did the belt get you here?” Amy asked as she slid her finger gently across my swollen pubic lips.
“N-no,” I replied, my lower lips trembling as a wave of sexual tingles ran through me. “I-it came close, but just barely managed to miss my pussy.”
I whimpered as she took her hands away from my pussy and continued to stroke my buttocks and my upper thighs. No girl should have such sexual thoughts about their own sister, but I would have done almost anything if she would have just stuck her fingers deep into my pussy and brought me to a screaming orgasm.
Even though she took her hands away from my pussy, I was still highly aroused and eventually my sobbing and whimpering turned to moaning.
And then without any orders from Gretchen, Amy’s fingers returned to my pussy. At first it seemed accidental as she was smoothing ointment into my inner thigh and her hand lightly brushed my pussy.
I twitched at this and gasped. Another wave of sexual tingles ran through my body and then I felt Amy’s fingers gently take hold of my public lips and spread them open slightly.
When I didn’t protest, Amy must have taken that as a single that it was acceptable behavior and she opened me up even wider.
“Oh,” I exclaimed loudly and felt the beginnings of a wave that would soon lead to a powerful orgasm.
And then with a few deft movements of her very talented fingers, Amy found my clitoris. It was already swollen and hard and poking out of its hood. My breath came in ragged pants as Amy squeezed it and rubbed it and yet somehow managed to keep my pussy lips spread apart.
“Oh god,” I loudly exclaimed and then started making loud inarticulate noises as my sisters fingers worked magic and brought me not to just one orgasm; but to one powerful orgasm after another. I squirmed and kicked and wriggled and screamed and gasped and made an absolute spectacle of myself as one orgasm after another ripped through me and took total control over my body. I shook and shuddered and trembled and enjoyed one of the most powerful orgasms of my life.
I think I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember I was lying on the carpet near Amy’s feet. I was no longer wearing my wrist restraints and Hailey and Gretchen were both on their knees, looming over me with expressions of concern on their face.
“Are you okay?” Hailey asked.
“I’m fine,” I said, feeling incredible. The afterglow from my orgasm was still filling me with tons of endorphins. I couldn’t have felt better if I tried.
“You were totally unconscious,” Hailey said. “We were going to call 911 or something. I thought maybe you had a stroke or something.”
I shook my head as if to reject that idea. “This has happened to me once before,” I explained. “If an orgasm is too powerful it can cause me to pass out. It’s sort of like…too much pain can cause people’s nervous system to overload. Well, apparently too much pleasure can cause your nervous system to overload too. The human brain just wasn’t designed to handle that much orgasmic pleasure all at once.”
“What?” Hailey asked, sounding incredulous. “That’s a real thing?”
“Yep,” I said smiling up at my best friend. “It happened to me once before, in Sessia. A doctor there explained the whole thing to me. It’s kinda cool actually.”
“Can you stand up?” Gretchen asked.
I wasn’t sure, but Amy took my hand and helped me up. My legs were shaky, but I was able to stand with some difficulty.
Amy hugged me close and I felt the hard denim of her jeans against my soft skin. And then I felt something else. The front of Amy’s jeans were soaking wet.
I eventually learned that when I came I gushed fluids and I got Amy’s lap soaking wet.
“How’s your bottom?” Hailey asked. “The color’s fading, but it’s still red.”
“It’s sore,” I commented. “But now it’s a good kind of sore. I know that probably doesn’t make sense, but at a certain point pain can become erotic…at least it can for somebody like me.”
Without warning Amy kissed me on the lips and forced her tongue into my mouth. She prolonged the kiss for a long, long time and when we finally broke I was gasping for air.
“Well, Diane,” Gretchen said with a smirk on her face, “I guess you and your sister have become even closer today.”
There were a few moments of nervous laughter and then Gretchen ordered me to my knees and told me to go down on my sister.
“Mistress,” I said, convinced that Gretchen hadn’t thought this through, “I don’t think that Amy would be okay with that. I mean….fingering me to orgasm is one thing, but do you really think that she’d take her pants off in front of you and Hailey just so I could lick her pussy?”
I swear, at the time I was certain there was no way Amy would participate in something so kinky with Hailey and Gretchen watching, but a heartbeat later Amy unbuckled her belt, unzipped her jeans and slid her jeans down to her ankles.
And then I had just enough time to register the fact that her panties were wet before Amy hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down as well.
“You were saying?” Gretchen asked, with mirth in her voice and a smirk on her face.
And then I noticed that Amy’s pussy was just as bare and clean-shaven as mine.
It was one of the most beautify things I’d even seen in my life. I mean…I know I’m talking about my little sister, but her pussy was so bare and pink and her labia were so puffy and swollen and just begging to be touched.