The Best Laid Plans

                               The Best Laid Plans

                                     Chapter 16

       Brandi's shrieks were music to the teachers' ears; at least they'd gotten some noise out of her. The performance displayed by William was quite impressive. Not only did he last a lot longer than anyone could have predicted, he delivered some strokes to the stuck-up teen that brought sounds out of her that none had heard this weekend. The farmer and the kennel master also got into the swing of things, urging the teacher to loosen her up good so she'd be able to take on the horses that according to them, were beginning to get eager for some teen pussy to tear into. The teachers' dates gathered around the action and chanted William's name in concert with his thrusts into Brandi's swollen twat. His performance had certainly improved his chances for a lot more pussy than what he might have expected in the future. He brought the house down and managed to make their captive scream until her voice cracked by grabbing her bloated bags of tit meat and twisting them in one direction and then the other as she tried to deafen him with the sounds issuing from her.

       The science teacher finished off his victim with a series of jackhammer like blows to her cunt that made her entire body shake. He then yanked his still twitching cock from her burned out fuckbox and slammed the palms of his hands against her ears not once but three times. Brandi's head lolled against her heaving chest as if someone had cut the strings controlling it. William's audience went silent at this tremendous display of hatred on his part. Then one of the girls piped up with the observation that "Bill" was going to be a very tough act for anyone to follow.

       Alvin, the history teacher, was not to be made to look weak in front of his peers. He received a big round of applause when he rubbed his bare hand with the powerful unguent, and ignoring the pain, began to work the coated estremity into Brandi's swollen fuckbox as she screamed to the high heavens and begged him to stop. It took a number of tries, each bringing the most horrible sounds from the big-titted brunette, before he finally popped his hand, which soon became a fist, into her worn out cunt. Then inch by slow inch he corkscrewed his fist further and further into that spasming snatch as the teen's voice failed and she was reduced to slamming her head against the wooden railing in hopes that she might knock herself senseless. He only stopped when she began to bite on her  tongue, creating a bloody froth that made her look like some rabid animal. When he popped his fist from Bradi's burning twat he received another round of applause and some careful high fives from his fellow teachers. He reserved the right to fuck Brandi before she left the farm, and a number of the group hooted at his chutzpah.

       Bart, the art teacher, allowed Janet's date to take a turn using her strap-on dildo. This was a weapon that was unmatched compared to the kind of cocks that had been destroying Brandi's insides over the weekend. It was over a foot in length, at least two, possibly even three inches across, made from hard rubber and ridged to cause maximum damage to the interior of any female that had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of this monster tool. There were loud whistles when she strapped the massive model of some very well hung porn star against her groin.

       The whistles turned to gasps and even some groans from the more faint-hearted of the group when she slathered it with the horse liniment from tip to base. Then she walked toward her victim, the dildo bouncing obscenely from between her thighs. She positioned it at the entrance to Brandi's well strertched cunt and held it against the raw, bloated maw, letting Brandi contemplate the agony she was about to experience. She sobbed and pleaded to the girl for mercy, promising to be her sex slave for the rest of her life if only she wouldn't torture her with this mighty engine of destruction. Her exact words were closer to "I'll eat your shit for the next ten years if you don't ruin me forever with that monster hunk of meat. Have mercy, you are about to ruin me for life. What did I ever do to you?"

       Anything else she may have wanted to say was abruptly cut off by the entry of the black dildo into her tired, sore and very well stretched fucktube. It was impossible to describe the sounds that were forced from her as the meat maker began plowing deeper and deeper into her twat, turning the channel into a mass of hamburger as it scraped the tender mucus membrane from the walls, leaving behind a trail of bloody furrows from the unyielding ridges that acted as cutting blades as it bored away towards a rendezvous with the screaming, pleading girl's cervix.

       Janet's date grinned broadly as her dildo made solid contact with Brandi's cervix, bringing a howl of agony from her. She backed the dildo out a few inches, took a deep breath, and pounded it against the brunette's cervix once more. Brandi's howls grew louder and more panic stricken, but were quickly squelched by a series of terrible blows to the entryway to her uterus. The rest of the group seemed to hold their collective breath, wondering just how much damage that monster weapon was doing to their captive. They got a partial answer when the girl shifted her hips and stepped back to allow all but the tip oif the dildo to withdraw from Brandi's crushed and maimed cunt. It was covered with a coating of blood, much thicker at the front portion which had been pounding away at Brandi's cervix, trying to turn it into a pulpy mass of bleeding meat. Most of the dates and even a few of the teachers turned their heads away as they got a terrible picture of what must be happening to the internal sex organs of Brandi Barnes. Just before the girl tried to resume her punishment of the brunette tramp, Brad intruded, demanding that it was his turn to have a go at the teen teaser.

       "Since this young lady, who I want to date once we return home, has done such a superb job of ruining this trampy teaser's twat, I demand that Brandi's asshole be made available for some more stretching. I fear that any additional pussy punishment might result in permanent damage and perhaps a lengthy stay in the hospital. I am not interested in trying to explain her condition to her parents or the authorities."

       His speech put a definite damper on the proceedings. Ralph and Larry exchanged glances and headed towards the barn where the horses awaited. There would be no forced mating of Brandi this day, that was for sure. Then again there was Janet, the big mouthed pain in the ass that no one seemed to like very much right now. Perhaps the group might enjoy watching Janet absorb some major horse cock in lieu of the cat fight that would have to be cancelled as well. Better still, how about a cat and dog fight featuring Janet and one of the male teachers? The loser, almost guaranteed to be Janet, would then be matched with a horse or two depending on how she handled her first encounter with more than a foot of thick horse meat. Now that definitely sounded like a plan to them. They'd have to broach the matter once Brad got done rearranging the trampy teen's colon.

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       After mulling things over for a time, Karl Neilson made an executive decision, coming down in favor of keeping Randi Barnes alive for the moment. He was confident that all the others on board, including the crew, had too much to lose by revealing what had happened on the trip. All that was necessary was to tie up some loose ends such as retrieving Brandi Barnes and making sure that her mother understood the gravity of the situation. For this to happen he was going to depend on his new manager of day to day operations, Vladimir Paltz, ably assisted by his wife, Claire.

       "By the time Jennifer and I return from our lengthy honeymoon I expect this matter to have been dealt with to the point that it will have been forgotten by almost all that were on the cruise. I expect  to learn that Brandi and her mother have been resettled, shall we say. Perhaps Randi might have found a position within Vladimir's organization where she can make a substantial contribution. As for the lovely Brandi, she should be happily finishing up the school year, the loss of her father, who deserted the family, becoming only a painful memory. Any other scenario will likely be cause for concern on my part about my choice of you for this critical challenge." No sooner had Karl finished his charge to his second in command, then Vladimir responded with his vision of the future.

       "I am in agreement with the goal that you have projected; some of the details may not be as you envision, but that should have no influence whatsoever on the resolution of this issue. I believe that the loss of her husband wil result in a rather lengthy period of rehabilitation for Randi Barnes, much of which will be spent under my wife's direct care. I anticipate that Mrs Barnes will have to spend some time as a patient at a sanitarium where I am a member of its Board of Directors. If need be, her darling offspring may also require the attention of these dedicated medical personnel. However in three months you will be delighted at the progress that the ladies of the Barnes family have demonstrated. This I am guaranteeing to you." Karl Neilson gave his manager a knowing smile and completed their discussion.

       "I would imagine that the therapy for these two ladies will be thorough, and likely most challenging for a time. I understand that to make an omelet it is necessary to break some eggs. I accept that, and so be it. Let us put this behind us and make sure that the first step in the process is successfully executed. I leave that in your capable hands."

       Once the yacht docked, the luggage of the guests was carried out to their waiting automobiles. There was one particularly large piece contained in a duffel bag that was transported by two sailors, who deposited it into the trunk of a car belonging to the Barnes family. Vladimir Paltz took the wheel and headed in the direction of the Barnes home, located some thirty-five miles from here. It was his intention to wait there for the teachers to return Brandi Barnes. In the interim, to pass the time, he would begin the reeducation of Randi Barnes who was inside the duffel bag, drugged and tightly bound.

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       "My keeper made no effort to involve herself in my travail, standing just out of range of my spewing and waiting for everything to subside. My nostrils burned from the violent passage of water from me. My eyes were filled with tears from the gagging and choking that was induced by this violent internal upheaval. I was totally exhausted from expending so much energy in order to rid my body of the invasive effects of my lack of discipline. Finally she spoke in a voice that was more tinged with resignation over my less than perfect behavior, rather than anger at the chaos I had just caused in the formerly clean and orderly kitchen that I had worked so diligently to achieve. I was depressed at my failure, almost brought to tears. "How strange", I thought; how much reduced my world had become in such a short time. I could never have imagined being devastated by something as mundane as a spill in the kitchen."

       Bella finally spoke, stating the obvious, and then gave me exactly thirty minutes to clean up my mess and return the kitchen to its previous pristine condition. Just before I started to work, she casually mentioned that once that had been accomplished to her satisfaction, I was to finish drinking the contents of the jar which was to be left out so it could reach room temperature. I was too occupied with planning on just how I was to complete my task in the allotted time to pay serious attention to the matter of drinking the remaining cloudy fluid that remained in the container.

       I mopped, scrubbed and wiped every square inch of the floor and made sure that no splatterings remained on the baseboard. It had been years since I was in such close contact with any floor. Bella followed me around as I worked, pointing out areas that I either missed or needed a little more "elbow grease" as she called it. At last she gave my work a passing grade, and allowed me the few minutes that remained from her time limit to catch my breath.

       "Now as a reward, you may finish whatever's left in the jar. If I were you I'd not waste a drop. He'll check to see once he returns, and it will not go well for you if anything remains." I was a bit perplexed by her remark, but couldn't imagine why I shouldn't be able to down the rest of the water, especially since I had worked up a healthy thirst during the past half hour. The moment I picked up the jar and detected the foul odor emanating from the contents, Bella's comments made complete sense. What I had downed so ravenously before was urine, it's taste and odor masked by its chilled state. Now I was confronted by this terrible challenge without the benefit of anything that might even slightly ameliorate the foul nature of this murky liquid. My hands began to shake uncontrollably and it took a major effort of my deteriorating will to resist flinging the container against the wall and attempting to make my escape, hobbled as I was.

       "Don't be a damned fool! Shut your eyes and imagine it's flat champagne or something like it. He will beat you bloody if he finds out you have disobeyed him. There is nothing I can or would do to prevent this from happening. This matter is strictly between you and him. I have no idea what brought this about, but I will not become involved. Drink it or you will regret your foolishness, take my word on that!" There was so much emotion in Bella's words that I gave pause. She knew this strange man much better than I did, and her message was as direct a warning as she could provide.

       For one of the few times since I had arrived at this prison, my mind began to work at solving the problem I faced. The first thing I decided to do to try and meet the requirements I'd been given, was to place myself somewhere that if I did vomit up this foul mixture it would  not cause a major cleaning project to ensue. My second strategy would be to drink this in short gulps, no more than two or three swallows before stopping and making sure that my stomach would not rebel against what reached it. Since Bella had given me no time limit in which to perform this task, I decided that a goal would be to see if I could down what was left in the jar within twenty minutes. Since I had no way of telling the exact time I would mentally run a tally using the phrase "one thousand and one" as equal to a second. This method of gauging time would also take my mind somewhat away from a morbid focussing on what I was drinking.

       I picked up  the container, positioned myself directly over the sink and took a deep breath. It was then that Bella wished me "good luck", and I did detect a degree of sincerity in her voice. This added to my resolve and without further ado I took a rather lengthy swig from the jar and let it slide down my throat. I had forgotten to count, so I immediately began my mantra of one thousand and ones. I belched, which caused a momentary panic that quickly passed. I let twenty counts go by before taking a breath, less deep this time, and downing another swallow of the murky stuff. I now discovered that smacking my lips after each swallow somehow had the effect of making the aftertaste decrease in intensity.

       With each successful swallow my feeling of self worth began to increase. I started to feel more powerful than at any time since I arrived. This particular task was proving to be a godsend, since it was demonstrating to me that all was not lost. The more I concentrated on what had befallen me to date, the more I began to realize that most of the assault had been on my dignity rather than my person. To this time, except for the daily spankings, he had done little to harm  me in a physical sense. I was now on to him. I even found myself mentally daring him to do his worse. I was onto his game and I would treat it as such, just a silly game by some person inferior to me with respect to education and social position. I placed the empty container down and arched my eyebrows to express "what next" to Bella. I would like to have believed that I caught a tiny smile from my warder, but I'll never truly know. The rest of the afternoon did not go as well as I had hoped. He had left other instructions that were sprung on me one at a time by his surrogate.

       Bella had taken me outside where I stood for at least an hour, unprotected from the sun in order to, as Bella described his order, "work on my all over tan". Despite the large amount of liquid I had consumed prior to my exposure to a surprisingly hot sun, I became rather thirsty thanks mostly to the fact that the urine I consumed was quite salty. When she retrieved me I asked for some water, but was rebuffed. I was told that he had given express instructions that the only liquid I would drink in his absence I'd already had. When he returned he would determine what more I might have to drink and more importantly, what it might be. My burst of self confidence had suffered a setback, but I resolved that it would not force me to return to that slave-like state I had assumed.

       Her next order caught me completely off guard. Upon examining his instruction in more detail it did however fit the pattern he had already created. It was another step in lowering my dignity and self esteem, for what ultimate purpose was yet a mystery to me. I was to submit to having my pubic region shaved. Normally in the summer months I usually had a bikini wax just prior to the season and again once I returned to spend the rest of the year in the city. Normally I would have made an appointment for a waxing in another week or two. It turned out that Bella's instructions were quite specific and involved only a rather well honed razor which she wielded with a great deal of skill. Despite her expertise, the entire process was rather stressful and left me with a number of minor nicks and one rather deep gash caused by my inadvertent movement while she was working on the region around my labia. Having removed my rather fine pubic hair without the benefit of any lotion or even a drop of water left my skin raw and stinging. I had the maddening desire to scratch or rub the region that was smarting, but my hands were once more fixed into the loops around my thighs, rendering me helpless.

       Things continued to deteriorate for me. I developed the urge to urinate, something that was almost foreign to me thanks to the lack of water I had endured for most of the time I was here in  bondage. I made a request to be allowed to relieve myself. That's when one last pitfall swallowed me up. Bella took me into the bathroom and then the last trap of that long and frustrating afternoon was sprung. She put the seat of the toilet up and had me squat over the bowl. I was forbidden to move from this position until he returned home, and woe to me if so much as one drop of urine was added to the pristine water in the bowl below my spread thighs. Once more my brief foray into another space free of his baleful presence was dashed. I began to cry, my resolve utterly broken by this series of nasty tricks, none of which hurt me physically, but all in total absolutely crushing my self confidence.

       He arrived approximately an hour after I was put into this embarrassing state. By then my legs were trembling from the strain of squatting, and I was actually sweating in fear that I might lose control of my bladder and begin voiding into the bowl, which would bring down on me some unknown punishment that I did not even want to contemplate. He entered the bathroom and watched me for a long moment before giving me leave to urinate. Then he stood there with a sardonic look on his face as I sprayed a powerful stream of urine from my distended bladder. Once more he had defeated me. I was again his drudge and personal captive to do with as he wished.

       He was neither pleased nor angry that I had met his other orders. Dinner was cooked by Bella, but I was not invited to the table. However for the first time I was fed. The meal and the manner in which it was served only made me more aware of my lowered status. I was offered a can of catfood emptied into a small bowl which was placed in the corner of the kitchen. Next to it was a large bowl of water, somewhat flat in taste and a bit on the warm side, but nonetheless, water. There were no utensils provided, which did not surprise me in the slightest. My hands were still captured and it would have been sheer folly to consider the use of any type of eating utensil. I knelt and lowered my head so I could begin consuming the catfood after I had sucked up most of the warm water from the other bowl.

                               (To be continued)