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Payback
by Eve Adorer
Synopsis –
Barnmouth was a typical English mid-21st century town.....
Payback
by Eve Adorer
It had all happened so quickly.
Lovina was an international star.
The 365/365 grind of the full-circus circuit had bored her into semi-retirement. But she had kept in training, and such was her popularity with the public and the cameras, both television and paparazzi, that she could now pick and choose her appearances.
Till, as part of a full round-robin, she had won all the majors in the one year six years running, and then elected to be more selective of where she would play, she had squared the world’s circle so many times, that the moon and back might have seen a shorter distance covered.
Now oil was costlier per ounce than gold, flying was as exclusive as Lovina Hart was famous. And Lovina was as famous as Croesus was wealthy, and wealthier than Croesus and Midas combined.
She could afford Concorde. In order to use up some small change, on a whim, and with just a flash of her kryptonite Amex, she had bought two from museums, and had them brought back into service and modernised to her personal taste and requirements.
Affording the fuel was also within her financial grasp. So there would be no more crowding into the communal-circuit jumbo-jets for her and her intimate entourage.
Over here in England, she had just been given a wildcard for Nippledon.
Over in Paris a week since now, she had taken Solange Darros by storm, defeating the statuesque ice-blue-eyed Siberian blonde Teresina Semenova, 6-0, 6-0 on court; and a slitheringly sweaty 6-9 on the floor of the changing-room showers afterwards.
Lovina would habitually warm-up and take practice on grass before Nippledon, at the Barnmouth Open. And, as in recent prior years, she had just flown in to stay with Lady Barnmouth before and during that high-quality contest.
Kendra Lady Barnmouth, Kendra Hendridge-Draegona, was an old friend, if ‘old’ friends are possible when, like Lovina, one is still only twenty-five, and Lady Barnmouth only recently nineteen.
‘Barnmouth International Airport’ was a pretentious title for what was, or rather had been before the oil wells dried up, a glorified freight-depot. But Lovina’s pretty pilotess had landed ‘Grand-Slam 1’, on its deteriorating runway with all her usual precision, and Lovina had then taken a ponygirl-cab out to Barnmouth House.
It had happened during a shopping spree.
Had she been so minded, Lovina could have bought Barnmouth let alone Celsis shoe emporium. As it happened though, she only had her mind made up for a dozen pairs of new trainers to slop around in at her Monte Carlo tax-haven retreat. For these, Lady Barnmouth had sung the praises of Herrods: newly opened in Barnmouth, and Celsis: established in Barnmouth for longer than history itself it seemed.
Lady Barnmouth had been busy with overseeing the branding of a dozen new slave-girls, selectively bought for her estates from the leaving-age pupils at local schools. But she had agreed to join Lovina for luncheon, at noon in Bidets, a restaurant by the lake in Cunni Park. So the morning had been Lovina’s own.
To keep prying eyes from recognising her, Lovina had worn mirror shades and an oak-leaf-green slouch-beanie hat, with spider-spun veil.
A simple mini-dress in crème de menthe glided over her fabulously fit curves: its fashion-house haute couture origins evident in the intricate complexity of its apparent simplicity.
Underneath she wore only a classic cream coloured thong from the very select Vaginas of New York. Her twelve-inch heeled platform mules from RocketRip of Queens’ Road Chelsea, were Milanese of manufacture, and displayed her bare legs to the perfection of perfection that they were. Her turnout was of the highest class, as was she.
The astonished stare from the stunned serving-girl at Celcis had come as no surprise to Lovina.
The unspoken question that filled the silence springing from her unquestionable recognition was answered by Lovina in her usual sweet way. She raised a lovely index finger to the unfurling-rose-bud formed by her negress’ lips, and kissed a shush followed by a genuinely loving smile at the stunned girl.
The girl had then giggled her embarrassment and understanding, and been discretion personified, as she eagerly dashed hither and yon to wait upon this world-famous tennis star foot and foot.
..................
The cameras constantly flashed, a clack of clicks and whirs and white-lightening flicks of which the TV audience would not fail to be aware when this was shown later on the sports-news broadcasts.
“What are your chances at Nippledon this year Lovina? Who do you reckon your main opposition will be?”
Press-conferences followed Lovina everywhere. Better they were organised like this had been by Lovina’s PA though, than the street hijacks by paparazzi, pre and post nightclub nights that happened so often in Lovina’s high-speed high-life.
Lovina was daydreaming in recall of Barnmouth Airport’s VIP lounge the previous day.
“I’d thought: I’d thought always thought of late, that my main opponent would be myself”, Lovina had begun, “And I reckon it would indeed have been so, save that the ankle hasn’t recurred. As we all know, it saw me through Paris, and now I can’t wait to get on centre-court over in Hondon SW1. Sure grass isn’t my favourite surface, and, on such a high-speed track, with her serve on song, Teresina has got to be a major threat....”
“So, is it Semenova’s serve that is your main concern Lovina, or is it her curves?”
Lovina had giggled, and her audience had joined in her lovely loving laughter.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean!” Lovina teased, but the girl from the EBC sports desk was as new as she was pretty, and she had been pretty insistent too.
“Word is that you were jealous when Semenova won the ‘Legs Eleven’ contest this year, after it had been yours five years running.....”, Lovina’s interviewer, using a provocative intonation, had continued.
“.....Please let me stop you there”, Lovina had interrupted gently; “Teresina is a classic Russian beauty. She’s six-foot tall goddarnit, and undeniably has wonderfully long legs. But the Legs Eleven thing is just a fun money-raising charity affair.”
“I know for a fact that Teresina gave her $11 thou’ prize money to a charity for girls who cannot afford sufficient clothing to wear. You must have seen them pictured on calendars in every repair garage you’ve ever been into: lovely young chicks with hardly a stitch to cover their bodies?”
“Sure, those calendars, sponsored by the various companies selling cart-tyres, and wheel-spokes, and that kind of thing, raise lots of money to buy hand-me-down rags for those pretty honeys. And those calendars do a great public service by showing those poor girls before they could afford a dress that would cover them properly, let alone a brassiere, or even basic panties in some cases. So they remind us all how hard-up some poor girls still are in this world....”
Polite applause had interrupted this. Lovina’s tireless work for the charity ‘Calendar Girls’ Clothing Relief’ was widely acknowledged, and had been praised as an example of selflessness by Secretary-General Wan Key Lune in her annual address to the United Girls, at the UG’s New Edingow headquarters.
“Besides...”, Lovina had then added shyly, “I think I’ve got two pretty darn good arguments in favour of my getting the Legs Eleven golden parallels back on my dressing table once again this year....”
“Ms Hart, you must have heard that the rumour is going around that you and Ms Semenova have been playing a very intimate form of doubles since sometime last year. You know the world wishes you two would become an item. And the gossip includes that you’ve got wedding plans so advanced, that you’ve already pre-sold the pictures exclusively to ‘Hi’ magazine. Have you anything you like to tell us?”
“Er, let me see now....Mmm..well now...er....No: I don’t think so!” Lovina giggled as her gorgeous brown eyes shone. And her teasing answer won more loving laughter and applause from the assembled press and adoring public.
...................
Lovina had assumed the pink-clad Girl-Police officers at the rear of her yesterday’s press conference had been there to ensure security for her, and safety for her fans and the press.
When the same two constables had walked into Celsis shoe shop, where Lovina was waiting to be served, she had risen to greet them, raised her veil and taken off her sun glasses, to smile and offer a hand to shake.
But the hand was ignored.
“Can we have a quiet word ma’am”, a lovely pink-caressed Asian-Indian angel asked.
“Of course, sergeant: how can I help?”
“That press interview yesterday, would have been your first in England for some time, wouldn’t it ma’am?”
“Well: yes. I’ve not been over here in Europe till Paris..... After Flashing Meadow I stayed stateside for the fall and winter; then I flew down-under for the Nellie-Cup in Melbourne?”
“Just so ma’am, just so..., so you may not have been aware that there’s been a tightening up over here....”
“What do you mean please sergeant: where is this conversation heading?
“Well ma’am. We’ve had to confiscate the videos. The stills will probably be okayed after vetting. But, my colleague and I have to ask you formally, if you were wearing a brassiere at the news conference you gave at Barnmouth International Airport just before noon yesterday?”
“To cut straight to the chase ma’am, you’re...you’re quite a big girl on top?”
Lovina gasped prettily: sweetly embarrassed as she lowered her gorgeous dark-brown eyes.
“I’m just a thirty-eight”, she whispered in her deep blush, before looking her natural loveliness at the two constables once more.
“We’ll take that as a ‘no’ then ma’am....re the bra that is ma’am.”
“That would be right sergeant. I’m very sorry if I offended anyone....”
“....I’m afraid ma’am, that given the video evidence, and your effective admission here in front of the constable and myself, I have to arrest you for lewd behaviour in a public place: to wit the conference at Barnmouth International Airport’s VIP lounge which started at 11.35 GMT yesterday morning, in which you participated in a sexually provocative state of semi-undress.”
“Do you wish to say anything: that is anything in explanation of your breasts’ deeply provocative and completely sexual behaviour under your blouse yesterday, and, I am distressed to have to say, even now today as we speak?”
“Surely, this is some kind of joke?” Lovina astonished.
“No ma’am. It’s no laughing matter.”
“Constable Gentle and I have to take you to the station house. I have here a restraining order from a magistrate. It has been properly signed and witnessed. If you wish to examine it; that is your right and privilege.....”
“Well no: no thank you sergeant. I am more than prepared to take your word thank you. Let’s indeed go to the police station, where I’m sure we can sort this little misunderstanding out.”
“Perhaps so ma’am...perhaps so... The restraining order ma’am?”
“Yes sergeant....I’m happy to comply of course. What exactly does it require of me?”
“Nothing ma’am... That is to say, nothing of you as such ma’am...”
“I’m afraid this conversation is losing me sergeant. I’m not understanding what you are telling me. I’m sorry, but....”
“The restraining order requires that your breasts be brought under control ma’am: it is a restraining order on your breasts, and therefore, the constable and I have to arrest your breasts, in a manner of speaking....”
But that she saw how serious the lovely sergeant was, Lovina would have giggled at this.
“I’m afraid I have to ask you to undress sufficiently to allow your breasts to be arrested ma’am”.
By this time, the shocked shop-assistant had returned, and she signalled where Lovina might undress herself.
Thus a cubicle behind the counter of Celcis Boots & Shoes, was soon crowded with the lovely Lovina, the Girl-Police sergeant and the constable.
“Would you be so kind as to lower the zip at the middle-back of my dress please constable? If you can start it off.....I can take it from there...”
“That’ll be alright constable. I’ll do that for the lady. You get the cuffs ready please.”
The stunning negress, Lovina, lowered her lovely eyes as she lowered the top of her dress to bare her bountiful double-D breasts, with their magnificent coal-black nipples.
And the pretty sergeant tried not to admire Lovina’s significant soft-firm heavy charms, as she requested: “If you’d be so good as to take your arms out of your dress’ sleeves and cup your breasts up for me....”
Sweet tears cornered Lovina’s eyes, she was so embarrassed, but, even as she watched the sergeant take what looked like a mobile phone from her belt, she obliged.
“I’m sorry ma’am. I realise how unpleasant this must be for you, but the constable and I have to do our duty....”
Watched by the bewitchingly gorgeous negress, the sergeant busied herself with dextrous fingers with the mobile, until she found a number in its directory, pressed ‘Go’ so it was dialled, and put the phone to her pretty ear, while the intended contact rang out at the far end somewhere.
A moment later, connection made, she pressed ‘N’ and then ‘P’ on the keypad, then ‘Go’ and listened to a different dial-tone.
When that dial tone ended with an audible click, a machine-originated voice could be overheard, apparently giving the sergeant instructions, which she listened to carefully, before pressing ‘L’ on the keypad, and then holding the phone with its text window pressed firmly onto Lovina’s left nipple. Then the sergeant pressed a button and a flash lit the locality of the lens’ erotic target.
The police-girl then pressed ‘Go’...listened to more tinny-voiced guidance.... pressed ‘R’ on the keypad, and pushed her phone on Lovina’s right nipple, to flatten it and take its photo in its turn.
As they metaphorically tapped their feet in waiting, none of the girls looked at each other, but poor Lovina continued to show her deep shame at being treated the way she was being.
Two loud beeps from the sergeant’s mobile now caused her to hold it so she could read its screen.
“She’s got a record!”, the sergeant mumble-mused in thinking-aloud mode, as she read the full text of the response so as to digest it.
“Your full name is ‘Lovina Lesbiana Hart’, isn’t it?
“Yes sergeant”, Lovina responded with a nervous edge to her voice.
“You’ve got a criminal record”, the sergeant observed as a statement of fact.
“There must be some mistake sergeant. Are you sure you’ve got the right person?” Lovina answered, as if the sergeant had been asking rather than stating.
“So, you don’t recall having your nipple-prints taken, back when you were fifteen ma’am?”
“There’s no mistake, the prints on file match up with the ones I’ve just sent in. But there is a full-scale nipple-scanner at the precinct....”
Lovina hung her head, ashamed at her desperate attempt to deceive. But the sergeant mistook this action as further denial on Lovina’s part.
“Says here that your headmistress found you and another girl behind the ponygirl stables at your school. It was red-handed.”
“You were both caught with your skirts hitched up into their waistbands, and your knickers down around your ankles it says here. The headmistress thought you’d been fingering each other, but then she saw that your friend had a cigarette in her lips, and that you had smoke seeping out of yours.”
Lovina gasped: “I was too ashamed to admit it. I’m so sorry. That was the first and last cigarette I ever smoked.”
“I knew it was against school rules, and that I was under the legal age for smoking...”
“....I never ever put a cigarette in my pussy again.....”
“....Constable: put the cuffs on her...”, the sergeant ordered.
Constable Gentle now produced a pair of adjustable circular handcuffs, save that they had a longer linking chain than ordinary, and the cuffs proper were larger than the pretty wrists of the tennis star: way too large to have ever restrained her hands.
But the chain linking the cuffs was centred over Lovina’s scented neck, as if she was about to be awarded an English mayor’s chain of office, then her left tit was surrounded by one cuff and her right by the other, before they were closed around the base of her breasts.
And the cuffs were then closed down tighter in turn, by pressing them shut to the sound of the slick ‘snick’ clicks of their one-way ratchets, till Lovina’s breasts were swollen obscenely bulbously, with her jade-black nipples standing peaked out as if they were in the highest state of arousal.
And yet and despite their horrendous tightness, still the ratchets were pressed closed to grasp Lovina’s lovely breasts in the cold steel grip of the unmerciful maws of the tit-cuff’s jaws, till she cried out with the pain, and tears ran from her gorgeous brown eyes.
A short rod was then linked in Lovina’s cleavage between the inner sides of the tit-cuffs, and a chain was hooked to each outer side of the cuffs to form the equal of a bra-strap, so that Lovina’s breasts were finally held up and out in obscene rigidity; almost as grotesquely as if she had implants.
Lovina’s dress was now put loosely on her: her arms through its sleeves once more, and its full-length rear zip pulled up to mid her shoulder blades.
Then her wrists were cuffed behind her.
Moments later, in the street amid a welter of flash bulbs under which the gorgeous negress wished she could die of shame, if from which she could not find shelter...
“Lovina?!” cried the smartly-dressed pretty press and TV girls as one, collectively and yet individually, as the cameras whirred.
“Lovina?!
“Over here Lovina!”
“Lovina?! Look this way if you would please Lovina!”
“Lovina: do you wish to make a statement?!”
“Over this way Lovina!
“Lovina?! Shapelia Bristols from EBC Sports Hour? Have you anything to tell our viewers?”
“Lovina! Would you hold your head up for the cameras please Lovina!”
“Lovina?! Will you be playing in the Barnmouth Open next week?”
“Lovina! Does Teresina Semenova know you’ve been arrested?”
“Lovina?! If you have to miss the Barnmouth Open, can you possibly be match-fit for Nippledon at the end of June?!”
“Lovina?! Your fans are saying that you’ve been arrested for letting your breasts misbehave in a public place! Is that true?!
At this, the sergeant let the constable take Lovina to the pink-painted Girl-Police patrol vehicle headed by two attractive blonde ponygirls, while she held up a hand to signal she needed some semblance of silence so she could make a statement.
“Ladies and ladies!.....”
“Ladies!....if I could have your attention for one moment please ladies....”
The hubbub abated to a rolling soprano mumble indicating the nearest to silence the sergeant was going to get, before the questions would be fired at Lovina once more, as she crouched on the floor of the Girl-Police cart displaying an immense expanse of very shapely, very strong, very beautiful, dark-brown thigh.
“Ladies and ladies! Ms Lovina Hart has agreed to cooperate with Girl-Control’s enquiries into an accusation of lewd behaviour in a public place...”
“Shapelia Bristols from EBC Sports Hour, sergeant. Is Lovina under arrest?”
“Technically no ma’am. Ms Lovina Hart is not under arrest in the eyes of the law.....”
“What do you mean by ‘technically’ sergeant?”
The hubbub’s volume increased after that question.
“However..... I was about to say!....”
“However.....!!! the sergeant was forced to shout.
However, Ms Lovina Hart’ breasts are under arrest, and will be helping the Girl-Police with enquiries into accusations of their lewd behaviour.”
“Will she be free in time for the Barnmouth Open?”
“What about Nippledon sergeant: will Lovina get to play?”
“That is all that can be said at this time. A further statement is unlikely before midday tomorrow at the earliest....” the pretty sergeant, hoarse by now, tried to say above the resumed rising din.
Where the media was concerned, the sergeant’s statement was unsatisfactory and incomplete, so the press girls began to wiggle their fragrant bodies behind the departing Girl-Police patrol cart, calling to the distressed tennis queen:-
“Lovina?!
“Lovina?!
“One more question Lovina!”
.................
The judge was a lady of some eighty years. She had clearly once been an astonishing beauty. Her full lips and her imperious cheek-bones evidenced that still. But to her increasing forgetfulness had this day been added that her two, all two and all too badly needed hearing aids, had been left forgotten at home.
The judge was a ‘legs-girl’. She delighted in ogling a pair of ‘well-turned gams’. And the finely feminine supremely strong smoothly muscular endless and endlessly dark brown legs of the gamene Lovina had won yet another admirer.
“And just whom is this delateful cweature?”
“She is Ms Lovina Lesbiana Hart me’lady”, Lovina’s Asian-Indian beauty among Girl-Police police girls advised the presiding magistrate.
The judge eyed Lovina head to toes and then her lovely legs over and over again, and continued to enunciate at the volume that is seen by the deaf as hardly heard, but heard by the herd in every loud word. The judge herself considered she was speaking in a mere whisper, but, as such ‘whispers’ go, it went into the corridors behind the closed doors of the courthouse, let alone merely to the back of the courtroom itself.
“One assumes thet she is to go before a jaudge to pwoov something eother thaen the twuth of the saying that ‘bweck is bootiful’. She is an exquisite exemplar of thet twuism. No jaudge could pessiblay not find her facial and physical charms guiltay of prowoking Coopid”
Lovina hung her head of dizzying-dreadlock-curls in a sweet blush, and then raised it with pride, her daemon-dark brown eyes blazing the verity of her soul as Venus’ local focal locale.
“’Lowina Hart’ you say? Thet name wings a bell with one, yet one cannot quate pwace it”, the judge’s deaf whisper shouted.
“Ms Hart is a lawn tennis player of some fame, with several major championships to her credit me’lady”, the gorgeous brunette coppette shouted to ensure the judge would hear.
“Eoh yeas; of course. She’s the dewicious young wady who is to go before a court for wude behaviour in pubwic. At least, I’m sure one wed thet in ‘The Tames’ this morning. Wasn’t she before those dwetted television chemawa thingies without a bwassiere orn under her dwess?”
Then the judge speculated in what was intended as a conspiratorial conclave with the coppette sergeant: “One mast say, she hes a wewy hendsome bosoom. But, her bweasts doo wook awfwee stiff. Are they weal or hes she hed some opewation type how d’ya do on them, mmmm?”
“Ms Hart is in cuffs me’lady”
“Caffs?! How d’ya mean caffs?!! Heow could being in caffs heve anything to doo with anything about the wigidity of her bweasts mmmm?!!! Came the brusque enquiry.
“Breast-cuffs me’lady?”
“Bweast-caffs?!”
“I believe they are colloquially referred to as ‘tit-cuffs’ me’lady. Ms Hart has her miscreant breasts in controlling chains ma’am”
“Ah! Ah yeas. One sees. Mmmm. End is she to go before a jaudge in bweast-caffs?”
“She is before a judge now me’lady”
“She is?!”
“Yes me’lady. She has been brought before you to judge her me’lady”
“Eoh. One sees. One didn’t quate wealise....”
“And orv what is she guiltay mmmm?”
“’Accused’ me’lady”, the pretty sergeant politely dared to correct.
“Eoh don’t be widiculous sergeant. Heow carn anyone be guiltay of ‘accoused’ there is neow such cwime in the book as ‘accoused’, at least not as far as one is awar, and one is, efter all, a jaudge don’t ya know, mmmm?!”
“With respect me’lady she is not at this stage ‘guilty’. She is merely ‘the accused’ until a judge finds her guilty or not guilty”.
“Ah. Yeas. A jaudge. Well, shall one arrange for her to be taken before a jaudge?”
“You are the judge me’lady. She is before a judge now”, the Girl-Police sergeant repeated, trying not to burst into giggles.
“Eoh so she is indeed guiltay then?”
“If you say she is guilty, she is indeed guilty me’lady”
“Well then, thet’s thet dan and dasted is it not mmmm?”
“But, with the deepest respect me’lady, if you are declaring her guilty, you also need to say what she is guilty of and what her sentence... what her punishment is to be”
“Eoh, must one weally? Heow wewy tedious.”
“Well thean, what is this dewightful cweature guiltay orv?”
“But me’lady, that is for you to say me’lady, not I”
“Eoh what a confounded nuisance! I mean she must be guiltay of some wickle cwime or eother, or else there would not be all this talk about taking her before a jaudge, don’t ya think mmmm?...... What would you suggest mmmm?”
“With respect me’lady...perhaps she could be found guilty of lewd behaviour in a public place me’lady?”
“Well..yeas... yeas I waather lake thet. Seo shell one geow for thet then mmmm? Jest to get it over with and all thet kaind of thing eh?..”
“And her sentence me’lady?”
“Ah yes. I’m sure the jaudge will give her a harsh sentence for thet cwime.”
“But what sentence would you give her me’lady?”, the frustrated sergeant pressed.
“Eoh; I’d give her ‘the usual’ I think. Yes ‘the usual’ would be just fine...”
“But me’lady there are several choices and the judge has to say which punishment she chooses...”
“And, young lady, I am wewy sure that when she kneows what a dweadfull cwime this wovely neegwess has committed, the jaudge will sentence her. So why hasn’t she been sent to a jaudge?! I appear to be surwounded by compweat incompetence... compweat end atter incompetence!!!”
“If I may make so bold me’lady: if I were the judge, I would sentence Ms Hart to twenty-four hours on the new ‘Payback’ programme, the ‘Social Leper’ programme?”
“Thet is arn excellent ideaa. Why dean’t you suggest it to the jaudge?”
“But I am suggesting it to the judge me’lady. You are the judge for this case me’lady”
“Well, for goodness sake get it dan then!.....”
“.......I just deoan’t kneow what is going orn! There seems to be total confwooszion around haar!! I weon’t hev my court in total confwooszion: do you haar me!!!: mmmm?!”
.................
The sergeant and constable escorting Lovina, turned their pretty faces to hide their uncontrollable giggles at the behaviour of the incompetent magistrate. But what was unintended comedy for them was tragedy for poor Lovina.
.................
“Is you a virgin darlin’?”
Only we ‘as to fit yer wiv a scourer, ‘cept we let ‘em off if they is a virgin see”
“What is to be done with me?” Lovina begged nervously of the court’s torturette.
The torturette was a girl younger than Lovina herself, yet so world-weary, perhaps from being too worldly-wise, at least within the confines of the cruel circle in which her type were forced to survive.
Her face, framed by soft brunette unkempt lack-lustre lank locks, was very pretty; but her naturally long eyelashes, eyelashes many a girl would die for, only drew attention to saucer-sized cobalt-blue eyes that seemed extinct of all intelligibly intelligent life.
“Judge ‘as said as ‘ow you is to be treated as a ‘Social Leper’. Dat means you gets da uniform and wot gos wiv it. And wot goes wiv it includes: nine-inch injectors, twelve-inch narrower, and a scourer: all to teach you ow to dress proper and not flash yer tits about in public like wot you ‘as bin doin’ accordin’ to wot the judge ses: alright?!
The question was clearly rhetorical.
“Now: is you gonna tell me if you is a virgin, or do I ‘ave to tek a look fer mysell?”
“I’m no longer intact”, Lovina confessed with a blush from wholly inappropriate shame: shame at having to say what was apt, but not at the fact she and Teresina Semenova had given each other their respective hymens in unison in union as betrothal after their secret wedding during their first post vows love act.
“So: we is beginnin’ to unerstand each uvver. Get yerself stripped right off. I mean everyfin; everyfin ceptin the tit-cuffs: I got a key for da tit-cuffs.
“’An by da way darlin’, I ‘ope you shaves it, cos if yer don’t, I gotta shave it for yer, and my fuckin’ razors gone blunt and I don’t got none of yer wax and dat kindda fing niver see, and I don’t got any shavin’ foam or soap or nuffin: know wot I mean?!”
“Yea: better you got it shaved already, else my razors so fuckin’ blunt I’d ‘ave ter pluck it!”
The dispiriting cruelty of the vicious girl was not lost on Lovina, to whose lovely brown eyes tears came, till the Girl-Police sergeant showed her human warmth by secretly taking Lovina’s pretty hand and giving it a quick comforting squeeze.
As the torturette was busy and with her back turned, sweet breath whispered in Lovina’s ear: “You must be brave Ms Hart, and take it like a girl!”
Then the torturette turned and: “Please may I go to the bathroom?” Lovina begged as the torturette undid her imprisoning tit-cuffs.
“No!” came the answer Lovina should have known, and indeed did know, she was likely to get.
.................
All Lovina’s cries and pleadings were for nought. Thirty-minutes later she stood in the full uniform of a girl undergoing treatment as a Social Leper, the punishment decreed for this stunning negress not wearing a brassiere when out in public.
The fluorescent-orange of her uniform was chosen to make her stand out for reasons of safety; yet could a more wonderful colour have been chosen to contrast and thus compliment her flawless soft dark brown skin?
The uniform was a mistresspiece of simple durable design in pliable plastic.
Lovina was in pain, and no wonder.
Her breasts, her beautiful breasts, with their huge raven black nipples, had been forced into orange plastic cones. These cones were chosen, from the rising range of choice, to match her generous size.
But the larger the size, the longer the cruel steel needles that were forced into the wearer’s milk ducts as the cones were forced onto her tits. Thus seven-inches of vicious steel ‘hypodermic’ needle had been forced through the milk-hole in each of Lovina’s nipples and deep into her gentle breasts.
The cones were sliced off at their peaks. The hollow needles now in Lovina’s tits: the needles forced through her nipples, were mounted in the middle of a bridge that gripped either side of each sliced-off cone tip. So, Lovina’s breasts were encased in the cones, spiked through by seven-inches of the all-told one-foot-long needles, and now poked through the cones’ tips to block the end of the cones.
Then a cuirass had been fitted. This breast-plate had holes where the tit-cones would go through. Once on, it would grip the lips at the bases of the tit-cones and thus hold them to her chest, and therefore horizontally upright and outthrust.
The cuirass had a ‘polo-neck’ arrangement. It opened, and this bib to go over Lovina’s biblical body, was first clipped and padlocked at the back of her neck under her dreadlocks, so the polo-neck had been fastened around her swan’s glory to look from the front like a clerical collar.
Now the cuirass bib was pulled back onto Lovina’s chest, with care taken to ensure the cones were through the holes made in it for them, and the rubber seals that formed a ring around the base of each cone, were pressed and compressed against her rib-cage.
To further secure the reflective-orange bib to her, leather straps were buckled tightly under each of Lovina’s armpits, and these shorter straps pulled tight to each other by a further longer strap across her shoulders at the base of the back of her neck.
Now the seeming impossible had to be performed, for the cuirass narrowed down in a V shape at Lovina’s navel, and a strong stainless-steel strap was at the deepest hollow of her curvy twenty-three-inch waist.
It had taken all three girls, Lovina’s torturette, the sergeant of Girl-Police, and the coppette constable, to turn the steel rod inserted through the ropes fixed to the hoops provided in the gaping ends of the four-inch-deep stainless-steel waist-strap: the rope being twisted like a tourniquet, to pull the two steel ends together, so that they not only met, but mated.
And it had taken five attempts to hold the steel strap’s ends mated long enough for the torturette to insert the stainless-steel pin that held the steel strap wrapped and wrapping Lovina’s divine waist in its merciless grip. For once that pin was in, and the rope, its purpose served, cut and taken away, Lovina’s hitherto twenty-three-inch waist, was compressed to an unbearably incredible twelve inches.
Now attention was paid to her pretty feet, and they were forced into stainless-steel arching ‘double-heels’.
Each pretty foot was inserted in turn into shoes the toe-ends of which treated all bar her big toes as if they were irrelevant to any cause other than that of putting her in great pain. Her big toes came through the orifice provided for their emergence. Her remaining toes stayed contained and thus, to the extent they supported her potently pulchritudinous poundage, were horrendously bent kinked and crushed.
Yet, as they reached down to try and touch the ground, her big toes did not escape suffering, for the sole connection each shoe had with the ground at its so-named sole-end, one and the same as its toe-end, was solely akin to a golf-ball tee. Each such ‘tee’ integral with the shoe and no more than two-inches before the rear heels’ raw roar. Her big toes were struggling to grip inside the ‘bowls’ atop the two tees, and the two tungsten tees tapered to needle-tips arriving at infinity where she would desire connectivity with the ground her graceful beauty kissed.
And to tip her on tiptoe forward on her brutally arched feet, the stainless-steel shoes were complete and replete, two-inches behind her tapering toe-tees, with needle-heels of finite variety also in the strength of tungsten, and of twelve-inch length, from the broad cups that contained the heels of her foot proper, one-foot, both feet from, therefrom downwards tapering to the diameter of a knitting to a bodkin to a sewing and then to the tip of the tip of the tip of a needles’ needle-tip, the knowing designer knew had such infinitesimality at the end of its trip as to defy the universe’s combined computers to show the zeros after the decimal point that defined such non-existent ground-grip.
“Oh dear god I cannot... I.. I... I...cannot... I just cannot stand in these shoes!” Lovina winced through teeth gritted to try and relieve her pain.
“Ooz asking yer to stand in ‘em darlin’? It weren’t nuffink I sed I ‘ope. Cos you ain’t gonna stand in em, so don’t worry yersel’ abart it sweet’art. Na. Don’t worry yer pretty little ‘ead abart it none atall..”
“’Stand in em’! Just ‘ark at the stupid bitch. As if we was asking yer to stand in ‘em! You ain’t gonna stand in ‘em. Not stand in ‘em. Yer gonna fuckin’ walk in ‘em! Dat’s what yer fuckin’ well gonna do, yer fuckin’ slag!!” her torturette taunted.
Now she dealt with Lovina’s protruding nipples.
Lovina’s nipples were to be girlnipulated to work them up the spike to a two-inch stretch, and force them to stay thus distended and extended, by pulling the sensitive flesh over the four-compass pointing grip-spikes further up the needles running into her tits through her milk-holes.
Shamed by the eager readiness of her supremely feminine body to betray her by becoming turned-on despite the will of her mind, Lovina’s nipples cooperated enthusiastically. The torturette soon had them aroused and worked them and pulled them between finger and thumb pinching them hard, till they were stretched the remaining two-inches along the needles through Lovina’s milk-ducts and pinned through by the sharp hooks to hold them in throbbingly painful place: a place and grip assuredly ensured, by binding her nipples to the spiked area of the hypodermic needles with thin wire.
Lastly had come the fitting of her scourer. The scourer was a one-foot long dildo with straight sides covered throughout nine-inches of its top-end length, with razor-sharp needles. In nature in would have found its twin in a desert cactus.
This horribly cruel device thrust up from a florescent orange codpiece, which also included a transparent plastic tube, and some kind of seesaw rocker device.
First, the tube was inserted into Lovina’s urethra – her pissy-hole - and pushed well up her as she squealed. And well might she squeal, for the tube at that end was armed with amorous armour: out-jutting needless-to-say needle-sharp spikes. To grip inside her urethra and to guard such of the free length of this tube that would remain outside her pissy-hole and still inside her pink.
But those squeaks were as nothing compared with the agonised howl her lovely negress lips uttered, as the cactus-spiked scourer was forced up her sheath, as, in parallel, the plastic codpiece was twisted and pushed up between her thighs to fit inside her labia majora and keep them wide, whilst covering over the pink delicacies inside.
Thereafter the fluorescent-orange codpiece, embraced by her outer love lips, was strapped in place to hoops provided for that very purpose in the oh so lucky stainless-steel band that embraced Lovina’s waist into a twelve-inch wasp’s wish for such breathtaking trimness.
The codpiece in place, the long end of the clear tube forced up Lovina’s urethra stood up through the codpiece’s top end, and then dangled down toward the ground.
But before it so emerged its teeth, the teeth of the two-end-pointed needles pushed trough it for its bottom-end protection, had her clitoris-hood found.
Studied, the initial single state of the tube emerging from the codpiece divided, as akin with a doctor’s stethoscope.
It was now taken up, and both ends of the equal of a stethoscope’s earpieces fitted with rubber glands to form a seal. Then each gland was forced over the protruding spare ends of the foot-long needles that penetrated Lovina’s stretched nipples by two inches, and then seven-inches deeper into her tits. Hollow needles these, with one-way valves at the ends to which the ‘earpieces’ of the ‘stethoscope’ had just been fitted.
Once the ‘stethoscope’ was in place, running from Lovina’s urethra to her nipples, a pump was used on one-way valves, at the junction where the one tube became two, to suck the air out. This was so as to create a vacuum in the tube, before it was clipped neatly at intervals to the centre of the florescent-orange cuirass.
Lovina moaned as she felt the suction through the hollow needles in her tits and through the end of the tube forced up her little miss’ piss-hole.
The tube from Lovina’s urethra to her tits was not the only protrusion from the bottom of her tight codpiece. Three-inches of the end of the foot-long ‘cactus’ also stuck out. The cactus could half-rotate round and back, and to encourage it to do just that, a strap of flexible fluorescent orange plastic was riveted at its middle back where its end hung out below the codpiece.
Both, and therefore each, end of this necessarily long plastic strap, was now taken around the circumference Lovina’s massively strong gorgeous thighs, and fed and pulled through holes in each end of the strap that enabled in to be used as if it were two, though in fact comprising only one long double-ended cable-tie.
Lovina thus wore this double-ended cable-tie as two bright-orange garters at the height where her lovely thighs were just beginning to become the dimple-scoop-sided monuments to bold beauty of her lovely bare bum.
The cable tie was tight-enough to embrace the lovely flesh of her thighs, but trailed in a bend forming an ‘S’ for ‘sex’ between her legs, with the slack it allowed sufficient to provide for the scissor motion of her walking strides.
Also from the out-jutting cactus forced up her vagina - the end of the scourer that hung proud from the crotch of her codpiece - there swung a ‘nodding-donkey’.
This comprised in depiction, the barbells commonly struggled aloft by every cartoon weightlifter. It had a straight steel bar with a steel ball at each end. The centre of the bar was mounted on an axle in the cactus dildo, just below where the cable-tie was riveted to that same device.
Inside the codpiece, the cactus dildo was mounted through a rocker, a see-saw that would rise and fall in the same direction as the steel-barbell nodding-donkey.
The nodding-donkey protruded fore and aft of Lovina’s monumental thighs.
As Lovina merely stood, the donkey nodded - front down back up, back down front up – and she felt it work the scourer backwards and forwards within her vagina up which it had been forced. And also, when the ‘donkey’ nodded up at the front, it worked the seesaw in the codpiece, and the seesaw-rocker pressed the tube running from her urethra to her tits and the needles in that tube could bite; and so they bit.
The rocker within the codpiece, the seesaw operated by the nodding-donkey, pushed the spitefully spiked end of urethra tube within the codpiece onto her clitoris hood and the supersensitive love-bud her little pink hiding hood would hide safe inside.
Therefore when the nodding-donkey swung up at the front, it operated the see-saw-rocker, which compressed the ‘stethoscope’ pee-hole penetrating tube, which in turn pressed its needle-spikes, which in turn kissed Lovina’s clitoris hood with its sharp teeth.
To make her finally ready, Lovina’s pretty arms were taken up and crossed behind her neck, where they were girlackled helplessly by her sweetly-slender wrists to the neck-band of her fluorescent cuirasse.
The unsurpassable negress wonder stood perspiring inspiringly in her cruel punishment clothing. Her tongue was licking the glorious seductive beauty of the god-only-given-beauty of her negress’ lips: lips bold in their reposed pose of a proposed kiss, or the bud of an exquisite fresh rose.
Her bonds and her shoes were checked. She was secure and secured ready.
For letting her bare breasts cavort beneath her dress at an airport interview, Lovina Hart, tennis champion extraordinaire, had been sentenced to twenty-four hours on the Social Leper programme.
She wore the bright fluorescent safety-cuirass of a girl on ‘Payback’.
Her tits were on ‘Payback’ for their lewd behaviour in a public place.
She was on Payback, and therefore she was a ‘Social Leper Undergoing Training’.
And thus above the conical breast-cones containing and controlling and taming her beautiful bosom, in large bold black initials, her cuirass was emblazoned with the initials of the Payback programme Lovina was on.
And thus on the bright orange safety cuirass above her tortured tits were the unmistakeable initials: ‘S.L.U.T.’
...............
“This’ll teach-yer not to forget yer bra in public again woanit darling?”
“You like showin’ yersel’ off to da uvver girls dontcha eh?”
“Well den, cos yer’ve bin showin’ yersel’ off too fuckin’ much, like the filthy whore what you is, yer gonna show yersel’ off even more: cos dat’s what da law ‘as decided, yer see darlin’?!”
‘An in case yer didn’t see it, dem initials on your vest reads ‘S.L.U.T’. Dat stands fer Social Leper Under Trainin’, but it also reads ‘slut’ dunnit, so I’m gonna call you ‘slut’, except when I wanna be nice to yer; then I’ll call yer ‘fuckin’ slut’ okay?!”
“Oh an’ in case you is wondering why yer back and yer bum and yer fighs is bare: well dats so I can whip yer darlin’ and I’m gonna whip yer, and I’m gonna fuckin’ enjoy whippin’ yer!”
“Yer gonna be whipped roun’ da town you is darlin’; whipped roun’ da town so all da girls can see what a fuckin slut you is.”
...............
“You is a tennis player ain’t yer darlin’? Well den, p’raps after I’ve done whippin’ yer like, yer can give me some tips abart ‘ow to improve me fore’and or me back’and eh?!”
Lovina’s gorgeous brown eyes glimpsed hell as she watched the torturette slip around her right wrist, the loop at the end of a foot-long wooden handle, the wooden handle from which there trailed a three-foot-long single strand of barbed-wire, the barbed-wire that was the flagellum of the whip with which Lovina was to be driven into the shame of parading herself as a S.L.U.T. around Barnmouth.
“’Ere, I better ‘ad put me protective-gloves on ant I? Don’t want nobody getting ‘urt by dis ‘ere barbed-wire whip now do we eh?! The torturette taunted.
Hell began with the whip’s whistle and its vicious kiss on the flawless flesh of Lovina’s bare bottom. And it bit. Every barbed-wire spike bit and cut and ripped and her soft flesh was torn and she howled banshee her pain as she began her walk in her needle tipped twelve-inch heels on the bent bare toes of her feet as she tried so to be fleet of feet to escape the ripping rake rape of the terrible whip.
And as she deployed her lovely lithe legs in her twelve-inch needle-heeled stride, it knew the meaning of hell inside, as her step pulled on the garters just under her bum, and rotated the ‘cactus’ thrust up her like an intimate thumb, thus ripping the lining of her sheath as it was scraped by the unyielding spike teeth of the needles with which this unmerciful dildo was filled so.
And the nodding-donkey rose and fell, and as it rose, the wicked barbell worked the rocker inside her codpiece and pressed on the pipe, and then the tube’s wicked protective spikes like thorns were driven into her clitoris hood and bit through her clitoris as she knew they would, and then the donkey nodded again and again and Lovina’s clitoris was bloodied with pain as the spikes on the tube bit through it insanely as her cries for mercy were answered with pain as the donkey also levered back and forth the rotating cactus scouring her sheath with its plethora of needle teeth.
As she walked her beautiful whipped bum swung massively side to side, for her pinched wasped waist caused her womanly whiles to wiggle wider than the widest wide and she could not help but wag her bum as if an on-come.
And on-come came as her torturette whipped her bum again and she screamed with the terrible pain and tears flowed from the heavenly cups of her gorgeous eyes as blood flowed from the devilish cuts in her bum’s hallow-hollowed sides in her high-heeled stance in her slow lonely walking strides.
“Get a move on yer fuckin slag! An’ yer shouldn’t ‘ave such a lovely bum if yer don’t wannit whipped till kingdom come!”
“Oh please I cannot take this pain!”
“Get dose gorgeous legs walkin’, or I’ll whip yer fuckin’ bum if yer don’t stop talkin’!”
“Oh please let me use the bathroom before you make me walk through the town!”
“What d’yer fink I am? I’m not yer servant to pull yer knickers down! ‘Sides, dat ain’t der way yer takes a piss when yer in the S.L.U.T. kit. Dat’s why yer got dat tube fit!”
Lovina wiggled her lovely brown rear and the whip whistled through the air that could not slow its wicked mission to lash and slash her without remission.
And now the beauty was outside and the fragrant misses of the press gathered at her from far and wide.
“Lovina is it true they are going to whip you through the town?”
“Lovina, what does ‘S.L.U.T.’ mean on your vest where it’s written down?”
“Over here Lovina! Look at the camera please!”
“No over here Lovina! Did she nearly buckle at the knees?”
“Can you get the camera on her bum, so the viewers can see where the blood is coming from!”
“Shapelia Bristols from EBC Sports is over there? Can you whip Lovina just as we go on air?”
“Lovina are you in terrible pain?”
“Lovina will you ever go braless in public again?”
Lovina strode on with her glorious legs, as the whip whistled and tore her back now instead. And her cry of pain burst through the barriers of the microphones and earphones of the press-girls who continued to harry her. And the blood from her bum’s cuts flowed the erotic curves of her shapely legs to her human heels, and then down the twelve-inches of needle-pointed stiletto-steel which formed each of her shoes ground touch and infinitesimally minimal feel.
And her stride worked the garters that made the cactus rip her sheath, and the nodding-donkey continued its ride, and inside her codpiece the tubes protective sheath did not miss the chance to impale themselves through her clitoris with their needle-teeth.
“Lovina may I have your autograph in my book if you’d be so kind? I don’t mind waiting till your wrists they unbind. I think you’re the greatest player in the world, and it’s horrible to punish you like this just for being a natural girl!”
This was from a fifteen-year-old so sweet and pure she did not even realise her own compelling allure, or that her beauty and total freedom would increase Lovina’s pain as the torturette whipped her bum again and the barbed wire cut her flesh and fresh blood ran down her thighs and calves without arrest.
“Why do you whip her so hard? Can’t you see that she’s in pain?”
“Beggin’ yer pardon likkle lady but I gotta whip ‘er again, cos she’s only just started on ‘er rounds, and she gotta yet be whipped right raand da town.”
And with that the torturette barb-wire whipped Lovina’s gorgeous brown bum yet again.
“Oh god please stop: I cannot take this pain!!”
“Keep fuckin’ walkin’ or I’ll whip yer again, but den yer’ve probably guessed by now, dat I’m gonna fuckin’ whip yer any’ow, so get them gorgeous legs working you horny fuckin’ cow!!”
And the ‘cable-tie’ garters rotated the scourer in Lovina’s cunt, and the nodding donkey pressed the seesaw and squeezed the urethra tube and pushed its teeth through her hood and clit without interlude, and the torturette whipped Lovina’s lovely bare bum harder still, so the blood flew as she screamed and it flecked the expensive dress of a pretty EBC reporterette.
“Oh god just look at what that stupid bitch has done! These spots of blood came straight from her bum! I’ll never get this clean again now till kingdom-come. The cow deserves everything she gets. Doesn’t she realise I’m an EBC reporterette? I not only have to be fragrant I have to look smart, so as to burn love of my looks into every viewer’s heart. And I can never wear this dress again, and I still have to report on the stupid slag that has brought such disrepute to a wonderful sport!”
Lovely Lovina had been whipped for a mile on show, but still had five more to go.
Bound in her bib of orange glow, with her tits in cones on her chest and her nipples stretched to extreme of test, her codpiece implements tortured her without rest. And as she with the ground her lovely feet blessed, the torturette her bare bum with the barbed-wire whip far from caressed and her screams found her tongue never at rest as her tears flowed like the blood down her gloriously beautiful legs only marginally less.
And yet and yet was her body betraying her? Was she being flogged round the town on open display getting hornier at every tip-toed step of her wonder wander wiggle way?!
“Is that Lovina Hart being treated as an ‘S.L.U.T.’ for Payback? I’ve always wanted to straddle her back. The way they have squeezed her waist down that far, confirms she could take a saddle for sure. She’ll never play championship tennis after this strife. But she’ll have to do something with her life. If she hadn’t loads of money galore, she’d make the perfect ponygirl whore. Saddle her up and put reins on each titty, and you could proudly ride her around any city. With legs like hers trained by years of tennis, you could ride her solo at ponygirl polo; in fact I’ll ask her if that will be her next resort, since she’ll no longer be allowed on the tennis court, and at least it would keep her in the field of sport!”
Lovina overheard herself being discussed as if she were not there, by two reporterettes following where she was being so cruelly whipped at every step of her round-town enforced trip. And to be spoken of without parallel as if she were merely an equine animal, stirred her Eros’ flame as her torturette whipped her bum again, and her codpiece arrangements did their duty, the cactus to scrape out her cunt as her garters made it semi-rotate and the nodding-donkey to paddle her clitoris with the tube’s spikes at every nod it would take without let or hindrance let alone mistake.
But now as she could nearly take it no more, the torturette lashed her bum so hard the flawless angel nearly fell to the floor, and then she let her bladder go, in a manner that would not show and be thus rude, for she peed painfully into her urethra tube.
And now as she strode along the road in her twelve-inch heels with her swinging bum under the relentless whip, her nodding-donkey and spiked tube and scourer punished her sheath and clit, but yet to be punished were her tits.
And despite her will, the punishment of this S.L.U.T. doing payback began to thrill in a way poor Lovina died she could kill, but could not stop it growing still.
And the fragrant reporterettes at her side at her every wantonly wide wiggle stride could not believe what Lovina uttered with her unsurpassably beautiful negress’ lips as they heard her beg to be whipped.
And as the torturette barbed-wire-whipped her bare bum again, it was as if Lovina was waggling it to inflame, for the torturette redoubled her efforts and whipped Lovina’s bare bum with maximum force and still Lovina walked with her hyper-sexual wiggle a come-on as the barbed-wire whip tore the flesh once more on her bum and her blood flowed in inspirational spirals around her shapely legs as her negress mouth begged and said: “Whip me! “Oh god whip me! Oh please god whip me!!”
And the barbed-wire whip whistled down again and again as she repeated her begging refrain as it tore the flesh of her bloodied bum in vicious strikes that tore her skin with the barbed-wire’s spikes. And her sexual walk was as aroused and arousing as her hoarse talk of: “Whip me! “Oh god whip me! Oh please god whip me like a whore!! Teach me not to show my tits I you implore. Whip my bum as hard as you can, for I am such a filthy madam as to let my tits loose without a bra and for this I deserve what you have done to me so far, but I have five miles to walk still in this pain and I beg that you whip me without restraint, for I have been a slut and let my tits show when they should have been in a bra kept I knew and now know, except that I need this lesson, so whip me and whip me unmercifully hard at every step I wiggle, twice and more at every yard, until my bum is to ribbons cut and I learn the lesson from being a S.L.U.T.!”
Although these words unlike the whispered “whip me” were not spoken aloud by Lovina herself, but their like rather shouted by the crowd that crowed as she was flogged along her way a S.L.U.T. on display along the road, her debt to society to repay, they were in Lovina’s mind and showed in the way that her love juices now filled the codpiece cup but bid to run down her inner-thighs on their way to mingle with the blood from her whipped bum as she wiggled along being barbed-wire-whipped in the blistering sun.
And were Lovina’s cries now of pleasure as the torturette whipped her bum with the barbed-wire: the bum that wiggled as if in disdain of the lashes that brought her such terrible pain? Her wasped-waist set her bum meandering wide and yet there was no way its sexual signals she could hide and the inflamed infuriated torturette increased the barbed-wire lashes on Lovina’s torn and tortured hide, while the cactus ripped her and scoured her supposedly to cleaner thoughts inside her cunt, and the nodding donkey drove the needles that were far from blunt as they pierced her clitoris again and again, and her beautiful black thighs walked on in this reign of the most regal of girls on this earth being whipped without mercy for being a flirt, and as she walked she rotated the scourer back and forth and the nodding-donkey rose and fell and when it rose she could tell for agonising sure, from the spikes going through her hood and her clitoris once more.
But the nodding donkey had another function, and she was still pissing down the tube up her urethra. And with the pressure of her pissing and the pumping of the nodding-donkey, her piss had reached the junction where the tube divided into two bits, one tube each thereafter leading to one each of her tits. And as she walked and wiggled being barbed-wire whipped, the cactus-scourer rotated back-and forth by the garters on her thighs her cunt’s insides assuredly being ripped, and the nodding-donkey was causing the needles to savage her clit to rips.
And the nodding-donkey was also pressing the tube from her urethra. And as Lovina walk-wiggled provocatively while her bum was barbed-wire whipped, she was now with her piss injecting her tits!
Poor Lovina tried her bladder to control without delay. But this was her first major piss of the day, and her bladder determined it should go all the way. And all the way was her piss going for it filled the tube as its transparency was showing. And her walk with the barbed-wire whip slashing her bum was only part of the pain that was to come, for her punishment was to include something to fit the crime of leaving a bra off of her tits sublime and thus being lewd.
And the nodding donkey relentlessly see-sawed between her thighs at her every supremely feminine stride and pressed on the tube to drive the piss up to where the tube did divide, and then higher still to where each tube was attached to a needle driven seven-inches into tits judged needful of punishment they were about to get to teach this S.L.U.T. how to regret her display that day.
And Lovina’s peeing seemed as endless as the barbed-wire whipping of her bum, and she could not stop her piss from come as it would to relieve her bladder only to be pumped by the nodding-donkey up the ‘ladder’ comprised by the tube that led to the hollow-needles and one-way valves through her nipples and deep into her tits, and was there to ensure she injected and inflated her own breasts by her wicked-wiggle-wanton-walking filling each tit with her own piss mess.
And slowly but surely to the agony of her barbed-wire flogged bum, the acidic burning of the piss pumped into her tits was to come, and on top of that she was learning the pain of her tits so filled with her piss that they were yearning to burst the cones in which they were gripped, but could only swell to push out her nips closer to the end where the needles began their ride to her insides, so that now she had nine instead of seven inches of injectors doing their best to inject her piss into her chest as the donkey between her thighs nodded its silent ‘no’ and ‘yes’.
And her walk like her barbed-wire whipping would never be allowed to stop though she might try, and so her bladder was being pumped dry and her tits injected through the needles and one-way valves bye-and-bye, till she began to cry with the pain as her acidic piss burned her tits’ insides as relentlessly as the barbed-wire whip shredded her bum endlessly.
And now the S.L.U.T, was her true lesson learning from the agony of her tits swelling and burning as she continued to be barbed-wire whipped at every step of her sexy sexual walk listening to the crowd she did please, as their sopranos and contraltos continued their talk to taunt her and tell her she was a slag and a slut as they watched her lovely legs trickling constantly with her blood.
And yet four miles more must she be barbed-wire whipped for to cover her way, before she would be put on public display, for those who thought she had not suffered enough and wanted to gloat over her wounds and her blood and to ensure by their shouts that she understood that she was a S.L.U.T. and would never now be at rest till she donned a brassiere to cover her chest, so that she would never have her titties joggling and jiggling under her vest as she had that day and the airport which had led to the arrest that took her to trial and now this whipping as she walked the miles tortured by her scourer worked by her garters to rip inside her sheath, and by the nodding donkey working the tube that bit her shredded clitoris still with its protective needle-sharp teeth, and by that same nodding-donkey pumping her piss up to where the injectors shot it into her tits nine inches deep, her thus swollen tits burning inside with her acid as they barbed-wire whipped her bum on her endless trip.
Never-ending was the barbed-wire whipping of her bum, till the end of her town torture parade at last did come, and Lovina stood bloodied and all-but bare in Barnmouth’s famous Girl-Market Square, where she would spend the rest of the twenty-four hours as a S.L.U.T. on display allowed, to please the crowd.
She stood upright all night in her twelve-inch-needle-heeled shoes, her bum whipped with the barbed wire if ever she moved in any way with which her torturette disapproved.
Poor Lovina had not even a cum to lessen her pain. She longed to see her love, Teresina Semenova, but she never came.
...............
There were few there when the dawn arrived, but a crowd soon gathered to see if Lovina was still alive. And as they took off her codpiece the blood poured from her scoured cunt’s insides ripped by the cactus’ far from blunt semi-rotation by the garters on her thighs, and dripped from her clit, tattered and torn complete by the see-saw’s constantly pressing the tube onto it with its unmerciful needle teeth.
Lovina’s agony was replete with her tits swollen within the cones they would burst if only they could, pumped full of her piss as she was barbed-wire whipped on her walk. The acidic fire of her pee had burned inside her tits all night. And her moans of agony ignored despite her plight.
The conclusion of her torture was brusquely performed. Some members of the public had been forewarned, and girls galore came to watch with glee, to see what they would finally see, of the beautiful negress whipped round the town for the lewd behaviour of her tits in the VIP lounge.
They pulled out slowly the hollow needles nine-inches into her tits, but sealed off her nipples with biting teeth clips, to hold in the ‘milk’ formed by her burning piss, so as to continue its torture of the lovely negress miss.
Now the cuirass-bib with its message S.L.U.T. was unclasped from her twelve inch squeezed waist, so that her lovely natural twenty-three-inches usurped its supremely erotic place. Then they undid the padlock that fastened its collar to her neck, and took the whole bib away to leave her alone with her tits still contained in the obscene cones.
Lovina’s cry of pain as they slid the cones off, so her tits could take their natural form and shape, was accompanied by girly hands clapping to applaud their escape and to see the agony on Lovina’s gorgeous face.
They tied her with a back to a tree that rubbed on her barbed-wire whipped bum, to prepare her for the final torture that was to come. Her hands were tied aloft at her necks rear, and her ankles tied next at the tree trunk’s base near.
“Lovina Lesbiana Hart you have suffered much pain to ensure you never ever let you tits loose in public again, but always and always with a brassiere them restrain”, the pretty Girl-Police sergeant read from a script as she admired Lovina’s massively swollen tits.
“For being lewd in public your bum has been scourged, but that cannot be the final word, for according to the law, your tits were the miscreants and not the rest of your body, so your tits must pay the price of their stupidity and folly. Once that is over you will have completed Payback, and no more will you suffer on the S.L.U.T. rack.”
“As is usual on these occasions, straws have been drawn to decide on your final torturer on this fine summer’s morn, and the choice has fallen on Teresina Semenova, your challenger as tennis champion, who has declared she no longer wishes to be your companion, for she cannot live as she otherwise must, with a girl who has been condemned and punished as a Payback S.L.U.T.”
“Prepare yourself and stand tall against that log: prepare yourself bravely for your tits are to be flogged!”
Could it really take an hour for Semenova to flog her love with the four-foot-long flat strap that gave Lovina’s tits such savage slaps?!
Did Lovina’s tits get beaten hither and yon, and did she scream as her pain went beyond beyond, and did two brutal lashes burst the dam made by the clip that bit so cruelly into Lovina’s right nip?
And did the crowd applaud and jeer as piss poured out of poor Lovina’s right tit so hard, that the jet from her nipple showered the crowd across Girl Market Square yard?
And did the scream from her lovely negress lips tell of one relief as Semenova whipped her other still clamp-dammed tit, her damned dammed left tit, and did the other tit squirt bye-and-bye the acidic piss that had replaced the milk it should have contained, if only Lovina tits had not this punishment for lewd behaviour gained?
And did Lovina hang her lovely head in shame, as her piss still dribbled and dripped from her nipples, and she came, and came, and came, and came, and came, and came, and came, and came, and came, and came....... and came..... and came?
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