A Year of Slavery # 2-1
" The First Party "
By: debs
Edited by: Johnny P
The limousine arrived precisely at 6 pm. The chauffeur quickly and silently
opened the door for me to get in. To my embarrassment I realized he was the same
man who had driven me to the Drs. office and home after my first ordeal. He had
seen the condition I was in and heard me sobbing in the back seat. As our eyes
briefly met I felt a hot flush come over me. I wondered exactly what did he
know? What kind of a person did he think I was? Did he know what horrors awaited
me?
He remained silent as I slid into the back of the car.
As expected sitting was not an easy task. The strange undergarments made it very
uncomfortable. Within minutes we were on the expressway headed out of Brooklyn
towards Long Island. I had made this trip several times during my employment to
Mr. Winston. Those trips had been either for meetings or social events. This
time would be much different. We drove in complete silence. This only made the
journey seem longer. I could not help wondering what was in the chauffeurs mind.
Did he know why I was being brought to the Winstons. Had he driven other women
to the same fate that awaited me. My mind was a maze of questions. The deeper
into thought I ventured, the more confused I became. The thought of demanding to
be brought back home even crossed my mind. That was quickly replaced by the fear
of the consequences.
I had in fact signed a contract and confession of guilt. If for any reason I did
not follow the instructions I would be arrested immediately and sent to prison.
As much as I feared my impending ordeals, the thought of five years in the place
I had seen in the video left me little choice. The silence and the fear were
working on my nervous system so I ventured to try a conversation. I asked how
long before we arrived at our destination. My reply was complete silence. Out of
frustration I asked if he knew the purpose of my trip. The only reply was a
quick backward glance in my direction. I realized any effort to communicate was
futile, this man was well trained. Again I sat back in my seat trying to find a
somewhat comfortable position. As I looked out of the window I saw a sign that
read exit 36 1 mile. We were almost at the Winstons home. I knew from past
experience it would only be about another ten minutes before we arrived. I
immediately felt a knot start to form deep in the pit of my stomach. The terror
of what would happen to me was again beginning to take its toll. My body was
starting to shake uncontrollably and I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I
opened the window to get some air as I felt a wave of nausea come over me. I
took several deep breaths and tried to control my fears. I knew I had to regain
my composure or I was truly doomed.
I had gone over this night in my mind many times and resigned myself to the fact
that I would have to use all my strength and will power to survive. I looked up
in time to see the chauffeur almost staring at me through the rear view mirror.
I felt instantly embarrassed at the spectacle I was making of myself. I rolled
up the window and sat back in the seat not wishing to further humiliate myself.
I lit a cigarette thinking this could be the last for quite a while. As I tried
to relax for the last few minutes of the journey my mind took over and brought
into focus all the thoughts I had been having for the past two weeks.
I had resigned myself to certain facts. I was sure I would be exhibited like
some prize animal. The lingerie I was wearing made that very obvious. The fact
that I would be beaten and tortured in various ways was made very clear to me by
comments made by the Winstons. I also knew I would be used in many different
ways as a sex slave by the group of men and women. The thought of being forced
into various sexual acts with the men was horrible, but I knew I could get
through that. It was the prospect of sex with the women that was totally
revolting.
I had never been with a woman and for some strange reason feared them much more
than I feared the men. It was probably a fear of the unknown. There was nothing
sexual a man could do to me that had not been done before. I quickly thought of
the worst case scenario. I might be forced to give someone a blow-job. I've done
that before. Although it was not high on my list, I would get through it. I also
thought of the possibility of being fucked in the ass. Again, I had done it
before and would survive. The women were different. I had seen videos showing
women having sex with each other. The thought of sucking another breast or
eating someone's pussy absolutely turned my stomach. As I began to delve deeper
into these most distressing thoughts the car made a sudden turn. As I looked up
I realized we were in the driveway of the Winstons house. As we drove up to the
front door we passed three large imported luxury cars which I had never seen
before. The one closest to the door was a new Mercedes 600 SEL. It was black
with dark tinted windows. For some strange reason just the appearance of that
car sent a shiver through my body. It reminded me of old war movies I had seen
were the German Gestapo had similar cars. They would take some poor woman away
to be tortured. The only difference here was I was coming to them. The chauffeur
opened my door and extended his hand to help me out. Getting out of the car was
even more difficult than getting in. The constricting clothing I was wearing
made movement awkward. As I stretched my leg out to the pavement my coat parted
revealing me almost to the waist. As I looked up the chauffeurs eyes was locked
on my near nakedness. His greedy stare was taking in the fact that I was not
wearing anything but the garter belt under the coat leaving my pussy totally
exposed. As I looked up my eyes met his and to my surprise I detected a
sympathetic look.
Before I had a chance to say a word, he in a kind and gentle tone told me to be
strong and hang in. He also assured me that he would be there to make sure I was
all right, and got home safely. His change of attitude caught me off guard.
Before I could think about it the door opened and Goldie was telling me to come
inside. As I walked into the large entrance hall I heard the door close behind
me. The sound made me realize how alone and vulnerable I was. It served to
remind me of the title I had been given, slave. I was startled by Goldies voice.
She sarcastically told me how good it was to see me again. As I looked in her
direction I could not help seeing the way she was looking at me. I had seen the
same hungry glare in the Drs. office and the ladies room at work. I quickly
turned my focus from her eyes to what she was wearing. It was not her normal
maids uniform. Instead it was a tight black dress, dark stockings and black high
heels.
Before I had a chance to analyze the maids strange attire my thoughts were
interrupted by the sound of spike heels on the marble floor. It was Mrs.
Winston. As she approached all my deepest fears surfaced and I felt my body
begin to involuntarily shake. I had to reach deep into myself to find the
strength to regain what little composure I had left. As she came closer I could
not help noticing her clothes. She was wearing a short red leather skirt, a
black silk blouse, black nylons and red high heels. It was in total contrast to
her normally conservative style. Instead of any kind of greeting she said in a
stern voice that it was a good thing I was on time. Next I was asked if I was
wearing what she had provided, and if I had followed all the instructions I had
been given. The look on her face and the tone of her voice frightened me. In a
panic I mentally retraced all the preparations I had put myself through. Because
of the fear this woman had instilled in me without thinking I confessed to not
completing the last enema.
Mrs. Winston became angry and demanded to know why. I told her I had tried my
best but could not hold as much as she had instructed. With a smirk on her face
she said that was too bad and that other provisions would be made in the future.
I was afraid to ask what she meant. Next I was ordered to remove my coat so she
could see how I looked. Goldie took my bag and my fingers began to fumble with
the buttons of my last remaining line of defense. No sooner was the last button
undone did Goldie practically rip the coat off my shoulders.
Both women wasted little time surveying the bizarre costume I had been ordered
to wear. They both feasted on my near nakedness. Slowly they walked around me to
glimpse every angle. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. Finally Mrs.
Winston looked directly at me and congratulated herself on the fine selection
and fit. Her only complaint was that the hooks on the cincher should be tighter
and ordered Goldie to make the adjustment. Despite my protests concerning the
difficulty in breathing, the cincher was immediately made smaller. The effect
was devastating. It felt as if my rib cage was being crushed. The simple act of
taking a breath caused pain and discomfort. My protests were answered by being
told that I would get used to it and soon would have other problems to think
about.
Next Goldie was told to put the cuffs on me. There on a small table were four
leather straps which I had not noticed. As the maid began to engulf my wrists in
the fur lined straps, Mrs. Winston explained how these cuffs had been made
especially for me and would hold me in any position they deemed appropriate, yet
would not cause any bruises. As two more were fastened to my ankles Mrs. Winston
sarcastically said that any bruises I did receive would not be visible to the
general public and would be confined to the area between my knees and neck.
After the four cuffs had been secured to Mrs. Winstons satisfaction I learned
what the rings on the sides of the cincher were for. By means of small clips, my
wrists were fastened to my sides. This left my hands and arms immobile and of no
use in trying to defend myself. It also brought my shoulders back bringing my
breasts into greater prominence. Now totally satisfied, Mrs. Winston announced
it was time for me to meet the others. As I was led through the house I realized
for the first time that during my time in the hall I did not hear sounds other
than our own. Passing the living room and entering the den I wondered where the
others were. Could they be upstairs I thought as we passed the stairway. We then
stopped at a door which I had seen many times but never noticed. I had just
assumed it was a closet. Suddenly Goldie produced a key and unlocked the door.
It opened to a long staircase which lead to the basement. In all my previous
visits to the house I never knew there was a floor below the main level. I was
told to follow Mrs. Winston as we began our decent with Goldie at the rear.
There was nothing at all peculiar about the stairway, it was well decorated and
luxuriously carpeted. As I slowly followed, cautious of the extremely high
heels, I felt a terrible sense of danger. All of a sudden the recollection of
the hidden room in the basement of the Drs. office crashed into my mind. I felt
the sudden urge to turn and run but I knew there was no escaping my fate. I was
trapped in more ways than one. I could not believe my stupidity for stealing the
money in the first place. And the reason was even more pathetic, to buy clothes.
The stairs led to a large ornate door which was also locked. This time it was
Mrs. Winston who produced the key and opened the door. As it opened a wave of
panic came over me and I turned and tried to run. I knew once in the room I was
truly doomed. Just as she had done before Goldie grabbed me and easily forced me
in as Mrs. Winston locked the door behind us. Once inside I gazed at my
surroundings in total awe. It was an extremely large well lit room. The area
closest to the door resembled a well appointed living room. In the far corner to
the left was an area that looked exactly like a hospital operating room. It was
complete with white tile and overhead lights. The opposite corner resembled a
medieval dungeon. It had stone walls, floors and large wooden devices. My only
thought was what kind of hell had I entered. This had to be some kind of
nightmare. This could not be real. I could not be here.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a womans muffled scream. That was
when I realized other people were already here. I squinted towards the bright
lights of the hospital area and focused on four other figures. Just then the two
women grabbed me by the arms and pulled me towards the group, saying it was time
to join the party.
The first person I recognized was Mr. Winston. His attire was strange to me as I
was used to always seeing him in a suit and tie. Now he wore only black slacks
and a magnificent black smoking jacket. Next my eyes came to focus on the
dreaded Dr. Kim. Just the sight of her along with the memory of the excruciating
pain she had caused brought bone chilling fear. Then to my horror I recognized
the woman from the video. It was the prison wardress. Before her ominous figure
had a chance to fully register my eyes came upon a man whose very presence
commanded the room. He was tall, very well built, probably in his 50s with long
silver hair and absolutely gorgeous. He wore jeans, a white dress shirt with too
many buttons open and loafers the same color as the slightly faded but perfectly
tailored jeans. As he looked in my direction I had to turn away in total
embarrassment. I should be meeting this man wearing an evening gown, not some
lingerie that made me a sexual exhibit.
I was so taken aback by the silver haired man that I stopped my inspection of
the room. A loud pained female moan made me look up again. I now saw what had
everyone's attention. There was a woman strapped to the examining table.
Although it was hard to see her I could clearly hear her pained sobs. Mrs.
Winston and Goldie both started dragging me toward the group. Mrs. Winston was
saying it was time for me to be formally introduced. The first one to pay any
attention to me was the wardress.
She walked toward us with her eyes riveted to me. I could actually feel her
stare consuming every curve and crevice of my body. Her cat like eyes seemed to
have the ability to remove what little clothing I did have on. Mrs. Winston then
took the opportunity to formally introduce us. She said Debbie I want you to
meet Ms. Collins. She is the wardress of the state prison for women. Before I
could say or do anything the wardress tilted my head back with one finger placed
under my chin. I had been looking at the floor afraid to look directly at her.
She continued her examination of me and finally told Mrs. Winston what an
excellent specimen she had found. She added that I was much better in person and
the pictures did me no justice. She was only sorry that I did not choose to take
the prison term because of all the fun and games she was sure she would miss out
on. She went on to say that not only did she regret my decision but she was sure
that the guards and other inmates would have found me a choice morsel. As I
looked at this woman I found her even more attractive in person than I had
remembered from the video. She was taller and larger than I had expected.
Although her face was that of a mature woman, her body would be envied by woman
half her age.
Her clothing and jewelry were magnificent, definitely Armani and Cartier. The
understated elegance of the black two piece suit did little to hide the
voluptuous body it tried to conceal. The more I looked at this woman the more I
feared her. That coupled with what I had seen her do in the video had me biting
my lip and digging my fingernails into my palms.
Just then the woman on the table let out a very loud moan and Mrs. Winston
suggested we see what was going on and meet the others. As we got to the table
Mrs. Winston said I of course knew Mr. Winston and the Dr. but she wanted me to
meet Mr. and Mrs. Gund. The man with the silver hair turned toward me and in a
thick German accent introduced himself in an extremely cordial way as Herr Gund.
He then gestured to the table and said that the woman strapped down was his wife
Laura. He then took the opportunity to visually examine my exposed form and
congratulate Mrs. Winston on her fine acquisition. The man had a definite air of
self assurance and arrogance, yet he projected power and wealth. The Mercedes
parked outside had to be his, the car fit the man. My mind was in turmoil. The
room. The people. The knowledge of why I was here. All I could do was stand
there in silence. I remembered my instructions. Never speak unless asked a
question and foremost never address anyone without the title Master or Mistress.
I thought of some of the things that were done to me already. I also thought of
what could be done now and in the future. This was after all only the first of
twelve such parties. I remembered Mrs. Winstons words,"twelve parties, medical
examinations, fittings and whatever other preparations are necessary". I just
stood there and silently prayed I would be able to survive the up coming year.
What tortures would I be made to endure? How many sexual deviations would I be
used for? I wondered how I would manage to conduct a somewhat normal family
life? And most of all how would I keep John from finding out. A smack to the
back of my head by Goldie brought me to attention. Mrs. Winston wanted me to
come closer to the table so I would be able to see what was being done to Laura.
The closer I got the worse the sight became. She was on her back well secured to
the table by straps around her wrists, ankles, thighs and a wide strap across
the top of her breasts. She also had a strap across her forehead much like the
one I had on me when I was at the Drs. office. The worst part of what I saw was
the large funnel that was strapped into her mouth. It was hard to see what her
face looked like because of the straps and the way her cheeks bulged out.
She had long blonde hair and seemed to be about the same size as me. She was
wearing a black bra, garter belt and stockings. Her breasts were not as large as
mine but stood out well in the position she was in. It was then that I noticed
her stomach. It was very swollen and for a minute I wondered if she were
pregnant. I thought she might be getting an enema but as I glanced down, saw no
tube. I did notice a large butt plug in her ass. I also saw the same type of
catheter tube coming out of her that was used on me. Just then she began to moan
and to my horror everything became clear.
The Dr. was pouring a pitcher of steaming liquid into the funnel. Laura's
reaction was instant. I watched her eyes bulge and heard her muffled screams as
the Dr. poured the hot liquid into her mouth. Her stomach swelled even more and
she was immediately covered in sweat. As I had done when I was strapped to the
table in the Drs. office, she was pulling on the bonds and thrashing as much as
possible. As the Dr. emptied the pitcher she quickly reached for a full one and
I heard Laura scream as much as the funnel would allow.
I had to turn away. Watching this torture being done I realized that it could as
easily be me on the table. Mrs. Winston saw my reaction and came closer to me
and began to explain what was being done. She told me that not only was Laura
Mr. Gund's wife, she was also his slave. She added that although Laura was a
slave, she was allowed to assume the role of dominant over other females.
She continued to explain how recently she had committed the indiscretion of
spitting out her husbands cum while giving him a blow job. He had decided that
some form of oral punishment would be in order and took this opportunity to have
the Dr. do it for him. She went on to explain how the funnel was attached to a
tube that was down Lauras throat. She said that the Dr. planned to pour over a
gallon of hot soapy water into the woman and then leave her secured to the table
while she considers her terrible conduct. She also pointed out to me that Laura
had the catheter in her and was also well plugged with an inflatable butt plug.
That way she would have to hold the entire contents until her husband thought
she had suffered enough. Mrs. Winstons last comment to me was to remember what I
was seeing. She said this could easily be done to me if I had any problems with
giving blow jobs, eating pussies, or anything else I might be ordered to do with
my mouth. I was then told that since this was my first time in their so called
playroom, I would be given a little tour. This would help familiarize me with
the various devices that in all probability would be used on me. Mrs. Winston
continued by needlessly pointing out the fact that the area we now stood in was
very much like the special room in the basement of the Drs. office. The memories
of what had been done in that room came crashing into my brain.
The elaborate gynecological table to which Laura was bound being the same as the
one I had been bound to. All the tools necessary to inflict the maximum amount
of pain on a female were all present. The same type of syringes that had been
used on my breasts were all neatly displayed. The mere sight of them caused a
wave of nausea to overtake me. I remembered the intense pain the fluids in my
breasts had caused and thought about the days of suffering I endured until the
swelling had gone down.
I saw an open cabinet which contained an assortment of dildos. Some seemed too
large to be used on any female. What made seeing them even worse was the fact
that I knew from experience how they could be used. I had been given a small
demonstration by Mrs. Winston. Looking at some of the larger dildos I realized
that the anal rape I received at her hand could have been much worse. She must
have seen the expression on my face and asked what I found so interesting. Her
question caught me off guard and I replied without thought about the size of the
dildos. I was told not to be alarmed since the larger ones would not be used on
me until I was properly prepared.
She continued in her sarcastic tone to tell me how I would be gradually
stretched until I was able to take even the biggest one in either of my
openings. As much as I tried not to look at the bound woman on the table a
particularly loud moan caught my attention. As I looked down at Laura, her
stomach now even more grossly distended than it had been only a few minutes ago,
I realized she was begging through the funnel. Mrs. Winston just looked down at
her and said there was nothing she could do, the length of her ordeal was up to
Mr. Gund and the Dr.
The sight was too terrible for me to behold. Laura was bathed in sweat, her eyes
were glazed over and she was in uncontrollably spasms. The sight of another
woman being tortured was not an easy thing to see. It only served to remind me
of the unenviable position I was in. A slight tug to my arm by Mrs. Winston
signaled the continuation of the tour.
I was now shown an area almost hidden from view just off the medical section. It
also was completely made of white tile and very well lit. Before I was able to
focus on the rooms contents, I was informed that this was the water room where
most of the douches and enemas were administered. In the center of the room was
a apparatus that resembled an old gynecological table. It was all shiny metal,
with no padding. As with the other tables, binding straps hung all around it.
Against one wall was a metal tray that was big enough for a person to lie in. It
resembled a bathtub with shallow sides. Upon further examination I noticed it
had a large drain and like most of what I had seen so far was fitted with
binding straps. Set into this apparatus was a set of gleaming steel bars which
formed what looked like a table with no top. Again the ever present straps. In
the corner stood a platform with a thick pipe sticking out of it. The pipe was
about two feet high and had a large dildo attached to the end sticking straight
up. At the front of the platform were a series of valves and gauges. There were
also rings at the edges and a chain hanging from the ceiling above it. In the
opposite corner was a toilet bowl. It just sat in the open exposed to the view
of anyone looking.
I could only imagine what terrible ordeals could be carried out in this room. As
ridiculous as it now sounds I shuddered at the thought of sitting on that bowl
with no privacy at all. Before I was able to let my mind wander too far, my
attention was directed to the opposite wall.
Mrs. Winston took a sinister joy in showing me all the hoses which were attached
to an elaborate plumbing system. On the same wall were rows of shelves neatly
lined with douche and enema nozzles of every size and shape. I was told that
there was a specific nozzle for any desired effect. Some could be inserted into
the upper intestine, while others were made to fit into a woman's uterus. Some
could be expanded to unimaginable proportions, while others had the ability of
being electrified. My expression must have given away some of my thoughts. Mrs.
Winston only smiled at me and said how she looked forward to trying them all on
me. My fears were increasing by the minute. I was beginning to realize that what
had been done to me at the Drs. office was nothing compared to what could be
done here.
Next I was directed to a set of shelves on which many bottles were stored. I was
told that they contained an assortment of chemicals that could be used in the
douches and enemas. They ranged from simple soap to things I had never heard of.
I can not even begin to describe the gut wrenching fear I was experiencing. I
was in the hands of a group of complete lunatics and totally at their mercy. As
we exited the room I thought of the enemas I was instructed to give myself
earlier that afternoon. I remembered the pain they had caused and knew that was
nothing compared to what these fiends would subject me to in this room. Is we
walked across the medical area, as I will refer to it, we came upon a section of
the basement that was in total contrast. This section
had stone walls and floors. All the apparatuses were constructed of heavy dark
wood. Before I had a chance to react Mrs. Winston said that this was their
version of a medieval torture chamber. She said how proud they were of this
re-creation. It had taken great expense and many months to have it built to
specifications taken from old European dungeons. She went on to say that I
probably would not know the purpose of the different things I saw so she would
give me a brief explanation of each.
First I was shown what she referred to as the rack. It was a long low table with
ropes and pulleys on each end. I was told how I could be tied to it and
stretched out until my joints were pulled to the point of dislocation. I could
also be stretched until my skin became very taut and then I could be whipped.
She said these were the main things that were done on this but I could be sure
there were many variations I would not enjoy.
Next I was shown what she referred to as a simple whipping post and an x-frame.
These along with a long bench like device were used mainly for whipping. Before
I could analyze what I was being shown my attention was brought to what she
called the pillory. I had seen something similar in movies about the pilgrims.
They were in the town square and people would be bent with their necks and arms
in the holes. As if she read my thoughts she said that I would recognize this
from old movies but quickly pointed out some differences.
There was a large platform on which the legs of the victim could be spread and
attached. She also told me that since they were dealing primarily with females,
the top had been modified. It enabled them to change a piece and secure a
woman's breasts into the holes. Again in her sarcastic tone she explained how
this did not work on everyone but given the fact that my breasts were large,
would indeed work well on me.
Hearing her comment I looked down at my chest that was quite exaggerated by the
bra I was forced to wear and thought of my sisters. I had often made comments in
jest about their size calling them tit-less. Now I wished I was a 34-A like them
instead of my more than ample 34-D. Before I could finish the thought I was
pushed toward what resembled a massive chair.
I could see that it was attached to the floor with large bolts. Upon further
examination I saw that it had no actual seat. Instead there boards where the
thighs would rest. It did not take much thought to realize that this would leave
your ass and pussy open and vulnerable. As with the other devices there were
heavy leather straps dangling from the arms, legs and back.
Mrs. Winston was helpful in showing me an assortment of wooden and metal
attachments hanging on a wall next to the chair. She said that this was one of
their most versatile torture instruments. There were pieces that could be put on
the seat so dildos could be attached. Other pieces were lined with small needles
for the victim to sit on. She pointed to an attachment that when put in place
formed a platform. It was made to fit under the breasts of the woman in the
chair. This she explained was invaluable for tit torture.
There was that phrase again. I had heard it in the Drs. office during my
examination and I remembered what the Dr. had said. Because of the size and
shape of my breasts I would be able to take a lot of tit torture. If the
injections I had received were any indication, I doubted I would be able to take
as much as they planned to give me.
I have always considered my breasts one of the most sensitive parts of my body.
I remember routine mammograms done by my own Dr. I would be crying openly when
they were put in the ex-ray machine and pressed. Now looking at this chair and
listening to what was being said, the thought of having my breasts, one of my
most valuable assets tortured, caused an even deeper sense of anguish.
Ever since I was a young girl and started to develop my chest was one of the
things about myself I was most proud of. As I grew older I would take every
opportunity to wear things low cut or tight that showed off the creamy white
cleavage. Again as if she were some kind of wizard, Mrs. Winston seemed to read
my thoughts. She said how much fun they would all have torturing the tits I had
been so willing to flaunt. Then she said that I should not worry too much
because they promised not to cause any permanent injury. Also I should not be so
sullen at the mention of tit torture alone. They planned to hurt my cunt, ass
and every other part of my body. The comment and my expression brought about a
hearty laugh by Mrs. Winston. Next to the chair was what looked like a simple
sawhorse. Mrs. Winston told me how I would be bound over it for an assortment of
punishments. Pointing at the upper edge she said I would also be made to ride
it. I was not sure of what she meant until she made me look closer.
I saw that the top was cut into a narrow triangle with small wedges that looked
like sawteeth. I must have had a puzzled look on my face because she again
laughed, called me stupid and said " I guess you do not know what I mean by
riding it". To my horror she explained how I would be hung from the ceiling with
my legs astride so my cunt was on the top edge supporting my full weight.
She was a master at her game. The real torture had not even begun and I was
suffering untold agonies in my mind. I had heard of mental torture and now for
the first time realized its total effectiveness. Just as I was being directed to
the corner of this area, we were interrupted by the Wardress. She informed Mrs.
Winston that the others were eager to begin with the festivities. She added that
she also wanted to begin. Mrs. Winston replied that she was almost through with
the tour and only had the tank left to show me. The wardress asked if she could
explain its uses since she had one very similar at the prison and used it often.
In response Mrs. Winston said "please be my guest". I watched Mrs. Winston walk
off to a small area that resembled a living room with couches, chairs and coffee
tables. The Wardress grabbed my arm in a vise like grip and walked me to the
corner of the room.
They said I would be shown the tank. There was nothing I could see except a
large board on the floor. The Wardress commanded me not to move as she let go of
my arm. She went and moved the piece of wood out of the way. That exposed what
appeared to be a large hole in the floor. It was about the size of a large
garbage can and was pure white. That was in total contrast to the rest of this
area. It had a thick clear plastic cover that was split down its length with
three holes. The center hole was larger than the two end ones and it resembled
the pillory. I could clearly see locks which held the cover in place. Visible
inside were several openings in the sides and base. Mounted to the wall next to
it was an elaborate control panel with a small trap door underneath. As I was
trying to figure out what its purpose was the wardress pushed me toward it and
said I should take a closer look so I would know what would happen when I was
put into it. Now that Ms. Collins or the wardress as I had come to know her
stood next to me I realized how big a woman she was. In the 5 inch heels I was
forced to wear I stood nearly 6 feet tall. This woman had at least 3 inches on
me. She was also much broader than my size 6 frame. What surprised me most was
the strength of her grip on my arm. The words being whispered in my ear brought
my attention back to the tank. I was told how I would be made to climb down into
it. Then the clear plastic cover would be put around my wrists and neck and
locked into place. For the first time since the tour had began I was asked if I
understood. I did not, and when I failed to reply the Wardress sarcastically
called me stupid. She then began to explain in more detail. She told me that
this device was designed for more diabolical forms of torture. Once I was locked
in place, they would all be able to relax and watch the show I would put on. My
questioning look brought an evil smirk to her face. I was told that none of the
previous occupants of the tank understood its full potential until they had
experienced it. Then they would promise and do almost anything not to be put in
again.
She was playing a game with me and doing a very good job of it. As horrible as
some of the other things I had seen were, this was worse in a different way. It
had no obvious way of causing pain. As if she too was able to read my thoughts
she started to tell me how once locked in place a variety of things would
happen. For example, after a severe whipping the tank could be filled with a
mixture of salt, lemon, vinegar, alcohol and hot water. Screaming, I could be
kept in it until my skin almost blistered.
Another variation was to be submerged in ice cold water which would cause
violent shaking and muscular cramping. Now I was beginning to understand her
warnings. Before I could say a word she opened a little cabinet near the tank
and showed me about a dozen large glass jars. As had been the case with
everything else these people did, all of the jars were neatly arranged and
clearly marked. I began to silently read the labels and as my brain absorbed
what I saw, I screamed and turned to run. Through all the events that lead up to
this moment I had tried to act stoic and accept my fate. I kept telling myself
that somehow I would get through it. After all, I was guilty of stealing a large
sum of money. I had also made the choice between a year of slavery or five years
in prison. The Winstons were very clear about the fact that as retribution, I
would have to be punished. What I was seeing was beyond punishment. It was
beyond the limits of female endurance. I ran aimlessly toward the door screaming
for help. With my arms fastened to the sides of the cincher it was hard to
maintain balance. The five inch heels also made it easy to catch me. Within a
few seconds Goldie and the wardress were dragging me back toward the tank. I was
in a state of absolute panic. As bad as what had already been done to me, or
what I had seen or heard had been, it paled in comparison to the prospect of
those jars.
It took the efforts of both women to hold me near the open cabinet. In my mind
this had be the worst form of torture that could be used on me. Ever since I was
a child I had a tremendous fear of bugs, snakes or rodents. I believe most woman
do. Now I was staring at glass jars full of these creatures. The wardress was
the first to speak. I was told that my reaction was not uncommon. Most of the
victims who were faced with the inhabitants of the jars would submit to almost
anything instead. Some would even inflict pain onto themselves. She completely
disregarded my pleas and struggles and continued to tell me how I could be
locked in the tank with the contents of any of the jars. To make her point she
picked up one that was labeled Leeches. As I stared at the slimy things she told
me how they could be added to the water, along with me. Before I was able to say
a word she replaced that jar and showed me one labeled Blood Worms.
On and on she went. I saw small Snakes, Mice, Hamsters, Spiders, several types
of Ants, Bees and even 2 large eels. As if I had not seen or heard enough she
told me how in her tank at the prison she would often put an uncooperative girl
in along with a cat. Once water started going in the cat would become frantic
trying to escape and severely scratch and even bite who ever was in the tank. To
further make her point the Wardress ran her hand over the mounds of my breasts
and asked "imagine the cats claws and teeth digging into these". The point was
indeed made. Although I had very few choices, I would submit to almost any form
of punishment or degradation to avoid this torture. Just seeing the different
creatures gave me a good indication of what could happen once I was locked in
place. I was beaten and I knew it. I stopped struggling and just relaxed in the
grip of the two women. Just what I had seen took most of the fight out of me.
The wardress had me terrified and she knew it. I guess she wanted to see me
squirm so she continued.
She made me listen as she described one of her favorites. As Goldie held me the
Wardress again squeezed my breasts and told me how she would make a paste out of
Honey and Corn Meal. The mixture would then be painted on my tits, around my ass
and all over my pussy. For emphasis she released my breasts and ran her long
nails along the sides of my pussy. Without warning she even jabbed a sharp nail
into me and said "I make sure I get a lot in here".
Then she said I would be locked in the tank. To demonstrate what she was saying
she opened the trap door and showed me how it lead to the inside of the tank.
Then she would put a hungry chicken in with me. I felt my eyes bulge in
disbelief as she said, "think how you'll scream as the chickens sharp beak takes
little bites out of you as it tries to get the food". She scraped me as she
pulled out her finger and added "it can even reach in here". With my head down I
walked docilely with them as I was lead toward the area that resembled a living
room or den.ÿ
A Year Of Slavery # 2-2
" The First Party "
The wardress took a seat and was served a drink by Goldie. All of the other
guests except Laura were lounging with drinks awaiting my arrival. I was
directed to stand in front of them as they all looked me over and made comments.
The Dr. stood up and began to read from a folder. She said that all the tests
they ran were satisfactory and I was in excellent health. She also told everyone
that pursuant to my examinations, she was of the opinion that I would be able to
endure a lot of abuse. All she had seen also indicated that I could be used for
all of their favorite activities, with few limitations. She added that as usual
both of my openings would have to be stretched. Her suggestion was that we
should begin in this area to see what I could take and to show my obedience. I
stood there not knowing what she meant as the others voiced their agreement.
Goldie was given orders by Mrs. Winston and went to a closet for the necessary
objects. I silently watched as a small tripod was set up and a plastic box was
put on the table in front of me. The Dr. then said as she uncovered the box that
it contained six numbered dildos of increasing size. I was to attach them to the
stand starting with #1 and at her direction insert them into the opening she
chose.
A jar of Vaseline was put on the table. She said it would make it easier for me.
At that point I was in no mood for her jokes. How could this be made easy. But
after what I had seen on my so called tour I had no options at all. I quickly
looked at the group trying to find some reprieve but found none. Instead I saw
them all adjusting themselves for a better view. Suddenly Goldie stepped toward
me carrying a whip about three feet long. She put it down on the table and began
to unbutton her dress. In an instant she stood next to me wearing a heavily
constructed long white bra and a massive girdle with garters. The stark
whiteness was a total contrast to her ebony skin and the near black stockings.
She was indeed a large woman. Her breasts spilled over the bra top and the
girdle looked as if it would burst around her hips and thighs. My main concern
was why she was next to me with the whip.
My question was answered by the Dr. She told me that if they did not approve of
my efforts in getting the dildos inside myself, Goldie would whip me. The Dr.
undid the clips holding my wrists to the cincher and I was instructed to begin
with dildo #2 in my pussy. I knew protest of any kind was useless. It was time
for me to begin. What choice did I have. I was their slave. I looked into the
box and saw six compartments with a dildo in each. I reached for #2 without
looking at the rest. I did not want to see them just yet. The threat of Goldies
whip made me move quickly. I screwed the rubber dildo onto the stand and reached
for the Vaseline. I took notice of its size as I spread the lubricant. It was
about 8 inches long and 1 1/2 inches wide. It was almost the same size as one I
had at home and had used on myself many times while masturbating. The fact that
I knew I would be able to handle it brought some relief. I was still very
nervous and felt a deep sense of fear and humiliation. Goldie started to pick up
the whip and I immediately stepped over the dildo and began to squat.
I kept my eyes toward the floor as I spread myself and began my descent onto the
rubber cylinder. I sensed the group devouring my shame as I continued to push
down and also felt my body flush with embarrassment. Although it was a little
uncomfortable I was able to get most of the dildo inside myself fairly quickly.
This brought about a torrent of lewd remarks from the spectators. I was still
looking toward the floor when I heard the Dr. tell me how well I did. Now I
should show them how I could get it down my throat. Not wanting any part of the
whip in Goldies hand I stood up letting the well greased dildo slide out of my
pussy. With no wasted motion I got to my knees and opened my mouth over the
source of my humiliation.
I had at least half of it in my mouth before I began to gag. This only brought
laughter and more comments from the group and a warning from the Dr. to get it
all in. As hard as I tried I was only able to take about two more inches before
I started choking and brought my head up.
As I did I felt the first stroke of the whip on the back of my unprotected
thighs. I screamed and threw myself on the floor as much from pain as from
surprise. It felt as if I had been touched by a red hot poker. The whip was
totally different from the strap that had been used on me in the Drs. Office.
Its pain was more concentrated and was a lot more intense. Before I could regain
my composure the Dr. was ordering me to my feet. I obeyed the command quickly,
not wanting another taste of the whip.
As I stood up the Dr. said what a poor showing I had made and warned me that I
would have to do better in the future. With no hesitation she then told me to
get it up my ass. Not wanting to anger her any more and face another stroke of
the whip I adjusted myself over the dildo. As I reached behind to spread I
looked up to see all the faces staring and heard more of their remarks. Some of
them were even betting on how many inches I could take. Their comments served as
an inspiration. I realized that I better take as much of the smaller dildos as
possible because I would be whipped when I was not able to take the larger ones.
As the dildo penetrated my ass I remembered the enemas I had given myself that
morning. As bad as they had been I was glad I followed the instructions. It made
what I was now forced to do a lot easier. With a little discomfort and a lot of
inspiration provided by Goldies whip I was able to get the entire dildo inside
myself. This brought instant congratulations from the Dr. and more comments from
the others. One of the women ordered me to fuck the dildo. Without looking up I
did as I was told. So far this was bearable but I knew it would get worse. The
next dildo went about the same as the one marked #2. I was able to get it in all
my openings without another taste of the whip. When I was ordered to attach #4
to the stand I felt a knot start in the pit of my stomach. This one was at least
10 inches long and 2 inches wide. While forcing it into my pussy I felt the whip
one time.
They were not satisfied with the amount I was able to get down my throat so I
received three more strokes to the backs of my thighs. The pain of the whip was
dreadful. I had been given five strokes and it felt as if my thighs were on
fire. As each stroke fell I screamed and begged for them to stop the whipping, I
was doing what they wanted.
My answer came from the wardress who asked me what I would do when they tied me
and used more severe whips all over my body. I had no time to digest her remark.
The Dr. now ordered me to get this one up my ass. As I squatted over the
formidable object I glanced between my legs and knew this would not fit. One
look at Goldie and her whip made me start to lower myself onto it. I felt
immediate pain as I was stretched by its width. As much as I pushed I was only
able to get about three inches in before it felt as if I was being ripped
internally.
The pain was intense. But it was nothing in comparison to the whip crashing down
on the front of my thighs just above the stockings. The shock of the blow made
me sink down further onto the dildo. The pain in my bowels was excruciating. In
response I tried to stand but was stopped be strong hands on my shoulders. It
was Mr. Gund. He was standing behind me and instead of letting me get up he
pushed me down onto the massive dildo. I remember screaming in agony as it tore
up into me. Then everything went black. I was pulled from my state of
unconsciousness by the Dr. She knelt by my side as I lay sprawled on the floor.
The scent of the Amyl Nitrate still lingering in my nostrils. Through a fog I
watched her walk away to join the others. I was left on the floor to regain my
senses and try to determine how badly injured I was. The pain in my ass was
still very severe so slowly I touched myself there to see if I was indeed ripped
apart. To my surprise I felt no damage, not even any blood.
It was hard to believe that all the pain I had just endured left no obvious
signs of injury. All of a sudden I was surrounded by the four women. I was then
ordered to my feet. When I did not move as fast as they wanted, one of them
kicked me in the ribs with the point of her high heeled pump. The kick was not
hard enough to cause any injury, it was just enough to make me quickly obey, and
I did.
Without another word I was taken by the arm and lead to a door near the sitting
area by Mrs. Winston. She opened it revealing a lavish bathroom. I was told to
go in and attend to my needs and also fix my hair and make-up. I would find
everything I needed on the vanity. As she was closing the door she said I would
be allowed 15 minutes to myself. This was a very welcome relief. As I looked
around I saw that besides all the necessary cosmetics, a tray with water, coffee
and even my brand of cigarettes had been provided. The first thing I did was
pour a glass of water and take a long drink. It helped clear the smelling salts
from my system. Next I lit a cigarette and took several deep drags. It seemed to
have a calming effect. I then studied myself in the mirror. To my amazement
except for the whip marks on my thighs I saw no signs of the ordeal I had just
undergone. I had not realized until that minute that I needed to urinate. It was
probably from all the coffee I drank in the afternoon. What I wore gave me free
access to the toilet but as I began to sit I felt the pain from the dildos deep
inside. I just prayed that when Gund pushed me down I was not injured
internally. I did not linger for fear of not completing my orders. I went back
to the sink and finding a cloth wiped down my body as much as the lingerie would
allow. I dabbed at the welts on my thighs with cold water. This took some of the
sting out. I even tried to put some of the cold water between my legs. Next I
quickly fixed my hair and face. Not knowing how much time I had left I poured
some coffee and lit another cigarette. As I took a mouthful of the warming
liquid my mind began to ponder what I had seen and heard. Mercifully as I began
to torture myself with thoughts the door opened. Goldie and the Dr. had Laura.
She seemed to be barely conscious. Her arms were draped over their shoulders and
her head hung down. They were almost dragging her into the bathroom. As I looked
up at her, my eyes were drawn to her stomach. They had forced so much liquid
into her that she appeared well along in a pregnancy. The garter belt she wore
was almost hidden beneath the distended flesh. Through her groans I heard her
beg them to release the water. It was at that point that Mrs. Winston appeared
at the door and called me out. She said it was time for me to perform again. She
added that I should pay close attention to Lauras condition. As I exited the
room Mrs. Winston reminded me that this is what happens to slaves who do not use
their mouths as ordered. As we walked back to the sitting area I was told that
it was time for me to get my first taste of female flesh. I felt myself cringe.
I had known this time would come, and I dreaded it. The idea of having sex with
a female was absolutely revolting to me. The worst part of it was that I did not
even know what to do. Mr. Winston and Mr. Gund were still seated in the same
chairs they were for my show with the dildos. The wardress was on a small couch
and that is were I was lead. We stopped directly in front of her and I was sure
she would be my first. As the anxiety started to take hold of me it was Mrs.
Winston who ordered me to start undressing her.
She quickly told the others that since she was the one to engineer my current
situation, she should be the first to benefit. I heard what she had told me but
did not know how to proceed. I just stood there feeling waves of humiliation and
fright sweep over me. Mrs. Winston again ordered me to start but all I could do
was beg them not to make me do this. I offered to service the men instead saying
that they could have me in any way they wanted. Mrs. Winston answered by saying
that would come, but now it was time for me to learn how to please a woman. I
stood motionless staring down at the floor.
All of a sudden Mrs. Winston slapped me hard across the face. She began yelling
that if I did not do as she said they would begin with the tortures. I had no
choice. I would do whatever possible to forestall the inevitable pain. I reached
for the buttons of her blouse. With trembling fingers I slowly worked my way
down until the blouse hung open. She turned suddenly and ordered me to take it
off and put it neatly on the couch. I was then directed to remove the red
leather skirt she wore. I undid the zipper and slid it down past her hips. As
she stepped out of it I picked it up and put it with the blouse. Again she
turned and for the first time I looked directly at her.
She stood before me wearing a scant red lace bra with a matching garter belt,
black stockings and red shoes. She wore no panties exposing her clean shaven
pussy. Although I had seen her almost totally nude in the Drs. office this time
was much worse. I knew what was expected of me, and why she was exposed. She
took a semi reclining position on the couch next to the wardress. She then told
me to get on my knees and start kissing her tits. She added I better do it well
if I did not want to end up like Laura. I knew any pleading or resistance at
this point was futile. And I definitely did not want the treatment Laura had. I
tried to resign myself to the fact that I knew this time would come. After all,
this was one of the reasons I was here.
With a sigh of defeat I gently pulled her bra out of the way, exposing her
breasts. I tried not to look into her eyes as I raised my mouth to comply. As I
sucked the nipple into my mouth I felt repulsed and confused.
I tried to remember how John had sucked on my nipples. It seemed so long ago.
Before I had been caught and reduced to some sort of slave for these peoples
perverted lusts. I loved sex with John. Sometimes gentle other times rough, even
kinky by some standards. Would it or could it ever be again. We had been
fighting the past few weeks. He said I was acting strangely. He demanded to know
what was wrong. With my preoccupation to the problem I was having I was
neglecting and even mistreating him. If only I could tell him what was wrong. My
attention was brought back to what I was being forced to do. Mrs. Winston
grabbed a handful of my hair and as she began to pull said I better show some
effort. I brought my hands up to her chest and tried to gently rub and caress.
Not knowing what else to do I tried licking and sucking the nipples. All the
while she just pulled at my hair and told me how poorly I was doing. Afraid to
anger her I put more effort into it. The harder I tried the worse it got. She
was getting angrier. The tears began to well in my eyes. Finally I picked my
head up and began to beg, saying I was trying my best but couldn't do it.
She went into a rage. Guiding my head by the hair she forced my face down to her
pussy. She began to scream at me to start eating her or else. She then adjusted
her position and buried my face in her cunt. I felt her thighs engulf my head as
she continued pulling my hair. She ground my face into her slit. The smell of
her, even though not repulsive, triggered something deep within. I fought to try
and free myself from her grip. Whatever the consequences this was too perverse
for me. The more I struggled the harder she held me. I was being smothered.
Fighting for breath I finally pushed myself free falling back onto the floor. As
I lay there trying to catch my breath she sprang from the couch. She went into
an absolute frenzy shouting threats and obscenities down at me. I was called a
worthless cunt, a rotten bitch, a total piece of shit etc. I was also promised
unimaginable punishment for disobeying and embarrassing her. To punctuate each
verbal assault I received a kick to whatever part of my body was exposed to her.
I just tried to protect myself and begged for forgiveness. I even tried to tell
her that I would try again. All my pleading was in vain. She continued to yell
and kick.
Finally it was the wardress who came to my aid. She stood up and pulled Mrs.
Winston away from me telling her to calm down. I was finally able to get on my
feet and run behind a chair. As a sense of calm was restored I heard the two men
laughing as they told the women that they knew I would not do it. They were also
bragging over the fact that they had won the bet. The mention of which only made
Mrs. Winston's face burn in anger.
Again I begged them to forgive me and try to understand that I had never even
touched a woman before. My reply came from Mrs. Winston. She told me how because
of my disobedience she lost a bet with the men. It was because of me that she
would have to allow them both to fuck her in the ass. It was because of me that
she was now, and would later be embarrassed. As she spoke her anger toward me
grew. She told me how because of what I had done or rather refused to do, I
would be severely punished. She promised that I would be tortured until I begged
to eat her cunt, eat a hundred cunts. Her words had me literally shaking in my
shoes. I knew she meant every word. It was then that the Dr. and Goldie returned
from attending to Laura. They were told what had happened and they all began to
discuss what should be done. I just stood frozen, hearing about beatings,
electrical, needles, douches, the rack, the chair, enemas even the tank.
Thankfully it was the Dr. who explained how this was my first time and what
could they really expect. She agreed I had to be disciplined for what I had
done. But pointed out that they had to follow the plan and not go to fast with
me. After they all took a moment to think they said she was indeed correct. Next
they asked her how she suggested they proceed. I could not hear what was said
but they all appeared satisfied. The Dr. came over to me and almost kindly told
me to follow her. After watching and hearing the others I felt my chances were
best with her so I obeyed. She and the Wardress lead me towards the medical area
with the others following close behind. As I walked I felt my stomach tighten. I
knew I was about to be punished. I silently cursed myself for not trying to obey
Mrs. Winston. As repulsed as I was by the thought of having sex with another
woman, it was preferable to pain.
During the past several weeks I anticipated the act and thought I would be able
to carry it out. It also occurred to me that they figured I would not do as
ordered and used it as an excuse to cause me to suffer. Whatever the reason it
was to late to think about now. I was next to the gynecological table with
everyone except Laura surrounding me. The wardress spoke first. She told me how
at the prison they often had the same problem with new girls. When they were
called upon to service one of the staff, they would usually refuse. The normal
procedure was to strap them to a table and whip their tits and cunts with a cane
until they bleed and would beg to eat anyone. The problem with that being the
cane does a lot of damage and the girl usually ends up in the infirmary. Since
they do not want me totally incapacitated, the Dr. has suggested an alternative.
"I will allow her to explain it to you" the Wardress concluded. This was a
deviation from the norm. Usually they would just do as they wished, now it
seemed as if they were going to tell me about it first. The Dr. began by saying
that I would be secured to the table. My legs would be spread and my chest
elevated. I would then be injected with Bees Venom in my breasts and vaginal
lips. I gasped and began to protest but was told to shut up or it would be
worse. After all, I had done this all to myself. Despite my whimpering she
continued. I was told how the venom would cause instant swelling and burning,
but have no lasting effects. I would then have the injected areas beaten with
rubber hoses. After I received 20 strokes to my breasts and 10 between my legs I
would again be given the opportunity to please Mrs. Winston. If I then refused
or did not perform satisfactorily I would receive a second beating. I tried to
say that I would try again on my own and to please not hurt me. That statement
brought laughter from everyone. In unison they said they had barely begun to
hurt me. Angrily the Dr. told me not to interrupt her as my immediate fate was
sealed. Without any further dialogue I was ordered to remove my bra and get onto
the table. Shaking in fear I reached behind my back to undo the clasp. Between
my nerves and the tightness of the garment I could not unfasten the hooks. I
heard Mrs. Winston tell Goldie to help me. She said she would be right there,
she was getting the hoses.
Within a few seconds she approached and laid two pieces of what looked like
ordinary garden hose on the table next to me. As she stepped behind me to unhook
the bra I had a second to study the instruments they were going to beat me with.
One piece was about a foot long, the other about eighteen inches long. They were
both black rubber with the shorter of the two being thicker.
The bra came loose and was ripped from my chest leaving me standing topless for
the first time today. Instinctively I put my arms up to cover myself and
received a slap across the face from Mrs. Winston. She told me to put my hands
down and get on the table. In fear of angering them further I jumped up.
The four women quickly began strapping me down. My legs were put in the stirrups
and spread obscenely wide. A section of the table below my shoulder blades was
raised causing my chest to elevate. Next my arms were pulled over my head and
fastened. A wide strap was put across my waist and tightened. This was basically
the same position I remembered so well from the Drs. office. I was again
completely helpless and vulnerable. Understandably I began to sob and beg them
not to do this to me. I watched the Dr. as she went to a cabinet and began
filling some syringes. The first two were about the same size as had been used
on me before. When I saw her pick up the third one my sobs turned to screams.
That needle was at least three inches long. Despite the screams and protests the
Dr. filled two of the long ones. She brought the four syringes to the table and
placed them next to me. This time it was the Dr. who slapped me and told me to
shut up. All of a sudden her attitude had changed. She turned into the sadist I
remembered from our last encounter. I began to pull at the straps to try and
break free. Beside feeling the waves of panic sweep over me I also felt a deep
sense of embarrassment. Not only did I have four women staring at me. There were
also two men. I felt like some kind of exhibit. Suddenly both men and the
wardress began touching and probing. This was the first time the three of them
saw me this open and exposed. While the men concentrated on the area between my
legs the wardress was busy with my breasts. After she squeezed and pulled, she
turned to the others and said something. The words that stood out were, "perfect
for tit torture". There was that phrase again. The Dr. then came forward with a
jar of alcohol. Using cotton swabs she wiped around my open pussy. In so doing
she made sure to get some of the liquid inside me. She knew what the effect
would be. I screamed as I felt a terrible burning sensation. She just smiled
down at me. She then looked up at Mrs. Winston and grabbing a handful of my
pubic hair said "this will have to be removed in the near future, send her to
Dorothea". She then moved up to my chest. In my state of panic, that comment,
nor the fact that she only wiped around my nipples registered. The alcohol felt
cold on my sweating breasts. It also made me cry and beg louder realizing the
needles were next. It had been two weeks since I was at Dr. Kim's and had the
injections in my breasts but the memory was very vivid. There was no way to
prepare for the pain I knew would be forth coming. To make matters worse The Dr.
decided to toy with me. She picked up one of the longer needles and showed it to
me. She told me how she would stick it straight into my nipple. I remember
yelling "please god no" over and over. She continued the verbal torment. I was
told how the entire 3 inches would plunge into me, almost touching the breast
bone. Then how the venom would be injected. It would take only seconds before I
felt as if I was stung by a swarm of bees. The more she spoke the more intense
my struggles became.
The muscles in my arms and legs were cramping from the strain of trying to pull
free. My only freedom was the ability to scream, and beg them not to do this.
Being as petrified of the needles as I was, I even offered to willingly submit
to some other form of punishment. My suggestion seemed to amuse them. I was
asked what I had in mind. All I could think of was to let Goldie use the strap
or whip on me again. This brought hardy laughter from everyone. Finally someone
said they planned to do that later anyway. Before I had a chance to say another
word the Wardress grabbed my right breast in both hands and held it in a vise
like grip. She looked down at me and said not to move or the needle could break
inside me. I then felt the tip of the needle pricking the now taut nipple. Cries
of protest caught in my throat as the Dr. slowly pushed the full three inches
into me. I felt the sharp point cutting through the delicate flesh. To make it
even more painful the Dr. kept pulling it out and then pushing it in again. The
agony was so intense I just smashed my teeth together and pounded my head on the
table. I was consumed by the pain. My senses were even taken from me. It was if
I could not see or hear or make a sound. Just as the ability to scream and
struggle returned I fell into a pitch black abyss. For the second time tonight
they had to revive me. When I regained consciousness, I recall still screaming
in pain. The first thing I focused on was the face of the Dr. She just looked at
me and said to calm down, the worst was over. An oxygen mask was placed over my
face and I was told to breathe deeply. As my senses returned I felt the terrible
pain in my breast. Anything that had been done to me so far paled in comparison
to the pain I had just experienced. Before I could say anything the Dr. said the
next injection would not be nearly as bad. She then sarcastically said she was
sorry, but she slipped and touched my breastbone by accident. Through the haze
of pain I heard the others laughing. The wardress commented about how often that
happens. With a smile on her face the Dr. picked up the second syringe. This
time the Wardress grabbed the left breast, pulling it up by the nipple. I began
screaming as I watched the needle which was positioned next to the nipple,
descend into me. As promised, this one was not as severe as the first if that is
possible. The Dr. just pushed the needle into me and injected the venom. This
time not being granted the luxury of unconsciousness, I felt the fiery liquid
spread through me. No longer able to scream I just groaned as I watched myself
swell. It took only seconds for this tit to match the first. They were both much
larger and stood erect on my chest. I could also feel the burning sensation
slowly increasing. I was so engrossed by the spectacle and changing feelings in
my breasts that I was unaware of the Dr. moving between my legs. It was not
until I felt the prick of the needle that I realized she was injecting one side
of my pussy. It was quick and it hurt but nowhere as badly as my chest. The
fourth injection caused me to whine through clenched teeth. Although this was
all very new to me I was sure these injections could have been made much worse.
Time would prove me correct. As if we were back at the office waiting for the
coffee to brew, Mrs. Winston said it would be a minute until they started
hitting me. They wanted to wait for the venom to take its full effect. Both
areas were already burning and swollen. It also felt as if every nerve in my
body was concentrated in the two areas. Under normal circumstances these are the
two most sensitive parts of a womans body. I could not imagine being beaten
there, even without the injections. As Mrs. Winston picked up the longer of the
hoses and moved next to me I again started to beg. My answer was the hose
slapping the underside of both breasts.
Although formidable, it was not as bad as I had imagined. I dug my nails into
the palms of my hands and let out a loud groan. But this was only the first of
twenty. I quickly realized that she could have hit me much harder. I endured the
first five strokes in the same way. I even got the impression she was toying
with me. When she went to the other side of the table and started on the upper
curves my groans turned to cries of pain. I took five of these before she laid
the hose down. Then they all took the opportunity to touch and squeeze the
beaten area. By this time I was openly crying, tears running freely. My breasts
were throbbing and burnt as if they were over an open fire. I was also becoming
aware of a terrible itching. They continued to paw at my now very painful
breasts. Comments were made as to the size and appearance. As I looked down I
saw a maze of blue veins and was startled by how much they had grown. To my
horror they were discussing what types of injections and other tortures could be
done in the future. Suddenly I felt someone touching my pussy. I was able to
move my head enough to see Mr. Winston between my obscenely spread thighs. His
touch made me realize how swollen and sensitive the area was. All of a sudden I
was aware of something being forced inside of me. It must have been a large
object, because it was painful. Mr. Gund joined him in my humiliation. They
touched, probed and looked, constantly talking amongst themselves. I would find
out later about what. My attention was brought back to the head of the table.
The wardress was standing next to me unbuttoning her suit jacket. She took it
off and handed it to Goldie. She wore a black push-up bra that brought her more
than ample breasts into prominence. As she picked up one of the hoses, I
realized what was about to happen. I had seen her in the video remove her jacket
before she started beating her victim.
Her first blow crashed down on my right nipple. My scream was interrupted by the
second stoke. What Mrs. Winston had done was absolutely nothing compared to the
beating I was getting from the wardress. This was pure agony. Beside screaming
and ripping at the straps, I was yelling that she would cause permanent damage.
I was afraid that the skin would burst from the power of the blows. The hose
struck both breasts at random. She concentrated on the nipple area. I lost count
of how many times I was hit. I'm sure it was more than ten. As I began to feel a
black cloud creep over me the beating stopped. I was in terrible pain but
screaming was almost impossible. My chest was heaving from the effort of trying
to breath. When I regained some composure the first thing I did was lift my head
to examine my battered breasts. All I could do was begin screaming again. The
purpose of the hoses became apparent. Although the skin was not broken both
breasts were a mass of bruised flesh. They were almost purple and even more
swollen than before. As soon as I was able to speak I began to beg them not to
hit me anymore. Crying hysterically I begged to be given another chance to
service Mrs. Winston. I would do anything not to feel the hoses on my tender and
swollen pussy. If what had been done to my chest was any guide I knew having my
pussy beaten would be pure hell. My answer was that I had to be punished for
what I had already done. And I was warned that if I did not perform
satisfactorily, the process would be repeated until I got it right. It was Mr.
Winston who picked up one of the hoses and waved it over my face. He began
taunting me by saying how he was going to beat me raw and then fuck me. As he
approached the end of the table I realized that I was about to be beaten my a
man for the first time. I logically assumed that a man had more strength than a
woman and feared that the beating would be more severe. I was indeed correct.
The hose hit my spread lips with tremendous force. I let out a blood curdling
scream as I writhed in agony. With all my strength I tried to tear free of my
bonds. As the blows kept reigning down on my exposed pussy I tried to bang my
head onto the table in an attempt to knock myself out. It felt as if I was being
hit with a baseball bat rather than a rubber hose. This was just pure brutality.
Finally it was over. As I lay there, my body convulsing from the pain I tried to
catch my breath and again regain my senses. The group was assembled all around
me. They not only studied the areas of my body which had been battered but they
also paid close attention to my reactions. They derived joy from my pain. As I
looked at them, all I could see was the excitement and pleasure on their faces.
It was apparent to me that they all got turned on by seeing and hearing me
suffer. Judging from their comments and expressions, the next year would be a
living hell. Before I was able to say a word, Mrs. Winston came right up to my
face. With a sarcastic grin, she asked if I was ready to eat her or did I want
another taste of the hoses. Choking through my sobs I begged her to please let
me try again. I promised to do my best, but pleaded with her not to hit me
anymore.
I was left bound to the table. Without saying a word she just climbed up and
squatted over my face. This time with no thought or hesitation I stuck out my
tongue and raised my head. As my mouth came in contact with her gaping pussy I
felt her lower herself onto my face. Fear of what would happen quickly pushed
the revulsion from my mind. I started to move my tongue around trying to
remember how I had been eaten by some of my lovers. I felt her bucking into my
face as if she were riding a horse. Then I heard her yelling at me to get my
tongue inside her and put some effort into it. Knowing better than to displease
her again I did as I was told. Whatever I was doing seemed to be satisfying her
because she settled into some sort of rhythm. When she put her weight on me,
both my mouth and nose were covered, causing me to gasp for breath. She must
have enjoyed that because she repeated it several times. I then felt her shift
her position as she told me to lick her clit. I must not have done it to her
satisfaction. My penalty was someone grabbing both my breasts and squeezing.
Through the flash of pain I instantly obeyed, not wanting to further anger her.
I licked and sucked at her clit while still using my tongue on her lips and
inside her. Her excitement was evident. I felt it dripping down my chin. Finally
after what seemed an eternity it felt as if she was having an orgasm. She again
grabbed my hair and tried to pull my whole head deeper into her. While so doing
she kept telling me to do it more, calling me a bitch, cunt, slave. After a few
violent spasms, she collapsed on top of me. It took a few minutes before she
climbed off the table. That gave me a little time to catch my breath and think
of what I had just done. I was totally disgusted with myself, but knew it was
better than one of their tortures. I also had the feeling I would be doing a lot
more of it. I just did not know how soon. The wardress came over to Mrs. Winston
and jokingly said I must have done a good job. Her reply was that I had a lot to
learn but showed enthusiasm. Also fear of another beating made up for my lack of
experience. To my horror the Wardress said she would judge for herself. With
that she began removing her skirt. Beneath it she wore only a wide black garter
belt and stockings. Seeing her in only underwear I realized how big and well
built she actually was. As she started to climb into the same position as Mrs.
Winston, I was faced with a new horror. Unlike Mrs. Winston who's pussy had been
clean shaven, the wardress had a thick mound of dark curly hair. Before I was
able to react, she lowered herself, placing it over my mouth. I felt strong
thighs press either side of my head and as had been the case earlier, she
grabbed a handful of my hair. As I began to turn my face away and protest I felt
as if my hair was being ripped out by the roots. To further make the point
someone hit me across both breasts with something.
The point was again made. If I did not want anymore pain I had better obey. For
only the second time in my life I was servicing another woman. It was difficult
for me to get through the mass of course hair but finally my tongue was able to
snake up inside her. The wardress was not as gentle or patient as Mrs. Winston.
In a very short time she was grinding into my face with all her weight. She also
placed herself over both my nose and mouth causing me to choke. She must have
done it purposely, because when I opened my mouth wider in an attempt to breath
she pushed down harder and told me to put my tongue deeper. Finally I must have
been doing what she wanted because she was relaxing her grip on my hair. She
then began to tell me what to do. I heard phrases like eat me out, suck my cunt,
put your tongue deeper and lick my clit. I followed her direction as best I
could. After what seemed an eternity I felt her body stiffen as her juices
flowed into my mouth. I started to gag and thought I would vomit. Fear of the
consequences made me fight the urge. Although totally discussed I continued
doing what she wanted. Finally her orgasm came to an end. Slowly she too climbed
off the table. Still bound I could do nothing but lay there and cry. After a few
minutes of watching everyone stare at me and listening to their comments I
begged to be released. I told them I needed some water and wanted to wash my
face. To my surprise the Dr. unfastened my hands and helped me into a sitting
position. Goldie then handed me a glass of water and a wet towel. Quickly I
tried to wipe away the two women. As I began to drink the water the Dr. spoke.
She said I could not be released because she did not have her turn yet. In a fit
of rage I screamed, "no more" and threw the empty glass across the room. In my
present position that was not a smart move. My legs were still strapped into the
stirrups, leaving my pussy wide open and vulnerable. The Dr. picked up one of
the hoses and told me my temper tantrum had earned me five strokes. As the hose
hit my already swollen lips the men grabbed me and held me in place. The pain
was worse than what I had felt only a short time ago. I screamed and struggled
violently, forcing Mr. Winston to lay over my brutalized breasts. That only
caused me more suffering. The five strokes left me beaten not only physically
but also mentally. When the men released me I just laid there and cried. I also
begged them not to do anymore to me, I had enough. Between sobs I tried to tell
them that this was only the first party and I could not take anymore. My answer
was to have my wrists pulled over my head and refastened. As I watched the Dr.
begin to remove her clothes, Mrs. Winston came up next to me. In her sarcastic
tone she told me that it was only 1 AM and they did not plan to end the party
until around 7 or 8. Furthermore there were still several things they had
planned. And lastly they would determine when I had enough.
The Dr. had stripped down to a black strapless longline bra with garters. She
was very small compared to the other women and not very well endowed. Although I
had seen her almost nude during my visit to her office I was now seeing her in a
new light. Knowing what was about to happen I looked directly at her exposed
pussy. Thankfully she was also clean shaven. As she began to mount the table I
became confused. Unlike Mrs. Winston and the Wardress she squatted over me
facing my legs. To my horror I was looking directly at her ass. Sickened by the
prospect I just closed my eyes and waited. She lowered herself grinding her
pussy onto my now tender lips. As she adjusted her position she told me to start
eating her. Like the two before her she also told me how she wanted me to do it.
Half heartedly I began. In an attempt to satisfy the oriental sadist I did what
I had just done to the two women before her. Unfortunately, she did not find my
performance to her liking. To show me the error of my ways she reached down and
squeezed my already tortured breasts. Through my muffled screams I heard her
telling me how poorly I was doing. She also said that if I did improve quickly
my tits would suffer for it. In an effort to save my pitifully abused chest I
ate her to the best of my limited ability. Unfortunately, she was not pleased by
what I was doing and I received several more slaps and pinches. The reason for
her position was now apparent. While I had the repulsive task of pleasing her
she could indulge herself in her favorite pastime, torturing another woman. Just
as the Dr. began to settle into a kind of slow grinding motion on my face, I
felt something touch my pussy. It felt as if someone was spreading a cool liquid
on the open and swollen lips. Before I could analyze what was being done a
searing pain tore into me. Something was being forced into my beaten and swollen
pussy. My scream was muffled by the Drs. pussy grinding into my open mouth.
Trying to move my head only brought more pain to my breasts. After the initial
surge of pain between my legs I realized what was happening. I was being raped.
Strong hands were pulling on my spread thighs to gain deeper penetration. That
is when I heard Mr. Winston say how tight I was and how good it felt.
Being tortured and forced to service the women apparently was not enough for the
group. Now I was being fucked by one of the men. Having both of my nipples
viciously twisted brought my attention back to the Dr. Between the surges of
pain in my pussy I heard her telling me not to stop eating her. To emphasize the
order she grasped both breasts and twisted them until I was sure they would
burst. Despite the pain between my legs I put all my effort into satisfying the
woman sitting on my face. After a few minutes of doing what I had learned with
the other women I felt the Drs. body stiffen and finally reach orgasm. With
nothing to distract me I became painfully aware of the brutal fucking I was
getting. The injections I had been given made it feel like a horse was inside
me. As the Dr. climbed off me I could see Mr. Winston for the first time. My
groans and tear filled eyes seemed to renew his energy. He started pounding into
my swollen pussy lips. Crying openly I endured this punishment until he came.
Before he even pulled out of me his wife went to his side and sarcastically said
that she knew how long he wanted to do that. She also said that he would have
many more opportunities to use and abuse me.ÿ
A Year of Slavery # 2-3
" The First Party "
As he withdrew from me and walked away, Mr. Gund came into view. As he
approached my wide spread legs I saw him stroking the largest erection I had
ever seen. My eyes riveted themselves to the monster in his hand. It appeared to
be almost twice the size of Johns, or the many other men I had been with.
Knowing what was about to happen I started begging him not to put that in me.
Even without the venom in my pussy I would fear a cock of this size. In my
present condition I was afraid of being ripped and badly hurt. Except for
pulling at the straps that held me I could do nothing to escape the inevitable
rape. What Mr. Gund started to do could not be called rape, it was just more
torture. By spreading the lips of my pussy with his rough fingers, he was able
to position himself. Then he lunged forward.
The first thrust caused excruciating pain and almost made me pass out again. I
was screaming wildly as he prepared to push further into my ravaged pussy. The
second thrust pushed him so deep I felt him crash into my uterus. This time, I
did pass out. With the now familiar Amyl Nitrate capsule waving under my nose, I
was jarred back to consciousness. It was probably only a short time that I was
out, because when I came too Mr. Gund was still fucking me. Not only did my
pussy hurt, but I also felt waves of pain internally. My cries for him to stop
went unheeded, he continued with the assault. The group had assembled around us
and was edging him on. Some of their comments were also directed at me.
Someone said I better get used to him because I will have him in every opening
of my body. The Dr. told me to think about being bent over a table and having
him up my ass. The more I heard the more I begged to be let go. That only
brought more comments and a lot of laughter. Finally he also came and the brutal
rape ended. Bound and exhausted I just laid there hoping that it was over. So
far this evening I had been shown what could and would be used on me. Made to
humiliate myself with the dildos. Felt Goldies whip. Had injections in the most
sensitive parts of my body. Was forced to perform oral sex on three women and
was raped by two men.
I had enough. Crying like a small beaten child I begged them to let me go home.
In a desperate attempt to gain my freedom I even promised to come back in a
week. I tried to tell them that I would be more cooperative and enthusiastic
next time. For a moment I thought my pleas were being answered. The Dr. came
over to me with a stethoscope and placed it on my chest. After a few moments she
told the others that my heart rate was slightly elevated, but not a problem. She
then inspected my breasts and vaginal area. The Dr. announced there were minor
lacerations to the breasts. Also the vaginal opening had been torn and badly
bruised. Mrs. Winston inquired as to the severity and was told that an
antiseptic and some antibiotic ointment would be all that was needed. The next
question asked of the Dr. was whether or not I could continue. Her answer was
totally devastating and made me start to scream and again rip at my bonds. She
said I was still in good shape and could still take more. Through my screams I
heard the Dr. suggest that she first clean me up and treat my wounds. At that
point it was the wardress who said to wait. In her opinion it was only fair that
Goldie have her turn with me. I fell instantly silent. The thought was more than
I could bear. To my horror the rest of the group quickly agreed. Goldie had
removed her dress earlier when she was whipping me. She was still wearing the
long white heavy bra and massive girdle. I watched as she pulled the bra cups to
the sides revealing her huge breasts. She then hurriedly undid the garters and
pulled the girdle toward her waist. The sight was appalling. She had exposed her
jet black nipples and mass of pubic hair. As she approached the table I started
saying that I could not do this. I stopped screaming and in an almost calm voice
told everyone that I would not. I said that if she put any part of her body near
my mouth I would bite it off. Amused the wardress asked me why I felt that way.
I said it was bad enough having to eat them but I would not do it to a black
woman. First I tried begging. Then when I felt I was getting no place I made the
mistake of saying that no matter what they did I would not eat her. Goldie went
into a rage and said that she would beat me until I agreed. The wardress
suggested I be given another dose of the hoses. Mrs. Winston said she would get
me to cooperate with the cattle prod. Even the men were angry and shouting
suggestions. Finally the Dr. told them all to be patient. She said that some
caution had to be taken. She reminded them about proceeding slowly in the
beginning. As they all began to quiet down she told them that she would do
something that would make me beg to obey them. But, she added would be less
physically damaging. As they had done before, they fell silent and listened to
her. Someone asked what she had in mind. She appeared to ponder the question and
then replied. She said she would use a torture that she uses on some of the high
priced whores that are brought to her by their pimps. The procedure leaves no
marks, is quick, causes terrible pain and has no lasting effects. In that way as
soon as the whore agrees to do as she is told, she can go right back to work.
Through this dialogue I just struggled and begged them not to hurt me anymore.
As the Dr. headed towards the cabinets, Mrs. Winston looked down at me and said
I could stop the punishment. All I had to do was immediately agree to eat
Goldie's cunt. For disobeying, I would have to also ask to have my tits whipped
with the hoses. If I did this she would stop the Dr. Without even thinking about
it I told her she was a perverted bitch and to go to hell. I would never eat the
black maid. With a smile, she said "I was hoping you would say that". As I
turned my head I saw the Dr. coming toward me carrying a length of thin hose and
a tube of K-Y. Nervously I demanded to know what she was going to do. Her reply
was to wave the hose at me and tell me,"this is a colon tube and it is going up
your ass". Without saying another word she took the now familiar position
between my widespread legs. It took only a second for me to feel the lubricant
being pushed into my rectum. I quickly felt the cool jell going inside me. Even
this small intrusion was painful due to the swelling of the entire area. She
then uncoiled the hose onto my stomach. I was able to see that it was about 5
feet long but thankfully only about 1/2 inch in diameter.
Holding one end in her hand she bent beneath my line of sight. Immediately I
felt the hose being pushed into me. Between sobs I alternately begged her to
stop and asked what she was doing. She neither stopped nor answered me. I could
feel the tube going deeply into me. I also watched its length disappear from my
stomach.
By this time everyone had assembled around me and was commenting on what the Dr.
was going to do. I kept hearing them say enema, only the wardress shook her head
negatively and smiled. The tube continued into me. It was not what I would call
painful but it was a strange sensation. I could feel the internal movement just
below my naval. As I strained my head to look at my stomach I saw that the
entire length was gone. The Dr. reappeared, walked to the side of the table,
looked directly into my eyes and stated that the tube was well placed at the top
of my large intestine. Frightened and confused by the fact that I felt no pain I
again begged them to stop. It was Mrs. Winston who bent over me and told me that
what I was about to experience was unnecessary. Had I obeyed and let the maid
have her turn, I would be off the table by now. But I had to learn, and would
now be punished until I begged Goldie to let me satisfy her. My eyes went toward
the massive black woman as I bravely said never. I remember Mr. Gund looking at
me and in his sarcastic self assured way tell me "never say never". Suddenly the
Dr. laid a small oxygen tank on the table next to me. Silently I bit my lip and
dug my nails into my palms. Whatever they were planning was going to be
terrible. They were already preparing to revive me, I thought. Next I watched as
the Dr. tightened a strap across my stomach and another across my forehead.
Having my head fastened robbed me of the small luxury of seeing what was
happening. I felt movement between my legs and then felt the cold steel of the
oxygen tank next to my ribcage. The Dr. then entered my line of sight, looked
down at me and simply said that I knew what to say if I wanted her to stop.
Bathed in sweat and shaking in fear I just stared up at her pleading with my
eyes. First I heard a strange hissing sound and then it felt like someone had
driven a knife into my stomach. A scream of pure agony echoed through the room.
I was sure I had been stabbed. Oddly the flash of pain ceased as quickly as it
had come. It was replaced by what would best be described as severe cramps.
Before I was even able to speak the Dr. was asking me if I was ready to obey.
Still trying to understand what had just happened I again heard the hiss. The
sensation was the same. It felt as if my stomach was being ripped apart. The way
I was strapped to the table allowed me almost no movement. All I was able to do
was try and pull free causing my muscles to cramp. I imagined they were putting
some type of long needle into my stomach and the cramping was the result of my
struggles.
This time I was able to speak first. In a very unsteady voice I asked what they
were doing to me. The Dr. began to explain that this was a modern version of an
old oriental torture she had learned in Viet Nam.
They used it on prisoners they wished to interrogate but did not want visibly
bruised. All it was, was air being forced into the large intestine. When the
Viet Cong did it they would insert a hose attached to a tire pump. Now this
group used the oxygen tank.
Proudly she said how much better this method was because of the increased
pressure. As if giving a lecture she told of the great success she achieved with
the treatment. She must have thought I had not heard enough because she added
that the same treatment could also be used on a womans uterus and bladder.
Although I heard the hissing sound of the oxygen, there was no way to prepare
for the agony that followed. Given some seconds to recover I was again asked if
I was ready to obey. Foolishly hoping for some kind of reprieve I remained
silent.
The next torrent of air was much longer than the rest. The pain was so intense I
could not even get the small relief screaming allows. This process was repeated
many more times. It is still difficult for me to understand how air could cause
such pain. As a cloud of darkness was about to descend over me I remember
yelling for them to stop, I would obey. A cool cloth was placed on my face and I
was given time to recover. Mrs. Winston then asked me what I was prepared to do.
She said I should be explicit. I recall thinking that not only did they want to
see me suffer, they also wanted to hear me humiliate myself. In a small shaking
voice I said I would do Goldie. That was not enough for them. I was told that I
would have to be more convincing and graphic.
I said please let me satisfy her. They asked how I would satisfy her. Not
knowing what they wanted to hear caused another dose of the oxygen to crash into
my stomach. Finally I realized what they wanted. In order to save myself another
turn of the valve I would give it to them. To my complete disgust I heard myself
say, "please let me eat goldies cunt". Apparently I was correct. The straps were
removed from my stomach and head. The sight of Goldie mounting the table and
squatting over me almost made me vomit. Not wanting to cause myself anymore
punishment I fought the impulse, opened my mouth and closed my eyes.
The black woman was more interested in vengeance than pleasure. Before I could
even feel the moist flesh of her opening, I had to use my tongue to cut through
the mass of course dry pubic hair. Nauseated I continued until I felt her
smother me with her gaping pussy. When it felt as if I was making some progress
she lifted herself from me. I watched as she changed her position. Now I had one
of her massive nipples over my mouth. She then said start sucking my tits slut.
Afraid of the consequences I did as ordered. Several more times she changed
position. I had either her pussy or tits shoved into my mouth. She continued
giving me directions and verbal abuse. These were punctuated by a slap to my
swollen and tender breasts or a blast of the oxygen. Finally after what seemed
like hours of this, I felt her thighs tighten around my head. All at once I was
trying to breath, swallow her vile secretions and scream because she was tearing
at my breasts. As Goldie got off the table I realized that everyone had gone to
the sitting area except the Dr. Slowly Goldie began releasing the straps as the
Dr. pulled the hose from deep in my intestine. Feeling totally abused and
violated I silently prayed that they were finished with me. Crying openly I was
helped to my feet. Leaning against the table I remember hanging my head as much
from humiliation as from exhaustion.
The thoughts of what I had just been through kept pounding in my head. My entire
body ached from all the physical abuse I had suffered. I just stood there hoping
this nightmare was over at last. Without saying a word the two women each took
an arm and helped me toward what had earlier been referred to as the water room.
At that point I was too weak and disgusted to even protest. Upon entering, the
Dr. asked if I needed to use the toilet. Nervously I replied yes and was lead to
the bowl. Not caring that it was in plain site in a corner of the room, I let
them almost drop me onto it.
Immediately the Dr. sent Goldie to get me coffee and cigarettes. As she handed
me a glass of water she told me to relax and assured me they were almost done. I
gulped at the cool liquid thankful for something to wash the vile taste from my
mouth. In the dazed state I was in the words "almost done" took a few seconds to
register. Before I was able to question the Dr., Goldie returned with a tray.
She placed it on a counter next to me and sarcastically said "help yourself". I
quickly lit a cigarette and poured a cup of coffee. While doing so I heard the
Dr. giving the maid instructions.
She told her to let me rest for awhile. Then to wash me off, douche me and help
me fix myself up a bit. As she was leaving she turned to the maid and said
"remember the men fucked her, give her a douche on the pipe if you want too".
Then she added to call her when that was done because she had to attend to my
injuries. Still not fully aware of what was said I remained on the bowl smoking
and drinking coffee. I must have presented a truly bizarre sight but after what
had happened, I really didn't care. Goldie spent a few minutes adjusting her own
underwear and freshening up. She poured herself some coffee and sat on the
examining table across from me. Not feeling strong enough to stand I remained
seated and kept my eyes toward the floor. The silence of the room was deafening
and I could feel her glare burning into me.
The thoughts of what had just happened and particularly the remarks I had made
in reference to the maid kept going through my mind. Thinking, if I tried to
apologize to her it might help me later I finally spoke. I remember how in a
soft voice I said I was sorry. I told her that I was in terrible pain and was
very frightened. My words only seemed to get her angry all over again. Looking
down at me she just told my to keep my mouth shut. She had heard it all before.
She said I was not the first white bitch to think I was better than she was.
With venom in her voice she told me how she was glad I said what I did. It only
made it easier for her to hurt me. She went on saying that I had only fucked
myself. Now she would make sure that anytime she had the opportunity to make it
worse for me, she would. Before I could say a word in my defense she got up and
said that I had enough rest. To emphasize the order she grabbed a handful of my
hair and stood me on my feet. Still holding my hair she put her face only inches
from mine and said "now strip bitch". All I was left wearing were the shoes,
stockings and waist cincher. Not wishing to further anger her I quickly obeyed.
As soon as I was totally nude she pushed me to a spot near where I had been
sitting. The wrist cuffs I wore were then fastened together and attached to a
chain that hung from the ceiling. I watched as she pushed a button near the door
and my arms were slowly pulled over my head. This continued until my feet no
longer touched the floor.
Immediately I felt the burning sensation in my shoulder muscles. The position
also put a tremendous amount of strain on my abused breasts. Hanging helplessly
I could only watch as Goldie picked up a hand shower and turned some faucets.
The treatment that followed was not a shower, it was just another form of
punishment. The maid took great pleasure in adjusting the water temperature. At
times I was engulfed by an ice cold stream. Other times it felt as if my skin
would be blistered by the hot water. Although not an inch of my body was spared
the torment, she paid special attention to certain spots. My face was one of her
prime targets. More than once I was forced to hold my breath because the water
was being directed into my nose or mouth. Her other favorites were my breasts
and pussy. The pounding liquid hit the already tender areas with the force of
one of the whips. It would cause an agonized scream which would make me open my
mouth offering an ideal target. She continued her game for a long time until
thankfully the water was turned off. As I felt my feet touch the floor I heard
her sarcastically ask me if I enjoyed my shower. Still supported by the chain I
had to endure the further abuse and indignity of having the maid dry me. Again
she turned the simple task into a punishment. As she unfastened the chain from
the wrist cuffs a broad smile appeared on her face. Then she said "now the real
fun begins". She lead me to the opposite corner of the room. Remembering the
instructions the Dr. had given I knew the douche was next. As we stopped in
front of a strange looking apparatus I felt the knots begin to form in the pit
of my stomach. Although I had seen this piece of equipment when Mrs. Winston
gave the tour, it now took on a new prospective. It was about to be used on me.
As goldie helped me onto a platform about four ft. square and a foot off the
floor, she told me to pay attention to what she was doing. She added that over
the next year I would spend many painful hours up here. Looking at the apparatus
only confused me as to how it worked. The front of the platform had a panel
which consisted of valves and gauges. Sticking through the top of the platform I
stood on was a pipe about the height of my knees. I recall wondering how I could
be given a douche. My thoughts were interrupted as Goldie grabbed one of my
ankles and fastened the cuff to a hook near the edge. My legs were spread until
the other ankle was attached to a hook on the opposite side. Next a chain was
attached to my wrist cuffs and my arms were raised toward the ceiling.
I was forced to stand in the position of an inverted "y". The pipe aimed
straight at my spread pussy. For a moment I thought that possibly the water
would shoot up at me. That I soon realized would have been a blessing. As soon
as goldie was satisfied that I was well secured, she stepped off the platform
and went to a cabinet. As I hung there waiting, I wondered what time it could
be. I remembered being told that I would be kept for approximately twelve hours.
So far, with all that had happened it seemed like days. The pain and fatigue
were getting the best of me. Possibly the worst, was the total feeling of
despair and helplessness. After this small taste of what I had to look forward
to, I wondered how I could go on. The thought of any woman being subjected to
this was beyond my comprehension. Just then the contract I was forced to sign
crept into my thoughts. It would be impossible for me to survive a year of this.
I was so immersed in thought that I did not even realize that Goldie had
returned to the platform. She was kneeling in front of me doing something to the
pipe. The position I was in made it difficult to look down but after pulling and
twisting I managed. What I saw made me begin to tare at my bonds and scream with
renewed energy. She was attaching a nozzle. It could best be described as a very
large butt plug with a hole at the top. Suddenly I began to understand what was
about to happen to me. As the maid approached the control panel, I began to
plead with her not to hurt me anymore. I remember telling her that if I had to
be douched, to please do it another way. I even offered to do it to myself. As a
sinister smile came to her face, she just looked up at me and said it was time
to pay for what I had said. As her fingers turned one of the valves, I watched
the pipe move
upward. Bond as I was there was no way to avoid the nozzle as it searched for my
spread pussy. As soon as it touched my swollen and beaten lips I groaned in
discomfort. That was only the beginning. As Goldie increased the lift of the
pipe I began to cry as the hellish nozzle pushed its way up into me. This
continued until most of my weight was concentrated on the object between my
legs. The pain was not caused by deep penetration, but by the stretching and
pressure on the already abused area. Like I had done so many times already I
found myself screaming and begging. That only brought a look of satisfaction to
the maids face. She then squatted in front of me and checked the placement of
the nozzle.
It's purpose was to form a seal using the lips of my pussy. That way it would
also keep the liquid in me. Satisfied, she stood up, looked directly into my
eyes and said she would take a minute to tell me how this apparatus worked. I
was told that hot water would be pumped into me under pressure. Again she
pointed out the shape of the nozzle and explained how it would prevent the water
from escaping. That would cause a tremendous strain on my internal organs. The
volume of water would also cause severe swelling to my lower abdomen. And last
but not least, with sufficient pressure the water would force it's way into my
uterus. To taunt me further she said that if she had enough time she could make
me look like I was six months pregnant.
With an evil smile on her face she said because she had to hurry she would not
be able to do as much as she would like, but reassured me there would be another
time. That said, she returned to the valves, leaving me begging and struggling.
As I watched her turn a faucet I tried to brace myself, anticipating a deluge of
water. Instead I just hung there waiting. Finally I felt the liquid gently begin
to seep into me. At first it actually seemed to have a soothing affect. I should
have known it would not last. Within seconds the pressure began to build and it
was getting hot. Just a few seconds more and it felt as if I was being scalded
internally. Instantly my entire body was covered in sweat. As I tried to scream
at her to stop, I was again gripped by severe cramps. So intense was the pain
that I was unable to catch my breath in order to get the words out. To make this
ordeal even worse was the fact that I was watching my stomach swell until I was
sure permanent damage would be done. Just then I saw the maid again turn the
faucet. The water stopped pouring into me. It took some time but finally I was
able to ingest enough oxygen to regain the ability to move and most of all
scream. Between the pressure and the severe temperature I did indeed scream and
struggle to be free of this hellish device. My contortions only caused me to
become further impaled on the nozzle. That only increased the pain from the
injections. No matter what I did it only caused me greater suffering, and gave
the maid even greater satisfaction. I remember how I tried to calm myself
realizing that the worst was over and I had again survived. It seemed that my
body was also adjusting to the pressure and extreme temperature. The stabbing
pains I had felt earlier were now less severe and further apart, although I was
still in great pain. Wishing to inspect the results of what she had done to me,
Goldie stepped up on the platform. As I begged her to release the contents of my
tortured pussy she just laughed and sarcastically said she would, soon. She then
began to verbally torment me. She again told me to familiarize myself with this
device because I would no doubt be spending many uncomfortable hours on it. To
emphasize her point she directed my attention to the shelves lined with
different types of nozzles. Some she said were for douches and others for severe
enemas. She saw my reaction and with a smile said that what had just been done
was mild in comparison to some of the enemas she would be giving me in the
future. As she continued talking her hands began to roam over my swollen
abdomen. That brought a fresh wave of pain surging into me. Still not satisfied
she began to slap the distended flesh, causing me to again scream in agony.
Finally she stopped hitting me. Again the pain began to diminish and I stopped
screaming. Just as I was about to beg her to please stop, the Dr. came into the
room and stepped onto the platform. She asked Goldie how I was holding up. As
she listened to what the maid was saying she began to examine my stomach.
Thankfully I heard her say that I had enough for now and to get the water out.
With a look of disappointment on her face I watched Goldie quickly return to the
controls. As she turned one of the valves I screamed more from surprise than
from pain. The liquid was being sucked out of me. The relief was instantaneous.
Within seconds even the swelling of my stomach was slowly disappearing. As this
was happening, the Dr. looked at me and said it was done this way in order to
avoid a mess all over the floor. As a smile came to her face she added that the
suction could be increased to a very painful level. As she finished the sentence
she nodded her head at Goldie. Suddenly it felt as if my insides were being
ripped from my body. It was difficult and in itself painful, but there I was,
screaming again. Finally the suction stopped and I felt the huge nozzle descend
from between my legs. Goldie then asked the Dr. if she wanted me released. Her
answer was that my wounds needed some attention and now was a perfect time,
adding it was better that I was secured.
In a matter of fact tone, she turned to me and asked how I enjoyed my douche.
Without waiting for a reply she stated that they would get even better. She also
took the opportunity to remind me that some enemas would be given in the same
way. Her expression told me she was relishing the thought. Without being told,
Goldie brought the Dr. a tray. In a panic I looked down at its contents.
Alcohol, cotton swabs, antiseptic ointment and a small covered container. I
watched as the Dr. saturated some of the swabs with alcohol. She then began
wiping my breasts. She was anything but gentle, using the procedure as an excuse
to further abuse my swollen and beaten chest. There were several areas where the
skin was broken and I cringed when they were touched by the fiery liquid. That
was nothing in comparison to having her use the alcohol on my battered pussy.
Not only did she swab the bruised areas, she made sure to get the liquid well up
inside me. Crying openly I just hung there wondering how much more I could take.
Next she applied the antiseptic and told me I would be fine in a few days. That
said she wiped her hands and I sighed to myself, believing she was done.
My optimism was destroyed in a heart beat. She opened the small container and
picked up a syringe. I recall saying out loud, "oh god no". Her reply was
another sarcastic smile. her only words were that I needed an antibiotic shot to
be on the safe side. Without any warning and with the speed of a cat, the
oriental sadist plunged the syringe into my stomach just below the navel. My
reaction was instantaneous. Every muscle in my body seemed to contract, and my
entire nervous system went ablaze. Thankfully the needle was removed in an
instant, but the effect lingered. It took awhile for me to draw a breath and
again focus on my surroundings. When the ability to speak returned all I could
say was "why, didn't you hurt me enough". After a pause on the Drs. part she
answered by saying, "not nearly, I enjoy hurting women and I take every
opportunity to do so. That was just a sample. It could have been worse". She
continued by telling me that in the months to come I would be given injections
in a dozen places far more sensitive. As she stepped off the platform she turned
to me and said think of how the needle will feel in your armpit or even in your
clit. The thought of her words caused the blood to drain from my head putting me
on the verge of unconsciousness. In a haze I saw the maid approaching with the
now familiar vile of amyl-nitrate. A few breaths were all that were needed to
jar me back to total awareness. It also amplified all the torments I had
endured. I was barely able to stand as the maid released me from my bonds. At
her direction I stumbled off the torture device and fell to my knees on the
floor.
Her intense hatred of me was apparent as she said get up cunt and do as I say.
As I began to pull myself up, the Dr. looked over at me and asked if I would
like another shot to wake me up. The threat made me almost jump to my feet. I
was then told that I had fifteen minutes to get myself dressed and fixed up
before they came for me.
I remember asking in a weak tone if they were through, and could I go home. My
reply was that I had an hour left and the men wanted another piece of me. Goldie
motioned to the tray of coffee and cigarettes that were still there. She said
she would be right back and I should help myself. As I lit a cigarette and
poured a cup of coffee I tried to summon whatever strength I had left. I
mentally repeated to myself, only one more hour. I also thought of the Drs.
parting words, the men wanted another piece. I remember standing there, confused
by all I had been through, trying to understand what she meant. Finally I
assumed it meant they wanted to use me for some sex act. At least I thought they
would not hurt me anymore.
Glancing at the cosmetics made me realize I had been given a command and I knew
better than to disobey. With unsteady hands I began to apply some make-up and
fix my hair. As I stared into the small mirror, it was as if I were looking at
another person. This could not possibly be me. As my mind began one of its many
journeys, Goldie returned and interrupted the thought by placing a small pile of
lingerie in front of me. Quickly glancing at me she said I looked fine and to
put on what I was given. Afraid to anger her in any way I stood and picked up
the first article. It was a well constructed black longline bra with garters.
Slipping the straps over my shoulders brought my inflamed breasts into contact
with the cups. As I feared, that caused immediate discomfort. Before I even had
a chance to comment, I felt the maid pulling the back together so she could hook
it. One by one each hook was attached forcing my breasts into the garments vise
like grip. My protests and pained sobs only encouraged rougher treatment. After
somewhat of a struggle on Goldies part I was firmly encased in the bra. Even if
I had not been given the injections, the cups would have been tight. Now my
breasts spilled over the tops and pushed out of the sides. Besides the renewed
pain in my breasts the garment made breathing difficult. Next I was handed a
pair of black nylons and told to quickly put them on and hook the garters. That
was easier said than done due to the pressure of the bra. As I stood to put on
the shoes I had worn earlier, Goldie checked the cuffs on my wrists and ankles.
Satisfied, she turned to one of the cabinets and took out what appeared to be a
dogs collar and leash.
She handed me the collar and told me to put it on. I remember staring at her and
asking what she meant. In her cold sarcastic tone she said, "around your neck
asshole". After locking it in place as directed I was ordered to get on my hands
and knees. The maid then attached the leash and told me to follow. To emphasize
the command, she pulled on the leash as you would an animal. Totally humiliated
and still in considerable pain I was lead toward the waiting group. They were
all gathered in the sitting area and as I approached a loud roar of laughter
erupted. I could only imagine I was the cause. Getting closer I heard some of
the comments they were making in regard to my present situation. It only made
the deep feelings of humiliation and degradation that much more unbearable. Once
in the center of the space I was told to stay as I was and Goldie dropped the
leash and walked away.
Before my eyes was a very bizarre sight indeed. The men were seated, basically
dressed as they had been. The women however were all lounging on couches. They
were still in the underwear they had stripped down to when I was forced to
service them. The main difference being that Laura had rejoined the party and
was on her knees with her head buried between the wardresses legs. Until my
arrival that seemed to be the main attraction. I watched the wardress, her
expressions revealing a woman totally lost in ecstasy. As I looked over at Mrs.
Winston, it appeared she had recently been satisfied. She had a strange look of
contentment on her face, almost as if she were under the influence of some drug.
Suddenly I was aware of goldie coming toward me dragging a heavy wooden chair.
She placed it next to where I was, still on my hands and knees. I was then
ordered to stand behind the chair, bend over the back, and place my hands at the
edge of the seat. With practiced movements, my ankles were spread and secured to
the legs. My wrists were then fastened to the top of the front legs. This caused
me to be bent at the waist, legs straight and slightly spread. It also served to
thrust my ass up and out. The downward pull of my wrists had my head and breasts
hanging toward the floor. After remaining in this position for several minutes,
the two men approached. They immediately began fondling and probing. Along with
the examination came a dialogue of what they might do to me. It was quickly
established that since they had both fucked me in the conventional manner, they
wanted something else. As Mr. Winston began stroking the curves of my ass and
thighs, he began to tell Mr. Gund his desires. He said how for years he had
watched me strut around the office in my tight skirts and heels. He described
how his eyes would rivet on the cheeks of my ass. As his strokes became more
suggestive he told of the desire to one day have me in this position. Now that I
was at his mercy he would take the opportunity to fulfill his fantasy. Unable to
move and afraid to say a word I just listened and hoped for this night to end.
Mr. Winston then called the Dr. Within seconds she was standing with the two
men. Her presence immediately sent a wave of fear through me knowing that she
was responsible for most of my suffering so far. Without hesitating Mr. Winston
said he wanted to fuck me in the ass.
Sarcastically he added that it be ok if it hurt.
His vulgar words struck me with the impact of a whip. Although I had engaged in
this form of sex many times I now shuddered in fear. I knew that bent over the
chair as I was, and after the beating with the hose, this would not be pleasant,
at least not for me. Before I could give it any more thought the Dr. replied.
She said that was no problem, but in a devious tone suggested the need for some
special preparation.
I watched as she disappeared from my view only to return in a matter of seconds
carrying a tray. I was able to see what was on it and again began to sob. The
tray contained the same gynecological clamps she had used on me in her office.
The other instruments were unfamiliar to me, but I feared them nonetheless.
As she stepped behind me I immediately felt the clamp being forced into my
rectum. I was still stretched from my earlier battle with the dildos so it was
not terribly painful. However when she started to open the clamp it felt as if I
was being torn and my pleas grew louder. I was also concerned with what she was
going to do.
While the men watched intently she went back to the tray and put on a pair of
rubber gloves. For some reason that scared me very much and I began to cry and
beg even louder. I watched the Dr. open a container and remove something that
looked like an egg. Then she carefully grasped it with a pair of long forceps.
As I watched her step behind me again she began to speak.
She told the men that she was about to insert a ginger suppository in me. It
would be a few minutes before it took effect. She explained that these
suppositories were mainly used on show horses. When put in the horses ass it
made them hold their tails up in the air trying to ease the terrible burning.
The Dr. said she had been using them for years in a variety of ways.
The men listened as the Dr. explained some of the uses. If a girl needed a
lesson she would be tied down and have several shoved into her pussy and ass.
She would be left that way for many hours feeling as if her insides were being
burnt away. When the victim submitted or had enough the only way to stop the
burning was to wash the ginger out with very hot, soapy water. The men were told
how the Dr. amused herself by watching the unfortunate victim give herself very
painful enemas in order to stop the burning.
As I felt it pushed deeply in me the Dr. continued her dialogue. She said that
when it melted I would experience a terrible burning sensation. I would also be
forced to relax the sphincter muscle. Then with a broad smile she said the main
reason for it's use was that it would cause me to try and push it out. That
coupled with the terrible burning sensation would guarantee a very enthusiastic
performance by me.
In her clinical tone she cautioned Mr. Winston to make sure he used a condom in
order to avoid getting the ginger on himself. As she departed to join the other
women she said I would start feeling the effects any minute and again assured
him that I would be a good fuck. Again the Dr. was true to her word. I began to
feel a terrible burning sensation deep within me. I was also aware that I was
putting on quite a show by trying to free myself from the chair. As my squirming
increased, the men's comments became more vulgar. Finally I heard Mr. Winston
say that it appeared that I was ready for him.
Although I tried desperately to tighten the cheeks of my ass, the effects of the
ginger made it impossible. It was easy for the man behind me to plunge his cock
fully into me. The rapid and unwanted penetration caused me to scream out in
pain. The burning sensation was also taking hold.
Knowing that my protests would only make this sodomy more enjoyable for my
attacker and difficult for me I tried a different approach. Despite what the Dr.
had said and with tears streaming from my eyes I tried to remain as still and
quiet as possible. My reasoning was that if he thought I was not being hurt he
would stop. Again I was wrong. My act only caused the two men to become angry.
Mr.Winston began pounding into my burning asshole as Mr. Gund came around to my
head. With nowhere to turn I watched as the German sadist dropped his jeans
again revealing his massive cock. He then grabbed a fistful of my blonde hair
and jerked my head up. His look was one of pure contempt. I then felt his large
and powerful hand strike the side of my face so hard I was sure he had knocked
out several teeth. Although I came close to being knocked unconscious, I clearly
heard him say that if I did not suck him well I would be severely punished.
Trying desperately to avoid any more suffering I opened my mouth as wide as
possible.
For the next ten or fifteen minutes my body received an unmerciful pounding at
the hands of my two rapists.
Mr. Gund was so large and brutal that I was sure my jaw would be dislocated. He
also took great satisfaction in forcing his huge cock into my throat making
breathing very difficult and causing me to gag violently. At the other end Mr.
Winston was still enjoying the ass he had desired for so long. With an almost
maniacal abandon he continued fucking as I continued to beg and burn. However,
as if the rape and suppositories was not punishment enough both men were very
free with their hands. Mr. Gund used my breasts to urge me to greater depths as
my swollen pussy was used as a handle to aid in penetration. Finally the men
came in their respective holes. Mr. Gund almost choking me as he savagely
gripped my hair and warning me to swallow every drop. Mr. Winstons movements
became tense and erratic until he collapsed on my back waiting for his breathing
to return to normal.
Totally exhausted, but still thrashing wildly trying to ease the burning, I
remained fastened to the chair. Slowly I became aware that some of the women had
gathered around to witness the oral and anal rape. I remember looking at the Dr.
and begging her to stop the burning. As she unhooked my wrist and ankle cuffs
she asked me if I wanted an enema. Without even a moments thought I screamed
"yes,anything". I was helped into the water room by Goldie and only the Dr.
followed. The others had apparently lost interest. Unfortunately these two
weren't done yet. I was roughly dragged to the table were the coffee and
cigarettes were. Goldie literally dropped me onto it. I was so weak and in so
much pain that I just laid my upper body across it and stayed there. In my
position I was able to watch as they prepared the solution.
They must have used the ginger often and knew I would do anything to stop the
unbelievable burning. They were filling a large bag with very hot water, I
remember seeing the steam rise. The Dr. was also adding things from the bottles
on the shelves. Next a very thick Nozzle was attached to the hose. Then
they hung the bag above me and handed me the nozzle. Next to add to my anguish
they walked to the opposite side of the room and sat down. There I was feeling
as if there were lit matches inside me, holding the enema, looking at my
torturers. After what seemed like an eternity, the Dr. spoke. She simply told me
that if I wanted to end the burning I would have to give myself the enema. She
quickly added that if I spilled a drop on the floor it would be taken away and I
would be left with the ginger. As difficult and humiliating as it was I began to
push the nozzle into my ass. After being sodomized by Mr. Winston and still
suffering the effects of the Bees Venom, I was very sore and swollen. Finally
after a lot of pushing and squirming the nozzle was in. I knew I would also have
to inflate the balloon. That was painful. What made it worse was the fact that I
was hurting myself. I had no choice I had to stop the burning. I kept pumping
the bulb to inflate the balloon until the pain was severe. I wanted to make sure
none of the liquid escaped. Next I released the clamp starting the flow.
Instantly one burning sensation was replaced by another. It was only a matter of
seconds before I felt the terrible pain of the enema. To add to my distress was
the long tight bra I was wearing, it didn't allow my stomach to expand. I was
about to close the clamp when I heard the Dr. saying the if I stopped the flow I
would not be allowed to restart it. I was so afraid of the ginger remaining in
me that I let the bag empty. It truly felt as if I would burst. I just laid
there whimpering. The cramps were getting bad, it was hard to breath and I was
fighting the urge to vomit. Worst of all were the two women watching me suffer
and laughing. Finally The Dr. told me I could let it out as they both left the
room.
Alone I crawled to the bowl and fought to release the enema. Somehow I must have
passed out because I awoke laying on the floor near the door looking up at Mrs.
Winston. I immediately began begging her to let me go. Instead of acknowledging
me she directed her reply to Goldie. I recall her telling the maid to bring me
upstairs. I remember how I began to sob, realizing that it was over and I had
survived.
Finally for the first time in almost twelve hours I was free of any restraints.
Slowly I stood using the wall for support. In a foolish show of defiance I gazed
at the group of perverts with my head held high. I was beyond caring about my
near nakedness or the bruises that covered most of my body. As I stood there I
tried desperately to disregard the burning deep in my intestine or the pain in
my tits and pussy. It was also hard to ignore the dried cum still on my thighs
and chest.
Although almost impossible considering the circumstances I was determined to
leave with some measure of dignity. But as Goldie helped me to the door Mrs.
Winston detected my show of bravery and had to have the last word. Making
certain everyone could hear she told me to make sure I was on time for work
Monday morning. She then added that I should keep my evenings free as she had
some plans for me. When I did not answer she drove her point home by yelling,
"do you understand slave".
They had done to me again, I was beaten. As I exited the door of the dungeon I
did so with my head hung cursing them under my breath. Struggling to climb the
stairs I began to mentally curse myself. After all it was my own stupidity that
had put me in this position. Now I would be made to pay the price only I did not
fully understand how high it would be.
End of Part 2
Continued In,
A Year Of Slavery # 3-1 " Tina "
