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There are training stations for thatThat’ll require some added persuasion
Make an effort, Barb and one day you can proudly say:
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Spring Break Slaves
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
Make an effort, Barb and one day you can proudly say:
twonines
LIMERICUS
Barb is handing out demerits like sweeties at the moment, she is becoming far too dominant, a period of strict retraining to reinforce her submissive side would seem to be in order !
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Continued
As soon as Pam pushed through the swinging door, the noise grew louder; catcalls resounded that only grew in intensity as the entire coffle of naked slave girls shuffled into the space. Tara could see that approximately two dozen men were seated in folding chairs along three sides of a square. The fourth side, occupied only by him standing at a small podium, was open towards the procession of captured slave girls.
He turned, and, seeing them, turned back to his guests. “Gentlemen!” he announced loudly. The hoots and catcalls died down, in deference to their host and the business of the evening.
“May I present to you, eight lovely pieces of female flesh, gathered from the best colleges in America, an ethnic melting pot of beauties-Africa, China, Mexico, Ireland, all are represented-ready to please your every desire. For the right price, of course, all proceeds going to the Pirate Cay Foundation and its mission to help our young people and future leaders.”
Tara wondered whether this help included enslaving some of those future leaders.
By now, the slave coffle had reached the podium. He smiled at them all, then began moving them into a line beside his podium, facing the audience. “As you can see, these are fine, grade ‘A’ specimens of the human female college student between the ages of 18 and 23. Gentlemen, form an orderly line and you may inspect the merchandise more closely. Please, no pushing, everyone will get a turn, I promise.”
The men stood and with a little bit of jockeying and masculine strutting, they formed a line. Tara recognized the “Principal”, of course, but the others, many on the older side, like him, but some younger, were unfamiliar. They filed by, feeling up each of the female slaves, pinching tits and asses, poking fingers into pussies.
One older man stuck two fingers inside Tara’s cunt and felt around. “Nice and tight,” he remarked. She thought about thanking him for the complement, but thought the better of it. A younger man noticed that her ass was bruised from her paddling. “Did someone spank you, darling?” he asked.
Tara blushed. “Yes, sir,” she replied, softly.
“You must be a bad little whore,” he remarked. “If I decide to buy you, I’ll have to fix that,” he said chuckling.
Many of the men took a decided interest in Delia’s breasts. One very overweight guy took a big handful of tit flesh and kneaded it roughly between his fingers. “They real, babe?” he asked.
Delia looked for a moment like she was going to say something rude. Instead, she glanced at her feet and mumbled a meek, “Yes, sir.”
“I dunno,” the man said, “They feel fake to me.” He turned to the next man in line, who was occupied with pinching Tara’s ass, something which caused her some distress given the battering it had taken earlier. “Whaddaya think, Buddy?” he asked him.
The second man left off Tara’s ass and began feeling up Delia’s tits. “They feel real to me,” he said.
Their employer noticed the two men discussing this very important question and intervened. “I guarantee they’re real,” he said. Delia had told Tara many times how one day they started sprouting on her chest and didn’t seem to stop, so she knew that was the truth.
Finally, everyone had inspected the slave girls and formed some opinion on which ones they wanted and what price they were willing to pay. “Please, take your seats, so we can begin the auction,” he said. The guests dallied a bit longer, feeling up on or another of the girls, then took their seats.
“Robert, would you bring Gina forward, please.” Robert unlocked the chains from the front and back of her collar, re-attaching the girls behind and in front of her. Then he took Gina’s arm and brought her to stand next to the podium.
“This lovely slave, a jewel from the Southwest, is of mixed Hispanic and Native American ancestry and majoring in Biology at a very good university,” he said. “But who cares, right? Get a load of those tits!” The crowd roared with laughter. “How much am I bid?”
There was some spirited bidding. Gina ended up being bought by the obese guy who had felt up Delia and the fellow with whom he had consulted. Tara supposed that they decided they couldn’t wait for Delia to be put up for sale. That appeared true as they quickly pulled Gina over to a sofa in the corner and each took one of her breasts in their mouth.
Next, he called for Amanda. “This juicy piece of female flesh was recently whipped for failing to perform, as some of you may have noticed the very sexy markings on her back and tits. You should have seen her squirm and beg under the lash. But that should assure you all that she will be out to please, anything to avoid a repeat performance, right, bitch?”
“Yes, sir, I will do anything, but please don’t whip me again,” she pleaded, a tear rolling down one cheek. That performance seemed to appeal to the men. Two older guys, thinner, one with a full head of grey hair, one with a good mane of black-dyed hair, had to bid quite high to finally land her.
“Please bring Tara forward,” he ordered. Tara watched as Robert unhooked the chain on her collar from Delia and Stephanie, who had been in front of Amanda. She let him lead her to the podium without resistance. She was going to be sold and that was that, she knew. Better to just accept it.
“Tara is a hot little slut who lives to please,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Tara?’
She’d never thought of herself that way, but here she was standing naked before a group of men who were ogling her body, imagining what they would do with her if they won the auction. “Yes, sir,” seemed to be the answer least likely to get her into trouble.
“Show us your ass!” one man yelled. She turned around.
“Bend over and spread those cheeks!” another said. She did her best to comply.
“You ever had a big fat one up there?” another man asked.
Tara had tried anal at the insistence of one of her boyfriends back in the summer. She hadn’t liked it much and had made him stop very quickly. Still she thought it best to reply, meekly, “Yes, sir,” a reply that was met with hoots and high fives all around.
The bidding started and she was soon declared the property of two of the younger men among the guests. It wasn’t clear to Tara exactly how much they had donated to win her for the evening, but it was likely more money than she had ever seen at one time, though, admittedly, that was a very paltry sum.
Her new owners had the air of some of the more obnoxious fraternity brothers on campus, ten or fifteen years after graduation and with a few million dollars or so in their bank accounts.
Once the gavel descended the two buyers hurried onto the platform to claim their prize. The darker-haired one pulled a length of chain from his pocket. Affixed to each end of the chain were two shiny brass alligator clips. “Some slave jewelry,” he said, squeezing the ends to open the serrated jaws.
Tara stared at it in a panic. “Please, no,” she pleaded, but the lighter-haired one held her left breast steady in one hand as her other owner positioned the jaws on each side of the nipple.
“Shut up you little slut!” one of the men in the audience yelled. The dark-haired buyer released his grip on the handle causing the spring to snap the jaws shut on Tara’s nipple.
“Owww!” she yelled as the pain shot through her entire chest. She squirmed, reaching her hand up to try to release the agonizing pressure of the hard cold metal on the sensitive tissue.
“Don’t touch it if you know what’s good for you, bitch!” the lighter-haired buyer ordered. He switched his grip to her right breast and soon she was yelping as the jaws on the other end of the chain bit into the right nipple.
The dark-haired owner pulled on the chain, testing it. The jaws held; the tips of Tara’s breasts were distended. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped.
“Quite a mouth on the whore,” dark hair remarked, to a chorus of assent from the audience. Encouraged by his success so far, he took a second chain from his pocket. He clipped one end to the middle section of the chain that was stretched between Tara’s nipples.
Then he knelt, his fingers pulling her labia aside. “Care to guess where this goes?” he asked.
Tara shook her head. “Please, no, I’m begging you,” she pleaded.
“Too bad, this is how slaves are kept in line,” the other man said. His partner opened the jaws of the other clip, centered Tara’s clit between them and released.
She howled with pain, stamping her feet and twisting until the agony ebbed to a barely tolerable ache. The lighter-haired buyer gave a firm tug on the chains, which set off a new round of searing pain. “Do as you’re told and you won’t have any problems, but get out of line and you’ll suffer,” he warned.
They led her back to their seats, lowering their shorts and boxers before sitting. A gentle downward tug on the chains gave Tara the clear message that she was to kneel in front of them and service them while they watched the rest of her fellow slaves being auctioned.
She took the semi-erect cock of the dark-haired guy into her mouth, using her hand to stroke the other guy’s penis. They both hardened rapidly under her attentions. Soon, they switched places.
Meanwhile, the auction continued. Tara had a hard time following the bidding, facing away from the stage and being occupied providing oral pleasure to her new owners. It seemed to her that Delia attracted quite a lot of attention-there were many cries of “Wow! Look at those tits!”-as did the two athletes, Pam and Tania. Perhaps men in this set relished the idea of bringing a strong, proud woman under their heel.
Soon, however, all the slaves had been sold. The buzz died down as the buyers escorted their new purchases to an area of the great room where some mats, blankets and pillows had been laid down on the floor. Her lighter-haired owner gave a sharp tug upwards on Tara’s chains, sending a new wave of pain through her breasts and pussy. “On your feet, you lazy whore,” he said. She hurried to stand, desperate to relieve the distress caused by the metal clips pulling on her nipples and clit.
“Get your ass over there and let’s join the party,” he ordered. Tara could see that a full-blown orgy was in progress. The guests, in pairs because of the unfavorable ratio of males to females, were enjoying the services of the slaves they had spent their hard-earned money on-good cause or not.
“You said you’ve done anal, right?” the dark-haired owner asked her.
“Only once, sir,” Tara replied.
“Well, then you should have no problem doing it again, right?” the lighter-haired one asked.
What could Tara say? Her wishes and desires didn’t matter at this point. She was a slave and her body belonged to these men to use as they wished for their pleasure. They didn’t even have to make the pretense of caring about her that a college hook-up would have felt obligated to fake.
They were powerful men, with plenty of money and they had paid for her, so they would get what they wanted as such men always did and young women like her were powerless to do much about it. “No sir, if that’s what you wish, sir,” she replied.
“Good, then get on all fours,” the dark-haired man ordered. She obeyed quickly, even though her ass was still sore from her paddling. She doubted the two guys who had bought her would take any extra care because of that.
There was a bottle of lube lying nearby on the mat, already used by two men who were having their way with May. The lighter-haired man picked it up and squeezed a large dollop into the crack in Tara’s ass, letting it run down to coat her anus.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” the dark-haired guy said. He put out paper and his pal put out rock. If Tara remembered the game from her childhood correctly, that meant dark hair would have her first, not that it mattered, since she was fairly certain they’d switch off.
“Get me hard, slut,” he ordered. She took him in her mouth and, in a matter of seconds, he was at full staff. She supposed that the doctor’s pills might have helped. He moved around behind her and slid his cock up and down her well-lubed ass crack before positioning the head of his penis at her hole.
Tara felt the pressure mounting as he pushed forward. Her sphincter resisted for a moment, then gave way and she felt him slide inside. There was a sharp pain as he entered, which caused her to wince and groan, then she just felt full through her abdomen, like after Thanksgiving, as he fed the swollen flesh into her bowels.
He rested for a moment, relishing the sensation, before pushing in further until his crotch was resting against the still inflamed skin of her ass. “Jesus, she’s tight,” he told his friend. “Feels great, bro,” he added as he began thrusting in and out.
After watching his “bro” enjoying himself for a while, light hair wanted some action himself. “Get me ready, slut.” She took him in her mouth and worked her tongue over his shaft. His cock quickly stiffened under her stimulation. “My turn now, bro,” he said to his friend.
Tara felt dark hair slowly pull out and a moment later, she felt light hair push his way in. It hurt much less now that the muscle had been prepared. As light hair was rutting away, dark hair got the brilliant idea to yank on the chain attached to her clit. “Owwww!” Tara screamed as she writhed in pain.
“Damn that felt good!” light hair said. “I could feel her muscles squeezing me. Do it again!”
“No, please, don’t, it hurt,” Tara begged.
Dark hair ignored her and yanked on her clit chain again, even harder this time. “Fuck!” Tara yelled in pain.
“Fuck!” light hair yelled in pleasure as Tara’s muscles clamped down hard on his dick. “I’m going to shoot a big load up your ass and you’re going to take it, you filthy whore!” he cried. Tara felt him push in as far as he could and she was fairly sure she could feel his hot cum squirting inside her.
Dark hair reached over and high fived his “bro”, before light hair withdrew so that dark hair could have his turn. Soon he was pounding away inside Tara’s bowels telling her what a worthless slut she was. Tara couldn’t really argue that point, though she felt more like one of those blow-up dolls than an actual slut, a repository for their cum towards which they had no feelings whatsoever.
“Goddamn, I’m cumming,” dark hair yelled. Finally, he pulled out of Tara. She could feel the liquid dripping out of her ass, the mix of secretions trickling down her thighs.
The two men sat back on some pillows, spent for the moment, though Tara saw them each swallow a pill, so she assumed they would be back in action all too soon. “You wanna try out another of these ho’s bro?” dark hair asked. “Just to compare?”
“Sure,” light hair responded, glancing over a short distance away, where Amanda was riding one older man, while sucking off another. “Let’s see if they want to switch.”
Tara looked at the two older guys that Amanda was servicing. They weren’t terribly attractive, but what difference did that make? Her role was to please.
As soon as Pam pushed through the swinging door, the noise grew louder; catcalls resounded that only grew in intensity as the entire coffle of naked slave girls shuffled into the space. Tara could see that approximately two dozen men were seated in folding chairs along three sides of a square. The fourth side, occupied only by him standing at a small podium, was open towards the procession of captured slave girls.
He turned, and, seeing them, turned back to his guests. “Gentlemen!” he announced loudly. The hoots and catcalls died down, in deference to their host and the business of the evening.
“May I present to you, eight lovely pieces of female flesh, gathered from the best colleges in America, an ethnic melting pot of beauties-Africa, China, Mexico, Ireland, all are represented-ready to please your every desire. For the right price, of course, all proceeds going to the Pirate Cay Foundation and its mission to help our young people and future leaders.”
Tara wondered whether this help included enslaving some of those future leaders.
By now, the slave coffle had reached the podium. He smiled at them all, then began moving them into a line beside his podium, facing the audience. “As you can see, these are fine, grade ‘A’ specimens of the human female college student between the ages of 18 and 23. Gentlemen, form an orderly line and you may inspect the merchandise more closely. Please, no pushing, everyone will get a turn, I promise.”
The men stood and with a little bit of jockeying and masculine strutting, they formed a line. Tara recognized the “Principal”, of course, but the others, many on the older side, like him, but some younger, were unfamiliar. They filed by, feeling up each of the female slaves, pinching tits and asses, poking fingers into pussies.
One older man stuck two fingers inside Tara’s cunt and felt around. “Nice and tight,” he remarked. She thought about thanking him for the complement, but thought the better of it. A younger man noticed that her ass was bruised from her paddling. “Did someone spank you, darling?” he asked.
Tara blushed. “Yes, sir,” she replied, softly.
“You must be a bad little whore,” he remarked. “If I decide to buy you, I’ll have to fix that,” he said chuckling.
Many of the men took a decided interest in Delia’s breasts. One very overweight guy took a big handful of tit flesh and kneaded it roughly between his fingers. “They real, babe?” he asked.
Delia looked for a moment like she was going to say something rude. Instead, she glanced at her feet and mumbled a meek, “Yes, sir.”
“I dunno,” the man said, “They feel fake to me.” He turned to the next man in line, who was occupied with pinching Tara’s ass, something which caused her some distress given the battering it had taken earlier. “Whaddaya think, Buddy?” he asked him.
The second man left off Tara’s ass and began feeling up Delia’s tits. “They feel real to me,” he said.
Their employer noticed the two men discussing this very important question and intervened. “I guarantee they’re real,” he said. Delia had told Tara many times how one day they started sprouting on her chest and didn’t seem to stop, so she knew that was the truth.
Finally, everyone had inspected the slave girls and formed some opinion on which ones they wanted and what price they were willing to pay. “Please, take your seats, so we can begin the auction,” he said. The guests dallied a bit longer, feeling up on or another of the girls, then took their seats.
“Robert, would you bring Gina forward, please.” Robert unlocked the chains from the front and back of her collar, re-attaching the girls behind and in front of her. Then he took Gina’s arm and brought her to stand next to the podium.
“This lovely slave, a jewel from the Southwest, is of mixed Hispanic and Native American ancestry and majoring in Biology at a very good university,” he said. “But who cares, right? Get a load of those tits!” The crowd roared with laughter. “How much am I bid?”
There was some spirited bidding. Gina ended up being bought by the obese guy who had felt up Delia and the fellow with whom he had consulted. Tara supposed that they decided they couldn’t wait for Delia to be put up for sale. That appeared true as they quickly pulled Gina over to a sofa in the corner and each took one of her breasts in their mouth.
Next, he called for Amanda. “This juicy piece of female flesh was recently whipped for failing to perform, as some of you may have noticed the very sexy markings on her back and tits. You should have seen her squirm and beg under the lash. But that should assure you all that she will be out to please, anything to avoid a repeat performance, right, bitch?”
“Yes, sir, I will do anything, but please don’t whip me again,” she pleaded, a tear rolling down one cheek. That performance seemed to appeal to the men. Two older guys, thinner, one with a full head of grey hair, one with a good mane of black-dyed hair, had to bid quite high to finally land her.
“Please bring Tara forward,” he ordered. Tara watched as Robert unhooked the chain on her collar from Delia and Stephanie, who had been in front of Amanda. She let him lead her to the podium without resistance. She was going to be sold and that was that, she knew. Better to just accept it.
“Tara is a hot little slut who lives to please,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Tara?’
She’d never thought of herself that way, but here she was standing naked before a group of men who were ogling her body, imagining what they would do with her if they won the auction. “Yes, sir,” seemed to be the answer least likely to get her into trouble.
“Show us your ass!” one man yelled. She turned around.
“Bend over and spread those cheeks!” another said. She did her best to comply.
“You ever had a big fat one up there?” another man asked.
Tara had tried anal at the insistence of one of her boyfriends back in the summer. She hadn’t liked it much and had made him stop very quickly. Still she thought it best to reply, meekly, “Yes, sir,” a reply that was met with hoots and high fives all around.
The bidding started and she was soon declared the property of two of the younger men among the guests. It wasn’t clear to Tara exactly how much they had donated to win her for the evening, but it was likely more money than she had ever seen at one time, though, admittedly, that was a very paltry sum.
Her new owners had the air of some of the more obnoxious fraternity brothers on campus, ten or fifteen years after graduation and with a few million dollars or so in their bank accounts.
Once the gavel descended the two buyers hurried onto the platform to claim their prize. The darker-haired one pulled a length of chain from his pocket. Affixed to each end of the chain were two shiny brass alligator clips. “Some slave jewelry,” he said, squeezing the ends to open the serrated jaws.
Tara stared at it in a panic. “Please, no,” she pleaded, but the lighter-haired one held her left breast steady in one hand as her other owner positioned the jaws on each side of the nipple.
“Shut up you little slut!” one of the men in the audience yelled. The dark-haired buyer released his grip on the handle causing the spring to snap the jaws shut on Tara’s nipple.
“Owww!” she yelled as the pain shot through her entire chest. She squirmed, reaching her hand up to try to release the agonizing pressure of the hard cold metal on the sensitive tissue.
“Don’t touch it if you know what’s good for you, bitch!” the lighter-haired buyer ordered. He switched his grip to her right breast and soon she was yelping as the jaws on the other end of the chain bit into the right nipple.
The dark-haired owner pulled on the chain, testing it. The jaws held; the tips of Tara’s breasts were distended. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped.
“Quite a mouth on the whore,” dark hair remarked, to a chorus of assent from the audience. Encouraged by his success so far, he took a second chain from his pocket. He clipped one end to the middle section of the chain that was stretched between Tara’s nipples.
Then he knelt, his fingers pulling her labia aside. “Care to guess where this goes?” he asked.
Tara shook her head. “Please, no, I’m begging you,” she pleaded.
“Too bad, this is how slaves are kept in line,” the other man said. His partner opened the jaws of the other clip, centered Tara’s clit between them and released.
She howled with pain, stamping her feet and twisting until the agony ebbed to a barely tolerable ache. The lighter-haired buyer gave a firm tug on the chains, which set off a new round of searing pain. “Do as you’re told and you won’t have any problems, but get out of line and you’ll suffer,” he warned.
They led her back to their seats, lowering their shorts and boxers before sitting. A gentle downward tug on the chains gave Tara the clear message that she was to kneel in front of them and service them while they watched the rest of her fellow slaves being auctioned.
She took the semi-erect cock of the dark-haired guy into her mouth, using her hand to stroke the other guy’s penis. They both hardened rapidly under her attentions. Soon, they switched places.
Meanwhile, the auction continued. Tara had a hard time following the bidding, facing away from the stage and being occupied providing oral pleasure to her new owners. It seemed to her that Delia attracted quite a lot of attention-there were many cries of “Wow! Look at those tits!”-as did the two athletes, Pam and Tania. Perhaps men in this set relished the idea of bringing a strong, proud woman under their heel.
Soon, however, all the slaves had been sold. The buzz died down as the buyers escorted their new purchases to an area of the great room where some mats, blankets and pillows had been laid down on the floor. Her lighter-haired owner gave a sharp tug upwards on Tara’s chains, sending a new wave of pain through her breasts and pussy. “On your feet, you lazy whore,” he said. She hurried to stand, desperate to relieve the distress caused by the metal clips pulling on her nipples and clit.
“Get your ass over there and let’s join the party,” he ordered. Tara could see that a full-blown orgy was in progress. The guests, in pairs because of the unfavorable ratio of males to females, were enjoying the services of the slaves they had spent their hard-earned money on-good cause or not.
“You said you’ve done anal, right?” the dark-haired owner asked her.
“Only once, sir,” Tara replied.
“Well, then you should have no problem doing it again, right?” the lighter-haired one asked.
What could Tara say? Her wishes and desires didn’t matter at this point. She was a slave and her body belonged to these men to use as they wished for their pleasure. They didn’t even have to make the pretense of caring about her that a college hook-up would have felt obligated to fake.
They were powerful men, with plenty of money and they had paid for her, so they would get what they wanted as such men always did and young women like her were powerless to do much about it. “No sir, if that’s what you wish, sir,” she replied.
“Good, then get on all fours,” the dark-haired man ordered. She obeyed quickly, even though her ass was still sore from her paddling. She doubted the two guys who had bought her would take any extra care because of that.
There was a bottle of lube lying nearby on the mat, already used by two men who were having their way with May. The lighter-haired man picked it up and squeezed a large dollop into the crack in Tara’s ass, letting it run down to coat her anus.
“Rock, paper, scissors,” the dark-haired guy said. He put out paper and his pal put out rock. If Tara remembered the game from her childhood correctly, that meant dark hair would have her first, not that it mattered, since she was fairly certain they’d switch off.
“Get me hard, slut,” he ordered. She took him in her mouth and, in a matter of seconds, he was at full staff. She supposed that the doctor’s pills might have helped. He moved around behind her and slid his cock up and down her well-lubed ass crack before positioning the head of his penis at her hole.
Tara felt the pressure mounting as he pushed forward. Her sphincter resisted for a moment, then gave way and she felt him slide inside. There was a sharp pain as he entered, which caused her to wince and groan, then she just felt full through her abdomen, like after Thanksgiving, as he fed the swollen flesh into her bowels.
He rested for a moment, relishing the sensation, before pushing in further until his crotch was resting against the still inflamed skin of her ass. “Jesus, she’s tight,” he told his friend. “Feels great, bro,” he added as he began thrusting in and out.
After watching his “bro” enjoying himself for a while, light hair wanted some action himself. “Get me ready, slut.” She took him in her mouth and worked her tongue over his shaft. His cock quickly stiffened under her stimulation. “My turn now, bro,” he said to his friend.
Tara felt dark hair slowly pull out and a moment later, she felt light hair push his way in. It hurt much less now that the muscle had been prepared. As light hair was rutting away, dark hair got the brilliant idea to yank on the chain attached to her clit. “Owwww!” Tara screamed as she writhed in pain.
“Damn that felt good!” light hair said. “I could feel her muscles squeezing me. Do it again!”
“No, please, don’t, it hurt,” Tara begged.
Dark hair ignored her and yanked on her clit chain again, even harder this time. “Fuck!” Tara yelled in pain.
“Fuck!” light hair yelled in pleasure as Tara’s muscles clamped down hard on his dick. “I’m going to shoot a big load up your ass and you’re going to take it, you filthy whore!” he cried. Tara felt him push in as far as he could and she was fairly sure she could feel his hot cum squirting inside her.
Dark hair reached over and high fived his “bro”, before light hair withdrew so that dark hair could have his turn. Soon he was pounding away inside Tara’s bowels telling her what a worthless slut she was. Tara couldn’t really argue that point, though she felt more like one of those blow-up dolls than an actual slut, a repository for their cum towards which they had no feelings whatsoever.
“Goddamn, I’m cumming,” dark hair yelled. Finally, he pulled out of Tara. She could feel the liquid dripping out of her ass, the mix of secretions trickling down her thighs.
The two men sat back on some pillows, spent for the moment, though Tara saw them each swallow a pill, so she assumed they would be back in action all too soon. “You wanna try out another of these ho’s bro?” dark hair asked. “Just to compare?”
“Sure,” light hair responded, glancing over a short distance away, where Amanda was riding one older man, while sucking off another. “Let’s see if they want to switch.”
Tara looked at the two older guys that Amanda was servicing. They weren’t terribly attractive, but what difference did that make? Her role was to please.
I highly doubt any of these idiots are “A” students. If they had any brains they wouldn’t have gotten themselves into this jam in the first place. As I said before, this story offers convincing evidence of just how low college admission standards have plummeted in recent years. It’s a national disgrace.
windar
Teller of Tales
Coming from someone who never, ever, not even once gets herself into jams....
M
montycrusto
Guest
twonines
LIMERICUS
Who said Americans don`t do irony!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Well 13 isn`t always unlucky, but in this instance I wouldn`t bank on it.#13 .... that’s my number
twonines
LIMERICUS
You are obviously multi talented, but there are certain members who appear determined that you should be made to swallow more than your pride!!!!I can do many things well, so long as they don’t involve swallowing
windar
Teller of Tales
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
‘Who the fuck was that banging at the door?’ Tara thought. ‘And what the fuck is this collar around my neck and the shackles around my ankles?’
Then she remembered last night-the slave auction at which she’d been sold like a piece of meat or a prize race horse. And she remembered the men. How many had fucked her in one hole or another? She shook her head, not wanting to total them up.
But she was sore, very sore, down below and in her breasts. She remembered the alligator clamps on her nipples and clit and the chains connecting them that allowed her buyers to make her howl in pain if she failed to do what they wanted, or even just to amuse themselves. The clips and chains were gone now-someone had removed them at some point.
But the banging at the door wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was getting louder. She could see that Delia was stirring now. She also had a collar and shackles and was naked, just like Tara was. They all had been that way for the auction, she remembered.
“Who’s there?” she yelled.
“It’s me, Kelly,” the voice called. “Open up!”
“Goddamn lying bitch,” Tara muttered to herself, as she got up to open the door, almost tripping over her own feet, having forgotten the shackles which were still attached around her ankles. She didn’t bother to put a robe on-there was no point, everyone on this fucking island had seen her naked. Hobbling from the shackles and the soreness, she reached the door and opened it a crack. “What is it, Kelly? Delia and I were sound asleep.”
“Well, you better get your little butts up and down to breakfast, pronto. We’re having a meeting to discuss today’s activities.”
That sounded like trouble to Tara. “What activities?” she asked.
“You’ll find out. Fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”
Tara shut the door. She looked at Delia who was sitting up in bed now, stretching. “Did you hear what Queen Bitch said?”
“Yeah,” Delia replied.
“I guess we better get going, then.”
“Sure, we wouldn’t want to be late for the day’s fun activities.” Delia rolled her eyes.
Tara was looking through her clothes on the dresser. She selected a pair of underpants and a pair of shorts that would barely cover her ass. She bent to put them on, then straightened up, confused. “How the fuck am I supposed to get these over these shackles?”
“You can’t,” Delia replied.
“So what am I supposed to wear?”
“The bathing suit bottoms should work; just put the cloth between your legs and tie the strings.”
Tara nodded and arranged the cloth around her waist, then put on the top and threw a T shirt that barely reached below her breasts over it. She slid her feet into flip flops. “Come on, girl, let’s get a move on.”
Delia yawned and stretched some more, then threw on the same basic outfit as Tara. They headed down the hall for breakfast. “It’s fucking impossible to walk with these things on,” Delia said, shuffling her feet as much as the chain between the shackles allowed.
“Tell me about it,” Tara replied. “This whole thing is sick.”
Finally they reached the kitchen. Pam and Tania were there, along with May and Gina, all looking as worn out and sore as Tara and Delia. Soon, Amanda and Stephanie arrived, followed a few minutes later, by Kelly.
“Well, I hope everyone had fun last night,” Kelly chirped.
“Unfuckingbelieveable,” Delia whispered to Tara.
“Did you want to say something, Delia?” Kelly asked, glaring at her.
“I think the guests did and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” Delia said.
‘Nice save, Dee,’ Tara thought. ‘Way to think on your feet!’
“Well, as a matter of fact, word is that the guests were quite satisfied with their purchases,” Kelly replied. “He’s pleased.”
The Personal Companions all looked relieved, though still wary about the plans for today.
“Now, for today’s activities,” Kelly went on smiling a big toothy grin. “We’re going to have a cart race.”
“What’s that?” Pam asked.
“It’s a race where you guys will pull carts, each of which will carry one of the guests.”
“Like a horse race?” Gina asked.
“Yes, with you guys as horses, or, should I say, ponies. There’s an old path through the center of the island. The island is pretty flat, but there’s a small hill, maybe fifty feet or so above sea level. First one to the top wins. It’s half a mile or so, piece of cake,” Kelly said. It didn’t sound like a piece of any cake she’d want for her birthday to Tara.
“And not to worry, you won’t have to pull the cart alone, you’ll work in teams, four of them-Tania and Pam will be one, Stephanie and Amanda, Tara and Delia and May and Gina.”
“Now, to motivate you, he and the guests have generously made a pot of $ 10,000 to the winning team.” Pam and Tania were smiling. They had every reason to think their athletic prowess would assure them of the prize.
“And to further motivate you, there will be a penalty for the last place team,” Kelly added.
“A penalty?” Amanda asked.
“Yes,” Kelly replied. “The losing team will be flogged this evening to entertain the guests, two dozen lashes with the cat for each of them.”
There were cries of protest from everyone except Tania and Pam. “Flogged, no, you can’t!”
“It’s not negotiable,” Kelly said. “And if any of you were thinking of not showing up, that will be considered disqualification and will get three dozen lashes. Got it?”
Everyone just looked down at their feet. There wasn’t much to say in the circumstances.
“When are they going to take these shackles off?” Tara asked. “They’re really hard to walk in, never mind run a race.”
“Oh, those stay on,” Kelly said. “We want to make this a bit of a challenge. Now I suggest you guys rest up, the race starts at two PM.” That was the hottest time of the day, especially inland away from the sea breezes.
The room was silent until Kelly was gone, then a chorus of protests burst out. “This is bullshit!” Delia said.
“More like horse shit,” May interjected. Everyone laughed.
“They’re going to whip the losers,” Stephanie protested. She was slight and didn’t look like she had the muscles to pull a cart, so there was good reason to fear that she and Amanda might finish at the rear.
“We should all go on strike and refuse to participate,” Amanda suggested.
“They’d just flog all of us then. Bet on it,” May said.
“Count me and Pam out of that,” Tania said. “We’re gonna win without even working up a sweat and be enjoying that money. You bitches don’t stand a chance against us.” She made a muscle with her arm. Pam did the same, the two of them strutting their stuff for the others.
“Well, we’ll see, Tania,” Tara said. “Don’t count Delia and me out.”
Pam snickered. “You guys are so screwed. Tania and I will be counting our money and enjoying watching a couple of you getting whipped. Now let’s go rest up, Tania.” She took a couple of mangoes from the bowl on the table and headed for the door.
On the way back to the room, Tara turned to Delia. “So what do we do?”
“What do you mean, what do we do? We don’t have to beat Tania and Pam. I mean, sure, an extra five large each would be great, but they’re both strong as shit. No, all we have to do is beat the others. In fact, we only have to beat one pair of them. Stephanie is scrawny and May is a tiny little Chinese girl. You don’t think we can beat them?”
“You’re damn right we can beat them, Dee. You know why? Cause we’re the Two Musketeers!”
“Yes we are, girlfriend! They can’t touch us as long as we work as a team.”
‘Who the fuck was that banging at the door?’ Tara thought. ‘And what the fuck is this collar around my neck and the shackles around my ankles?’
Then she remembered last night-the slave auction at which she’d been sold like a piece of meat or a prize race horse. And she remembered the men. How many had fucked her in one hole or another? She shook her head, not wanting to total them up.
But she was sore, very sore, down below and in her breasts. She remembered the alligator clamps on her nipples and clit and the chains connecting them that allowed her buyers to make her howl in pain if she failed to do what they wanted, or even just to amuse themselves. The clips and chains were gone now-someone had removed them at some point.
But the banging at the door wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was getting louder. She could see that Delia was stirring now. She also had a collar and shackles and was naked, just like Tara was. They all had been that way for the auction, she remembered.
“Who’s there?” she yelled.
“It’s me, Kelly,” the voice called. “Open up!”
“Goddamn lying bitch,” Tara muttered to herself, as she got up to open the door, almost tripping over her own feet, having forgotten the shackles which were still attached around her ankles. She didn’t bother to put a robe on-there was no point, everyone on this fucking island had seen her naked. Hobbling from the shackles and the soreness, she reached the door and opened it a crack. “What is it, Kelly? Delia and I were sound asleep.”
“Well, you better get your little butts up and down to breakfast, pronto. We’re having a meeting to discuss today’s activities.”
That sounded like trouble to Tara. “What activities?” she asked.
“You’ll find out. Fifteen minutes. Don’t be late.”
Tara shut the door. She looked at Delia who was sitting up in bed now, stretching. “Did you hear what Queen Bitch said?”
“Yeah,” Delia replied.
“I guess we better get going, then.”
“Sure, we wouldn’t want to be late for the day’s fun activities.” Delia rolled her eyes.
Tara was looking through her clothes on the dresser. She selected a pair of underpants and a pair of shorts that would barely cover her ass. She bent to put them on, then straightened up, confused. “How the fuck am I supposed to get these over these shackles?”
“You can’t,” Delia replied.
“So what am I supposed to wear?”
“The bathing suit bottoms should work; just put the cloth between your legs and tie the strings.”
Tara nodded and arranged the cloth around her waist, then put on the top and threw a T shirt that barely reached below her breasts over it. She slid her feet into flip flops. “Come on, girl, let’s get a move on.”
Delia yawned and stretched some more, then threw on the same basic outfit as Tara. They headed down the hall for breakfast. “It’s fucking impossible to walk with these things on,” Delia said, shuffling her feet as much as the chain between the shackles allowed.
“Tell me about it,” Tara replied. “This whole thing is sick.”
Finally they reached the kitchen. Pam and Tania were there, along with May and Gina, all looking as worn out and sore as Tara and Delia. Soon, Amanda and Stephanie arrived, followed a few minutes later, by Kelly.
“Well, I hope everyone had fun last night,” Kelly chirped.
“Unfuckingbelieveable,” Delia whispered to Tara.
“Did you want to say something, Delia?” Kelly asked, glaring at her.
“I think the guests did and that’s what matters, isn’t it?” Delia said.
‘Nice save, Dee,’ Tara thought. ‘Way to think on your feet!’
“Well, as a matter of fact, word is that the guests were quite satisfied with their purchases,” Kelly replied. “He’s pleased.”
The Personal Companions all looked relieved, though still wary about the plans for today.
“Now, for today’s activities,” Kelly went on smiling a big toothy grin. “We’re going to have a cart race.”
“What’s that?” Pam asked.
“It’s a race where you guys will pull carts, each of which will carry one of the guests.”
“Like a horse race?” Gina asked.
“Yes, with you guys as horses, or, should I say, ponies. There’s an old path through the center of the island. The island is pretty flat, but there’s a small hill, maybe fifty feet or so above sea level. First one to the top wins. It’s half a mile or so, piece of cake,” Kelly said. It didn’t sound like a piece of any cake she’d want for her birthday to Tara.
“And not to worry, you won’t have to pull the cart alone, you’ll work in teams, four of them-Tania and Pam will be one, Stephanie and Amanda, Tara and Delia and May and Gina.”
“Now, to motivate you, he and the guests have generously made a pot of $ 10,000 to the winning team.” Pam and Tania were smiling. They had every reason to think their athletic prowess would assure them of the prize.
“And to further motivate you, there will be a penalty for the last place team,” Kelly added.
“A penalty?” Amanda asked.
“Yes,” Kelly replied. “The losing team will be flogged this evening to entertain the guests, two dozen lashes with the cat for each of them.”
There were cries of protest from everyone except Tania and Pam. “Flogged, no, you can’t!”
“It’s not negotiable,” Kelly said. “And if any of you were thinking of not showing up, that will be considered disqualification and will get three dozen lashes. Got it?”
Everyone just looked down at their feet. There wasn’t much to say in the circumstances.
“When are they going to take these shackles off?” Tara asked. “They’re really hard to walk in, never mind run a race.”
“Oh, those stay on,” Kelly said. “We want to make this a bit of a challenge. Now I suggest you guys rest up, the race starts at two PM.” That was the hottest time of the day, especially inland away from the sea breezes.
The room was silent until Kelly was gone, then a chorus of protests burst out. “This is bullshit!” Delia said.
“More like horse shit,” May interjected. Everyone laughed.
“They’re going to whip the losers,” Stephanie protested. She was slight and didn’t look like she had the muscles to pull a cart, so there was good reason to fear that she and Amanda might finish at the rear.
“We should all go on strike and refuse to participate,” Amanda suggested.
“They’d just flog all of us then. Bet on it,” May said.
“Count me and Pam out of that,” Tania said. “We’re gonna win without even working up a sweat and be enjoying that money. You bitches don’t stand a chance against us.” She made a muscle with her arm. Pam did the same, the two of them strutting their stuff for the others.
“Well, we’ll see, Tania,” Tara said. “Don’t count Delia and me out.”
Pam snickered. “You guys are so screwed. Tania and I will be counting our money and enjoying watching a couple of you getting whipped. Now let’s go rest up, Tania.” She took a couple of mangoes from the bowl on the table and headed for the door.
On the way back to the room, Tara turned to Delia. “So what do we do?”
“What do you mean, what do we do? We don’t have to beat Tania and Pam. I mean, sure, an extra five large each would be great, but they’re both strong as shit. No, all we have to do is beat the others. In fact, we only have to beat one pair of them. Stephanie is scrawny and May is a tiny little Chinese girl. You don’t think we can beat them?”
“You’re damn right we can beat them, Dee. You know why? Cause we’re the Two Musketeers!”
“Yes we are, girlfriend! They can’t touch us as long as we work as a team.”
M
montycrusto
Guest
Yeah but watch out for those teeth
Wind And Rain
Returning to a familiar theme ... those Romans again! But with a little twist .... WIND AND RAIN 1. Driving rain pelts against my face as helpful hands ease me down from a sitting position onto the cold hard wood. A gust of wind drives a sheet of freezing rain over my naked body as my left...
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M
montycrusto
Guest
windar
Teller of Tales
Glad you're enjoying it. Would you care to place a small wager on our heroines?
M
montycrusto
Guest
Don’t want to “read ahead”.. but I’m kind of hoping Tara and Delia will somehow come last...
windar
Teller of Tales
Well, somebody has to...Don’t want to “read ahead”.. but I’m kind of hoping Tara and Delia will somehow come last...
Just wondering, in your case, would that be motivation to win or motivation to lose?Well, there are motivations and there are MOTIVATIONS.
YIKES