The Bridge Club

8.

“Ladies! Your attention please!”

Emily, as Mistress of ceremonies had risen. Immediately conversation in the room died away and was replaced by an almost tangible air of anticipation.

“Once again we come to our favorite part of the evening. The dealing of the cards….after all this is a card club.”

A titter of general amusement rippled through her audience. At a gesture from Emily the slave V began working her way around the tables offering a deck of cards. As each lady drew her card she held it up displaying a single letter.

Across the room were gathered the slaves with attached leads in their mouths. As each saw her letter raised, she detached herself from the group, lowered herself to all fours, and crawled to kneel at that lady's feet. In this position her lead was offered to the lady who would be her sole Mistress for the remainder of the night.

When all the cards had been drawn only one lady was left with no girl attending her. An obese, middle aged woman, far plainer than the Armani she was wearing, was holding the letter J aloft and smiling hugely.

“Well, it looks as though Mistress Mildred has drawn the honor of breaking in our novice. You may take the throne, Mildred. Will the rest of you ladies please take your places for the initiation.”

All of this had been plainly audible to J in her black isolation. In spite of all the mental preparation she had strived to pull around herself every nerve grew taut at the realization that her time was at hand.

J heard a scraping of chairs and a shuffle of momentary movement and then her darkness was joined by a creeping stillness that raised gooseflesh on her crouched, sweating body and sent a shiver through her.

“It's just a game.” She began to whisper repeatedly. “All a game. Just a game.”

This mantra was swept from her head as the cage's drape was yanked away, leaving her exposed and cringing. Instantly her ears were filled with a cacophony of catcalls and whistles. The sudden flood of light had blinded her but through slitted eyes she saw before her a long, red carpet runner. Lined up on either side of this were the ladies of the bridge club. Their leering faces had a nightmare quality. Painted lips and wild eyes jeered and sneered at her. Their taunts battered her like heavy hail.

“Whore!”

“Slut!”

“Cunt!”

“Start the bitch! START HER!”

The door to the cage was swung open and J stared down through the gauntlet of screaming, crop waving women. It was no game before her. It was a scene straight from hell.

At the end of the long red path ahead of her waited a lone woman in a gilt chair so large that it dwarfed her. A swarthy, double chinned woman whose chubby legs were so short that they dangled above the floor. Ludicrously, she realized that this must be the Mistress Mildred that had drawn her card.

The absurd vision gave J a flash of courage. ‘Fuck them.' Her mind said, ‘They may be rich and powerful but they are also small and ugly. That is why they need me.' Almost arrogantly she emerged from the cage and began crawling.

Emily stood aside from the excitement, quietly relishing her success. Seeing the once proud young woman emerge from her cage was definitely doing it for her. Judith Jackson, class of 2001, summa cum laude… crawling along now with ‘I AM THE SLAVE WHORE J' scrawled across her ass in red lipstick.

Emily drank in the irony of the scene as she did with every new arrival. If only all of these snotty bitches she called her friends knew of her own background, she thought with secret amusement. J's first cry of distress refocused her attention and she began savoring the pain and humiliation of her latest victim anew.

J had briefly thought she might travel the length of the carpet in some manner of perverted but defiant dignity. The notion vanished almost instantly. The tip of a crop made square contact with the base of the plug in her ass and tore a howl of animal agony from her. Reflexively she curled into a fetal ball with her hands twitching here and there in a vain attempt to ward off the rain of blows. If she covered her rear, her breasts were belabored. When she hugged her chest her thighs were punished. Her cries and pleas for mercy were met with scorn.

“Don't you dare keep Mistress Mildred waiting, you spineless slut!”

J heard this through the riotous welter of insults and curses and realized that she must crawl on. The women above her were in a frenzy of lust and the blows would not stop until she presented herself to the short, fat bitch in the gold chair.

She struggled up and forced her hands and knees forward. Her eyes locked on the close set ones of the distant woman awaiting her. The double chin and stubby legs that had only moments before struck her as ridiculous now appeared as the very embodiment of salvation.

Cunning upward slashes burned her pussy and stung her swaying nipples and it felt as though the plug in her ass was being driven into her bowels. All that allowed her to continue was the fact each slap of a crop distracted from the pain of the previous one. The pain moved and she moved with it … foot by torturous foot…until, an eternity later, her nose touched the frame of the gilt chair and the blows ceased.

With a single sob of relief her head drooped and hung low. Dripping snot and drool, she sucked desperately for air. Her sides heaved and her welted flanks were slick with sweat and smeared lipstick.

Mildred Hunsacker, with her bird's eye view of J's ordeal down the gauntlet, had felt no pity. She had seen the girl's eyes lock on to her own when she had finally managed to pull herself up. She had watched the spirit fade from those eyes with each successive jolt of pain and had enjoyed every moment of it.

Mildred had long ago decided that she was unlucky. When the bastard she had married used to insist that she accompany him to Vegas…back when she'd still had her figure, she thought bitterly…On those trips she had never cashed a single chip. Turning over her card earlier to find the letter J had thrilled her. Mildred had never had one of the brand new ones to play with and as she looked down at the beaten body before her she could feel her plump, bald cunt begin to flow.

She leaned forward and taking a handful of damp hair, jerked J's head back. The girl's eyes were glazed. Mildred slapped the slack cheek sharply until she saw them focus and then released her hank of hair.

“You seem to have dropped your lead, bitch. Get hold of it and offer it to me properly.”

As comprehension made its way through the pain daze, J clawed the lead from between her breasts and held it out only to have it slapped from her hand.

“Bitches offer with their mouths.”

Bending hurriedly, J clumsily retrieved the lead with her teeth and presented it again. It was taken from her mouth and she felt her head being petted. A good bitch's reward, she thought dully. The shame she felt was overwhelmed by her relief at having pleased this woman. The woman who, by the luck of a draw, had it in her power make her immediate life bearable. She tried desperately to fill her eyes with gratitude.

Mildred grasped the hem of her skirt and bouncing with a hitching motion, rucked it up over her ample hips. She then took hold of J's ears with her small, pudgy hands.

“Hang out your tongue, bitch.” Mildred ordered sweetly.

J stared at the bald and obviously wet gash that now gaped before her. Even had the gorgeous Emily ordered it she would have been repulsed…but this wrinkled, sloppy thing was… The extraneous thought that all pussies were not created equal careened through her head. Then she felt her ears twisted sharply. She screwed her eyes shut and quickly stuck out her tongue.

“Open those fucking eyes and look at me, bitch.”

J opened her eyes and fixed them on the face above her and felt her head being pulled forward. Then her nose filled with musk and her protruding tongue was coated with a thick briny taste.

“Lick.”

J's half hearted effort fetched another painful twist of her ears and a hiss from above.

“We can either spend the night with you helping me cum on your smug face or I can get my jollies otherwise, bitch.”

So saying, Mildred lurched forward over J's back with one short arm extended and hammered her fat little fist onto the plug in J's ass. J screamed into her Mistress's pussy and was left gasping as Mildred settled back into her throne.

“Well, bitch?”

Thoroughly cowed now, J began lapping away in what could only be described as a fever to please.

She was oblivious to the sudden cheers and laughter of the ladies who had been quietly watching to see how Mildred would handle her first newbie. Among them stood Emily. She vastly enjoyed her view of J on her knees, with her plugged ass jutting out, slurping madly away at dumpy Mildred's repulsive cunt. Turning her back on the scene at last, she gave V's lead a smart tug.

“Heel.”

Walking away, she reminded herself that she would have to reward V for making sure the right card had wound up in Mildred's fat little paw. After a night with that Emily was quite certain that J would deem it a privilege to be used by her.