Picking the Right Guys

Picking the right Guys

By Ross Martin

Paula gurgled in her ring gag. The intensity of the situation was amazing. Her arms were drawn apart as was the silk blouse she still wore on her shoulders. Her arse-hole was stuffed with the biggest, baddest carrot she ever saw and her cunt was occupied by a huge sweet potato big enough, she wagered, to feed a family. What was really getting to her, however, were the two lit candles being trained to drip wax onto her poor, little tits. The heat was really something!

There were sparks in her head. The whole of the friggin' USA was celebrating the fourth of July in her cranium and the Chinese, each and every one of them, was cheering on their New Year's Day with great abandon on her boobs.

“S-S-Stot!” she managed to say at last, a tear running down her cheek to her very open mouth. She tasted her own salt.

“Do you think we should?” asked the guy pushing the potato in and out of her.

“Shit no!” cried the bastard still waxing those boobs. They were well covered up and going nuclear.

“Smell that?” enquired the bastard.

“What?” said the potato-pusher.

“Fresh fish. This bitch is really diggin' this.”

“No she's not. How can she?”

“I'm telling you she is!”

The bastard took away the candles for a moment and said: “You want this small fry?” Sarah nodded and the candles were once more doing their stuff. The other bloke pulled out the spud all the way and gave it a sniff.

“Woo! I see what you mean!”

He put the soggy potato down and picked up a pineapple. It had sharp edges and it was larger than the potato.

“I didn't thing we'd get to this,” the former potato jockey said, showing it to her. Her eyes went big and she sniffed loudly to clear her throat to answer the inevitable question.

“You want this, hon'?” he asked.

She shook her head and somehow managed to say, quite clearly despite the gag: “Please, no!”

“She said no,” the former spud man said to the bastard. “Does that mean its out?”

“This isn't a debate,” replied the bastard. “If you don't shove it in and all the way then I will.”

“Sorry baby.”

Paula screamed and screamed. She shook every part of her to get away but it was no use. The object was going in, her cum helping but only a little. It cut! It made her cum more! Oh agony! Oh agony! How could something hurt so very much one second and then hurt so much more the very next?

Somewhere in the blue sparks and rolling thunder of all this the bastard had put down the candles. He was now slapping her hard in the face, rattling her teeth, making her jaw wobble in spite of the ring gag.

“Open your eyes, bitch!” he shouted. “Don't you fucking faint on me!”

She hadn't realized she'd been fading away but she was coming back, her whole body suddenly aware of the great object in her cunt and being pushed in and out. She knew there was cunt juice and lots of it but also blood as well. The blood scared her.

“Stot!” she cried in a panic and the bastard just smiled and slapped her hard across the face. Why wasn't he listening to him? Why wasn't he stopping? Then she remembered…

Someone kissed her on the nose and then they moved away. The burning wax remained, her cunt was full to bursting and her butt was something that gave her the occasional nasty twinge when she moved.

“Don't leave me!” she cried out through her gag. “I'll do anthin'….Just…Help me! Help! Help!”

She got the impression, through the blurriness of her vision, that they had gone a long way. She feared they might not return to release her but that was ridiculous. Still, the notion did persist and grow. Panic assaulted her. What if something happened to them and they couldn't return? What then? She called out once more, pleading for someone, anyone to come to her aid. This made adrenalin pump and that made her suffer even more.

The two men hadn't gone away, though. Fred, the potato and pineapple guy was sitting on a chair not six feet away having a smoke. His mate, Tony the bastard, was also about the same distance and also puffing away. Fred had a cigarette and Tony a cigar.

“What's the time?” asked Fred.

“Relax,” answered Tony. “Enjoy the show. We still have her for another six hours.”

“Yeah! I suppose we can still do a lot to that cunt in that time.”

An hour! That's how long they left her tied with her cunt and arse heavily burdened and her breasts cooling down. Upon their return Fred removed the pineapple and Tony pealed away the wax. It didn't come away easy. There was a trickle of liquid coming out of her vagina. She wondered what it looked like. Was it clear or pink with blood? Meanwhile, her tits were looking sore. They were an angry red. Her spittle seemed to be everywhere. Her nose was snotty so Tony had her blow on a hanky. She was grateful for this and thanked him. He replied by putting the burning tip of his cigar up against her clit. New pain ripped through her and with it came tears. She begged him to stop and he did. Then he applied it to her clit once more. This, for some reason, outraged her and made her scream out: “Bastard!” She could smell here cunt hairs smoking and she wondered if they were on fire. Then he took the cigar away and slapped her cunt as if putting something out. “Don'…Don'!” she warned him. Warned him? What a laugh. For an encore, he pulled out one of her pussy lips and used it to put out his stogy. This infuriated her even more and made her scream out the word bastard at the top of her lungs and then fall into a hiccupping crying fit. Fred brought her out of it when he put his lighted cigarette on the tip of her lower lip and told her he'd keep it there until she calmed down. She managed somehow to calm down real fast.

“Good girl!” said Fred and put his cigarette out on her left breast.

“Hey!” cried Tony. “She's coming again, the little tramp!”

Tony was fingering her cunt and noting that were he had burnt her most savagely was now wet. Tony lighted up his stogie again and attacked her nipples with it. This made her whimper loudly.

They untied her after about fifteen more minutes of Tony's brand of nipple play and had her fix them supper. The carrot used as a butt plug she had to remove herself and cook separately as her meal. She put the blouse with her other clothes.

They allowed her to drink all she wanted to drink and she found herself to be very thirsty. She knew this to be a trap but she didn't care. Then they tied her to a chair once more only this time in front of a computer. They wired up her pussy and her nipples to a machine that would deliver shocks with but the press of a button. They got her online to a particular program on the net and got her to type out the day's events. This was as it was supposed to be, she told herself, and got to typing. Every few minutes one of them would press the button sending her into a frenzy of shocks. It was awful. It was made worse by the build up in her bladder. Half way into the writing she asked to be untied and to go to the toilet. They refused. At the end of the typing, when she was busting to go, they untied her, had her bend over. To her horror she was fucked in the cunt and then the arse twice by both men. She begged piteously to go after that and they said they'd think about it if she licked the shit from her off their cocks. This she did, on her hands and knees, shaking all over from her need to go. After she had finished, Fred commented on what a great job she had done and Tony pointed to some hay in the corner. And so there, in front of them, she pissed. It was not only humiliating but Tony made it worse by insisting on whipping her tits as she did so with his belt. She daren't get any of her amber fluid on him but it was hard not to with the horrible welts being brought to her already pained mammaries. Somehow she managed the trick.

After the piss, she was tied to a cross and beaten all over for half an hour with a horse hair whip (Fred) and a cane (Tony). Then Tony stuck needles in her aching cunt lips and Fred stuck needles in her already hurting and very tender nipples.

“Do you think she's had enough?” asked Fred, looking at the way she dangled uncaringly on the cross.

“Nah!” cried Tony, getting out a spiked vibrator and somehow managing to stick it up her bum after turning it on. “See? She's brightening up again.”

“We've only got half an hour,” said Fred, looking at his watch.

“Get her down them, get rid of the needles and we'll fuck her good and proper. Keep that toy in her ass though. You can tell she wants it out.”

And so they untied her, got rid of the gag and had a round house of fucking her rough and hard until the time was up. She groaned deeply, tried to get away but it was no use. In the end, they dressed her, drove her to the pick up point and left her there to find her own way. The pick up point was about five miles from town.

Hurting all over, Paula walked the distance home, almost collapsing several times on the way. People tried to give her a lift but she refused them. She walked awkwardly and in much distress from all that had happened to her.

Upon getting home she put herself in front of her own computer and checked for what had been sent to her via Tony and Fred's computer. Sure enough, it was all there with film footage from a dozen hidden cameras tied into their P.C.

“I must recommend them to my friends,” said Paula to herself, aware that she was still very much suffering from their ministrations. She mailed off the rest of the money she owed for their services via email and made an appointment with them for next month. As a side note she typed: “Next time don't go so easy on me.”