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Kaley giggled as she licked tears of frustration from her best friend's cheeks, rubbing her naked body against her friend's, her cunt sliding against the outside of Amy's thigh as she humped herself closer to orgasm, her fingers dancing lightly over Amy's clit, teasing her to the point of tears.
It had been eleven days since Amy had become more than her friend, since Amy had become her fuck-slave. Every day of waiting had been torture, every hour she couldn't wait to have the girl back under her control. She had masturbated furiously to the memory of what they had done; scoured her porn collection to find things they could do; fantasizing about what they would do next. Every time she saw Amy she could feel the heat of her friend's need radiating from her, every glance confirming her submissiveness. It drove her crazy that they couldn't find time to be truly alone.
When finally they had been able to convince their parents of another sleepover at Kaley's, Kaley had been ecstatic, her excitement dampened only by the fact that her parents were going to be home, so that they would have to keep it quiet.
It wasn't until almost midnight when both of Kaley's parents retired and the not-so-innocent slapping, tickling, wrestling and playing turned more serious, Amy turning more submissive, every turn of her body, every glance from her eyes, every motion an invitation to take her. They had kissed, chills of lust flooding Kaley as she tasted the hot, sweet warmth of her friend's mouth, their bodies pressed close, Amy's hands limp by her sides as Kaley's hands explored her body, her hands hot on Amy's young flesh. God it was so good, she thought as she pulled Amy against her, causing them both to rise to their knees; Amy was different, both more responsive and more submissive, thrilling jolts of excitement making her tremble as she dug her fingers into Amy's ass-flesh.
They had kissed for what seemed like forever, their heat rising, their bodies rubbing against each other, their groins grinding together in mutual lust. When Kaley had finally broken away, they were both trembling with need. She had stood, keeping a hand on her friend's head, keeping her on her knees. As she slipped her panties off, she looked down at Amy, her head hanging down, her chest heaving, her breasts rising and falling enticingly under the long T-shirt she wore; lust flooded through her as she twisted her hands in Amy's hair and pulled her face under her own long T-shirt.
"Pleasure me, slut."
Oh god it had been so much better, so much more intense, than the last time: standing there, her legs spread, her shirt bunched at her waist, her friend's head tilted back, her mouth sliding between her cunt and clit, Amy's hair tangled in her hands, Amy's hands hot against her thighs and ass, teasing touches as she pleasured her mistress. It was as if she knew just where to touch, to lick, to kiss, to suck; Kaley trembled and shook as her best friend had brought her to orgasm, moaning and clutching at Amy's hair as she ground her cunt into her slut's mouth. She was left panting and wobbly, holding onto her friend's head for balance, looking down at the girl she could do anything with, anything to.
"That was pretty good, slut. I'll bet you'd like a nice cum now, wouldn't you?"
"Yes mistress, but this slut doesn't deserve to cum."
Kaley had been shocked by the words, and kneeled down to look her friend in the face.
"Really?"
"Yes. This slut hasn't been able to pleasure her mistress for eleven days, and should be punished, but she cannot be properly punished because she would be too loud."
Looking into Amy's eyes, Kaley saw desperation, fear, and lust, so much lust. She had laughed and stood, pulling her friend up with her.
"That's right! You should have been making me cum twice a day, at least, for the last eleven days. That means you owe me twenty two, no, twenty one cums." She laughed again, flopping on the bed with Amy, pulling the covers over them both before undressing them both. She had slid atop her friend, face to face, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, naked teenaged flesh to naked teenaged flesh.
"You, my little slut," she had whispered, locking eyes with her, "are not allowed to cum until you've made me cum at least twenty one more times."
She had giggled at the soft sob that had accompanied her friend's choked answer, "Yes, mistress," excitement flooding her at this new game, determined to drive her friend mad with frustrated need.
Kaley had spent the next half hour playing with the soft, smooth, responsive flesh of her friend: teasing her, stroking her, pinching her, slapping her, licking her, sliding her fingers in and out of her friend's trembling cunt, pausing whenever Amy cried out "Mistress!" in frustration, bringing her to the brink again and again until she was sobbing and trembling in frustrated desire.
"What a little slut you are, Amy" Kaley teased, rubbing herself against her friend's trembling body, gasping as an orgasm rolled through her.
"Crying just because you aren't allowed to cum." She giggled again, sliding her body around until they were in the 69 position. "You only have twenty more orgasms to give me, slut."
Kaley fell asleep hours later, spent, her cunt pleasantly sore from the eight orgasms her friend had given her, her mind still alive with the power that she felt denying her friend, making her sob and cry in frustration as she had brought her close time and again to orgasm. Near the end, Kaley had had to run downstairs and bring up some ice to cool off her friend's pussy, filling Amy's cunt with ice cubes, making her shiver with cold. Even then she had had to stop because the slut was so needy that she would have cum with a cunt full of ice.
Amy didn't sleep at all, her mind spinning, tears streaking her face, her chest still heaving as the warmth of her friend sleeping beside her seemed to burn. Pictures and fantasies flickered through her mind, dark, sexual, perverse things, her hands trembling against her thighs as she fought to keep from touching herself, from bringing herself the release she so desperately desired. But her master had forbidden it, and even as she groaned in the misery of denied desire, that thought, of her master binding her with his words, thrilled her. She was his; he owned her, body and soul. She would do anything, suffer anything, be anything for him. She was his rape toy, his fuck pig, his thing. She had no will of her own when it came to sex.
Images of him torturing her, crucifying her, impaling her, whipping her young body raw, tying her to a post in public and letting everyone use her, giving her to a football team, huge men using her in every way, of him and Kaley and her lesbian trainer fisting her, tearing her apart from the inside tormented her throughout the night.
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For the next seven days, except for one night I spent at Kaley's, Mistress Ruby (as I learned her name was) came over to instruct me on how to please a woman. With my mouth and tongue, my fingers, my legs and arms and breasts, my skin and nose and ass, every part of me rubbing and sliding against her, she would have me bring her to orgasm, making sure that I never found release.
One night, stuffed with the vibrators, tears streaming down my face as I whimpered in need, she had me use my fingers to pleasure her, sliding in and out of her pussy, pressing, stretching, twisting, using my knuckles and my fingers and my palms to tease her to orgasm, her slick cunt spasming around my fingers as she came. She had me combine the my fingers and my mouth, teaching me when to switch them between clit and cunt, how hard to press, when to rub, to pinch, to stroke, to kiss, to suck.
Another night she taught me how to massage her naked body, first with my hands, rubbing oil into her soft skin until it glistened, then with my body, rubbing myself against her, my breasts pillowing as I used them like rags, rubbing them across her body as she arched and purred in satisfaction. I used my tongue, bathing her chest, her arms, her stomach, mixing my saliva with the oil as she guided me. She had me slide my pelvis against hers, teaching me how to press myself against her to give her the greatest pleasure, warning me to avoid my own. It was maddening and exciting as my master looked on.
She taught me how to rim her, how to thrust my tongue in the musty tunnel of her ass as she squirmed atop me, how to slid my lips around her sphincter, massaging it with my lips and gums and tongue even as I used my fingers to pleasure her sopping cunt. She had me lean back over the toilet, my mouth wide, as she peed, the rancid liquid burning my throat as I gulped it down, my body quivering at the humiliation and degradation as she called me her toilet, and had my master fill my mouth with his own piss, the hot liquid overflowing my gulping mouth, spilling down my body, burning rivulets in my flesh as my lust devoured me.
She taught me how to bath her, in bath and shower, sliding the soap across her body, lingering here, lingering there, teasing her, reading her body, responding to her needs, never letting my needs come first. It was torture; it was ecstasy. I was a servant, a slave, an animal trained for pleasure.
As each day passed being teased and tortured, my body brought to the edge of orgasm again and again but denied release, my mind seemed to drift further and further into a realm where only sex existed. I could barely sleep at night, crazy, perverted fantasies possessing my mind, masturbating, moans of frustration torn from me as I held myself back and sobbed into my pillow. During the day I was distracted, my cunt seeming to pulse along with my heart, each beat sending pleasure crawling up my spine.
Every time I saw Kaley, I remembered what she had done to me, my body thrilling to the memories, my thighs squeezing together, my cunt throbbing in need. Every time I went out my eyes seemed to follow all the boys and men, my mind wondering at what they could do to me, would do to me, my breathing quickening until I was practically panting. When I was in the mall, pictures formed in my mind of me naked, bent over a bench, men in front of me and behind me, using my mouth and my ass and my cunt, my body covered with jism; or me in the men's bathroom, bound in a urinal, the urinal cake shoved up my ass, my legs spread, my knees bent, my cunt spread for abuse, my head tilted back, my mouth pulled open, men pissing on me, streaming their urine in my mouth, against my clit, kicking the nameless, dirty little pig-slut in the cunt and stomach and tits with their hard shoes.
When I was in the park I would imagine myself tied to a tree, men and boys taunting me as my breasts and cunt were torn by the bark, their belts whipping into my back, the brutal beating making my body hug and lurch against the tree like a lover, my slit and stomach and tits bloody as they beat me into unconsciousness; or I would be tangled in a swing, upside-down, the chains biting into the flesh of my thighs, holding my legs apart, my head brushing the sand as I swung helpless, men and boys surrounding me, filling me with their cock, my cunt and ass and mouth raped over and over as I hung there, nothing more than a piece of meat.
At my cheerleader practice it was worse, the uniform a reminder of all the times my master had used me, the routines' vague sexuality filling me with the sure knowledge of how I was tempting people, teasing them, making them desire me. The locker room was torture, with the sight and smell of girl-flesh, of Kaley's girl-flesh, reminding me of Mistress Ruby, reminding me of what I had done with another girl, another woman, of what they could be doing to me, burying me in twisting, squirming, sliding flesh.
In public I could feel men's eyes linger on my body, skipping past my friends to find me, burning into me, as if my lust was a magnet drawing them in. It was surreal. Every day I suffered; every night I shook in expectation as I hurried over to my master's house for more abuse, more frustration, the pleasure, the need, the addiction too great for me to deny.
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