Chelsea\'s F. N. P. C.

CHELSEA’S F. N. P. C.

By: Charles E. Campbell

(Author’S note: It is my intention at this time to introduce so of my characters from my other

stories to various other characters in this chapter of Chelsea. The “visiting” characters will be

coming from: NICOLE: JOURNEY OF A SLAVE, SOME CALL IT PLAY, and SARA.

These characters will also be relating their experiences with Chelsea, and each other, in the

first person, from their perspective, in their original stories at the same time. I will be

submitting all of the different chapters at the same time in an attempt to maintain cohesiveness throughout the individual story.

CHAPTER

INVITATION FOR PARTICIPATION

I was sitting in my Pre-Calc. Class, bored out of my mind. A substitute teacher was trying his level best to follow the lesson plans left by our regular teacher, Mr. Simonds. I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket, telling me I was getting a text message.

Keeping a watchful eye on the sub, I kept the phone under my desk as I read the message. It was from Chelsea, telling me she wanted to meet me in the parking lot after school. She had something she wanted to show me.

I quietly sent an abbreviated reply, confirming that I would see her then.

With nothing to do in class, I sort of mulled over what it might be that Chelsea had to show me, but with no clue at all as to what it could be, I just went back to trying to appear interested, but daydreaming the period away anyway.

3:10, and I saw Chelsea pop through the side door of the high school we both attend. She waved to me when she saw me, and ran, or pranced really, over to where I was standing. “You have the car today,” she asked?

“No. It’s at the garage for brakes,” I replied.

“Great,” she said, happy at my loss of wheels, “I’ll give you a ride home.

“What about Shaina.”

“She’s got practice after school today,” I told her. “She gets home later, around 4:45 or so, I think.”

“Good. I wanted to talk with you alone today anyway,” she said, mysteriously.

We walked together through the student parking lot, but I didn’t see her Lexus. I also didn’t notice that Cheslea had stopped walking, that is, until I had gone about ten steps beyond her. I turned and saw her standing at the rear of a huge off white Range Rover.

“Lease was up on the Lexus, so Daddy picked this one up for me. He likes me in a big car, thinks it’s safer,” she said. “At least it’s big enough to get all the girls in together at the same time!”

“Wow!,” I exclaimed, taking it all in. “It’s really nice, Chels. When did you get it?”

“Last night, Daddy drove it home and left it in the driveway with a note on it when he left for Europe this morning. I’ve only driven it to school today! Hop in!”

Chelsea’s mother had died before I met her, when she was younger, not even a teenager. Her father wasn’t around a lot, what with his business and love interests, so he tried to make it up to her by giving Chelsea just about anything she could ever want, or even think of wanting. Her housekeeper, Juanita, was more involved in raising her than her own father was.        

As we were pulling out of the lot, just as we were coming up to the security guard, Chelsea said, “Take off your skirt, Sister Hanna. I want your pussy to christen the seat.”

I looked around outside at all the kids and cars, nervous.

She read my mind, “We’re too high for anyone to see you, and besides, the windows are tinted. Do what you’re told,” she added sternly.

“Yes, Priestess,” I answered, respectfully, as I lifted my butt up off the seat so I could unzip my skirt. I slid it down over my legs and sat on the soft tan leather.

“Open your legs and caress yourself. The sacred wetness must flow freely for the seat to be properly blessed.”

My right hand found my already wet slit, and I started to gently rub myself. Chelsea never took her eyes from the road. Her control over me so total, so complete, she knew I could never disobey her.

“Ma........may I cum, Priestess,” I moaned as the sensations built up.

“Yes, sister. Don’t hold back.”

I rubbed harder and came, shaking and moaning.

As the shakes subsided, Chelsea asked, “Is anyone home at your house, Hanna?”

“No, Chelsea,” I said, my eyes still closed in the afterglow. “Mom’s at work and Dad’s out of town.”

“Good.”

She said nothing more as we drove the rest of the way to my house in silence. Just the soft whooshing from the air conditioner cooling the enormous passenger area accompanied our trip.

Chelsea pulled the Rover to the curb in front of my house, and I went to grab my skirt and put it back on.

“What do you think you’re doing,” she asked, looking at me strangely?

“I’m putting my skirt back on, Priestess,” I said, dumbfounded by her question.

“I don’t remember telling you to get dressed. Leave your skirt in the car!”

I was about to protest, but her eyes told me not to go there. “May.....may I be allowed to run,” I asked in defeated compromise?

“Yes.”

I looked up and down the street, then I opened the door and bolted up the sidewalk to the front door, my keys in hand.

Chelsea walked purposefully to the door. I was already safely in the house behind the slightly ajar door when she reached the front steps. She walked in as I closed and locked the door. “Strip naked,” she said, off-handedly.

I took off my tank top and bra and kicked off my flip flops.

I am quite used to being naked in Chelsea’s presence, and have been doing it for years, no longer ever embarrassed by it.

“You will now worship and pay tribute to the divine folds of the naked pussy, Hand Maiden Hanna.”

“Yes, Priestess, with joy,” I said, eyes downcast, as I knelt before her.

Chelsea then lifted off her spaghetti strap tank top and did something she rarely ever does, she unbuttoned her soft turquoise peasant skirt and let it fall to the floor at her feet. Naked, a very rare privilege for me to behold, she laid back on the couch and opened her legs, exposing the sacred folds.

I crept forward between her knees and studied the soft pink flesh of her nether lips and open pussy, looking at the ring that hangs proudly at the entrance to her inner being. Then, leaning forward and kissing the holy gateway to her essence, before licking and sucking the delicate lips and the hard bud above.

Chelsea place both of her hands behind my head and held my face close to her sex, a gesture which always makes me swell with pride, in the knowledge that I al allowed to worship her folds, and bring her pleasure.

Chelsea has the sweetest taste I have ever experienced. I have worshiped all of the sisters of the F. N. P. C., and have tasted myself numerous times as well. The fragrant petals of her inner lips are an almost translucent coral pink in hue. Tender, velvety soft, pliant, they almost seem to reciprocate as I massage them with my tongue. Often times when worshiping her, I will let my tongue wander through the ring in her outer lip, delighting in the stark contrast of the hard metal and the soft flesh. None of us compares with  Chelsea.

Sated, Chelsea stood and donned her skirt, but she elected to remain topless. I, of course, remained naked. We went up to my room to look at some new porn sites she had found.

After a while, I remembered that I had stumbled on an odd one a day before, and remarked this to Chelsea.

“What kind,” she asked, her eyes glued to a woman hanging by her tits from a tree limb in a clearing in the woods.

“Well,” I thought, “It’s not a commercial site, and I don’t think it’s an amateur site either. It’s almost like a newsletter, or some sort of blog, I guess. And whoever pout it up, it seems like they’re talking about some event that going to take place.”

“What sort of event,” she asked, turning away from the monitor, clearly curious?

“Well, again, I’m not really sure. But it sounds to me like some sort of ceremony where a slave is going to be formally collared!”

“Shoe me.”

I brought it up quickly, having book marked it the day before. Chelsea read it, and agreed with me, saying, “I see what you’re saying, Hanna. Can you write to them?”

“Sure.”

“Write to them, and tell them we are the F. N. P. C. Tell them what that stands for, and that we are writing to see if they are a pay site”

“Are you serious,” I asked?

“Yes. Just do what I say.”

“As you wish, Priestess.”

I typed what she said and sent it off. “I don’t think they’re gonna answer us Cheslea,” I said, as she entered a particularly hard core German maso bondage site.

“Maybe not. We’ll see. “Besides, for all we know, they might be located in Europe or Australia or somewhere like that anyway.”

“You’re probably right.”

A little while later, I heard the front door open, and Shaina came home. She must have seen my clothes on the living room floor, because she came straight upstairs to my room “Hi guys,” she said, walking in.

“Hi,” we both replied together.

Chelsea gave Shaina a look, the meaning of which was very clear, and Shaina got undressed. Naked, she joined us, watching the whipping of two slaves, both women. Their backs were cut and bleeding from the bull whip, and they both were hanging from the iron shackles on their wrists, seemingly unconscious. The lashing, however, continued, unabated.

A few weeks later, I was home after school, alone. Shaina had practice again and Chelsea was at the dentist. In my room, naked, I opened my email account, and found a mysterious message from Cheslea which told me to send off a second email regarding the ceremony. She wanted me to mention that we knew it was a collaring ceremony, and that our group wants to be invited. I sent it, as I was told to.

Two days later, I was over at Chelsea’s house, dressed, because Juanita was home. Chelsea had me send off a third email. This time, I offered our assistance in any way we could at the ceremony. Then, just before sending it out, she added a file attachment to it. It was a video of the F. N. P. C. performing our sacred pledge, naked in our circle. I was stunned! What if our video showed up on the net? What if they blackmailed us?

The next morning, before school, I checked my email, and found a reply! It said “ I think your video was adorable. I would like to see more before I consider your request for an invitation. I am located in Manhattan.” It was signed, “Mistress Ilsa.”

I texted Chelsea right away, and then ran downstairs, where Mom and Shaina were waiting for me in the car.

Mom picked me up after school and dropped me off at home, as she had some errands to run, and I told her I had a lot of homework to do. Chelsea arrived about five minutes after my Mom left. She took off her top, but left her peasant skirt one. This was a new one I hadn’t seen before. A very pale ash pink, with lots of lace and thin ribbons tying it around her waist, with a ruffled hem at her ankles. The material was virtually transparent. It was obvious instantly that Chelsea wore no panties and that she kept her pubis shaved.

I showed the email message to her, and she thought a moment before answering it, saying, “Write her back. Tell her a bit about the cult: the number of sisters, what we believe, about our pledge, and TorD. Tell them, no, better yet, offer our assistance at the ceremony in any way possible.” She told me to add another attachment, showing one of the sisters, Anastasia, accepting a TorD to have her pussy lashed with a belt.

I did as she asked, and sent out the email.

When Shaina got home, the three of us did our pledge, then Chelsea had me worship Shaina while she watched.

I was really afraid with Chelsea sending out our videos. Nothing we had ever done had let the confines of one of our houses, or my family’s summer cabin in New Hampshire. Chelsea seemed to sense my fears, and did something to allay them. She decided to worship my naked folds. Making it all the more bizarre, she stripped naked, in front of Shaina and me, and stood still for a few minutes, allowing us both to study her nudity. Then she worshiped me, slowly, brining me off, in front of my jealous sister.

The next day, I went over to Chelsea’s after school again. That’s when we got the email saying Mistress Ilsa wanted to meet with us! This Saturday at Rockefeller Center. 11:30 sharp! It was to be Chelsea and one other sister, who she was to choose to accompany her. We were to be dressed in white short sleeve blouses, pleated plaid skirts, very short, white knee socks, and saddle shoes. Nothing else! The terse ending of the email stated that we to comply, or not bother Her ever again.

There was no question about who Chelsea would bring with her. None of the other sisters was even aware of the email exchanges we had been having with Mistress Ilsa. Answer it, Hanna,” Chelsea said. “Tell Her we’ll be there, as instructed at 11:30.”

“Can you go out shopping with me tonight,” she asked. “We could pick up our outfits and be all set for Saturday.”

“I’m sure I could go, Chels, but I’m really strapped for cash right now. I can’t ask my Mom for it, at least not without having to tell her what I was shopping for, and I’m pretty sure she would be really curious about why I wanted a plaid skirt, white blouse and saddle shoes.

“Maybe you should ask one of the other sisters to go with you.”

“No way. It’s you and me. We started the Cult. I’m the Priestess, and you’re my Hand Maiden.

“I’ll buy your outfit for you. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. I’ll put it on one of my credit cards. Daddy never reads the statements anyway. He just has an accountant pay the bills.

“Are you sure, Chels?”

“Of course I am.

“Now, worship the scared Folds!”

That night, at the mall, we found a matching pair of dark blue and green plaid skirts. The waists fit us perfectly, but they were really short, mid thigh length. Chelsea picked out two white blouses with small collars than buttoned down the front. Then we hot a show store for the white knee socks and saddle shoes.

Saturday morning, Chelsea picked me up in her Range Rover. I kissed my Mom goodbye and flipped my backpack over my shoulder. I was dressed in a t shirt, jeans, white socks and sneakers. There was no possible way I could have gotten out of the house in that school girl outfit without some really convincing explanation. It was much easier to hide the neatly folded skirt and blouse in my back pack with the shoes and socks

Chelsea had me strip naked in her car before donning the uniform. She was already dressed in hers.

The train was just about empty at that hour. In fact, we had one entire car to ourselves for about half the trip. She had me sit directly on the vinyl covered seat, not on my skirt, like in The Story of O. Then we did our pledge, while seated. We kept fingering each other until the car began to get crowded. I feared the entire car reeked of our aroused odor from us manipulating each other for so long.

When we got to Grand Central Station, no one even gave us so much as a second glance. I was extremely self conscious in my outfit, having the top three buttons open, and no bra on. My breasts were threatening to pop out with every step I took. I felt as if I was naked for the world to see. The short skirt wasn’t too bad, even without the security of panties. I’d seen plenty of girls wearing skirts shorter than this, I thought, but my mind was fixated on my breasts, and how much of them were exposed all the time.

We had gotten to the city with a lot of time to spare, so we opted to walk over to Fifth Ave. And then walk up to Rockefeller Center. We paused frequently looking at window displays, and stopped in a Starbucks for coffee and to use the ladies room. We went in together, locked the door, and performed our pledge again. Chelsea instructed me to follow her lead and do whatever I was asked.

We got to the Promenade at 11:20, and found a spot that looks down on the ice skating rink. Neither of us said anything. We scanned the crowd trying to figure who we were looking for. As is often the case, most of the people there were tourists snapping pictures and pushing and shoving. We just stood by the railing and looked all over., looking for......?

Chelsea took out her cell phone to check the time. “It’s 11:30,” she said.

I didn’t answer her. I just kept looking around. Then, out of nowhere, right in front of me, was a young girl, Younger than Anastasia, and she was dressed just like Chelsea and me; white blouse, top three buttons not fastened, pleated plaid skirt, white knee socks, and saddle shoes.

“I’m Keri,” she said. Chelsea spun around when she heard her.”And I have been sent by the person you have come to meet. Her name is slut, and she is standing over there to your right.”

Both of us looked over where Keri had directed our eyes. “She is the woman with the bald head,” she added. Then we spotted her.

“Is she sick,” I asked, quickly asked, and just as quickly regretted.

“No. Her owner, Mistress Ilsa, doesn’t allow Her slaves the false modesty of hair anywhere on their bodies. She feels that making them remove all of their hair helps them to concentrate on the reality of being owned by someone.

“Now, which one of you is Chelsea,” she asked?

“I am, Chelsea answered, standing tall. “And this is Hanna, My Hand Maiden.”

Keri just nodded, and said, “slut wants you both to follow me over to St. Pat’s. We’re going to meet on the steps over there, outside, so it’s nice and public. Slut will explain Mistress Ilsa’s expectations to you there.

“Okay,” Chelsea said. We both saw that the bald woman was gone.

“Before we head over there, I want you both top adjust your clothes so you look more like me. Open one more button on your blouses, and hike your skirts up higher. You can roll the waistband over if you like.”

We both did as we were told. Now my breasts were completely open, even the edge of my areolas was exposed.

“Looks like we’re ready,” Keri said, satisfied with our compliance. “Let’s go and meet slut.”

We followed behind Keri as we walked up to the Promenade to Fifth Ave. As soon as we turned left I saw slut standing on the steps that lead from the sidewalk to the massive metal doors at the main entrance to the great cathedral. She was dressed like a hooker, and with her shiny head glistening in the sunlight, everyone went out of their way not to walk too close to her.

When we got to slut, Keri had us stop on the steps just below her. “This is Chelsea,” Keri announced, “And this is Hanna, her Hand Maiden.”

Slut nodded and said, “my name is slut, and i am a slave of Mistress Ilsa, the woman you have been contacting regarding Her ceremony.”

I know I didn’t hear a word she was saying. I couldn’t stop looking at the tops of her breasts. They were both scarred, heavily! One seemed random, and the other some kind of design. Also, she had really thick steel bars that I could see had been pierced through her breasts, really deep, right at the base of each one!

“She has sent me,” she kept going, bringing back to the present, “to talk to you, and feel you out, as She is somewhat intrigued by your request to attend the ceremony and offer help in any way.”

I was still looking at her breasts, but was listening at the same time.

“Before i tell you what is expected of you,” she began, “it is imperative that you understand that the world in which we live is founded upon trust. Total, absolute trust. Both the granting of it, and the acceptance of it. If, for any reason, you do not possess the ability to accept and give complete trust, then this conversation ends, here and now! You may get back on the train and head home.

“But, if you are able, and willing to enter into a world of complete mutual trust, then you are to follow me, and do everything you are told. i can absolutely guarantee that no harm will come to either of you, in any form. You will always be free to go. At no time will either of you, or Keri or ii be in any danger whatsoever. Is that understood?”

Chelsea answered her right away, with a hearty “Yes. Hanna and I are willing to learn and experience this world, and we will follow your instructions to the letter.” Then she turned to me, and growled, “Won’t we, Hanna?”

I hesitated. I mean, I was so frightened I couldn’t even get a word out. Chelsea was looking at me with an angry expression I had never seen before.

“Yes. We will do whatever you ask of us.” I spit out rapidly. “We give you our trust, and accept yours as well.”

“Very well, then,” slut smiled at us both. “Time for a little trip. Come with me.”

We followed slut and Keri down the steps to the sidewalk and stood back while slut hailed a taxi for us all. When we got in, she gave the driver an address on the lower West Side.

We drove for about fifteen minutes or so and stopped in front of a old red brick building. While we were getting out of the cab, slut paid the driver his fee. We waited with the doorman who hah helped us from the cab. We stood under an awning with the word “DERMIS” spelled out in very ornate letters.

Sslut handed the doorman a plastic card, which he examined both sides of. Then he swiped the card into a scanner next to the door into the building. He waited a few seconds before punching in a code. Then, politely stepping back, he said, “All set, ladies, please follow me.”

He pulled open the big wooden door and held it for us as we went in. Instantly, we were in an amazing foyer, all marble. The walls to the left and right had two really huge mirrors in gold wood frames above what looked like buffets. There was a large crystal vase filled with lots of flowers on each buffet.

We walked over to the elevator, but I didn’t see any buttons for floors on the wall. The door just slid open when we got top it. There were no buttons inside the elevator car either. The doorman got in with us, and the door closed. The car started to go up all by itself.

When the elevator door opened, the black doorman said, “This way ladies,” and we all followed as he took us down a dimly lit, narrow hallway. One side of the hallway had wall sconces with electric candles flickering, while the other side was just doors. The doorman stopped at one, opened it, and stood back, saying, “You may use this room. You’ve been here before, so you know the rules.”

I saw slut hand him a tip, which he deftly took and dropped in his pocket.

“Thank you, Miss,” he said, shutting the door and leaving.

We stood around looking at the room. A few chairs, generously cushioned, and a clothes rack, with hangers and hooks. slut faced us, and said, “This is an exclusive, private club. There are basically only two rules here that must be strictly adhered to. The first is that everyone must be naked at all times. Everyone. The second is that you are allowed, expected actually, to ask anything of anyone, whenever you want. You can ask them a question, or ask them to do something. They are allowed to answer you, truthfully, or they are allowed to refuse the question. They are allowed to do what you ask, or they may refuse. That is completely each person’s choice. You do not have to do anything you don’t wish to.”

Keri jumped up, interrupting slut. She had already taken off her white blouse, exposing her chest, which was only just beginning to swell in preparation for adulthood. “Except for slut,” she blurted out, exuberant and full of glee. “slut isn’t allowed to ask anyone anything at all. And she has to accept anything that is asked of her. Mistress’ rules,” she added, half sung, like a taunting child.

By now she had also unbuttoned her skirt and dropped it in a pile at her feet on the carpet. Without bending over, she used her feet to hold the backs of her saddle shoes and she kicked them off, leaving her naked, and zealous to begin.

slut pulled her tight top over her head, the heavy metal that pierced her chest and ths scars that covered the skin, now clear under the overhead light. I stumbled back and fell into one of the chairs, my head reeling.

she didn’t seemed the least bit put off by my reaction, and took off her skirt, showing more steel, as well as very fresh marks from a whipping. she sat, and slipped off her shoes, and then, like Keri, she too was naked.

I was coming apart inside. Firmly believing Chelsea had gone too far this time, I felt faint. I thought I might throw up! My palms were sweating, and I was shaking, noticeably.

For her part, Chelsea acted as if this was all commonplace, even second nature for her. She calmly and clinically undid the remaining buttons of her blouse and let it drop off her shoulders. Next, she unbuttoned her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor as well. Standing naked in her shoes and socks, she turned away from slut and Keri and then bent over to remove them, boldly and defiantly  exposing her rear and the sacred folds to them.

Naked, she looked at me, the last one still dressed, and said, “Hanna, we’re waiting.” There was no mistaking the impatience in her tone. Like a robot, I stripped and stood next to Chelsea, looking at slut and Keri. Everyone naked!

“Please come with me, ladies,” slut invited, as she opened the second door in the room, which I just assumed was a closet, or bathroom.

We stepped into another hallway, but this one was very different from the first one. Where the first was dimly lit and dark, this one was brightly illuminated, and had mirrors covering the walls, the floor and the ceiling, creating an army of naked women traipsing down the hall. There was nowhere you could look and not see our images reproduced endlessly.

At the end of the hall was a solid door. slut knocked on it and the door opened. A very tall and extremely thin black woman, also naked, was standing guard. “Do come in,” she said pleasantly, obviously quite comfortable with four naked women. “Would you like a table of would you prefer the lounge?”

slut told her we’d like the lounge, and the woman pointed to a set of doors across the room to our right. I heard slut thank the woman as we walked in.

There were about twenty or so people in the room. All were naked. Men, women, teens, old, black, white, Asian, all mixed. Perfect bodies and overweight bodies. Tanned, pale, pierced, tattooed, collared on leashes, hairy, smooth.....All variations and varieties, but all naked, like nothing was amiss. Some of the people looked us over as we passed through the room, while others never even gave us a cursory glance.

In the lounge, there was a bar, and it was made entirely of clear Lucite. The bar stools were also made of clear plastic. Mirrors lined the walls, ceiling and floor, just like the hallway. “No where to hide,” I thought to myself, seeing my naked image everywhere!

A few people, perhaps eight, were chatting, sipping drinks and eating finger foods. One man was on his knees taking a woman from behind, doggy fashion. As the spirit moved him, he would first do her in the pussy, then pull out and enter her rear hole. She, for her part, was on all fours, and she was thrusting back to him with each push he made, making sure he was able to penetrate her as deeply as possible each time.

We approached the bar together and slut ordered four waters for us.

“Certainly,” the woman behind the bar answered, bending over to retrieve the bottles. She was older, maybe as much as seventy, with silver hair, and a gray bush. Her breasts sagged down her chest and wrinkled skin drooped from her frail looking body.

While the woman was getting our water, a man walked over to the woman on all fours and asked, loudly enough for all to hear him, “Would you suck my cock?”

“Yes,” she replied, lifting her head and opening her mouth to confirm her acceptance of his request. He knelt down in front of her and she sucked his already stiff cock into her mouth. The man behind her, who was fucking her ass at the time, pushed into her all the harder now, shoving her head forward and deeper onto the cock, making her gag and choke. Spittle leaked from her mouth and dripped to the mirrored floor. I couldn’t avert my eyes. Fascinated wasn’t the right word, neither was appalled. Mostly, I guess, it was total disbelief at what I was witnessing, a mere ten feet away from me.

“Chelsea,” Keri spoke, “Can I lick your pussy?”

“Yes you may, Keri,” Chelsea said, a haughty tone to her voice. “But, in our Cult, we call it worship.

“Ask me again, properly. Ask if you may worship the Divine Folds of the Naked Pussy.”

Not missing a beat, Keri picked up on Chelsea’s role as Priestess, and knelt at Chelsea’s feet, looking straight at Chelsea’s slit, as she repeated “Priestess, my I be allowed to worship the Divine Folds of the Naked Pussy?”

“Yes, you may,” Chelsea replied, still standing, but spreading her legs apart to allow Keri access to the glistening lips.

Keri folded her arms behind her back and leaned forward. I could hear her sniffing the pungent aroma that emanated from the cleft in Chelsea’s belly. She made an elaborate motion as she extended her tongue out and buried her face in Chelsea’s sex. Her skills and training were immediately evident, as Chelsea’s eyes grew wide and a moan escaped fropm her mouth. “Oooooooooooh...........uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she sighed.”

“Hanna,” Chelsea called to me, regaining some degree of composure. “I want you on all fours behind Keri and I want you to worship her ass. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course, Priestess, as you wish,” I responded. I knelt behind Keri, looking at her narrow butt. Then, I got down on my elbows and knees and looked at her puckered real eye.

Keri bent over a little, making access to her easier. I stuck my face into her crack and sought out her dark hole with my probing tongue. Licking and pushing, I could feel Keri relaxing her sphincter muscle, allowing my tongue to enter her right away. I pulled away for a moment, to get a breath, and saw that all of the people in the lounge were watching the three of us now. The two men had finished using the woman, and they had grouped around us, commenting on the show we were putting on.

Chelsea was floating in sublime ecstasy from Keri’s talented ministrations. And Keri seemed to be paying little attention to my workings in her ass. The assembled group seemed mesmerized. One of the women said to slut, “Seems to me you’re being neglected. Seems a waste of a slave’s purpose and talent, too. What is your name, slave?”

“i am slut, Ma’am,” I heard her answer dutifully. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I concentrated on listening.

“Really? Your name is slut, or you are a slut,” the woman mocked her.

”my name is slut, Ma’am,” she answered, “Because it’s the name my Owner gave me when she took me over as one of Her personal slaves.”

“That explains the steel and the scars,” the woman said, apparently looking slut over. “And what limits have been imposed upon you, slave?”

“None, Ma’am. Mistress instructed me to obey any and all commands here as it they were coming from Her.”

“Interesting. So then, I can do anything I wish with you?”

“Certainly, Ma’am. It would please me to serve you in whatever fashion you may wish.”

“In that case, it would please me to have you whipped.”

“Of course, Ma’am. If it pleases you, please have me whipped.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. This was the sort of thing I heard on those porn sites with the Cult, but deep in the back of my mind, I always thought they were scripted and fake. slut was proving me wrong. My brain was in overload, what with the combination of the heady aroma of Keri’s now juicy ass and her soaking wet pussy filling my nose with the musky mixture of scents, and now I was hearing slut actually agree to letting a strange woman hand her over to be whipped!

“Charlotte,” the woman said to the old lady behind the bar, “Please be so kind as to use the strap on this slave for me.”

“My pleasure, Irene,” the bartender said.

I could hear her walking around from behind the bar with a pair of stiletto heels clicking on the mirrored floor.

“Now where shall we place you, slave,” she asked?

“That would all depend on what parts of my body you would like to whip, Ma’am,” slut answered. “If it’s my ass and the backs of my thighs, then i will bend over and grab my ankles. If you would prefer to whip my belly and breasts, then i will stand up, with my hands folded behind my head.”

“She’s been trained well,” Irene commented to Charlotte. Then to slut, “Who is your Owner, slave?”

“Mistress Ilsa owns me, Ma’am.”

“Well then, I admire her thoroughness with you. Let’s send you back to Her with my marks for Her to admire and appreciate. Let’s begin with your chest, shall we?”

slut assumed the position, hands clasped behind her head, on tip toes, shoulders back, breasts thrust forward in offering to the lash. Charlotte doubled over the strap and eyed her target. A loud ‘smack’ resonated around the room as the strap slashed across both of slut’s breasts at the same time.

slut grunted, and asked, “Would Madam like for me to count the strokes for her?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Alice responded, as Charlotte hit her again.

Three more strokes fell, and Keri came with a tremendous explosion, shaking and twitching as I tongued her. Right after her, Chelsea allowed herself to cum as well. The three of us sat on the floor where we were and watched slut take her beating.

Her breasts had already gone red with swollen welts raised on the tender skin. Charlotte dropped her aim lower, lashing slut’s flat belly viciously. slut was stoic, but she did scream out with some of the heavier strokes. I was amazed that never once did she ask for mercy. A few of the blows knocked her off balance, but she would always step right back where she had been and re-assume the position.

Irene stopped the whipping long enough to have slut bend over and grab her ankles. From where I was sitting, I had a clear view of slut’s sex and ass, because she spread her legs apart very wide as she bent over.

A savage flurry of lashes quickly reddened her backside as well as the backs of her thighs, but it seemed to me that the more the strap fell, the wetter her sex seemed to grow.

Finally, quite fatigued from her work out, Charlotte stopped. She lifted slut’s head, and kissed her full on the mouth, which slut opened for her, allowing Charlotte’s tongue free access.

“That was wonderful,” Irene said. “Thank you, slut.”

“Begging Ma’am’s pardon, but it is i who owe you thanks,” she countered. “i am happy to have pleased you.”

Keri was so moved by what had taken place, that she sprang to her feet and hugged slut, kissing her almost violently on the mouth.

Two women walked into the lounge at that moment, one very fat with rolls hanging from her belly. Her huge, flat, areolas and nipples, had been painted, as had her labia. The other woman had small boyish breasts, with thick steel rods like slut’s buried in them. There were two rods on this woman, one in each breast, as with slut, she had one bar which pierced both breasts.

The woman with the piercings recognized slut, and called out, “slut, it’s me, sara.”

“Hi, sara,” slut responded, breaking her embrace with Keri. “How are you?”

They chatted for a few moments together before remembering their manners. “This is my good friend Stacy, slut,” sara said, smiling. 

Stacy seemed even more shaken than I had been when I saw slut’s steel and scars. And now, with all the fresh stripes and welts crisscrossing her skin, she was even more frightening.

slut, sensing Stacy’s emotional state, extended her hand to her and said, “Pleased to meet you, Stacy.”

Stacy shook it gingerly and stammered, “H.......hi......”

“My name is slut, Stacy,” she helped seemingly terrorized woman. “It’s okay. You can say it, or not. It really doesn’t bother me either way.”

Trying to ease her friend’s fears, sara added, “slut’s Mistress took away her original name and bestowed the name ‘slut’ upon her when She took Ownership of her.”

Then, to slut, sara said, “Stacy is my closest friend from the vanilla side.”

“This is Keri,” slut countered. “i don’t know if you’ve met her before. She’s Elaine’s niece. Remember her?”

sara thought a second, and then said, “Yes, i certainly do.”

“And these are my guests,” slut continued, indicating Chelsea and me with a flick of her head, “Chelsea and her hand maiden, Hanna.

“Mistress Ilsa wanted to have me size them up for Her, so i invited them here to see what they’re like.”

Just then, a man came over to us. He was tall, and very hairy. His thick dark tangle of pubic hair hid his small penis.

“May I examine those interesting bars you both wear,” her asked slut and sara?

slut replied, “But of course,” and she turned to face him directly. sara faced him as well, while he lifted one of the brackets that hung beneath slut’s tits, feeling it’s thickness and weight. He bent over a bit to see more closely how the rod ran through the base of the mound. He inspected sara’s bar the same way.

As he held both of sara’s small tits, he said to her, “Even with your itty bitties, the rod is buried deeply.”

“Yes,” she agreed happily, her love of the steel showing, “It was set as deep as possible.”

Not letting go of the flesh and steel, the man called out, “Toni, please come over here and see this.”

A middle aged woman came over to us. Although it was apparent she worked out to keep a youthful figure, the ravages of age and childbirth had left their indelible marks on her. Scars from a caesarian section, drooping breasts that had long since lost the battle with gravity.

She looked at the bars that pierced both slaves, and then spoke to sara, saying, “I like them a lot in you, but with my loose tits I think they would look ludicrous.”

She slid her fingers into the rings that were placed behind sara’s areolas as she said, “I do like these, though. A lot. These would look good in me, I think.”

The man who had summoned her concurred with her assessment, as he added, “I think so too, Toni. I love your titties, but rings like these would make them really hot!”

Toni smiled as she said, “Let’s look into them, shall we?”

She thanked sara and they went back to where they had been sitting. The six of us sat on stools at the bar sipping our water. Everywhere I looked, I saw reflections of us in mirrors. Whether I looked straight ahead behind the bar, or if I looked up at the ceiling or down on the floor, I saw our naked bodies. The only difference was the angle at which we were exposed. I can’t say I had gotten used to it, but at least everyone was naked as well, so I didn’t feel as strange as I would have otherwise.

It was Keri who broke the silence among us, she said, suddenly, “slut and sara are not allowed to ask anyone anything. And, they can’t just do something, so would any of you like to do something with them, or ask them to do something?”

It was Chelsea who took Keri’s dare. She jumped off her stool and announced, loud enough for everyone in the lounge to hear her, “I’d like to have sara whip my pussy with a belt!”        

My heart skipped a beat, as sara yelped, “What?”

Chelsea looked right into sara’s face as she repeated, “You heard me. I want you to whip my pussy with a belt!”

sara really looked angry at Chelsea’s taunt. “As you wish,” she said cooly. i will give your little pussy a whipping you will long remember.” She really drew out the word long, emphasizing the severity of what was to come.

Charlotte retrieved the same belt that she had used on slut and gave it to sara.

“Get up on that table and open your legs for me,” sara ordered her.

Chelsea did as she was told, laying on her back on the clear table top. She brought her feet up and grabbed them with her hands, then, slowly, she opened her legs all the way, so that the outside of her knees was resting on the table, he pussy as open as it could be to the lash.

“I want to make her wet,” Keri announced, after ogling the moist lips of Chelsea’s sex.        

“Of course, Keri,” sara allowed.

Keri began to orally stimulate Chelsea, and she didn’t do it gently either. Everyone could hear her sucking and licking as Chelsea moaned in response to Keri’s excellent technique.

Keri kept at it until she sensed Chelsea might be close to cumming, so she stopped. “Now she’s ready, sara. Beat her!”

I saw Keri lick her lips, tasting again the sweetness that I know oh so well from Chelsea’s wellspring.

I watched, horrified, as sara made a point of doubling the thick black leather belt in two. She slapped it against her hand a few times to let Chelsea hear the sound it would soon make against her most tender flesh. She even made sure Chelsea could see the belt that would soon immerse her in a world of absolute pain.

Satisfied that she had Chelsea’s imagination in high gear, sara lashed out unexpectedly with the belt. Striking Chelsea square on the nether lips, which brought a loud yelp of pain from the willing slave.

I noticed that she started top close up her knees instinctively, but she fought the urge, and held herself wide open for more.

“Thank you,” she sais to sara.

sara started a continuos reign of nine more strokes, bringing her to ten. Chelsea was a wreck. Tears poured from her eyes, her head whipped back and forth frantically with each blow, screaming from the depths of her soul, but somehow, she managed to thank sara after each lash, never missing even one.

“Wait,” Keri jumped up. “I want to see how warm her skin is.”

‘Warm, I thought, it must be on fire by now.’

Keir buried her face in Chelsea’s pussy a second time, licking her and stimulating her to the brink once more.

“Want to cum, Chelsea,” Keri asked, her swollen clit gently held in Keri’s teeth.

“Yes, please,” Chelsea whimpered.

Keri’s cruel streak burst out as she said, “Then I want you to beg sara for ten more lashes.

“Take ten more from her, and I’ll bring you off.”

Chelsea lay still for a moment, breathing heavily, then, she opened her eyes, and looked at sara as she asked, “Please sara. Please whip my pussy ten more times.

“But please,” she added, “I beg you. Please do it harder.”

Everyone in the room was astounded by what they had heard. Chelsea had just taken ten harsh strokes to her shaven mound, which was already dark red and noticeably swollen, and now, her she was, pleading for ten more, delivered even harder.

“i would be happy to, Chelsea,” sara mocked her in a childish voice.

I could see sara taking aim on the spot she wanted to hit, and the swishing sound the belt made as it slashed through the air sickened me. Chelsea jumped on the table, letting go of her ankles. Her knees clamped together and she screamed in fiery hell.

Instantly, Chelsea knew she had committed a grievous mistake. “Please forgive me, my insolence, she said, as she splayed herself anew, grabbing her ankles. “Please sara, Please give me three extra strokes for having closed my legs to you.”

I knew, or at least, I thought I knew what Chelsea was capable of taking, after the whipping we gave her up in New Hampshire during our first retreat as a cult. But what I was seeing now far suppressed this.

“As you wish,” sara answered her, smiling.

Five lightning fast slashes of the belt landed on Chelsea’s Folds in about three seconds. She was screaming now so loudly that I had to cover my ears and look away, so I didn’t see the next stroke

land high, right across Chelsea’s stomach. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I did see sara lower the belt and approach Chelsea. So I looked and uncovered my ears in time to hear sara apologize to Chelsea for striking her high on the stomach.

Even though she was crying and screaming still, Chelsea was able to tell sara not to worry about it, and then, somehow, she found the strength to say, “Whip[ me wherever you please!”

Obeying the request, sara whipped Chelsea’s tits, three hard lashes on each breast.

There was now only one more stroke left in Chelsea’s ordeal. Sara had decided to wait a few minutes, presumably to let Chelsea calm down a bit, and also to let her have more time to think about the final lash. However, before sara could deliver the blow, Chelsea said, “Please sara, use the buckle.”

I thought I was going to faint! I exhaled and couldn’t seem to catch my breath, as sara, apparently stunned, replied, “What? Are you sure?”

Chelsea stammered, “Y....yes.....I......I am sure.”

Then she looked around and found me, and asked, “And Hanna, would you and slut please hold me knees down to the table? I don’t think I will be able to keep them apart when sara hits me.”

The room was starting to spin, as somehow, in a trance, I said, “O........kay, Chelsea.

I took hold of Chelsea’s right knee and slut grabbed her left one. We pushed her knees down against the table, leaning on them with all our weight. More people had gathered around the table to watch now, but not a sound was made. It was eerie, all I could hear was just Chelsea’s deep breathing as she tried to steel herself for what she was about to endure.

I watched sara as she got set to hit Chelsea one more time. She made a big deal of wrapping the end of the belt around her hand a few times and testing her grip on it. Then she let the cold buckle sit on top of Chelsea’s already swollen mound, the cold metal. made Chelsea jump just a little. She even pulled on the belt a bit, to let the buckle fall forward, through Chelsea’s slit and land on the hard table, before setting herself between Chelsea’s legs and raising the belt for the final blow.

When the buckle hit Chelsea, it was a blur in my eyes. Chelsea screamed louder than anything I had ever heard before, and she knocked me to the floor as she balled up, grabbed her knees to her chest.

I got up quickly, stunned but still in shock from what I had seen. I was crying, quietly, but tears were on my cheeks. slut had her hand up between Chelsea’s legs. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but judging by the motion of her wrist, I was pretty sure I was making an accurate guess.  None of her tenderness, however, was able to slow Chelsea’s screams. She kept crying and screaming for a few minutes at least, and then, as she got herself under control again, she whimpered, “Thank you sara. Thank you for whipping my pussy.”

I couldn’t believe my ears! And I don’t think anyone else there could either. sara bent over and gave Chelsea a hug, while Keri gently got in-between Chelsea’s now relaxed legs and ever so gently gave her the orgasm she had promised.

The waves subsided, Keri and I helped get Chelsea up from the table, very slowly. She was shaky on her feet when she tried to stand, so she held on to us both as we guided her to a stool.

Just then I heard Stacy speak to sara, saying, “M....may I touch your nipple rings, sara?”

I still wasn’t watching, more concerned with my friend, but I did hear sara reply, “Of course you may, Stacy.”

I turned to look now, and saw Stacy fiddling with the rings sara wears that are right behind her areolas, not through the nipple like most I’ve seen on porn sites. These were large, and left the nipples alone, being placed through the breasts on either side of her small dark circles.

Stacy stuttered something that I didn’t hear, so sara said, “What, Stacy?” Remember, you can ask anything here.”

Stacy’s head was down, she wasn’t looking at her friend. “Yes. I remember,” she acknowledged. “I.....I....was just going to s....say that......I really.........I really like these.” Her fingers were entwined in the rings.

“i do too,” sara smiled. “Most people who have piercings in their chest have bars or hoops through their nipples. i like these better for a lot of reasons.

“First of all, they make my breasts seem to stick out more prominently. More pointed.” sara reached up, and held Stacy’s hands to the steel, adding, “They are also stronger, since they were placed more deeply than usual in my breasts, so they will allow heavier weights to be attached without worry of them ever tearing out.”

Stacy gave both rings a tug, her eyes fixed on them, “Did they hurt?”

Again sara smiled knowingly, “i’d be lying if i tried to tell you otherwise, Stacy. But it’s not bad, and the pain goes away pretty quickly after the needle goes through.”

“What do you think about m......me getting them,” Stacy asked, her eyes still fixated on the steel she was holding.

“sara was beaming now, as she enthusiastically said, “i think they’d look great! You’ve got such big areolas,” she continued, taking Stacy’s hefty breasts and pinching the nipples, “that the rings would have to be much larger in diameter add be pierced even more deeply than mine. It would give your breasts more definition, as the tips would be more pointed.”

Stacy smiled at the thought, and then countered, “What about my husband? What do you think he’d say?”

Sara was still playing with Stacy’s tits, the nipples, had hardened, “Well, my first reaction,” she mused, “is that since you’re not Owned by someone, it doesn’t matter what he thinks. Your body is your’s and your’s alone. You haven’t given it to someone, as i have. So, it’s up top you, really. Also, i haven’t ever met a man who wasn’t fascinated and turned on by piercings there. So, unless he’s some kind of prude, i would think he would love it!

“Just a word to the wise, though,” sara continued, with a new thought, “if you’re really considering it.”

“Waht’s that?”

sara smiled slightly, a decided twinkle in her eye, almost as if  she was reliving the moment for herself, “He might love it so much having you pierced, that he asks you to get more. Like in your labia, or even your clit hood!”

“Wow,” Stacy exclaimed, now also smiling, “Do you really think so?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Could you help me get it done? You know.......take me where you had it done, maybe?”

“Sure, Stacy,” sara agreed readily. “i’d be happy to.”

Stacy looked coyly at her friend, and in a half whisper, asked, “Today?”

“If you like,” came the response. “After we leave we could go there. Sure.”

Stacy enveloped sara in a big bear hug, her pillow sized breasts oozing out from between them as she squeezed her friend tightly, and kissed her on the open mouth.

As Stacy let go, she asked, “sara?”

“Yes?”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Of course. We just did!”

“No...........I mean.........would you kiss me down there,” she pointed to her groin.

“Yes,” sara answered, shocked by her straight friend’s request. “If it’s what you want.”        

“I do, sara, I do,.......but...........”

“But what, Stace,” she asked?

I couldn’t hear Stacy’s response, because she leaned in and whispered the answer directly into sara’s ear, not wanting anyone else to hear her.

sara backed up a step, and said, sternly, “So ask her, Stacy. Remember what I told you? You can ask anyone here anything. Okay?”

“Okay,’ she replied, sheepishly.

Stacy looked at me, I could see the utter embarrassment in her eyes, and could only but wonder what it was she was going to say to me.

Still unable to speak, sara said, “Go ahead Stacy. Ask her!”

Stacy’s eyes met mine. She looked like a sad puppy, as she stammered, “Hanna..........would........would you let me k........kiss you, d.......down there?” Her eyes fell slowly from kine and drifted down my body, settling on my pussy.

I looked over at Chelsea, before answering, just to see what she thought. I saw her nod ever so slightly, but it was more the look in her eyes that told me she wanted me to follow through with this. “Yes, you may,” I said, looking at the floor, shocked at what I was agreeing to with this strange woman.

sara took command, making Stacy lie down on her back. I watched as her saggy tits flopped over and hung. grotesquely from her chest on either side of her body. She bent Stacy’s knees as she pulled them open. Then she took me by the arm and made me straddle Stacy’s head. I knelt down, with my knees against her ears, my pussy on her mouth, and my ass resting on her nose.

I watched sara approach Stacy’s open legs and get down on her elbows and knees before sticking her face in between the fat thighs.

I felt Stacy’s tongue start to explore my pussy. Compared with the Sisters of the F. N. P. C., she was terrible. No idea at all about what she should be doing. But then, a few minutes into it, she must have started to try and copy what sara was doing to her, because she began to search out my clit with her tongue, and when she found it, she sucked it into her mouth and nibbled. I responded with a moan that must have encouraged her, because she kept right at it.

I watched sara’s head moving around between Stacy’s legs, and saw Chelsea get up out of the corner of my eye.

“Stacy,” Chelsea said, “I would you like to have Hanna slap your tits. Would you like that?”

Stacy mumbled, “Yes please,” her face covered by my open lips.

I started to slap her huge breasts. First one, then the other, left hand, right hand. I had never seen tits like hers before, and I was enthralled with watching them flop about with each slap. Sometimes it looked as though they might wrap all the way around to her back!. I started to slap harder and smiled as they reddened in response.

Stacy kept working on my clit, and I was rapidly nearing orgasm when she started to buck as the throes of her own took her. I came a few seconds later, and gave her tits two more hard slaps for good measure.

None of us moved. It seemed we were all caught up in the afterglow, until a telephone rang. I opened my eyes, looking in the direction of the sound, and saw Charlotte, the bartender, pick answer it. She handed the phone over to slut, saying, “It’s for you, slut.”

“Thank you,” slut replied as she took the phone and put it to her ear, saying, “Yes?”

She listened silently for a few seconds, then I heard her say, “As You wish, Mistress.”

She extended her arm and handed the phone towards Chelsea, as she announced, “Mistress Ilsa would like to speak with you, Chelsea.”

“Yes, Mistress Ilsa,” Chelsea said.

Chelsea didn’t speak for a minute or so, listening intently to what Mistress Ilsa was saying to her. She did say, “With great pleasure, Mistress. We will be proud to serve You in any way You wish it.”

It wasn’t until we had left Dermis that Chelsea told me that the entire F. N. P. C. Had been invited to the Collaring ceremony, and that we would be participating in the event itself.

When I asked her what that meant, she just said, “Mistress Ilsa wouldn’t tell me what it meant, Hanna. All She would say is that we would all undergo pain and humiliation, but that none of us would be permanently harmed in any way. She stressed that we had to trust Her.

“I can’t wait,” she said.

I wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as she was. Fear bordering on terror would describe it better.

“When is it, Chels,” I asked.

“She’ll let us know.

“Don’t tell the Sisters, Hanna. I want to know the date and time and everything first, and then I will be the one to tell them.”

“As you wish, Priestess,” I answered her. We did not speak of it again the entire trip home.