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Chapter 9
Shadows floated eerily through grey shrouds and mist. Dark faces, tantalisingly familiar but strangely unrecognisable, loomed out of the fog and then melted away. Unspoken snatches of memory echoed in her mind.
“The problem with sluts like you Pain is that your fat little pussies tend to drip all over the ground…”
Was she dripping? She couldn’t look down to check. She shuddered in fear that she’d feel slimy tendrils drip down the inside of her thighs. But she couldn’t look down. Why couldn’t she look down? The dark face emerged again.
“Tits or arse? I maul your tits or you take a mark three up the arse?”
Neither! She’d wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. But why couldn’t she? What was stopping her? She saw the threatened instrument through a whorl in the mist: huge, thick, coated in spikes to tear her up. But her tits were so sore, so very sore already. What should she do?
“No self respecting man would stick his dick in your fat cunt…”
No, no they wouldn’t – would they? No man wanted to put himself in the mince meat that was her poor destroyed womanhood. A vicious vulture faced woman wafted over her, cackling. She knew what she was pointing at, her, the freak. Pain the freak. Her mutilated orifices and tits an object of derision and laughter.
“Come on, hurry up, let me see that big fat pussy of yours.”
No. Please don’t make me show you. You’ll just hurt me more, she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t. Why couldn’t she scream? Why couldn’t she stop them?
“Your fuck hole is for pain and pain only. And even your filthy rectum doesn’t deserve my sperm.”
Please leave me alone. Please don’t use me. It hurts too much. I can’t.
“Let me see you juice up now, you tubby slut.”
No, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. They wouldn’t let her speak, she was mute. And now she felt her hand run down her flank, down to her tummy and onto her mound. Please no. She felt herself begging. Don’t do it. It’s for pain. Only pain. Don’t do it. But she did, and she felt it. It burnt, burnt like a fire. A raging fire stoked in the very pits of hell. The pain was horrific and fantastic at the same time. Through its incendiary ache she felt a rush of exhilaration, a promise of more burning and more pain, but something else as well, a rush, lust–
Cold. Cold and wetness on her leg. What the hell?
Samantha’s eyes fluttered open to stare at the stark grey concrete ceiling. One hand was between her legs, nestled between her thighs. Her other arm was numbly pinned to the bed by Christine’s head.
Samantha lifted her head as far as she could without dislodging Christine from her breast and arm. She quickly realised where the cold clammy feeling had originated. In the weak morning light she could see Christine laying on her side, hugging Samantha’s prone body. Flannelette clad legs wrapped around Samantha’s naked thighs. Without her plastic pants, the damp, wet material of Christine’s onesie pyjamas had soaked through at the crotch.
“Christine.” Samantha whispered.
“Huh,” the strawberry blonde roused slightly.
“My arm’s gone to sleep and you’re wet.”
Samantha felt the smaller girl shift. Her head moved and immediately the rush of blood to her arm shot waves of discomfort through her. Just one more ache to add to the list, she thought. Pins and needles stuck themselves down her arm. She clenched her numbed hand, fingers clumsily touching one another and feeling odd and strangely absent.
While her arm recovered she catalogued her other various aches and pains. Her feet felt bruised, particular aching pains dug into balls and heel of her feet where her shoes daily gouged the tender flesh. As Christine’s head lifted from her breast, each strand of hair that brushed across her chest felt like the thong of a whip on her raw breasts. Lastly – “and far from fucking least”, she thought – her nether regions burnt with a fury. Her aching bottom seared, the red raw muscle of her sphincter scalded. But it was the fearful scorching pain of her womanhood that consumed her every waking moment. The never ending pains were legion, stabbing pains, burning pains, aching pains. Every sort of pain one could imagine throbbed through her vagina.
Christine rolled to one side.
Samantha’s hand, still between her thighs, hesitantly prodded her core. Agony swelled, threatening to engulf her. She inhaled slowly, savouring the intensity. Her finger felt like a hot iron against the abrased flesh of her lips. In contrast, her clitoris felt numb, a dull ache was all she could elicit with her fingers. Horrid thoughts consumed her. The unending scraping and stabbing had rendered her pleasure nubbin deadened and unfeeling. Even Christine’s delicate touch had failed to rouse her last night. She was useless. Her hole was for pain and only pain. Never pleasure. Never again.
She closed her eyes to feel the wracking twist in her stomach that preceded a good cry.
Tears. Wet rolling tears down her face, over her cheeks and onto her poor deformed breasts. Yes. Cry.
She heard sobbing: deep, emotional chestfuls of sadness and fear. She wondered what Christine would think of her pathetic tears? Then she realised the sobs were not hers – they were Christine’s.
Samantha sat up. Christine crouched on the floor. The bulging mess of her diaper showing through the clinging wetness of her pyjamas. Her head was in her hands as she wept.
“Hey, hey.” Samantha lowered herself from the bed. “Hey. Don’t. You can’t help it, it’s them. Don’t you worry about being wet.” She put her arm around Christine. “Just you ignore it, okay. I don’t care.”
“No.” Christine’s tears intensified again. “It’s not this. I can put up with this.” She clenched the wet flannel and motioned to throw it away; then, wiping her eyes, she looked at Samantha. “It’s that, in there.” She pointed at the wardrobe. “Look in the box. I didn’t see it last night.”
Samantha turned to the partially ajar door saw the open box within. Then she understood.
“Oh.” Samantha said quietly. “Oh Christine. I’m so sorry.”
---
Samantha tried very hard to ignore the near constant crying. Alongside School, she busied herself with cleaning chores in an attempt to shut out Christine’s whimpering. Presently she was cleaning the enormous variety of plugs, vibrators and dildos kept in the playroom. The “Mark Three”, the real version, not the hideous spiked creation of her dreams, now glistened with latex polish. It was black and angry with hard red silicone studs to gouge and prod soft flesh erupting along its length. She placed the monster back in its cradle, only to pick up its evil relative. This phallus resembled its brother in length and girth, but instead of silicone studs, heavy coarse bristles lined its surface. She shuddered as she handled this particular instrument of torture, one of many objects stored in this cupboard, each designed to torture, humiliate and punish girl-flesh.
But even cleaning these objects of terror was far more pleasant than watching the scene playing out in the centre of the playroom.
Christine stood bent and strapped over the large wooden chair that dominated the centre of the room. She wore a baby pink dress and bonnet set. Tiny embroidered roses adorned her smocked bodice, a hint of organza frill peeped out from under the hem of the dress. A half sash bow gathered in her back. Puffy sleeves and a peter pan collar completed the exceptionally frivolous baby dress. The bonnet was finished with its own band of smocking and a delicate organza frill around the face edge. Frilly socks and pink booties with straps and bows adorned her feet.
But it was the final indignation, and the threat it embodied, that had driven Christine to tears earlier. Over her dress she wore a lacy white pinafore. Embroidered on it, in flowing pink calligraphy, were the words: “Babygirl Arse Slut”; and Mister White was currently giving legitimacy to the slogan. The depraved man’s pants slouched round his ankles as he stood behind Christine’s prone form. Her skirts were hiked up, her enormous cloth diaper pulled down, and White’s rigid thick pole was currently buried in Christine’s increasingly distended anus.
For the third time of the morning, he came violently, spurting his seed deep into Christine’s bowels. He grunted loudly, then sighed as he slowly withdrew his rampant member from the weeping girl. He smeared the end of his dick on her lilly white buttocks, leaving a trail of silvery slime behind. Christine’s bottom gaped obscenely after the removal of White’s stumpy cock. As White pulled up his pants, Christine’s stretched and weeping sphincter slowly contracted. He pulled her ridiculously oversized diaper back up, followed by her frilled plastic panties complete with flower motif. Finally, he pulled her skirts back down to restore a semblance of modesty to the violated, sodomized and thoroughly inconsolable Christine.
Tears splashed onto the hard concrete floor as Mister White circled Christine’s prone form. Deep heaves and sobs echoed throughout the room as the tortured girl tried to control herself. White sat down in a chair immediately before Christine’s face. He pulled Rubber’s head – who had been kneeling next to the chair throughout the ordeal – onto his now flaccid member, feeding his stumpy length into her ring gag.
Looking Christine straight in the eye, White asked, “What does little Loli say?”
Through her tears, Christine sniffed and looked up. Even from her position across the room, Samantha could see in the poor girl’s eyes the horror and humiliation that had been inflicted on her over recent hours.
“No. No more. You said you wouldn’t, you said if I wore the pyjamas–” Christine sniffed.
“Wrong Loli. You say ‘thank you for filling Miss Bum Bum with Mr Winky’, don’t you Loli?”
“Please. Stop it, you promised.” She stuttered while tears and snot ran down her face.
“Did Miss Bum Bum like it?” He asked again.
Samantha closed her eyes, hoping Christine could answer in such a way that would cause Mister White to leave her alone.
“No.” She cried. “It hurts, it’s horrid. Please stop.”
Wrong answer, Samantha told herself.
“That’s just too bad little Loli,” White remarked, pumping Rubber’s head up and down on his still soft shaft. “Mister Winky likes Miss Bum Bum very much. He likes her tight and warm. He is very sad to hear that Miss Bum Bum doesn’t seem to like him. I know that she’ll come to like him in time. We just have to keep practicing.”
Samantha shuddered. Finished with this cupboard, she moved on to the next, which contained floggers, whips and paddles. School stood next to her, dusting and polishing the shelves while Samantha cleaned the implements. School’s injuries were on open display this morning. In a departure from her normal procession of fetishized school uniforms, the red-haired beauty was today dressed as a ballerina. Her shock of bright red hair had been pulled back in a severe bun. Emerald green ballet shoes with long ribbons circled up her calves. A matching tutu jutted out from her hips over a lycra leotard that appeared a size or so too small. The leotard’s crotch was cut away, two thin strips of lycra framed her mound and ran between her legs. The deep green of the leotard contrasted sharply with the crimson mess between School’s thighs. Last night’s caning had left a cacophony of vicious welts across her lips. Swollen and angry, her abused labia jutted thickly out from the leotard.
Samantha shook her head and wished she were back in Christine’s arms again. In each other they had found some comfort and a small amount of pleasure in this sea of insane perversion. For just a blink of a moment they had been able to forget the horrors of the house outside and fall asleep in each others’ embrace.
As her dear friend and now lover sobbed in pain and humiliation, Samantha wished she could make it all go away, but there was little if anything she could do. In the moments before the cell doors unlocked, Samantha had pleaded with Christine to stay strong, not to give their captors any satisfaction. “Give them what they want”, she’d said. “Take anything. Close your eyes and go away inside. It will go easier on you and it will soon be over.”
Fine words. But words just the same. Christine had broken as soon as her wrists and ankles were strapped to the chair. She knew what was coming and her eyes had wildly flashed about the room. White’s first thrust had torn away all of Samantha’s well-meaning words, to be replaced with revulsion, humiliation and pain as Christine’s anus had been taken by force.
Meanwhile, Rubber audibly gagged on Mister White’s slowly reviving member. Its engorging thickness threatened to expand beyond the diameter of Rubber’s ring gag, leading him to pull the slimy invader out of Rubber’s throat. He milked himself slowly, occasionally prodding his tip into the warm confines of Rubber’s vulnerable open mouth.
“Look little Lollie,” White returned his attention to Christine’s prone form. “Mister Willy is almost ready to play again.”
“Please stop.” Christine groaned. “Please don’t. Please put it in my mouth instead, I’ll lick it, Daddy. I’ll lick it like a lolly pop, please?” She begged.
“No, I don’t think so. Mister Willy prefers the company of Miss Bum Bum. Now, are you going to ask nicely?” His turgid length was now approaching its prime. He stood to his feet.
“Please Daddy, don’t do it.” She whined.
“Now now. We’ve talked about this. You will ask Mister Willy nicely if he’ll play with Miss Bum Bum. Now ask.” He stated calmly.
“Please no Daddy. I’ll suck it nicely, please?” He moved slowly. Her imprecations grew more urgent as he neared his target. “No! Please? My vagina, put it in my vagina. Please!” Her last desperate cry tore out of her mouth as he rested his newly restored prong on her thickly padded bottom.
“Naughty Lollie!” White said sternly. “It’s not called that is it? It’s your ‘no-no hole’ and we call it that because nothing goes in it. For even suggesting we use your no-no hole you need to be punished.”
“No!” She squealed as he lifted her skirts for the fourth time in the day. White kept himself firm by tugging his cock as he pulled her crinkling plastic panties back down. Next followed her sagging, dripping diaper. With her pants and diaper around her knees and her ankles spread far apart courtesy of the pink leather cuffs that chained them to the legs of the chair. Christine kept on begging as Mister White rested his thickness against the tired red sphincter of Christine’s bottom.
“For not asking nicely, and for failing to properly refer to your ‘no-no hole’, we’re going to do this without any lubricant.”
“No!” She squealed. “No, you can’t! No! Please!”
She screwed her eyes closed. “Please Daddy, please put Mister Winky in Miss Bum-Bum, please! But please use the vaseline. Please, I’ll be good!”
“Too late Lollie.” He intoned. He started with a single finger, prodding the rubbery winkle open.
“Nooo.,,” she groaned, “Please stop it. It hurts! It’s horrid and dirty!”
“Oh, you’re not dirty little Lollie. You’re nice and clean. The enemas keep Miss Bum-Bum nice and clean for Mister Willy.”
“Stop it, please…”
White ignored her tears as one finger was replaced with two. He massaged the ever loosening passage, now adding a third finger. “Ready?” He asked.
“Please Daddy, please use the vaseline.”
“No sweety. You have to learn.”
“But please, I’ll beg from now on, I promise!”
“I know you will sweety. But you’ll beg in the future because you’ll remember what this felt like. You have to learn your lessons.”
White pulled a floppy black sheath from the pocket of his pants.
Looking back over her shoulder with wide frightened eyes, Christine asked, “What? What is that?”
“This, my little petal, is Mister Winky’s special friend, Bulgy the protector. He protects Mister Winky from being hurt inside your dry bum-bum.” He pushed his length into the PVC sheath and pulled his balls through the ring at its base. “Bulgy unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on your point of view – desensitizes Mister Winky, making him last much longer. Also fortunately or unfortunately, Bulgy adds an extra half inch to my thickness and sports these lovely ridges which will make Miss Bum-Bum hurt even more.
“Next time Lollie, you will beg for me. And you’ll make it believable.”
“Please don’t Daddy, please! Don’t do this to Lollie!” Christine squealed. Samantha felt shots of cold metal slide down her spine as she saw the nastily ridged sheath.
The naked head of White’s sheathed dick poked out from the open end of the black sheath. Christine’s cries picked up an octave and several dozen decibels as White’s cock head touched her winking anus.
Despite his threats, Christine’s bottom remained partly lubricated from her previous rapes and it was not an entirely dry hole that his augmented cock slowly sank into. Christine cried continuously as White slowly worked his thick cock into the straining hole.
“Daddy… No, you’re tearing me, please stop!”
Samantha checked on her fellow captives, School had finished dusting and had fallen to her hands and knees with a scrubbing brush, the red head was deliberately avoiding watching the scene. Similarly, Rubber’s head hung down, her oral skills temporarily unneeded. With no-one paying particular attention, Samantha watched on in sick fascination as White’s artificially thickened weapon slowly strained and stretched Christine’s once virgin anus. The diminutive girl’s squeals rose a notch as one of the sharp ridges on the sheath plundered into her defenceless hole.
“Oh god, have mercy! Mercy!” She screamed.
“Such a shame.” White added casually. “I can barely feel a thing. What about you Lollie?” He asked rhetorically as another hard ridge shredded its way into her bowels.
Samantha used all her self control to look away. The vision of Christine in such pain and discomfort was deeply disturbing.
“Help.” Christine moaned. “Please for the love of God, please help me.”
White looked carefully over the petticoats gathered upon the small of Christine’s back. He thrust slightly harder for a moment, eliciting a further squeal from his victim.
White’s thickly clad weapon slowly sawed in and out of Christine’s aching rectum. The ridges on the black sheath gouged and tore at her formerly pristine bottom. To further add to the terrible experience, the lubricant that had been left in her bowels after the three previous rapes began to dry out. Increasingly, White’s protected rod began to grip, pull and abrade Christine’s tortured anus. Her cries and sobs intensified, her fists gripped tightly and her eyes squeezed closed as she tried to endure the unendurable.
“You are listening Lollie?” White asked mid thrust, “When I am finished I am going to release you. I’ll even let you change yourself.
“Then Rubber is going to make me hard in her mouth again. When Mister Winky is happy, you will present yourself and bend over the chair. You’ll lift your pretty little petticoats, pull down your pretty piss panties and diaper and you’ll spread these pert soft buttocks apart. Then you are going to ask very nicely for Mister Winky to play with Miss Bum-Bum. If you do all that little Lollie, you’ll get some lube. If you fail, we’ll repeat this little performance again. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes Daddy. But please, please finish. I can’t take it anymore.” She whined between sobs.
“Who can’t take it?” He asked.
“Miss Bum-Bum Daddy. Miss Bum-Bum can’t take any more. Please finish, please.”
“I’m far from finished Missy Kitty. Mister Winky is too busy destroying your little winkle. You should see how stretched and red it is. I fear she’ll never close up again. Such a shame, Miss Bum-Bum was so tight just a couple of days ago, now look at her. All red, and hurting, loose and broken. Soon you’ll need your diapey just to stop my lovely sperm from dripping out of your broken bottom and on to my nice clean floor.”
“Please stop.” A frightened and crushed Christine begged. “Please, I’ll do it. I’ll beg. I’ll ask you nicely.”
“Yes you will Little Lolita. Won’t you?”
“Yes Daddy, yes I will.”
---
The worst part of it was that Samantha wished more than anything else that she could comfort and console Christine in her broken state. But to do so might betray their secret affair. She couldn’t be seen to be any more or less empathetic than she would otherwise be toward any of the other girls.
Once White had tired of plundering Christine’s bottom he left them to finish their chores. Christine was unrestrained, bent over the chair with a frothy mix of semen and lubricant oozing out of her gaping anus. She stayed there for some time before Rubber shuffled over to her and placed a gentle hand on her teary cheek. Wordlessly she helped Christine restore her dignity, by pulling up her diapers and pants. Still crying quietly, Christine waddled away from the chair, her massive diaper forcing her legs far apart.
Moments later she sank to the floor. Samantha stopped work for a moment and dropped to her haunches next to Christine. “It’s over. Be brave.” She whispered.
“No it’s not,” Christine sobbed. “It’s not over, it’ll never be over.”
“Shhh...” Samantha tried to calm her friend.
“You don’t understand. He’s right.” Christine was becoming more hysterical. Seeing the warning signs of an oncoming meltdown, School put aside her scrubbing brush and joined the circle to try and calm Christine down.
“He’s right,” the broken girl cried, “I can feel it slide out of me. I can’t stop it. His sperm. He’s ruined me. I’ll have to wear diapers forever. Look at what he’s done!”
“Christine, snap out of it. You’ll just make yourself more upset.” School interjected. “You’re not the only victim here. We’re all in the same boat. You need to get over it. Quickly. Come and help us finish up, it’ll distract you from the pain.”
Christine sniffed. “I’m sorry.” She said. “I know I’m not the only one.” A single look at School’s welted, bruised and swollen crotch gave the truth to that statement. “I just need a moment.”
A deep clanging of steel heralded the arrival of Mister Green as he emerged from the lower levels. Rubber, School and Samantha quickly leapt to their tasks.
“I hope I didn’t hear any talking.” Green stood at the doorway. “Sluts only speak when spoken to. If I find any of you conversing without permission again, there will be a strapping for each of you. Now you, Lolita. Come with me, I have to check your catheter.”
Fresh sobs erupted as Green hauled her to her feet. “Hurry up Slut, I don’t have all day.” As he pulled her by her upper arm toward the infirmary, Christine chanced a glance over her shoulder at Samantha. Samantha felt fresh pangs of sympathy for the poor girl as her fearful green eyes relayed her terror at the prospect of spending time alone with Green. And why not, thought Samantha, look at what Green had done to Rubber’s poor private parts.
---
Rubber stood silently holding the shortest straw. The other three girls looked on with a mixture of relief and sympathy.
Mister Black held court, sitting casually on the common room table with the four girls spread in a semi circle before him. “And now I suppose you’re all wondering what wonderful pleasures await the Rubber Slut. Bit a bad luck there old girl. First full night back with us and you pull the short straw again. Too bad for you.
“Personally I was hoping for Lolita to pull the straw. How’s your diaper slut?”
“Still dry sir.” Christine said with her head hung low.
“Wonderful. I look forward to seeing your face when you gush for the first time. Maybe we’ll get lucky tonight? What do you think?”
“I don’t know sir.”
“Anyway,” Mister Black changed the subject, “Back to our evening festivities. We are going to play a game I’ve decided to call ‘Incentive to Imagine’. Here’s how it works.” He pointed toward four cases arrayed across the table. “Four cases, four names. One for each of you.” From a suit pocket he withdrew three sheets of paper and some crayons.
“Each of these cases contains a permanent addition to each of your wonderful costumes. Inside the case with your name on it is an item to make your stay with us just that little less enjoyable. Since Rubber lucked out on the short straw, you’re automatically a loser. To give the others a bit of an idea what their case might contain, let’s open yours now, shall we?”
Adding to the drama, Mister Black took his time in unclasping and opening the case inscribed with Rubber’s name. From within he pulled out a shimmering piece of black rubber. “I wonder what this is?” He asked elusively. “Here, come here Slut, let’s get this on you.”
School, Samantha and Christine all watched on as Mister Black pulled Rubber’s passive form over to the table. He forced her to sit on a chair, slapping her several times when she failed to completely submit. Then he began stripping Rubber of her part of her uniform. Her corset, apron and rubber shirt were each removed and placed neatly on the table. Once her chest was bare, he pulled the new shirt over her head. The new shirt was identical to her old with one important change. Two small heavily reinforced holes, four inches in diameter, appeared where her breasts sat. With the tight rubber shirt on, the flesh of her breasts tried to poke proudly through the holes. “Oh dear.” Black chortled darkly, “The shop seems to have got the measurements wrong, I was sure that I’d told them the shirt was for a heavily titted slut, but look, they’ve made these holes too small. Oh well, we can’t send it back now can we?”
Ignoring Rubber’s undistinguishable moans, he roughly grabbed a fistful of tit meat and nipple and hauled on Rubber’s breast to pull it through the restrictive hole. It took a deal of effort and cries from the increasingly distraught Rubber before he’d successfully manipulated her breasts into place. Finished, he took a step back to admire the sight of two large D cup breasts each bursting from the front of her uniform. The tight rubber rings around the base of her breasts caused the taut flesh to bulge obscenely – already her breasts were turning a darker shade as blood flow was restricted.
Black restored Rubber to her corset – which further enhanced the girl’s tortured bust – and her apron. The girl was left sitting on the chair with her tits lewdly and bulbously thrusting out of her new shirt.
“The other cases each contain a similar personalised item which has been designed to similarly cause pain, to humiliate or otherwise titillate myself and my colleagues. I need not add that you do not want to have your particular case opened. So, to avoid having your case opened, what the three of you,” he pointed to School, Samantha and Christine, “are going to do is use your imaginations to dream up a wonderful punishment for our Rubber Slut. Points will be awarded for your ingenuity, sadism, ability to cause humiliation and how hard your suggestion makes me in my pants.
“Now here’s the incentive part of the game. You’ve already seen the type of surprise you can expect in your box. The winner of our game gets to go to sleep unmolested. We’ll forget about her box. It doesn’t get opened. She doesn’t get her lucky prize. But the two losers, well, they get the contents of their box permanently added to their wardrobe.”
He let the words sink in. Samantha shuddered. Black had played different varieties of this game before, pitting the girls against each other. She knew with a firm certainty that she would personally be trying to dream up the best torture she could contemplate, the alternative was whatever lay inside her case and she knew from experience they would have dreamt up something particularly nasty. Inside her box, she knew, was a new and more devilish pair of panties, or a new torture bra or something equally horrific. She did not want to lose this challenge.
“You each have half an hour to imagine a suitable punishment for Rubber and write it up on your piece of paper. In the meantime, Rubber here is going to be introduced to the joys of tit fucking.” Black mauled the poor girl’s tits and pushed the tightly bound orbs together, eliciting a squeal from Rubber’s ring gag. He then unzipped his fly.
Samantha looked to the other two girls. School looked resolute. Christine looked scared.
Christine would probably fail this game, Samantha thought. She’d only been here just over a week and had little experience in these sorts of games. To further complicate matters, she’d had just endured a particularly traumatic day. After being anally raped half a dozen times by Mister White, she’d then been taken to Mister Green’s infirmary where he had finally removed her catheter. He’d then presented a fearful looking Charlotte back to the play room and proudly announced that little Lolita was now one step closer to achieving her true “Babygirl Arse Slut” status. To ring in the occasion, he’d ceremoniously removed the chain around her diaper, suggesting that she was free to return to “Big Girl panties” anytime that she chose. But that “accidents”, he’d added, “will of course be brutally punished.”
Samantha understood completely the inference. Christine had confided she feared the arrival of this day more than anything. Since her arrival, Green had been catheterising Christine with increasingly larger and larger catheter devices whose function was to permanently ruin particular muscles in her bladder. The end result, Christine had explained, would be that when Green removed her final catheter, Christine would still feel as though she had bladder control, but that as soon as she filled to a point, she would uncontrollably wet herself. Mister Green’s feigned offer that Christine could start wearing “Big Girl Panties” was of course false. Christine knew she had no control, and might wet herself at any moment with little prior warning. The only way to avoid Mister Green’s threatened punishment, was to stay in her diapers. Mister Green didn’t need to remove the chain, Christine was even more a prisoner in her voluminous cloth diapers than she had been when the chain had fastened them about her waist.
Samantha tried to imagine how Christine felt at this moment. The apprehension and foreboding must be eating her up inside. Her greatest fears were being realised and now she was expected to participate meaningfully in this dreadful game. Samantha couldn’t wait until the end of the evening. She now resolved to slip into Christine’s room so she could comfort her. She would throw caution to the wind and risk being caught. Right now, Samantha thought, Christine needs me more than ever.
In the meantime, Black now had his lubricated cock sliding between the purple melons of Rubber’s tits. He was far from gentle, pulling on her throbbing nipples and mauling the tit meat brutally.
School had already picked up her paper and crayon and was already scratching her ideas for Rubber’s further torture onto paper. Samantha picked up her own sheet and also handed the final blank page to Christine, who looked distracted and flighty. She nudged her friend lightly, goading her to start. Christine reluctantly took the offered page.
Samantha shook her head – sure that Christine would be one of the losers in tonight’s contest. She thought briefly about deliberately trying to lose and so try and help Christine avoid failing. On balance however, she considered that School would try her best, even though the proposed victim was her lover. Samantha had often wondered at this behaviour, but now that she was in a similar position she thought she understood. If School failed, then both lovers would receive some form of punishment. At least if she won, one of them would escape. It made for a sick, but sensible form of calculus to Samantha’s mind.
She dredged through her worst memories, trying to devise a proposal suitably vicious to stand a chance of winning.
Half an hour, in Mister Black’s world, apparently concluded at the same moment that he came violently all over Rubber’s face, tits and into her open mouth. He firmly milked the last of his spooge into Rubber’s gaping mouth cavity before announcing that time was up.
He took each of the girl’s pages away from them and began flicking through each of them in turn.
“How about we start with the pain pig slut’s attempt. I’ll read it out for the benefit of all to hear: ‘Strip her naked. Hang her upside down over a bucket of urine.’ You lose points for using the word urine. I prefer piss. But we continue: ‘Rig her up with nooses around her newly squeezed breasts so that when her head is out of the water, she hangs by her breasts. She will then half to dunk herself in the urine to save her breasts.’ Novel, but you can’t spell you pathetic fat slut. It’s ‘have’, not ‘half’. And you’re little scheme won’t work. How can she hang from her breasts, presumably from the ceiling, and yet have to move closer to the ground to relieve herself? But let us not let some simple physics ruin this, let’s read the rest: ‘Set up a whipping machine next to her and set it up to give her a full body whipping all night.’ Well. It’s a bit lame Pain. And it won’t work. Let’s hope one of these others is a little better.
Samantha’s shoulders slumped. She thought she’d come up with a competitive entry. What she’d meant to write had been that Rubber’s breast nooses were attached to the floor and if she pulled away from the bucket the nooses would hurt her tits, but she clearly hadn’t written it out in the way she envisaged. She thought the bucket of urine was inspired, it had been something she’d dredged up from her worst fears and the whipping machine was an old favourite of Mister Black’s. All in all she was very disappointed.
“Here’s School Slut’s suggestion: ‘Place ball bearings in her boots and hang her from the ceiling by her wrists, but allow her enough length to stand in place. Place electronic sensors under her boots. Align a fucking machine with a studded phallus to enter her arse. Put spiked suction cups on her tits. Hook the suction machine and the fucking machine up to the sensors. If she lifts her left foot, the sensor turns on the fucking machine. If she lifts the other, the suction increases in the breast cups, eventually sucking her tits onto the spikes. The slut then has a choice, she can save her toes, her tits or her arse.’
Black put School’s entry down on the table, clearly impressed. “Well. Very nicely constructed School Slut. I like it. You’re well out in front at the moment.”
Samantha tried to gauge Rubber’s response to School’s suggestion, but the tight black rubber confines of her mask rendered her face an anonymous enigma. She looked at the purple orbs of Rubber’s breasts and felt someone walk over her grave as she imagined the suction cups School had mentioned in her entry. Samantha knew exactly the instruments School had referred to; she’d dusted them this morning. They were two Perspex cups with hoses emerging from the apex of the cup and rubber lining the edges that made contact with the skin. Inside each cup, surrounding the air intake valve that provided suction to the cups, were a half dozen dull steel spikes. The reason Samantha was so familiar with the cups was that she had often imagined her own poor scoured breasts been fed into the maw of those horrific suction devices. She lived in fear that one day one of the sadists would remember them and use them in a session with her.
“So that just leaves us Lolita’s entry. This I am interested to see.” He cleared his throat, ‘Unlace her no-no hole.’ Nice use of language Lolita, ‘Add hot sauce to a vaginal douche bag and put it inside her. Then lace up her no-no hole again. Then when you put your willies in her bumhole, they will squeeze the bag inside her and make the hot sauce ooze into her no-no hole.’”
Black put Christine’s entry next to Schools and clapped slowly. “Delightful. Simply delightful for a first attempt. I think there’s something in this wonderful suggestion, and I will share it with my colleagues. Both entries are well constructed, sadistic, painful and innovative. But if I had to judge between the two, then I’ll have to go on the pants factor, and I must admit that School’s suggestion made my cock rock hard. You win School, by a whisker.”
“That’s just too bad for you two. Particularly for you Lolita. I really liked your suggestion and you almost deserve to win. It’s a shame that rules are rules. Come here. Now.” Christine was clearly deflated. Nevertheless she waddled across to Mister Black.
“Hand’s out.” Black instructed her as he opened the case with “Lolita” emblazoned on the top. Christine held her hands out tentatively as Black produced two white mittens decorated with delicate pink bows around each wrist. Samantha rose an eyebrow, not understanding the gloves’ purpose. Mister Black fed each of Christine’s hands into the leather mittens. He then took a small hex tool from the box and used it to tighten two wrist bands sewn into the mittens.
Christine’s face became increasingly horror-filled as she realised the full import of what was happening. Finally Mister Black hid the steel bands back under the lace and bows around the mitten’s wrists. “Show me your hands.” He instructed. Christine turned her hands over to reveal that the leather mitten’s fingers were securely sown to the base of her palm. Both hands were now forced into tight balls.
“Excellent. Mister White – oh I’m sorry – Daddy White has told me that Babygirl Arse Sluts can’t use their fingers and hands. They need their Daddies and Mommies to help them dress and change themselves. These mittens seem to suit the purpose. I probably don’t need to tell you that they are permanent. Those hex locks don’t come off and the bands holding them on are steel.”
Samantha blinked back tears of her own as she watched Christine fully absorb the full impact of the new mittens. Never again would she feel Christine’s fingers through her hair or on her skin. The bastards had even taken that away from them.
“You may find that you can fit a spoon or crayon into the little hole in your fist, but that should be about it. That will leave you able to spoon yourself some food and carry out very basic activities. But it means that for anything more complex, like shaving your no-no hole and carrying out your morning enema, you’ll have to ask one of the other Sluts to help. And of course, it means you’ll have to ask someone else to change your diapers for you. Unless of course you like sitting in your own piss for hours on end.”
Samantha began to shake with fear as she imagined what lay inside the box with her name scrawled on top.
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