Two Plus One Makes Three
(Part 4)
Tiffany awoke, lying naked on her tummy on her parents'
double bed. As consciousness returned, through a mental haze,
she became aware of minor pains. The outer lips of her vulva
hurt. When she reached back to investigate, her backside was
tender. She lifted her head to look around, saw her mother lying
beside her, also naked, also prone, but supported by the softest
pillows.
"Mom, are you all right?"
"I'll be all right, Tiffany, dear. After I rest a while
longer. Are you all right?"
"I -- I don't know, Mother. Two must have had quite a time
last night. I can't think straight, seem to be all fuzzy."
"Don't think about what happened to Two, last night, dear.
Forget it. That's none of your concern. You probably have a
hangover. You consumed a lot of alcohol."
"I was drinking?"
"Don't try to remember, Tiff. Relax, sleep it off."
She awoke again to go to the bathroom, and she found her
mother, still showing residual pink stripes from her beating,
rubbing in some lotion after a shower. As Tiffany sat on the
toilet, she realized her bottom was sore, and she discovered to
her horror that there were several wires passing through the lips
of her vulva, bent back, with the ends twisted together.
"Mother, what happened to me?"
"I'm sorry, Tiffany. That other woman, Two, left them for
you. Remember, when you had your ears pierced? Don't touch the
wires until the holes heal. How's your hangover?"
"I'm much better, Mother, but I don't understand. Why do I
have a hangover? I don't remember."
"It's not your fault, Tiffany. Two passed out, dead drunk.
She left you with the hangover."
"Oh." Tiffany let go a stream of urine and very carefully
wiped herself, marvelling at the unexpected decoration of her
crotch. "When I go back to college, I'm going to stay away from
drinking, if this is what can happen." She laughed. "Mom,
you've heard the one about the freshman girl who passed out at a
fraternity beer party and the whole house fucked her? When she
woke up she said, 'Wow. I'm never going to drink lite beer again.
It makes my cunt sore.'" She giggled at her joke and said, "Hey,
Mom, do we have something to eat?"
"Your father's in the kitchen now."
"OK, Mom. Anything I can do to help?"
"No. You will be home next month, won't you?"
"Of course, Mom. I have to bring Two with me."
"Yes, dear."
"I wish Two hadn't left me with holes in my labia. What
will I tell my husband, someday, when I get married?"
"When your hair grows back, Tiffany, the holes won't show,
unless you show them."
Tiffany giggled and went into her room to find some
underwear.
As the family ate in the kitchen, the atmosphere was
strained. Tiffany's mother ate standing up, wearing a very light
nightgown, the minimum for decency. Tiffany discovered that
panties were impractical, with all those twisted wires protruding
from her lower lips. She had to wear a loose skirt and forego
her usual snug jeans. Tiffany's father paced the floor, clearly
disturbed.
"Daddy, are you the one who carried Mom and me to bed?"
"Yes." He shook, as if to sob. "Tiffany, my dearest, I want
to apologize. I..."
"Shush!" said her mother. "Don't speak of it. She doesn't
even remember!" The father looked perplexed. "I'll explain
later. Don't apologize for anything."
Tiffany returned to college. A week later, she called her
parents and consulted with them about something very important.
"We'll call you back," her mother said.
Four weeks later, Tiffany returned home, cheerful. "One,"
she said to her mother, "I brought my room mate, Cheryl. But you
must call her Three. She's outside."
"Yes, Two, my dear, but how did you arrange it?"
"Cheryl spotted my wires; Tiffany couldn't conceal them
forever."
"Did you heal all right?"
"Oh, yes. Cheryl helped me remove the wires a couple of
weeks ago."
"What did she say when she discovered your secret?"
"She said, 'Wow, I didn't know you were into body piercing.
Can I look? You know, I've been thinking of getting some part of
me pierced. It's fashionable. I thought I'd start with my
navel, get a ring for it. How much did it cost you?'
"I said that it didn't cost me. I was paid a thousand
dollars to have it done. 'A thousand dollars!' she said, 'Can I
get paid to get pierced?' So then it all came out, and now she's
going to be Three, if the 'policeman' will pay." Two went to
the door and led Three into the house by the hand.
Three, Cheryl, had a childlike look of wonderment. Two had
been working on her for days, preparing her for her new role.
Three was a small woman, with narrow hips and a small bust, small
bones, childlike. Her blonde hair was cut short, boyish. She
was wearing sneakers and a simple cotton dress and could have
passed for fourteen, not twenty-one. "Three," One said, "you are
an elementary education major, aren't you?"
"No," she replied, "you're thinking of Cheryl. She's a
college student. I'm just... well, I don't know just what it is
I do -- but I'm going to find out."
"Three," said Two, "that's such a pretty dress. Don't you
think you should take it off and hang it up?"
As the childlike woman removed her dress, One whispered to
Two, "You have her really trained, don't you? She acts like she
won't remember a thing."
"Why should she? Tiffany doesn't."
When their torturer arrived, he had a different costume:
boots, jeans, a biker jacket of black leather and chains. One
and Two had Three ready. She stood in the basement, weight on
one leg, hip thrust out, her arms loosely hanging from a hook
overhead. She wore only a Spandex bandeau, which flattened her
small breasts, and cotton panties.
The "biker" said, "Perfect!" and went to three, holding her
chin and looking into her eyes. When he released her, she looked
away, a vacant stare at a wall. The torturer slid the bandeau up
over her face and arms, so that she couldn't see. Released from
the pressure of the elastic, her breasts stood out, cone shaped,
with tiny pink nipples.
One bound her husband to his post, while their financial
benefactor examined his new toy, Three. He ran his hands over
her body, especially intrigued by her pert breasts, hardly an
handful. He slid the cotton panties down over her lean legs and
off over her feet. Three was entirely passive, saying nothing,
seeming not to mind. With his bare hand he spanked her hard,
boyish buns, but she didn't cry out.
With gestures, he directed One and Two. Mother and daughter
each selected a leg, and they hung Three's ankles from the joists
overhead, so that her legs were spread widely, her weight
supported about evenly by her arms and legs. The torturer
examined carefully Three's upturned pubic area. Beneath thin,
silky, blonde hairs, her little slit, tightly closed, resembled a
child's. He explored with his fingers. "Christ! She's a
virgin," he exclaimed.
Then he handed Two a pair of long-nosed pliers and a glass
jar; he must have his trophy. Two began to pluck Three's pubic
hairs, as her own had been plucked by One. Each hair went into
the jar. Though Three's pubic bush was nothing compared to the
one Two had had, it still took a long time to pluck every hair.
The torturer seemed to be patient, watching carefully as Two
worked. One helped by partially supporting Three's weight, to
relieve the strain on her arms and legs.
With the jar capped and filed away, the man again examined
Three's crotch, running his finger tips over her now hairless
vulva, the little rolls of flesh with a small slit between them.
Then he said to Two, "Eat."
There was plenty of room between Three's skinny, widespread
thighs. Two squatted and began to lick the little slit. "Wait,"
the man said.
He had remembered that he had perforated Two's outer labia,
and he wanted to examine the result. Two stood, while he tested
each hole with a round tooth pick, to see that they had not
closed as they healed. The he passed a wire hook into each hole
and connected the hooks with thin rubber bands which passed
behind her, so that her vulva was pulled open and her pink inner
lips fully exposed.
He then went to One and repeated the procedure, except that
it was One's inner lips which had been pierced, so that her
vagina gaped open, a kind of pink funnel. Almost as an
afterthought, he inserted a penis shaped vibrator into One's open
sheath and turned it on, taping it in place with a strip of
adhesive tape.
"Resume," he ordered, and Two again squatted to apply her
mouth to Three's cunt. Squatting tightened the rubber bands, so
that her labia were stretched unnaturally, but Two did not pause
in her work. One, standing behind Three, wrapped her arms
around Three's body, partially lifting her, and played with
Three's underdeveloped breasts. One showed the effects of the
vibrator inside her. Her breasts blushed pink, and her nipples
stood erect. One, hugging Three to her from behind, stimulated
her breasts by squeezing them between One's neck and upraised
arms, the soft flesh and prominent, dark nipples decorating One's
cheeks. There was a striking contrast between One's large, dark
areolae -- they had darkened when she had Tiffany -- and the
virginal pink of Three's.
Two, by now, had her tongue deep within Three's cleft,
concentrating on her room mate's love button, but Three still
hung there passively. Time passed, the only sounds the slurping
noises Two made. The torturer grew impatient. He pulled Two
away and handed her a thin, gleaming automobile radio antenna,
pointing to Three's upturned buttocks.
Two applied the whippy metal rod, making Three scream and
wriggle, while One still held her closely, mashing Three's little
breasts with her hands, while One's own perspiring breasts were
stimulated by Three's struggles.
There was a pause, while the nameless man inserted a small,
greased, buzzing vibrator into Three's anus, pushing it until it
disappeared within her and her little rosebud puckered shut.
Then the whipping began again. It was not so hard as to break
the skin, but it left Three's bottom a uniform pink.
At a sign from the master torturer, One and Two switched
places, Two holding Three, cupping Three's breasts, while One
went down on Three's hairless cunt. The torturer turned on a
little electronic chime, which went ding, ding, ding, like a
demented doorbell.
Perhaps One was a better cunnilinguist, or perhaps the
whipping had sensitized Three's nerves, or perhaps the vibrator
did the job; in minutes, Three's labia were soft and flexible,
and One's tongue and lips were making Three struggle and buck her
hips. "Oh, oh," Three cried, "I never...oh, oh..."
The chime continued, and the licking continued, and Three's
writhings and moanings continued, until, at last, the torturer
decided Three had enough. Doubtless this conditioning would be
repeated again and again, until Three would be instantly aroused,
sexually, at the sound of the chimes.
One and Two released Three from her bondage. They pulled
the bandeau bra up over her arms, leaving her standing, her wet
cunt gleaming, her chest heaving, a bewildered look on her face.
Two, unbidden by the torturer, covered Three's eyes with a wide
strip of tape. He did not object. He knew that, when Three
could not see, she would concentrate more on the tactile
sensations of her "torture." The vibrator, lost deep in Three's
rectum, was, of course, still doing its job, actually vibrating
Three's womb.
The "biker" decided to pay attention to One and Two, who
stood there, their cunts held open by the rubber bands. He
roughly stripped the tape from One, and the vibrator fell out of
her crimson cunt. Then he roped her wrists together and raised
her arms, fastening the rope to a hook overhead. He roped Two's
wrists and hung them from the same hook, so mother and daughter
stood, face to face, tit to tit, belly to belly. He turned their
heads, cheek to cheek, so they were looking at the bound father.
The "biker" used leather belts to press the two women together,
compressing their breasts, pressing their bellies together,
binding their thighs, just below the crease of the buttocks, so
that their gaping vulvas almost touched. Then he went to the
laundry tub and turned on the water, warm, snapping his fingers
as he worked. He led a hose from the faucet, heedless of the
splashing on the floor, and inserted the hose vertically, up
between their pressed together thighs, so that the water gushed
up against the women's open vulvas, douching their clitorises
with a warm wetness that stimulated as well as a tongue would
have.
The bound father, watching his wife and daughter in the
throes of sexual ecstasy, got a massive hard on. The torturer
yanked down the bound man's shorts and led the unseeing Three to
place her lips over the twitching rod. She needed little
instruction. The man exploded into her mouth, and Three
swallowed the semen.
A moment's thought, and the "biker" brought out the saw
horse. He arranged Three's little body so that she was lying on
her back along the crossbar of the horse. He strapped her hands
and feet to the legs of the horse and strapped her waist to the
crossbar, which not only held her securely; it tilted her pelvis,
so that her maidenly little slit was more exposed.
The torturer removed the hose from the utterly exhausted One
and Two and began to play the stream over Three's body. With a
thumb over the end of the hose, he could make an almost stinging
spray, with which to tease Three's nipples. The force of the
spray, properly directed, would force apart the lips of Three's
cunt, to play directly on her swollen clitoris. And all this
time the chimes went ding, ding, ding. Three strained at her
bindings, as, in her dark, unseeing world, she was aware of only
two things, which would be forever associated in her mind, the
ding, ding of the chimes, and the waves of sexual excitement
which wracked her body and lighted up her brain.
After a while, he gave Three a rest, while he opened a
bottle of medical alcohol and prepared his tools. It was going
to be a long night for Three.
After a long sleep, Tiffany awoke and cuddled the warm,
sleeping Cheryl, who was naked beside her in the bed. The small
woman woke and looked excitedly at her conical breasts, each one
tipped by a small, gold, hypo-allergenic ring through the nipple.
There were matching rings in her ear lobes and, as she soon
discovered, six through the flesh around her navel and,
decorating but not completely penetrating the outer lips, there
were six rings between her legs. Tiffany handed her room mate a
stack of crisp bills, bound by a paper tape from the bank.
"Here's your thousand dollars," she said.
"Oh, aren't my rings wonderful?" Cheryl said, dropping the
money on the floor beside the bed.
"Cheryl, final exams are coming up soon. Do you have plans
for the summer?"
"Nothing special."
"If you would like to stay here, living with us, Three could
earn you a thousand a week."
"Yes, I'd like that." Tiffany turned on an electric chime.
"Oooh, I'm getting all juicy just thinking about it," Cheryl
whispered. "What a way to spend a summer!"
Tiffany said, "Let me see what your rings taste like."
