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THE STARLET SLAVE 7
joypaine
7. Spanked
I had been right abut one thing -- being felt up was even worse than the
stripping had been. I just hadn't realized that the bastard was going to manage
to get both.
And then came the real eye-opener. Peck said, "OK, girls", and my three friends
-- the ones who had talked me into this scrape -- walked into the room. Make
that my three ex-friends. I realized then that the whole scam had been a put-up
job, right from the top -- the whole schtick about the club had been a con just
to trap me. And boy, had it ever worked!
Well, it turned out that the girls had not only been watching the whole thing
through a two-way mirror, but they had also been taking pictures of my whole
ordeal. Video tape, too.
And then they played the tape for my "entertainment" while I crouched in the
corner, trying to cover myself with my hands.. Without the sound, and if you
didn't know how Peck worked, it looked as if I was willingly stripping for him,
and letting him feel me up and finger-fuck me, just for kicks. For his kicks,
sure, but it looked as if I also had been enjoying it. My hesitation could have
been coyness, and the blush in my cheeks -- sure, it could have been
embarrassment, but it could also have been from sexual excitement.
It was even more embarrassing, if that was possible, to watch the replay than it
had been when I was actually stripping for the old goat. And the fact that I now
knew that my "friends" were watching didn't make it any easier, of course.
Like the true sadist that he was, Peck was paying more attention to my reactions
than he was to the show. He cheered as each new goody came into view, making
vulgar (but enthusiastic) comments about my anatomy, and speculating out loud on
what my state of mind must have been at each new development.
"And now for sure we don't have to worry about you going to the police," he
gloated. "Not only do we have the shoplifting charge to hold over you, but these
pictures show pretty well that you are trying to seduce me, and the authorities
would feel that any complaint you might make would obviously be only an attempt
at blackmail.
"Plus which, I don't thank that you'd be anxious to have these pictures shown
around town. Especially to your mother. In fact, I'm going to bet that these
pictures will be enough incentive to keep you working for me, even though you
might not be satisfied with the pay. Or the working conditions, either," he
added slyly.
"At least, pictures like these have been ample incentive for your three friends
here."
So now I knew. They were being blackmailed, too. I felt a little more forgiving
toward them, now that I knew that they hadn't screwed me just for the Hell of
it. Or for money.
"And now," Peck said to the girls, "I think our little Ellen needs a bit of a
spanking, to punish her for her misdeeds -- and to cure her of any rebellious
thoughts. OK, girls, lend a hand. You know the routine."
I fought like a wildcat, and I succeeded in making some ugly scratches on
Rosie's arm, but I was no match for the three of them. Bit by bit, they managed
to buckle a pair of straps on my wrists -- broad leather straps, lined with
lamb's wool, so they wouldn't leave any marks, no matter how much I struggled.
And I did struggle, believe you me!
They stretched me across a sturdy wooden bench that was standing in the middle
of the room -- a bench that apparently had been designed for just this purpose.
Lying flat on my belly, I could just barely reach the floor with my toes. They
fastened my wrist straps to a pair of rings at the side of the bench, with my
arms stretched out over my head. Another pair of straps fastened my ankles to
the legs of the bench. So there I was, legs spread to show everything I had, and
my bare ass waving in the air.
"Better put some antiseptic on those scratches, Rosie" Peck said. "And the rest
of you fix the little minx so she won't scratch anyone else."
It was no trick at all for the girls to clip my fingernails right down to the
quick. Not too elegant a manicure, but pretty damned effective, as far as making
my nails useless for defense.
Then the old bastard walked around in front of me, so I could see what he was
doing. And so he could watch the expression on my face as I realized what he had
planned for me.
Slowly, deliberately, he took off his belt. "Maybe this will teach you the error
of your ways," he hissed.
I lost track of how many times he brought that belt down across my naked ass --
I was too busy begging him to stop. I knew that it was going to be a long time
before I wanted to sit down again.
