E-MAIL

An attractive female executive’s company vacation turns into a nightmare as she pays the price for her indiscretions.  Guided by the e-mails of her computer, she’s forced into the realm of BDSM activities or be exposed and humiliated, to lose everything.

CHAPTER ONE

       It’s the final night wrapping up her long anticipated vacation awarded to her by her company for her outstanding accomplishments, her announced upcoming promotion to vice-president in charge of the entire eastern seaboard.  Stepping on, climbing over fellow employees, even friends, she’s well on track to becoming president, even one day CEO of the entire corporation, even if becoming ruthlessly cut-throat cost her every friend and relationship she’s ever had.

       Tonight she finds herself with an attractive local she’d become friendlier then she should have with, a guide used for a couple of side excursions during the ten day vacation involving more then a little flirtation on both sides, even a not so discreet few moments of an alcoholic induced moonlight fling that could have devastating consequences for her back at home if found out.  Separating from her company acquaintances also along on their awarded trips, letting them finish up their prearranged package tour’s wrap-up party without her, she’s already packed up, ready to leave the hotel the next evening after deciding to dance, party away the final night at a private club he’s bragged about to her, a club well off the beaten path that’s mostly frequented by a select few of the well to do locals.

       In the back of her mind she hopes that during their final fun filled night on the island she can let him know the serious ramifications she faces if their earlier questionable conduct was miscued by any of the squeaky clean board members of her company.  Self assured, even cocky, she’s sure she can handle the manner with her charm, her female sensuality with the guide; after all, he’s only an islander.  

       Deep into the evening, in the rear of the club’s private courtyard, the limbo’s in full swing as the couple dozen patrons still partying join in.  Having explained her situation to the escort earlier, assured everything’s quite okay with no hard feelings, appreciative she relaxes, feels almost obligated to enjoy their friendship for the final evening on the island.  In the swing of the festivities she awaits her turn, steps between the obviously native islanders on either side of the posts.  Leaning not so lithely forward on her knees below the limbo stick as the music blares, the repercussions exuberating to the local crowd quickly surrounding the slightly raised platform to watch the carefree American, she finds herself flowing, bending back to the beat of the bongos.

       Tanned, her firm breasts sway almost freely beneath the semi-transparent material of her fashionable but skimpy island halter top, low cut French bra.  Carefree from a hefty amount of the laced alcoholic concoctions her new friend’s been regularly feeding her from the bar, uninhibitedly raising her arms, back arching as the round stick brushes across her stomach she finds her wrists, arms gently but firmly gripped from either side as she stumbles back.  Feeling her swaying hair gripped and twisted back, facing upwards and mostly being led by the hands manipulating her, she finds herself continuing to sway, to move to the music with the rest of the circling crowd closing in.

       Feeling almost sublime, uninhibited, she continues gyrating, her glistening body flush, hot in the heat of the tropical night as the equally perspiring flesh, scent of the limbo men surrounding her melds with hers, their body’s swaying even closer together to the beat.  The music seeming to pick up, the beat bolder, harsher, her heated shimmering body’s forced to move quicker between theirs, twisting, almost lifted as hands, more hands seem to guide her, push and twist her around as her shoulders arch back as she feels her hands almost restrictively bowed behind her back.  Head tilted back, her hair still tightly twisted by a guiding fist; her eyes are barely able to focus as she feels herself rotated around on her knees.  Back arching, her torso thrusting upward with her full firm breasts straining, a nipple peeks outward from the stretching bra under the Caribbean colored halter loosely tied just below her sternum as the small of her back’s forced to rest across the unforgiving limbo stick bowing a couple feet up across its upright bars.

       Almost in a daze, the on looking crowd to her now just a blur of dark, upside down islander’s faces tightly surrounding her, she feels her wrists gripped together, her arms tugged back beneath the flexing stick as her body bows outward forming a semicircle above her spreading knees, arched hips.  The hands griping her wrists, elbows from beneath forcefully tugs at her as she feels her shoulders thrusting back with her escort leaning down closer, whispering in her ear.

       “You won’t be needing these anymore… You big tittied American!”  Reaching up, unsnapping the clips holding the triple snap strap between the fronts of the bra cups, unslipping the knot of the colorful cloth top, he lets the ends unfurl, slip down across the curves of her global breasts, the sides of her ribcage as the appreciative crowd rousingly cheers him on, appreciating her substantial melons being put on display.

        Feeling her breasts exposed, jaunting outward, the rounded globes spreading across her arched torso as the thick, brown nipples jiggle, glisten under the strings of lights crisscrossing the yard she finds her hands, arms gripped even tighter, twisted firmly back.  Stunned, hearing the response of the surrounding group, feeling his hands gliding over her sweating, glistening breasts, she feels her nipples pinched, stretched upward, outwardly rotated in painful circles as the beat of the chants and music continue to pound in her ears.

       Arching upward, her body being manipulated, she senses the men swaying enthusiastically to the music as they’re surrounding her, touching her, feeling her, now tugging at her shorts, baring her hips, stripping her naked as she weakly struggles to resist.  Her thoughts cloudy, barely realizing in a daze, a stupor of what’s happening she still finds herself struggling to free herself.  Attempting to twist, to slip away, her reflexives, her muscles seem to becoming dull, almost uncontrollable.  Barely able to open her mouth as a cup’s full content’s poured across her parting lips, the harsh bitter taste of the island’s favorite beverage almost forced down her throat, the stinging liquid splashes across her face, up her flailing nostrils as she fruitlessly shakes her head back and forth.

       The crowd chanting as she gags and coughs, the liquid splashing across her bare breasts, another cup of the brew’s drenched across her parting lips while fingers squeeze at the sides of her cheeks, forcing her to gulp, ingest the thick fluid.   Another cough, another gag while she struggles to swallow the remnants of the cup as the beat of the music escalates, the appreciative crowd continuing to cram closer around, ogle the naked American.

       “Good… Big tits!”  Her escort’s voice echoes in her ear as his lips brush across her dampened neck, the empty cup in his hand.  “Now to stir it!”

       Her hair harshly tugged further back, she feels a man’s bare legs stretch across her arched shoulders as his feet slip to either side of the insides of the upright posts.  Hazily starring upward between his naked thighs, her heart pounds in her chest as she feels her bare breasts flattening, her nipples chaffing against his knees.  As her head’s firmly pressed upward by the nap of her neck she can’t believe what she’s forced to stare toward.  Cheeks pressed together forcing her lips apart, wide eyed, she blurredly glares at the thick, swaying cock just above her chin, the glistening dark head oozing a streaming strand of glistening fluid from the dark eyelet drooling across her face.

       The sound of the excited encircled crowd momentarily drowns out the music in the background as the nearly foot long cock smacks across her face, the engorged head slipping across her partially open mouth.  Arching, twisting, her grunts are muffled by the sticky, oozing head slipping between her spreading lips as she grits her teeth trying to will her naked body to respond.  Feeling her breasts squeezed, her nipples pinched as her wrists are tugged further back, her dazed mind barley functions as the drinks, the added chemicals have quickly done their job on her body as it’s forced to arch even further upward.

       “Let it in… Big tits!”  The escort’s voice hoarsely orders in her ear as her nipples are threateningly gripped, the pulsing head of the dark brown cock scraped across her teeth.  “Suck it good or he’ll split your asshole wide open with it too!”

       Squinting her eyes as her head jerks back and forth; her mind’s barely able to assimilate what’s happening to her, to even offer any real resistance.   Feeling the sudden pain of her nipples pinched, twisted, she reflexively lets her lips part, feels the thick shaft slip inward, flattening across her tongue as the hot, throbbing meat engulfs her mouth.  Hearing the arousal, the approving chant of the crowd echoing in her head, the music blaring even louder as the thick rod begins a rhythmic assault, each thrust a little deeper in her throat, she struggles for breath, tastes the salty, bitter fluid mixing with her own saliva as her lips tautly stretch around the pulsing shaft being scrapped by her impossibly spread teeth.

       The haze becoming a blur, the music mixes with the sounds of the crowd melding into a constant roar as the thick shaft seems to force its way completely down her throat, held firm, then drawn back out, slowly.  Another excited response from the onlookers rings in her ears as she gasps for breath before another thrust deep down into her throat of the swelling, pulsing shaft.  In and out, pounding, driving as her lips stretch, her throat stretches with each cheered on thrust, she senses her entire body violated, her legs spread, even her vagina, rectum prodded, manipulated by the strangers to the beat of the island music.

       Unable to breathe, her own slurping sounds reverberating in her ears as he rams in and out, her reflexive gags are blocked by the pounding shaft until she feels his twitching cock pulse, feels, tastes the thick gooey spunk in her throat as his shaft rips outward.  The same gushing cum splashing across her lips drench her nose, her eyes as it squirts with each pulsing twitch.  Gagging, choking, unable to catch her breath, heart pounding, her vision blurring as her stomach churns, somehow it all becomes quiet, dark.  Unconsciousness.

       Head pounding, the light glaring in from the open curtains drawn apart, exposing the view of the ocean from the open doors to the balcony, she rolls on her side, covers her head with a pillow.  Barely able to think, to realize where she’s at, she feels the heartbeat pulsing through her ear jammed up against the stiff pillow.   Body aching, joints burning, the hair on her head sore to the touch, her hangover’s crippling.  A single bed, a private suite, she realizes she’s alone, somehow back in her suite while she glances around the room as she sits up, slowly as even her butt hurts.  Still dressed, short sorts and halter top, she notices she even has her slippers still on.  Struggling for the bathroom, anything for a hangover in the medicine cabinet, she glances in the mirror, her marred makeup.

       The thoughts of the past evening flashing through her head, the limbo, the drinks, the forced oral penetration as she was stripped and displayed in front of the razzing crowd, she quickly unties the Caribbean  halter top exposing her disheveled bra barely covering her breasts, her left nipple partially exposed.  Staring toward the mirror as she gulps down a couple pills with a half cup of luke-warm water, she frantically glances down toward her nearly naked body, jerks her shorts down toward her ankles, spreads her vagina exposing the nub of her clit.  Again glancing into the mirror as she turns, unsnaps the bra and drops it to the floor, she glances at the reflection of her unmarred breasts, her smooth, almost flat areolas and nipples, a final closer glance at her face, she realizes she’s none the worse for wear, no visible sign of any kind of struggle or abuse.

       Her head continuing to pound, her thoughts sketchy, shaking her head slowly as even that movement sends daggers between her swollen eyes; she struggles painfully back to the bed, lies across the still covering bedspread, wondering what’s reality,  what’s a drunken fantasy, or nightmare.  Lying on her side, sliding a hand across her hips, around a butt cheek, pressing a finger against the rim of her rectum, sliding the tip of the finger inward between the moist folds of her labia, she wonders, tries to recall the previous night.  Stuffing a pillow across her face, blocking the light, she slowly falls into an uneasy, frightening sleep.  Tossing, turning, she feels herself repeatedly stretched, orally penetrated as her mind subconsciously replays the past evening over and over.

       Hours pass, squinting, opening her eyes; she catches the image of the sun lowering across the horizon above the ocean.  The day practically gone, her head still aching but bearable, she again sits up, glances around at the clock.  Still a couple hours before it’s time to get ready for the flight home, she sits across the edge of the bed.  Naked, still on the unused bedspread, she stretches, walks to the bathroom.  Another couple pills with a cup of water, another quick scan of her naked body and she steps back to the bed, checks her rumpled clothes, smelling, staring.  Nothing out of the ordinary, tossing them into her suitcase of soiled clothes, she’s prepared for the evening flight home, back to work.  Trying to call the escort, his phone unresponsive, she sits on the balcony watching the waves, the beach, worries about the repercussions of what happened, if anything happened.

       Almost in a stupor from her restless sleep, hearing the phone, she answers on the forth ring.  A message from the desk, the shuttle to the airport’s leaving in ten minutes.  Quietly collecting her luggage, leaving the room behind her, she begins her trip home, still disturbed, what to do about the past evening.  Meeting the rest of the company’s employees, keeping to herself, the trip to the airport, the flight home becomes a blur.

       Back at home, a few days back at work, just over a week before the announced promotion, her nights are aggravating with the blurring visions of being assaulted, humiliated on the island replaying in her mind.  Scanning her e-mails for the past couple days before going to work, she flips through a quick couple pages, spam and such.  Flipping through almost casually, she abruptly stops.  “Big tittied American.”

       Seeing the cursor, initially not amused at smut on her site, but an almost instantly somehow sickening feeling of the familiarity of the words starring at her from the screen, clicking, sliding the mouse, she anxiously loads a short, two to three second video from the e-mail.  Grainy, poorly lit, she watches the video, and watches the video, and watches the video.  Leaning closer to the screen, backing up, freeze framing again and again, she clicks the mouse, enlarges the screen as her heart pounds harder with each viewing.  The blurry, snowy vision of a bare breasted woman arched backwards being orally penetrated by a dark skinned man squatting above her blurry face fills the monitor before going blank.  Stomach churning, hands shaking as her fingers pound the key-board to save the e-mail, she looses it.

         Trying to retrieve the video, to find where it came from she pounds the keys, searches her settings.  Finally realizing she’ll be late for work, frustratingly flipping the computer off, she reluctantly leaves for work.   Minutes seeming more like hours, the day drags by as her thoughts focus on the video on her computer, the ramifications of the video on her personal life, her career if it was in fact of her, surely it wasn’t.  Replaying it over and over in her mind, watching the clock, she barely makes it through lunch.  Head pounding with tension, taking a half day off, rushing home, she turns on the computer.  Stomach queasy, clicking through the e-mails, flicking through the trash-bin, flicking back and forth, checking each individual e-mail, it’s gone.  Struggling with the computer, going through the history, the bin, again through the e-mails, she frustratingly clicks the computer off, goes to bed wondering, worrying about the grainy video.

       The restless night passes, but only after the fresh, repeated images of being orally raped, the thick, dark cock stretching her mouth, gagging her throat as her breasts are pinched, twisted.  Awake more then asleep, she hears the alarm, clumsily prepares for work.  Checking the computer first thing, flicking through the e-mails, she scans for the video, finds nothing.  Another day at work, another day spent wondering about the e-mail, straight to home, to the computer, to the e-mail.  Days pass, then a week, a couple weeks, the same routine gives the same results as the worries drift into the back of her mind.

       Another morning, again just a semblance of a normal night of sleep and she prepares for work.  Flicking on the computer, hitting the e-mail, the third message down stands out like a neon sign.  “Big tittied American.”

       Again her heart pounding, again her hands trembling she opens the message.  Another video, the words scroll the screen like credits.  “One minute after initiation and the video will erase itself… Watch carefully.”

       White block numbers counting backwards from five reach zero before the video finally begins.  A close up of a thick dark cock clearly pounding into a woman’s yawning mouth flashes across the computer screen.  The camera slowly backing away, her bare breasts are shown arching upwards, swaying between his thighs as he squats above her bowed back body.  Stroke after stroke ramming into her mouth is followed by a gush of cum spewing across her face as the impossibly long, thick shaft finally pulls out.  White gobs gush with each pulsing throb of his twitching shaft, covering her nose, her eyes, her lips as a zoomed in close up of her upturned face stares back, at herself, from the computer’s crystal clear high definition monitor.

       Fading to dark, again words scroll the screen.  “e-mail to BTA to follow again today… Follow instructions to the letter within ten minutes or full video will be aired on U-Tube.”

       Hitting save, trying to stop the video before it ends, she frustratingly watches the screen go blank as the e-mail disappears from the screen.  Pounding the keys, searching the areas it possibly could have been routed to, she frustratingly smacks the screen, turns the computer off.  Picking up the phone, calling work, she half-heartedly fakes a cough as she calls in sick.  Sitting at the computer, staring at the computer, thinking of U-Tube as she turns it back on and watches the screen, she waits for the e-mail, the thoughts of her ruined life racing through her anguished mind.

       Hours pass as the morning slips by.  Lunch time, she remains at the computer desk.  One, two o’clock, she watches the screen, her eyes burning, a lump in her throat each time an e-mail signal flashes across the screen.  Quarter till three, the e-mail flashes.  “BTA.”

       Hitting the keys as she lunges forward, she frantically opens the message.  A short instant video humiliatingly plays across the screen as her heart sinks.  A close up of her naked body arching between those same limbo sticks is being raped in all three orifices by dark skinned islanders.  Her face appears almost receptive, the laced drinks obviously during their job.  The camera quickly circling the platform, all three swollen, dark cocks pounding away at her lurching body’s being filmed as a background of onlooker’s party around them. Fading to a dark screen, white letters begin to scroll.

       “Obtain a camera for your computer… Hook it up before next message tonight after six pm… Be prepared or U-Tube receives the full video… Making you a porn star.”

       Stomach churning, watching the screen go blank, she struggles with what to do.  Realizing she doesn’t have time to waste she finds herself at a local national brand store purchasing a new camera for her computer.   Returning home, opening the box, the computer camera enclosed, the exact camera for her computer, she reads the brief instructions.  The factory directions rather simple, a quick hookup and the camera’s operative.  She can only imagine its purpose as she sits blurry-eyed at the computer desk.  Rocking back and forth, glaring at the computer, the minutes turn to hours as she frustratingly waits.

       Again the time drags until finally “BTA” stares her in the face from her e-mail.  Quickly hitting the board keys, the message opens.

       The screen flashing, the white letters scroll.  “Turn on camera… Point it directly toward you and the chair… Adjust for full body exposure… Thirty seconds…. Or U-Tube.”

       Heart pounding, half conscious, she struggles to force herself to continue.  Seeing the countdown lower to fifteen, to twelve, stomach churning with each flickering countdown she hastily flicks on the camera, reaches for it and aligns it on herself.  Barely beating the countdown, she sits back in her chair as she watches the screen flashing the next instructions.  “Strip naked… Fifteen seconds.”

       Dumbfounded, unable to really think, to reason, feeling ready to vomit, her heart thumping in her chest, she watches the countdown beginning again at thirty.  Frustrated, she all but knows if she complies, she can’t turn back, yet if she doesn’t, she’s ruined.  Infuriated, terrified, she watches as it counts down to twenty… fourteen… thirteen before she angrily gives in, reflexively rips at her clothes.  Blouse and bra first is quickly followed by her skirt down past her knees as the time expires.  Ripping her panties, throwing her clothes across the floor, she slumps back in the chair, stark naked as she stares toward the computer through her teary eyes while covering her breasts with crisscrossing arms.

       Again the flashing screen, almost talking to her, taunting her.  “Stand up… Hands behind neck… Breasts thrust outward… Legs spread… Remain stationary for one minute.”  The backwards countdown beginning at only five, she reflexively jerks up out of the chair, tears streaming off her cheeks she raises her arms above her head at the count of three while spreading her legs apart.  Watching the screen, the countdown readjusting to sixty seconds, arching, spreading, the minute seems to take a week as she remains motionless, her breasts barely swaying above her hollowed stomach as she feels her legs trembling.  Starring at the computer as times expires, she watches the letters scrolling.  “Retrieve next e-mail at lunch tomorrow with instructions for next shopping trip.  The screen fading, the e-mail vanishes.

       Lowering her hands across her breasts, feeling the pounding in her chest, she stares at the computer screen, the camera above it.  The realization of what she just submitted herself too literally rips at her stomach as it churns, twists in knots.  Running to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet, the vomit spews across the back of the seat, the toilet’s rim.  Spending the next half hour cleaning the bath, a quick shower and she makes ready for bed, only to lay awake for hours.             

       Sunlight shining through the open curtains, again sleepless, checking the computer for e-mails almost by habit before leaving for work, the first half day of work passes as she frantically anticipates the noon time e-mail, the quick round trip it’s going to take back and forth from home to work not to be late.  Brushing off friends, other co-workers for lunch, heading directly home at noon she sits in front of the computer screen, waits.  Barely a couple minutes pass before the screen flashes a new e-mail.  Pounding the keys, she opens the dreaded ‘BTA’ message.

       “Turn on camera… Bare tits… Ten seconds.”

       Pounding her fist on the table next to the keyboard, jerking back in the chair, she watches the reverse countdown flashing on the screen.  Almost motionless until the ‘five’ before she quickly slips off her blouse, frantically rips off her bra as the ‘zero’ appears on the screen with a new message.

       “Cross hands behind the small of your back… Lay tits on keyboard… Three seconds.”

       Again she waits just a split second of hesitation before angrily arching forward while slipping her arms behind her back while watching the quick countdown.  Feeling the keyboard jerk, twist under her naked globes as her breasts spread out in front of her, her nipples pointing apart below her chin, she faces the screen’s next command.

       “Arch back to lift tits above keyboard… Sway tits back and forth until further instructions.”

       No countdown, the command remains on the screen as she again hesitates, finally arches, feels her swaying globes thrust out in front of her just a couple inches above the keys.  Glancing down at her bare breasts, toward the computer, she slowly twists back and forth, waits for the next instructions as she feels the heat across her reddening face.  The last command remaining on the screen, again a couple moments, the screen flashes, the command blinking once, twice a third time.

       Twisting, arching her shoulders slowly back and forth, she feels her breasts swaying, the symmetrical globes sliding back and forth across her bare chest as her eyes remain glued to the single line of instructions.  Back and forth, back and forth she lets her breasts rotate in front of the screen, beneath the camera as her nipples jiggle; her firm tit flesh stretching as she bites her lower lip, feels her manicured fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her forearms behind her back.

       Back and forth, back and forth her breasts sway as the screen remains static.  Glancing down toward the keyboard, watching her breasts swaying back and forth, it seems almost surreal as her naked breasts continue to glide above the keys.  Finally seeing the screen’s message added to from the corner of her eyes, she glances at the added message.

       “Continue swaying tits in opposite directions back and forth in sequence with each countdown…. Four minutes fifty-nine seconds… Four minutes fifty-eight seconds…”

       Angered, ashamed, frightened, staring at the countdown, she begins jerking back and forth, trying to get in a humiliating rhythm with the screen as her breasts spring across her chest, the nipples stretching, the rounded curves of her firm globes slapping against the fronts of her shoulders as she arches forward, twists back and forth in front of the computer, almost in an impossible ark in the time span allotted under the focused camera.  Arching, twisting to the countdown, breasts slapping angrily back and forth, their rounded bottoms glancing off the keyboard, the chair jerking beneath her, the countdown continues to tick, to agonizingly seem to take forever as the minutes barely alter.  Three minutes…. Two, as she continues to twist, jerk in the chair… Less than one minute finally flashes on the screen with larger numbers of the countdown of seconds as she actually finds herself panting for breath, her contorting breasts glistening, perspiration dripping off her naked flesh as she grunts, moans from the soreness of her reddened stretching globes slapping back and forth, the bottoms of the melons occasionally scrapping the keyboard as the chair continues to squeak, slip beneath her twisting butt cheeks.

       “Three… Two… One… Zero… Next e-mail with tonight’s shopping directions at six pm… Be naked with clothespins clipped straight out, firmly to the nubs of both nipples and hands behind neck when retrieving message.”  Flashing, blinking off, the screen goes blank.

       Lowering her head, her matting hair spreading across her forehead, her body slumping forward, she momentarily hesitates before releasing her gripping fingers from her arms behind her back.  Slowly shaking her head back and forth she catches her breath, glancing down toward her bare breasts as she leans forward while sliding her trembling hands up beneath her aching globes.  Rubbing, twisting her nipples, she thinks of the message, clamping clothespins on her nipples.  Watching the beads of perspiration built up across her heaving tit flesh, a glistening streak accumulating, dripping off her breast onto the keyboard, her flattened stomach ripples with each exhausted breath.

       Glancing at the clock, hurrying to the bathroom to clean off, she quickly dresses, rushes back to work.  A couple minutes late, noticing the curious, even somewhat concerned glances from her co-workers, she enters the privacy of her office, closes the door behind her.  Angry, humiliated, nervous, almost every emotion flashes through her mind as she attempts to calm down.  The island video replaying through her mind, now this exhibition she just performed in front of the computer, the clothespin message almost unbelievable, she frustratingly looks through the stack of envelopes on her desk.  Shuffling, glancing through the files she can’t even try to concentrate as the computer, its messages, the camera she stripped in front of all continues to distract her thoughts.

       Paging her secretary, advising her not to allow anyone to disturb her for the rest of the day, she leaves the stack of folders on her desk, twists her chair.  Tears blurring her eyes, she stares out the office window down onto the view of the metropolitan area.  Reflexively rubbing, caressing her nipples through her blouse, bra, she frustratingly pinches down with her fingernails into the tips of the bra, the pain’s almost a prerequisite of what’s forthcoming, but again in front of that camera.  Waiting for the day to end, to get her message as soon as she gets home, she can’t take her mind off the clothespins, the camera.  Watching the traffic, the clouds, the early sunset, the time finally passes.  Leaving the offices, the building and heading straight for home she virtually runs through the door, notices the time’s 5:57pm on the kitchen digital wall clock as she heads for the utility room. 

       Finding the bag of wooden clothespins, hurrying to and sitting in front of the computer and turning on the camera as she strips her blouse, bra and slacks, she exasperatingly slips a couple pins from the plastic bag.  Dragging her panties down across her hips, annoyingly kicking them under the table with the heel of her left foot, she grunts as she centers a pin across her left nipple, lets it clip shut across the nub.   Glancing at the clock, 5:59pm, she quickly clips another pin across her right nipple, biting her lip as she flicks on the computer.  Within a couple seconds the e-mail flashes. “BTA” as she stares at the screen.  Retrieving the message she quickly lifts her hands behind her head, interlocks her fingers as she thrusts her bare breasts outward.

       Nipples pulsing, the pins deep and tight on both, she angrily reads down the white lettered scrolling.  “Hello BTA… Shake your nipples back and forth for one minute…. Fifty nine…Fifty eight.”

       A frustrated moment’s hesitation before obeying, jerking her torso back and forth she feels the clothespins jerking, swaying off the tips of her thickened nipples.  Watching the screen, moaning with each twist, feeling the wooden ends of the clothespin’s handles smacking across the outer globes of her breasts she watches the screen countdown.  “Fifteen… Fourteen.”  The seconds tick off as the pins tear at her searing nipples.  “Two… One.”  The screen momentarily goes blank.

       Stopping, the pins now hanging, twitching downward off her aching nipples, she watches the screen begin to scroll.  “Tonight you will purchase a prearranged box of merchandise at a small BDSM store in the city… You are expected in one hour… You will wear only a trench coat and heels and will shave vagina before leaving home... You will immediately remove the trench coat when instructed to be measured with hands behind your neck and legs spread.… Return home with package and sit naked in front of computer with camera on until next e-mail… Hands behind neck, legs spread across chair… Clothespins on nipples… Also clit.”  The screen momentarily flashing, the address of the store scrolls downward, once, twice, a third time before remaining stationary.

       Painfully unclipping the clothespins from her aching nipples, dropping them next to the keyboard, glancing at the clock, noting the address, jotting, copying it on a torn piece of paper, the thought of the pin on her clit resonating in her mind, she calls for a cab on her cell phone as she heads for the bathroom.  A quick hot shower, the razor glided back and forth across her bikini cut under the hot soaking stream of water and she barely wipes dry as she finds her tan trench coat, high heels.  Grabbing her purse, taking her credit card, cell phone and cash from it, slipping them into her coat pocket, she hears the horn blowing from the cab.  Almost frantically looking around the apartment before stepping out onto the stoop in front of the sidewalk she takes a deep breath, shakes her head.  An uneventful half hour drive to a seamier side of town, she’s left to herself outside the unkempt storefront, alone.

       Bell above the door jiggling as it opens, closes, she hesitantly steps down the cluttered isle toward the door marked ‘office’ near the back of the store.  Glancing around, no one in sight, she taps on the office door.  Hearing voices behind the peeling wood, seeing the rustic knob turning, the door squeaking open, she’s met by a balding, gruff looking fiftyish man with a cigarette in his hand.

       “Yea?”  His voice matching his gruffness almost echoes in the store as the stagnant smoke swirls across the top of the doorframe.

       “You… You’re expecting me?”  She stutters, her fingers gripping at the collar of her coat.

       “Don’t know… Come on in.”  He gruffly answers, stepping aside.  “Guess we’ll know in a minute, girly.”

       Hesitating, stepping into the room, noticing a couple others mingling about, a guy and a girl, both just as shady, kind of gothic appearing, again hesitating she stares back at the balding man, obviously awaiting and answer.

       “Well… If you’re the one we’re expecting… What’s next?”  He asks, lewdly glancing her up and down as he takes a draw on the cheap cigarette, glances toward her coat.  “Come on girly!”

       “I’m… I’m here to pickup a package… Buy a package.”  She stammers.  “I also… Also…”

       “Also what?”  The somewhat attractive, yet dykish girl butts in with a smirk, obviously glaring at the coat, the outline of her bare breasts beneath it.  “What else bitch?”

       “And… And I need measured.”She blurts out, her face crimson as she continues to stare at the dirty floor while listening to the giggles.

       Reaching out, cupping her left breast through her coat with his hand still holding the stub of his smoking cigarette between his fingers, he glances toward the other couple.  “Tits big and firm… Guess she is the one we’re expecting, huh?... Okay hang your coat on that hook over there and spread for us.”  He nods toward the row of bent hooks on the wall beside the doorframe.

       Face reddening, unwrapping the strap around her midriff, she slips the coat open, drops it from her shoulders and turns to hang it on the hook. 

       “I get to measure her big ass tits!”  The girl speaks up as she steps closer.  “I’ll work on those nipples too!”

       “I’ll do her hips.”  The younger guy also stepping closer snickers as his eyes focus on her shaven vagina as she turns back toward the balding man.

       “I’ll get the package.”  The bald man chimes in.  “I’ll be needing your credit card girly… that’s unless you have cash in that coat.”  Reaching into the coat, pulling out both card and cash he grins.  “Got both huh?”  Putting the cash back in the pocket, turning, leaving her to the pair, he leaves the office for the storefront.  “Be right back… Stretch for ‘em girly!”

       Slipping her hands behind her head, interlocking her fingers behind her neck she poses almost rigid, her naked body trembling.  Watching, feeling the hands of both groping, pinching her bare flesh, especially her nipples, her vagina, she continues to stare straight ahead.  Feeling her heart pounding in her breast, she clinches her fingers behind her neck as they amuse themselves at her expense.

       “Big tits… Good and tan too!... And tight pussy… Huh bitch?”  The amused dyke antagonizes as she tugs down on her own tank top, exposing her ringed right nipple before slipping her breast back in.  “Those nipples never been pierced before huh?”  She nods as she pinches the left nipple in front of her, the right before glancing down toward the shaven pubic mound.  “I know damn good and well that pussy’s never been pierced!”

       Tugging on the folds of her labia, spreading the soft flesh apart, the guy grins, his tattoos prominent on both arms as he pinches at the nub of her clit, twists it out from between her twitching thighs.  “It will be when all’s said and done I bet!”   

       Holding back tears, wishing she’d never went on that vacation, her mind tries to block out the coming moments, the pain, the humiliation that she’s facing by these miscreants.  Just the foul touches, the closeness of their bodies to her is sickening.  Realizing the depths she’s spiraling into, holding onto just a strand of a chance she can somehow conceal her predicament from everyone, she wills herself to survive this ongoing nightmare.

       Stepping back into the room, the older man sets the box on the desk, gives it a couple taps.  Brown cardboard, clear wrapping tape, it’s the size of a small suitcase.  “Lots of goodies in here, girly… Hope you can handle ‘em.”  He smiles as he gets a closer look at her naked body.  “Now, let’s start measuring.”  Handing the girl an old yellowish tape measure roll, he nods toward their naked customer.  “Measure Brooke’s tits right across those nipples.”  Catching a surprised look on her face, he mutters.  “Your name’s on the credit card, girly.”

       Grabbing the tape, unrolling it in her hands, the girl stretches it across the bare breasts standing out in front of her as she grins, begins to measure.  “Brooke huh?... Well Brooke, you sure have big tits…. For being so slim that is… Thirty four.”  Stretching the tape up over the taut nipples, allowing for her spreading breasts she adds.  “And a half.”

       “How ‘bout those nipples?... The areolas from edge to edge?”  He asks, while jotting down the measurements with a stub of a pencil on a scratch of paper.

       Smiling, slipping the thin metal edge across Brooke’s areola, letting the tape flatten across the nub of the nipple, she presses inward, flattening the tit flesh as she measures across. “Let’s see… One… One and a half… Call it two inches, right across the nub.”  Letting the tape slide down, giving the nipple a tweak, she smiles toward Brooke.  “Seriously… Really nice jugs!”

       “What size cup you wear girl?”  The man asks as he finishes jotting on the paper.  “Well?”

       The warmth flushing across her face, letting the strangers manipulate her naked body, she’s trying to block out the entire experience.  Hearing his question, glancing toward their stares, she mutters.  “A… I wear a ‘D’ cup.”

       “D huh?”  A big tittied D cup for the little girl.”  He smirks as he jots it down.

       Handed the tape, the younger guy quickly flicks it around her waist, slips it down across her hips while pinching the metal edge against a fold of her labia.  Tugging, straightening the tape while kneeling, he measures.  “Right at thirty-four... Thirty four and a quarter to be exact.”

       “Waist?”  The older man asks, still jotting down the measurement.

       Feeling the tape sliding around the small of her back, across her navel, she reflexively sucks in as his fingers pinch around her bar flesh.  Staring toward the back wall, she hears him muttering.

       “Twenty… Twenty-two… Twenty-three… Twenty-three right across her belly button.”

       “Okay.”  The older man figures out loud.  Thirty-four and a half… Twenty-three... Thirty-four…. D cup.”  Glancing toward their naked customer, nodding toward the girl, he asks.  “How many fingers?”

       Watching the girl stepping in front of her with a grin as she kneels, Brooke feels the girl’s hand sliding up between her spread thighs.  Feeling the fingertips probing, sliding between he freshly shaven vulva, she reflexively squirms, tiptoes.

       “Hold still.”  The girl scolds.  “This will only take a minute.”

       Feeling the girl’s other fingers pinching, spreading the soft tissue around her sensitive orifice, feeling the other fingers gliding up inside her; she can feel the heat on her face as she muffles a grunt, a groan as her vagina’s manipulated.

       “Three… Four… Four if she’ll hold still and I cup my fingers.”  The girl almost giggles, sliding her fingers in a little deeper, cupping, twisting them from side to side up past her second knuckles.  “Actually a nice, tight little pussy on this girl too!”  She adds as she withdraws her hand, glances at her glistening fingers.  “And guess what!... She gets a little wet too!”

       “Shame on you!” The older man mimic’s as he shakes his head.  “All we’re doing is measuring you and you act like you want to fuck us all!”

       Blushing, more from anger now then embarrassment, she bites, chews on her lower lip as she forces herself to accept the humiliation.  Staring toward the balding man, she can’t help blurting.  “Done… You all done with me now?”  Tears trickling down her cheeks, she almost begs.  “Can I fucking go now?”

       “Wow… Settle down girly.”  The older man scoffs.  “Yea… Yea we’re done… For now.  Glancing at the other two, he adds.  “But you should be nice to us… You’ll be back again… Soon… For your outfit we just measured you for.”  Reaching for her coat, handing it to her he opens the door.  “Nice doing business with you.”  Waiting for her to slip the coat on, he hands the merchandise in the cardboard box to her.

       Stepping to the front of the store, dialing for a cab on her cell phone, she steps outside into the darkness, waits for the cab as the cold draft swirls across her naked flesh under her coat.  The lights on the storefront going dark, glancing around the nearly vacant decaying neighborhood, she stands under the tattered canvas awning, torn and  flapping in the breeze while watching the occasional car drive by, the box held by both hands in front of her.  Feeling like a street walker, she can’t help noticing the glances, the looks from the car’s occupants driving by, some even slowing.

       A few anguished minutes, thinking now of the clothespins, even having to clamp one on her clit when she gets home, her thoughts practically overwhelm her as she waits until a cab finally pulls up to the curb, stops.  Jumping in the back seat, giving her address, she’s relieved this ordeals about over, then begins thinking of the box, its contents, the next e-mail, the fucking clothespins.  Remaining quiet, holding the box, wondering about the contents, not even remembering to ask the price, she watches out the window as the cab returns her to her neighborhood, slows to a stop in front of her residence.  Cab paid, entering the house, she finds herself in front of the computer, box on the floor beside her.  Grabbing the clothespins from off the computer table, another from the plastic bag and she feels the self-inflicted pain across her nipples first, then clit as she squirms on the seat, clicks on the camera and computer screen.

       Watching the e-mails, waiting for the next agonizing message, she feels the pulsing of her pinched flesh between the pressing wooden tips of the clothespins.  Agonizingly wanting to remove them, knowing the camera focused on her may already be transmitting her image, she sits almost motionless, tries to block the pain as she wonders about the box, its contents, her thoughts leading back to what’s next in this endless nightmare.

       The dreaded ‘BTA’ flashing on the monitor, she reflexively clicks the keys, watches the e-mail open.  Reading the scroll, she reluctantly cups the base of her left breast, lifting it upwards as she cranes her neck and grips the clothespin between her teeth.  Releasing her hand from her breast, tugging it, stretching it with her mouth, she yanks, twists, finally jerks until the pin flicks off her nipple, falls across her lap.  The impression of the wooden pin’s tips still flattening the sides of her nipple, she cups her right breast.  A tear trickling down off her cheek, she follows the screen’s instructions and grips that pin between her teeth, dropping her hand, a couple harsh, painful jerks lets it fall, bounce off the chair onto the floor.

       Shaking her head slowly back and forth, double checking the scrolling instructions, taking a deep breath she slowly raises her feet up from the floor.  Spreading her knees, gripping the chair’s handles on both sides she slides forward straining, leaning over as she struggles to force her toes from each foot up against the clothespin jaunting out off her clit.  Squirming, twisting, feeling the pin flick against her feet, she finally jerks, kicks her feet outward jarring the pin loose from her stretching clit as the wooden missile slaps across the keyboard, glances off the computer screen.

       Her nipples and clit bruised, aching, still following the screen’s instructions she assumes the position of her hands behind her neck, her thighs spread, her breasts thrust outward.  Tears tracing off both cheeks, dripping across her swaying breasts, she watches the next message scrolling across the screen.  Hands shaking, she reaches down, picks up the box.  Tearing at the tape, flipping the boxes folded corners open; her moans are audible, her eyes wide as she shakes her head back and forth, almost unbelievingly while she again glares through her tears toward the monitor’s message as she reaches in the container.

End Part 1 

       

       

       

                

        

       
       

        

       

       

          

       

            

       

       

       

        

       

       

                  

            

                 

       

       

       

       

         

       

       

        

       

E-MAIL

Chapter Two

       Early to work, alone in her corner office with a view, she gingerly sets in her swiveling chair facing the window.  Wearing a couple of the purchased items from the top of the box as instructed, she wonders if she can struggle through until lunch, much less through the entire day.  Stepping into her private restroom, facing the mirror as she slowly turns; she carefully twists while watching her reflection.  Her business attire seeming to appear nothing out of the ordinary for her, her usual upper scale, well fitted clothing’s meticulous.  Beneath, the more then uncomfortable fitting of her undergarments at least to this point are inconspicuous, their faintest outlines unpretentious to the eye of the unknowing.

       Having dressed in front of the computer camera in sequence with scrolling instructions on the monitor, she has no choice but to bear the torment, the humiliation for the entire workday while somehow shielding her predicament from the company’s employees.  Locking the bathroom door, stripping off her business slacks, her jacket, raising her blouse, she stares at her reflection.  Holding her stomach in, breathing actually less then half of a normal breath, she watches her breasts barely rising, lowering in the agonizing bra, securely fastened with a lock between the firm, form fitting black cups. Staring at the miniscule razor sharp tips of multiple needles crisscrossing her firm globes from the insides of the cups annoyingly pricking at her tit flesh, she lets her chest expand and contract as she clumsily attempts to belly breathe.

       Glancing down toward her thighs, between her legs at the updated version of an old fashioned chastity belt, the glistening straps conceal her vagina, anus.  Also made of a form fitting material and also locked in place, it’s designed with adjustable knobbed phalluses impaling her both from front and rear.  Similarly mounted microscopic needles line its circular tubes, long enough just to chaff the tender flesh of her stretching orifice’s aggravated wall linings.

       Lifting her blouse a little higher with one hand, carefully pressing inward on the upper curves of her left, then right breasts with the palm of her other just above the firm bra cups, she carefully inspects the tiny reddish marks of the multiple pinpricks leaving shadowy trails of their impressions, relieved that as aggravating, at times painful as the bra is, there’s no embarrassing trace of bleeding.  Slowly re-dressing, adjusting her clothing, she again gingerly turns, rotates in front of the mirror one last time before unlocking the door, gently stepping, almost tiptoeing back to her desk.  Slowly sitting, feeling the impaling phalluses grinding inside her, she lets her tummy spread out behind the desk, practices breathing, the prickling barbs allowing for her limitations as the offices outside come to life.

       Again remaining motionless in her chair, glancing out the window in a sleepless, somber thought, the silence is broken by a tap on the door.  Spinning her chair around, she watches as her secretary enters with a stack of folders in hand, the door shutting behind her.  Young, attractive, her secretary for just a few months, like most of the others before her; she just doesn’t measure up, the kind of girl who tries to get along with her looks.  She’s glad the girl’s not going to follow her with her promotion.

       Setting the folders on the desk, glancing around as she steps beside the desk she lays a sealed envelope on top of the stack.  “This is from your friend on the island… He gave it to me the morning he brought you back to the hotel before we flew home.”  She advises with an almost piercing look in her dark eyes.  “He left a message for me on the answering machine this morning telling me now’s the time to give it to you.”

       “He gave it to… To you?... Left you a message?”  She asks, a shocked tone obvious, not knowing that she even knew the guide, especially since they didn’t even mingle together during the vacation except for the obligatory drink or two between boss and employee.

       “Yea… Then we fucked while he told me the details of your night with him… And the others while they all stuck their dicks in you!”  She smirks as she steps back to the door, locks it as she adds.  “Then we fucked some more while we watched your video and he told me what he had planned for you… For us…. Now open that letter… Bitch!”

       Face crimson as she lurches up from her seat, tearing at the envelope with trembling fingers as the pain of the needles resonate beneath her clothing, she glares at the short message.  “BTA.  You’re looking at your new Mistress.  Address her as such.  Follow her orders without hesitation… Or else the consequences will not be pleasant for you.”  Glancing up toward her secretary, at her disdainful glare, she drops the letter on the desk, her hands shaking, speechless.

       “Well?”

       Hearing her secretary’s single word sends chills through her as her breasts sear with pain, jolted by her deep breathing as the needles prick her flesh.  “Well… Well wha… What?”

       “What the fuck does the note say to do Slut?”

       Feeling the heat spreading across her face, she mutters.  “It… It says to… To… To follow your orders!”

       “What else Bitch?... And take those fucking clothes off too while speaking to me!”

       “To… To address you as… As Mistress!”  She answers, hearing the harsh order.  “Take my… My clothes off?... Here?... Now?”  Hesitating before slipping the jacket from her shoulders as she painfully stands between her seat and desk, she lets the jacket slip across the back of the swaying chair.

       “Do exactly what the fuck the note says… Now take off your damn clothes!… Understand?”

       Again the harsh tone sending shivers down her spine, again the needles stinging her bare flesh, she gruffly unbuttons her blouse, slips it down off her shoulders as she stutters.  “Ye… Yes Miss… Yes Mistress!”

       Breasts jaunting outward in the torturous black cups, the slightest of crimson pinpricks visible across the upper curves of her confined breasts from her heavy breathing, her stomach quivers as she attempts to control her breath, the pain.  Reaching down across her hips, slipping the slacks down off her thighs she’s barely able to bend, the weight of her firm globes hanging, pressing into the tips of the multiple needles while she hears the secretary’s giggles, watching her as she steps tentatively out of the pants.

       “Turn around a full turn… Let me see that big ass of yours… Cunt!... And raise those hands above your head… That’s it!…  I can see what he meant when he said I’d be pleasantly surprised with your new look!”

       The voice sharply contradicting the secretary’s normal tone, almost of another person, slowly turning, raising her hands, stretching her arms upward, Brooke feels the needles chaffing across her tit flesh, especially the nipples, along with the phalluses engulfing her orifices, a couple of those needles scrapping at her clitoris.

       “Oomph!”  A grunt as she bites her lip.  Completing her turn, she looks almost pleadingly toward her secretary.

       “Want to lower your arms?... Stop turning?... Then you have to beg!”

       Nodding, face flushed, angry, humiliated at the order, she mutters.  “Yes… Yes Mistress… Please… May I… May I put my hands down and stop turning… Mistress?... Please?”

       “Yea… Okay Bitch.”  She answers, picking up the note, its envelope.  “And I’ll keep this for you… It’s still just our little secret as long as you know your place… Now kneel and put your hands behind your back… I’m going to let you lick my pussy…. See if you’re any better at that then sucking a dick like on the video!... I’m sure your okay with that… Aren’t you?... Answer me… Answer me properly!”

       “Ye… Yes… Yes Mistress!”  Struggling to accept what’s happening, knowing she’s already past the point of no return to resist as she clings to the tidbit of the offer of secrecy, slowly lowering herself to her knees as she slips her hands behind her back, she feels the needles again painfully jamming into her tit flesh as she mumbles.  “Umph!… Oh God!”

       Raising her skirt, her neatly trimmed pubic mound already exposed, the tanned bikini line still fresh from the vacation, the secretary steps around the desk, grips Brooke’s hair.  “Lick my pussy, especially around my clit… Real gently with just the tip of your tongue at first.”  Pulling her face closer with one hand before slipping her other hand down across the black cups, she presses firmly inward with her palm.  “Lick me Slut!”

       “Oomph!”  The needles pricking her flesh, reluctantly obeying, her breasts flatten into the designed rows of needle tips.  Locking her fingers together behind her back as she’s bent forward, the phalluses twisting, chaffing deep inside her, she forces herself to flick her tongue out from between her parting lips.  Tasting the saltiness of her secretary’s moist vagina, feeling the swelling nub against her tongue, flicking back and forth, she closes her eyes, holds her breath between humiliating licks.

       “That promotion of yours is only a few days away.”  The secretary rasps as she jerkily sways her hips back and forth to the rhythm of the flicking tongue between her thighs, her vagina already wet just from the anticipation, the excitement of humiliating her boss.  “You’re going to be needing an executive secretary… With her own assistants to do her work for her…. Ummmm… Keep licking Slut!”

       Licking, listening, she barely nods her head in the affirmative as she feels the needles being pressed harsher into her breasts.

       “I’m going to be your choice for that position you know.”  The secretary continues.  “I have to… Ummmmmmm!... Be.”  Another satisfying moan as she adds.  “That way you can lick my pussy every morning to start work!... Now suck my clit… Suck it hard!... Aaahhhh… Yes!!”

       Cupping her hands across both Brooke’s ears, tugging toward her, pressing her vagina forward, she feels her clit barely being licked, pressed against Brooke’s reluctant mouth.  “Suck it Brooke!... You cunt or I’ll take your clothes out to my desk and leave you in here locked in those undergarments all day!”

       Grunting, her fingers interlocking behind her back, her breasts, vagina, rectum all pulsing with pain, the threat of being left exposed in her humiliating outfit unbearable, unacceptable, she spreads her lips, closes her eyes, sucks across the engorged clit being shoved against her mouth.  Lapping, slurping as her face presses between her secretary’s thighs, she grunts with each breath, each painful breath.

       “That’s it… Good slut…Right there…Oohhh!”  The secretary moans as she rocks forward, feeling spasms deep in her womb.  Sliding a hand back down, melding the set of cups, feeling them pressing into Brooke’s tit flesh, she grunts.   Ahhh yes….Yesssss!  Legs quivering, she glances down, mutters… Today… For lunch…Umph!!... Oh yessss… You’re going to take me and a couple of the guys to lunch today… As a special treat!”  Stomach trembling, legs quivering, the secretary feels her cum flowing as she grips tighter.  Yes…. Yes… Umph!!!... Suck it in, lick my juices Slut… Yes… Yes… Oh yeeeessss!!”  Knees buckling, still gripping Brooke by her ears, she feels the pulsing reflexes between her thighs as she twists, tugs.

       Stepping back a step as she leans over, taking a breath as she glances toward Brooke still kneeling, hands behind her back, a slight trickle of blood crossing her chest just below the bra cups, she grins.  “Lick your mouth slut; wipe my cum from your lips… And swallow it!”

       Glaring back, still trying to collect her breath without breathing hard, expanding her chest, the burning pain sears through her breasts, between her thighs.  Slowly sliding her tongue across her lips, the remnants of the milky fluid almost gagging her, slowly shaking her head, she reluctantly swallows.

       “Okay… You can get up slut… Get dressed now.”  The secretary scolds while aligning her own clothes.  “Use the restroom… Wipe those tits off too from the needle pricks…  You certainly don’t want to be embarrassed when we go to lunch do you?”  Stepping toward the door, she grips the handle, turns.  “Take us to a really nice place… I’ll pick the guys.”  Stepping out the door, she gives a last quick nod.  “If you’re really nice to me… I won’t make you fuck or suck them for desert!... We’ll keep our little secret to ourselves for now… Okay?”

       “Oh!”  Turning one more time, almost as an after thought, she raises her hand, opens it.         Looky here Brooke… Look what I have.  Holding a key out, she smirks.  “Be a good girl and I might unlock one of those undergarments… After lunch of course … Okay?”

End Part 2        

        

          

E-MAIL

Brooke gets a promotion party with unexpected twists and turns.

Chapter Three

       Just a single day until her promotion, her transfer.  The past week and more  a continuing nightmare, constant monitored humiliations in front of the computer at home only to be compounded by her secretary’s, now Mistress’ sadistic demands all week at work, and now a night of being honored, a dinner for her at the Chairman of the board’s estate, he an almost notorious bachelor.  Dressed to the nine’s, a chauffeur driven limousine, the solitary ride to the countryside, and the awe of being delivered to the front door, under the veranda of the French style Mansion.

       Stepping out of the limo amongst a Silver Shadow Rolls, a couple Bentleys, along with a mixed display of Mercedes, Porsche, and other exotic motor cars and for the moment, the agony and humiliation of the past few days just hangs in the shadows of her mind.  Escorted to the door by the chauffeur, announced to the guests by the doorman, virtually every important person in the company appearing to be mingling in the foyer, the great room, she’s escorted to the head of the table arrangement for the formal dinner, next to the Chairman.

       The next few hours even more then expected, the accolades, the excitement along with the aurora of the event are overwhelming as she gets a taste of her future should be, at least what she’s worked so hard to achieve if the past couple weeks haven’t ruined everything.  As the event winds down, most of the couples leaving, acknowledgements of her accomplishments heaped on her, she finds herself left with less then a dozen executives and wives, the higher Echelon of the corporation.

       Standing by the foyer, courtesy drink in hand while discussing whatever with a few of the wives, she notices the Chairman signaling to her with a nod and finger.  Excusing herself from the ladies, stepping across the room, she approaches him with a tinge of anticipation, even maybe apprehension as she can’t help sensing a look in his distinguished, authoritive eyes.

       “Brooke… Come here.”  He smiles, a fixed firm smile.  Leading her by the arm, back to a large double door entry, as it swings open she notices a large screen on the far wall, the room obviously the audio, video entertainment area of the mansion.  Several rows of over stuffed theater seats, most already filled with the executives and their spouses, she’s led to the center seat in front.

       “Have a seat Brooke.”  He politely, firmly directs as he waits for her to sit, then takes the seat to her left.

       Glancing back, noticing the seats are quickly filling, even the women she was just moments before surrounded by taking their places, she turns back as the lights dim.

       Feeling her forearm gripped, sensing the Chairman leaning closer while continuing to watch the screen, she hears his almost whisper.  “I want you to watch Brooke… This won’t take long… A few minutes at most.”

       The blank screen flickering, in just the briefest of moments she feels the warmth spreading across her cheeks, face.  Feeling her arm gripped even tighter, her stomach knotted as her throat burns, ready to throw up; she stares unbelievingly at the video of her naked body being ravaged by the three islanders.  No sound from the video, no sound in the room, the silence is deafening as the camera moves around her naked body, centers on the thick, dark cocks filling her orifices as she’s arched backwards in the close circle of animated observers.  Devastated, humiliated, her chest pounding, she forces herself back into the seat as his fingers grip ever tighter into her aching arm.

       A close-up of her face, the cock deep in her mouth, her eyes hazy, the video freezes, the dim lights in the room brighten.  The CEO standing, lifting Brooke up by her arm, turning her toward the group of people facing her, he glances toward her arm he’s holding as he speaks.  “Would you like to explain this video Brooke?”  Nodding toward the obviously disgusted guests, he continues.  “To the board members of the corporation, and their wives?”

       Absolutely humiliated, face beat red, heart visibly pounding through her low cut evening gown, almost instantly making he feel even cheaper as her breasts visibly quiver, she lowers her head, unable to even glance at the group staring silently back at her.  Trembling, she feels him guiding her back into her seat by her arm.  “Sit, Brooke.”

       The screen going blank, a couple moments and the sight of her starring back toward the room flashes into clear view.  Again she feels nauseated as she realizes it’s of her sitting in front of her computer, following the directions of the monitor.  Shaking her breasts, manipulating herself, the clothespins, everything flashes bigger then life on the jumbo screen as she feels his hand continuing to grip her arm.

       Sensing him leaning toward her, she instinctively jerks as she hears his whispers.  “Brooke… Brooke… Brooke!”

       The video again freeze-framing with her hands behind her head, her breasts flailing with clothespins on both nipples, sitting motionless, her watering eyes glare at herself on the screen in disbelief as he again stands, lifts her by her arm.  Again turning toward the silent audience, all staring sternly back at her, she’s sure she’s going to vomit, wants to crawl under the chair.  The room lighting even brighter, the guests begin standing, stepping toward the rear of the room, the double doors, still in silence as they file out.  One by one the room empties until just the pair are left.

       Turning her toward him, again the stern stare and he asks.  “Brooke?”

       Tears welling, utterly humiliated, unable to speak, barely to think, she keeps her eyes lowered as he takes a step back, releases her arm.  Feeling herself trembling, emotionally destroyed, she feels the tears falling across the upper curves of her bare globes rising above her gown.

       “Brooke… Obviously we have a problem… Don’t we?”

       Hearing his stern voice, realizing her career’s devastated, she barely shakes her head, the vision of herself still on the screen behind them.  Waiting for his response, the seconds ticking by like minutes, she continues to tremble before he again finally speaks.

       “We are the only ones with those videos… I’ve secured all the copies… Nothing else is out there to embarrass the corporation… My company.”  He states in an almost fatherly tone.  “Nothing at all.”

       Glancing up toward his face staring back down at her, barely able to see through her tears, not sure what he means, where the conversation’s going, she again slowly nods, mumbles.  “Yea… Yes Sir?”

       “You know your career’s worthless now.”  He scolds.  “You gave up everything… Everything you had a taste of earlier tonight.”

       Heart sinking, realizing the brief, fleetest chance of his help, understanding is not going to happen, her glimmer of hope evaporates as the tears become more then a trickle, her body shaking as she stands pathetically in front of him, the screen.  “Yes… Yes Sir!... Is… Is that all?... I’m sorry… So sorry…  I… I think I want to leave… To go now!”

       “You’re free to go at anytime Brooke…. Anytime.”  He admonishes.  “The limo will take you back to your residence if you wish to leave… To leave what you could have had here.”

       “Thank you… Okay.”  She almost whispers, again barely able to look him in the eye as she feels her body trembling, the tears mounting as again she feels a mixed signal,  almost an offer, some kind of offer.  “I’m sorry… I… I wish I could make it up somehow… To… To the company… To… To you!”  She barely whispers, herself throwing out her own mixed signals, hoping for a chance, any kind of chance to not lose everything she’s worked, struggled for, lost friends, fellow employees for.

       Gripping both her forearms, leaning toward her, his voice, almost a whisper, yet stronger, deeper, he speaks.  “If you’re serious… Really serious Brooke… I have companies all over the world… But…”

       Hesitantly glancing up at him, again the very slimmest of hopes of retaining the lifestyle she’s worked her whole life for, she practically begs.  “But?... But?”

       “You really embarrassed us Brooke… Embarrassed me personally.”  He admonishes.  “Hand picked by me and the videos are of a slut… A whore… A tramp!... Aren’t they Brooke?”

       Face flushing even more, if possible, humiliated even more; if possible, she feels her arms gripped tighter, his voice ringing sterner.  Nodding, chocking back the tears, she again feels hopeless, almost being toyed with as she whimpers.  “I… I guess… I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

       “Well then Brooke.”  He again sternly speaks.  “If I were to even consider the slightest chance of resurrecting your career… To forgive you for the company… Then there’s still the issue of my personal disappointment in you… How could you ever reconcile that matter personally with me?”

       “I… I would…”

       “Brooke!”  Cutting her off, gripping her arms tighter, he sternly speaks.  “Be very careful what you say next… I know what you’re capable of from the videos!... The wrong words and this discussion’s over… Permanently!”

       Nodding, trying to find words, she’s confused, uncertain what to say, to offer, not sure if what he’s hinting at is actually a hint or not.  “What … What would you want me to do to show my… My apology is sincere?... Sir?”  Throwing out the ‘Sir’ in an assertive tone without even knowing why she did, she glances into his eyes, again at that unusual look.  “What could I do to please you … Sir?”

       “Brooke… Cutting to the chase… I’m not making a corporative offer… Like I said… I own several companies.”  He negotiates.  “My personal offer is this… And it’s take it or leave it.”  Letting her arms drop, glancing at the screen, he continues.  “One year… One year and you become a president of one of my companies of your choice.”

       Heart pounding, this time in excitement, she nods with her tears already drying.  “One year?... One year… Okay… Of what?”

       “Of personal servitude Brooke.”  He answers, almost scoldingly.  “Don’t be patronizing…  You know what I mean.  Either offer me in your own words what I expect to hear you’ll submit too or this discussion’s over… Like I said… Be careful… This is your last chance.”  Again glancing at the screen, at the bigger then life poise of her with the clamped nipples, he glances back into her widening eyes.  ‘Make me an offer I can’t refuse… Brooke!”

       The screen staring back at her too, the clothespins pinching her nipples on the video, she realizes the decision he wants, expects is painfully obvious.  Lowering her eyes, she mutters.  “I… I will be submissive to you for a year… I will do whatever you order me to do.”

       “More specific Brooke.”  He instructs, obviously pleased as his demeanor shows.  “Tell me… Beg me in the words of a real submissive… To a real Master if you want me to consider it… Tell me what you will submit yourself too… To me willfully!”

       “I will be your submissive… Sir.”  She answers, trying to find the proper words.  “I want you to be my Master for the next year… Sir”

       “That’s a start… Now Brooke… Be more graphic as to what a slave should submit herself too… Obviously starting by living with me here.”  He orders, as for the first time he cups her breasts, sliding his hands beneath both globes in her black gown.  “Tell me you will give yourself totally to me… To use as I wish… To punish as I wish… To even abuse as I wish…. Damn it Brooke… Be graphic if you want to earn the good life!... Now what the Hell are you willing to do for me?... What are you willing to allow me to do to your body whenever I want?… You’ve got thirty seconds to convince me!?

       “Yes… Yes Sir.”  She stutters, her mind racing for answers before she finds herself blurting out.  “You can take me… Fuck me… Spank me sir!... I’ll be your submissive… Slave…. Sex slave Master!”  Hearing her own voice quivering, not wanting to offend him as he seems to be becoming annoyed, she’s cut off.

       “Got to be better then that Brooke!”

       “Please use my body anyway you want!... Like… Like on those video’s Sir!”  She almost shouts.  “Whip me… Fuck me… Hurt me!... Use me as you want… Anytime you want… I’ll live with you Sir!... I’ll be yours… Please!”

       A grin, maybe even a smile and he slides a hand over the top of her gown, cups and lifts her left breast out of the gown.  Melding, squeezing, he watches the tanned areola, nipple swell as he manipulates the firm tit flesh.  “ Might as well get started tonight then… The limo will take you back to your residence to retrieve some clothes and personal items.  I expect you back before midnight or you will receive your first punishment… Understand Brooke?”

       Nodding, she mutters.  “Yes Sir… Yes… Yes midnight Sir.”

       A few minutes pass before Brooke’s on her way in the limo.  Stepping into his office, the guests also long gone, sitting behind his desk in front of the computer, his monitor, he watches through the camera in Brooke’s residence above her monitor, no need to type in any further messages, instructions like he has over the past week.  Enjoying the thoughts of the games of the past couple weeks with Brooke, he’ll be sure to give the islander, the caretaker of his vacation resort there, a nice healthy bonus for his services during the vacation.  The secretary earned a nice bonus too; she’ll get Brooke’s corner office and her own secretary with her new promotion, and she doesn’t even know who her real benefactor is… With her looks, maybe in the future, a year or so, she’ll get to go on another free vacation herself, just like Brooke did.  

End Part 3         

       

       

        

       

       

       

                  

E-MAIL

Punished

Chapter Four

       Driven back to the estate, the chauffeur in no hurry, she can’t help glancing toward her watch as midnight approaches.  Glancing through the glass partition, then back toward her watch as the limo driver obviously leisurely drives through the countryside, the instructed time approaches, passes as the mansion finally appears up the long drive from the gates of its entrance.  Driven to the house’s side entrance, slowing to a stop, a final glance at the time and it’s a quarter after the hour. Her rear door open after the chauffeur nonchalantly steps around the limo, then retrieves her luggage from the trunk, she practically scurries up the steps, to the waiting doorman swinging open the door.

       “Late.”  He admonishes as greets her.  “You may sit there.”  Nodding toward a wheelchair against the wall he again orders in a firm, stern voice.  “Sit right there…. Master’s instructions if you arrived after midnight… Sit and accept the consequences or leave with the chauffer… Not to return… Master’s orders.”

       Glancing back toward the chauffeur with her luggage setting on the floor beside him, then down toward the chair, she slowly shakes her head as she steps toward the chair, turns and sits.  Feeling the material softly giving, mold to her body, she rests her arms on the arm rests, glances toward the doorman.  “Okay… I’m sitting.”

       “Yes you are Brooke.”  He answers as he steps behind the chair, flips a cuff up around her left forearm, snaps it shut over her wrist, quickly snaps the other across her right.

       “Wha…What are you doing?”  Brooke grunts, tugging, pulling at the tight restraints as her chest arches.  ‘Let me go!… Uncuff me… Now!... Let me….Umph!... Umph!!”  Feeling a damp cloth pressed across her face, smelling the acrid aroma, tasting the bitter rag pressed against her lips, nose, she coughs, jerks, feels almost instantly nauseated in the pit of her stomach as she struggles less, the doorman’s, the chauffeur’s face staring down at her, the doorman’s voice resonating.  “Punishment time Brooke… Punishment ti…..”  Almost surreally the room blurs, spins, goes dark.

       The same sick feeling still in her stomach, she awakens.  Darkness, her face confined by a glove like material virtually molded around her entire head, forcing it back, to crane between her shoulders, her mouth stretched wide with a hard rubber ring forcing her jaws apart.  She tries to raise, to move.  Nothing, no movement at all as she feels the sensation of her arms, legs shackled, strapped in a spread-eagled position, stretched tautly in a painful separation.  Trying to turn her craned backed head, impossible, flex her fingers, toes, same results.  Momentarily laying still, trying to collect her thoughts, she hears her heartbeat, feels the thumping in her chest.

       Remaining spread-eagled, time slowly passing, she wonders what’s happening to her as she’s stretched, realizing she feels nothing on her back or her front, she must be suspended.  Recalling the chair, the straps and the rag stuffed across her face, her legs, arms virtually numb, only the sound of her heartbeat’s constant rhythm rings through her covered ears as she waits, wonders, worries.  Again trying to move, to lift a finger, to close her mouth, she frustratingly grunts, her own garbled voice barely audible to herself through the molded mask.

       Time passes as she remains in her fixed position. Long minutes until she feels her lips touched with a warm, semi-hard object.  She reflexively jerks, feeling it circling across her lips, tasting the salty taste of the moistness across it’s tip, feeling it slipped between the ‘O’ ring stretching her lips apart, she feels it pressing across her flattening tongue, shoving into her throat, engulfing her mouth to her tonsils in a long, slow thrust.  Gagging, feeling her throat swelling, unable to breathe, she tries to jerk, twist, bite, spit.  Coughing, wheezing, her body trying to buck, to jerk in her restraints, her mind blurs as she struggles for breath.  Heart pounding, suffocating, the seconds count off as her body quivers, trembles.  Close to blanking out, the less then a minute seeming like hours, she finally feels the thick shaft sliding back out, the salty taste oozing across her tongue as her mouth releases the shaft with a ‘whooshing’ sound from the forced vacuum, the air rushing back into her lungs as she coughs, gasps for air.

       Again quiet, darkness, minutes passing as she remains immobile on her backside having collected her breath, realizing what was shoved in her mouth, down her throat.  Her body feeling cold, damp, she realizes she must be naked as she recalls feeling her breasts swaying, jerking across her chest as she was gagged with the penetration of that cock in her mouth. Counting her breaths, listening to her heartbeat, again the time passing as her arms, legs remaining virtually numb, her neck aches as her head remains tilted harshly back.

       A firm flick of her left nipple, feeling her breast swaying above her chest, she lurches, her nipple twitching.  A couple minutes later a flick between her legs, across her clitoris, another reflective lurch as the instant pain resonates between her thighs.  More minutes passing, her heart beating, a searing pain resonates through her right nipple.  “Oomph!”  Her nipple compressed, pinched, she grunts through the ‘O’ ring as she feels her breast jerking, smacking across her chest, the pain remaining, pounding with each escalating heartbeat as her nipple stands up, harshly clamped.

       Again silence, darkness, the constant beat of her heart still in her ears, even louder, and now the constant matching pulse of her aching nipple thumping across her breast as the clamp twitches.  More time passing, slowly, painfully passing as her body remains arched in her bindings face up, naked.  Wanting to yell out, to scream, she again tries to move as she struggles unsuccessfully to move anything, to twist, to flick the clamp from her throbbing nipple. The time passes, slowly.

       More long minutes, the pain in her breast, her throbbing nipple the focus of her attention, she feels a pressing sensation between her widely spread thighs, the rim of her rectum pressured, a warm moisture surrounding, soaking her sphincter muscles.  A probe, a harsh thrust, she feels her rectum being violated, spread apart.  Hips reflexively twitching, the thick shaft forcing steadily inward, she feels as if she’s tearing as her hips buck in her restraints.  Deeper, a steady even thrust, she feels her insides filling with the pulsing shaft as it continues to ram inward as she can almost count the inches, the length of the shaft as it seems to unbelievably pass beneath her belly button, toward her bowels, stopping, held still.

       A spasm jolting through her hips, the clamp jerking across her nipple as she bucks, she feels the burning, searing pain of her stretching rectum as the shaft throbs inside her for seconds, minutes.  Trying to jerk, to twist, she suddenly feels it slowly sliding back and forth, at first just a couple inches.  “Oomph!… Humph!... Umph!”  Each breath a grunt, she struggles with the pain, the humiliation, her mind racing with the obvious frustration of realizing she’s being fucked in her ass, now deeper with each thrust.  “Umph!... Humph… Oomph!”

       Deeper, harsher, the shaft rams in and out, pounding, pushing as she senses her body uncontrollably lurching, her breasts flailing, the clamped nipple burning, pulsing.  Still in darkness, unable to hear, she feels the shaft pulling out, tearing from her quivering rectum as it stretches around the throbbing head.  “Aaaggghhh!!!” One long painful screech, hearing her own cry from outside the mask, she feels the spasms in her stomach, the clamp twitching across her jiggling nipple as she again sucks in fresh air between the ‘O’ ring.

       Another length of time, her anus sore, the nipple a constant pulsing ache, her neck one long Charlie-horse, she remains suspended in her private little hell.  The chill across her exposed skin even more irritating as it cools the moisture of her obvious perspiration, she feels an occasional annoying streak across her bare flesh as it beads, drips from her naked body. Waiting, wondering, becoming weary as her body aches, she feels the instantaneous sharp jolting pain across her right nipple, a matching pain of her left as she feels another clamp attached to her naked flesh, deeply applied to that nipple.  “Ooomph!”  Another fruitless screech as her chest reflexively dances, her breasts bobbing, swaying above her arching torso, that nipple freshly throbbing next to the dull ache of her other.

       Quivering, twitching, finally  able to remain still, she tries to blank out the pain, the twin throbbing of her nipples with each rasping gasp, until finally more of an even breath as she wheezes through the mouth gag.  Inhaling, exhaling, deep breaths, she tries to calm herself, to accept the pain, make it more of just an annoyance if possible as her torment, her so called punishment continues.  Concentrating, staring into the darkness of the confining hood, listening to her heartbeat, feeling her nipples twitch likewise in rhythm, she braces for what’s next.

       More minutes, many more, maybe as much as over an hour as time almost loses its relativity as she remains nervously spread-eagled in her silent, dark confinement.  Her body one long, dull ache, that is, what isn’t numb, she drifts into an almost sublime state as she wills herself to accept her circumstances, knowing, counting on the outcome promised to her for her obedience.  Yet, she wonders how much more she’s going to be subjected too, and for how much longer.  Breathing through her stretched mouth, inhaling, exhaling in her total darkness, her body shudders at the slightest movement she senses around her as the time slowly ticks by as somehow she almost dozes off into a semi-sleep.

       Barely awake, feeling her lips again pressured by the salty tasting shaft, its thick head then probed between the ’O’ ring, sliding into her yawning mouth, she attempts to brace as her chest bucks, the clamps jerking painfully across her nipples.  The shaft slid slightly back, held still, just momentarily motionless, she feels the cock thrusting inward across her flattened tongue, driving again against her tonsils, again held stationary as she coughs, gags, unable to breathe, just as before.  Spasms rippling across her naked body, lungs burning, she feels another shaft ramming between her thighs, hard, even thicker, almost violently thrusting inward with a single harsh, powerful stroke deep inside her vagina, stretching, ripping at her as her body jerks, twists, bucks in her restraints.  Her heart pounding, lungs feeling as if they’re bursting, she tries to scream, gags instead as her head spins, her thoughts scrambling as if she’s drowning, the darkness spinning before her eyes as her body slumps, goes limp with unconsciousness.

       Finding herself awakening again some time later, who knows when, her breasts pounding, searing with pain, the clamps burrowing ever deeper into her tortured nipples, her clit also burns from her aching vagina, a harsh pinching sensation as her hips twitch, that third clamp slapping back and forth between her tautly spread thighs.  Still in darkness, silence as her leather masked head’s still firmly bound; her craning neck’s still arched back between her shoulders.  Wanting to scream, saliva drooling from the ‘O’ ring, gagging for breath, what parts of her body not in pain, numb, the rhythm of her heart beat pulses, thumps in her ears as her rasping grunts are barely audible through the mouth gag.

       “Thud!”

       “Oomph!”

       “Thud!”

       “Oomph!”

       “Thud!… Thud!... Thud!... Thud!!”

       “Ooooommmppphhh!!”  Feeling the stinging, burning across her chest, alternating across her arching torso as she grunts, almost gets out a scream, the hollowing ‘Thuds’ ringing through her head as she can’t actually hear the single tail whip slashing across her bare breasts, just feels the concussions across her bucking chest. The building red, welted stripes stand out as they trail across her global mounds swaying back and forth, the clamps dangling off her swollen nipples while she just senses the ‘Thuds’ resonating throughout her jerking body.  “Thud!... Thud!... Thud!!”

       Frantically jerking, twisting, bucking in the restraints, arching, kicking, biting the ’O’ ring, the dark confines of the mask stifling, her face sweating, clinging to the leather, her head held firm as her jaws ache from her teeth gnawing at the rubber ring, she feels her thrashing body worked hard, the continuous lashing shifted from her breasts to across her hollowing, flexing stomach.  “Thud!... Thud!... Thud!”  A couple more lashings slashing across each thigh.  “Thud!... Thud!”

        Just a moment’s hesitation, she feels a whip’s split-tail slashing between her legs.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!”  A long curdling scream emits from the ‘O’ ring as the whip slashes across her vagina, another simultaneously across her breasts.  “Thud!... Thud!...Thud!... Thud!”  Stomach muscles twisting, knotting, she feels another couple stinging slashes directly, harshly across her clit.  “Thud… Thud!”  Nauseated, chocking on vomit rising in her throat, on the verge of hyperventilating, unable to breathe, to catch her breath, she fades into unconsciousness.

       Waking in the wheelchair with her arms still strapped, her ankles likewise, naked body glistening and crisscrossed with welts, she sits in the foyer alone, the original position as when she entered the manor with the chauffeur.  Glancing down toward her bruised nipples, her stripped breasts, over toward her luggage still sitting on the floor, she hears the doorman, the chauffeur entering from the hallway.  Glancing up between them, her throat raw, unable to speak, she just listens as the doorman addresses her.

       “Your punishment for being late is completed.”  Glancing toward the chauffeur, he continues.  “You can wheel her back to the Master’s guests awaiting her for their evening’s pleasures if she wishes.”  Turning to face her, he adds.  “Or you can get dressed and he can chauffeur you home… Not to come back… Contract with master voided… Your decision Brooke… If you decide to stay… It will most certainly be painful for you again… Shall we unbind you now?… Or do you want to ask him to wheel you back?”

       Glancing from one to the other, tears streaking down her cheeks, dripping across her aching breasts, her arms still tingling in the bindings, she hesitates as the chauffeur leans over, places his hand on a wrist cuff.  Glancing up into his dark, probing eyes, she nods, barely nods with her decision.

End Part 4 

       

  

              

            

       

E MAIL

Brooke makes her fateful decision.

Chapter Five

       Her decision wretchedly made, tittering back and forth, Brooke reluctantly agrees to her continued employment, to her twelve month subjugation, to accept the humiliation for the long term gain, a year of humiliation for a lifetime of success.  Nodding her affirmative answer, catching the obvious gloating stares of the chauffeur and doorman, she glances toward her wrist restraints, prepares for even more humiliation.

       Wheeled just down the corridor to a restroom by the chauffeur, expecting even more pain, anguish from his mentioned guests; she’s confused as she’s given a white wool bathrobe to wear after being released from the wheelchair.  Led back to the rear of the mansion, to the entrance to the garage area where the limo’s been parked in the garage, she’s surprised as she’s instructed to sit in the back seat while a multi page contract’s placed in front of her.  Under duress, no time to think, even to really read the full multi page document, she signs without being allowed to read any of the fine print.

       Kept clothed only in the bath robe, left alone for a few minutes as the chauffeur leaves with the signed contract, a short ride follows to the private airport where she’s given a hefty drink and a light sedative as she finds herself boarding the corporate plane.  In just a few short hours, still in the middle of the night, it lands in an isolated area.  An uneventful trip from the private airstrip, still groggy, she’s led by the accompanying chauffeur into her new residence, a secluded manor house on its own gated compound.

Led through the house to a dimly lit master suite on the second floor, she notices a glass divider to what appears to be an isolated control room at the far end of the room.  Well lit, a computer on a centered desk, she can’t help noticing the various implements and clothing aligning a couple of the walls with a counter top seeming to be overflowing against one side.

       “That’s your work area… That’s were you’ll be spending most of your time for the majority of the duration of your contract.”  He instructs as he leads her by her arm.  “To perform for his guests by their e-mail requests.”  He quips as he stops just outside the open door, blocking it with his body.  “It shouldn’t be much of problem… After all… You’ve had plenty of experience already… I’m sure you know what’s expected of you by now!”

       Staring in through the glass, she realizes the computer’s set up as at home, even down to the camera mounted above the monitor.  Its red light already glowing, it’s directed toward the vacant chair, a leather chair with some unusual modifications.  Other cameras are also visible, aligning the walls front, rear and from above.

       “You’re to remain in the room unless expressly permitted to leave… Regardless of any personal reasons.”  He continues after giving her a few moments to soak in the setup.  “That is… If you expect to fulfill your part of the contract… But then you know that leaving will obviously terminate your employment… No second chances… Period… Matter of fact, you’re better off to stay on the estate… And you can only do that if you stay employed… You see… You’re illegally in another country now.”  Watching her startled look, smiling himself, he adds.  “He has connections here with his corporation… Deep connections… And a passport… You don’t… It could take months, even years for you to go through this court system if charged with illegally entering into this country… That time would be spent in some rat infested prison camp… Think what you’re going to be going through with the computer now… Then multiply that by ten in one of these jails!... Yes!... Think about that if your contract seems to be getting the best of you!”

       Stepping away from the door as he finishes speaking, slipping her robe down from her shoulders, across her bare breasts, he gives a final order.  “Enter the booth naked… Leave the booth naked… At all times unless directed by the computer… Now… Get to the computer… Turn it on… Several of his guests are on line, awaiting you… Time to get started on your new contract obligations.”

       Standing naked in front of him as he folds the robe across his arm, she glances into the room before stepping toward the computer.  Sitting in the chair as he closes the door behind her she glances back toward the glass partition, just shadows, darkness from the other side.  Glancing back toward the computer, taking a deep breath, she finds it practically impossible to digest his words.  Clicking the mouse, the screen lights up… ‘Welcome BTA… You have mail.’

       Her body slumping, the memories of her home computer jolting her back to reality, she hesitantly flicks the keys, waits barely a moment or two as she scans the several message headings all directed to ‘BTA.’  Flicking the flashing one first, the words scroll on the screen for her to read.  ‘Each message is programmed for one half hour increments… Fifteen minutes are allotted between each message or the previous must be re-implemented… Three of the e-mails must be randomly fulfilled for this session… Begin with your choice of order… Three… Two… One…’

       Glancing toward the camera, toward the others with red lights flickering around her, she flicks the next message.  ‘Watch video carefully… Observe with complete attention.’

       The screen quickly switching to its ‘Real Player’ she sees the close up of a naked, young attractive woman obviously in distress.  Facing a camera with a prison like cell display behind her as she sits on a three legged wooden stool, she apprehensively reaches toward a wicker tray to her left, nervously picking up a glistening skewer with her left hand, shakily gripping her left breast with her right hand.  The girl noticeably glancing past the camera to its background, she slowly nods as a tear traces down off her cheek.  Squeezing her breast, the nipple bulging, her fingers visibly tremble as she forces the tip of the skewer against the edge of her swelling nipple.  Biting her lip as her stomach hollows, twisting her head, she rams the needle inward, a trickle of blood dripping as the pointed tip breaks through the other side.  Pushing the skewer halfway through, she drops her hands toward her side, glances again past the camera through her tears.  In just seconds, a sorrowful nod and she’s again reaching toward the tray, picking up a second skewer as the screen goes blank.

       Her heart pounding, waiting for the screen to return, Brooke has a sinking feeling in her stomach as she instinctively reaches for her own aching breasts, palming, caressing both as she sees the white letters beginning to scroll upwards.  Moaning to herself, her fears are confirmed as the message reads out.  ‘Retrieve two of the three skewers on counter against wall… Pierce both nipples as shown… While sitting in front of monitor.’  The letters scrolling off the screen, another still photo of the girl appears, staring toward the camera, her hands behind her head, both nipples dripping blood, skewers centered through each…. ‘One minute to start… Fifty-nine…Fifty-eight...’

       Heart pounding, her body already physically beaten down, mentally drained from the past few agonizing hours, she moans as she swivels around in the chair.  A couple steps toward the shelf, the glistening skewers immediately obvious, she hesitantly picks up a pair, slips back onto the chair to face the computer screen.  Watching the countdown, covering her breasts with her forearm, she watches the numbers dwindle to single digits, finally to zero.

       The white block letters scrolling up the screen superimposed above the girl’s image, she really doesn’t even have to read the instructions as it explains what to do to her left breast first as the countdown begins.  “Three… Two… One…’  Gripping her breast, squeezing as she saw the painful image of the girl do, she bites down on her lower lip as she forces the sharp tip against the outer edge of her bulging nipple.  Feeling the self inflicted pain, the tip sinking into the hard nub, she grunts, shutters as she feels the needle pricking her aching flesh, pierce the outer side, slipping to a stop against the inner edge.  Holding her breath, squinting her eyes, she hears the ‘plopping’ sound as the needle rams through.  “Oomph!”  Holding back a scream as she continues to chew on her lower lip, feeling the warm blood dripping across her fingertips from her pierced nipple, she evenly centers the needle as a solitary tear drips off her chin.

       The screen momentarily blanking before going dark, she feels the pulsing in her burning nipple as the sensation of the metal impaling her flesh sends tremors up her spine.  Waiting for the screen, knowing her right breast is next, she fights off the urge to jump up, leave the room.  Knowing she has to continue, waiting for the screen to light up again, for the dreaded instructions, she resists tugging, jerking the skewer from her breast as she fidgets in the chair, reaches for her right nipple, pinches it between her fingernails, subconsciously simulating the certain upcoming pain.

       The screen lighting up with the obvious instructions she knew all to well was coming, it’s still devastating as she watches the countdown.  Shaking her head, she frustratingly jams the sharp tip against her other nipple.  “Oomph…. Aaggghhh!”  Grunting, shrieking, the needle jams into her hardening nipple, grinds, twists as she pushes, pulls back, pushes again.  “Aaaagggghhh!!!”  Another jamming thrust, squeezing, twisting at her searing breast, she feels the tip of the skewer finally ‘plop’ through. “Ooommmpphh!”

       Shaking, the warm blood again trickling across her fingertips, she slumps back as she finishes centering that skewer.  Seeing just the vision of the naked girl exhibiting her bleeding breasts left on the monitor’s HD screen as the white block letters directing her disappear, she almost reflexively sits upright, assumes the girl’s pose as the scroll ordered.  Stretching her arms up behind her head, interlocking her fingers behind her neck, she thrusts her breasts outward, the traces of her dripping tears mixing with the crimson tinge of blood collecting across her areolas, nipples as the pair of glistening skewers twitch, jiggle for the camera.

       A countdown scrolling up the screen with instructions to face her counterpart until the time expires; she realizes she’s to assume the pose for the next twenty-two minutes and sixteen seconds, until the half hour is up for this sadistic exercise into pain and humiliation.  Both breasts pounding, thumping with each heartbeat, she glares toward the image, toward the similarly pierced breasts of the tortured girl’s image, the red light of the computer cam flickering above the monitor as her mind dwells on her predicament.

       The time slowly ticks by, yet the concern, the unknowing of what’s next begins to concern her more then the pain of her impaled nipples even as they constantly ache, pulse.  Less then five minutes clicking off the screen, her arms cramping, her shoulders tighten as she unconsciously adjusts for the pain in her breasts.  Finally just a few seconds to go, she feels her fingers twitching, the dampness collecting on the back of her neck from her clenching fists.  Clicking to zero, she waits a few moments, leans forward and slips her hands beneath her tortured breasts.  Cupping, lifting upwards, the skewers glistens as her nipples twitch in her fingertips.  Seeing the time resetting for her break, the fifteen minute countdown beginning, leaning back and wondering what’s next, what e-mail to open next, she cautiously leans her head back against the backrest, closes her eyes, concentrates on the pulsing pain of both breasts, the strange sensation of the metal impaling her tit flesh.

       Lack of sleep, the sedative, the contract, everything mounting, the physical, mental anguish overwhelms her as the brief fifteen minutes pass by.  The skewers weighing heavily on her breasts, finally opening her eyes, glancing at the flashing computer, she realizes the time’s up.  Lurching forward, hitting the keys, she’s terrified she’s missed her allotted time.  Glaring at the e-mails, seeing a new one flashing, she quickly hits the button.  Her emotions are mixed as she realizes she’s on time.  Opening the message, she stares at the screen.

       ‘BTA… Remove skewers… Then proceed to your next pick...’

       Again her emotion’s a rollercoaster ride, glad the skewers are coming out, yet the unknown of what’s next in line for her from a yet to be chosen e-mail message.  Carefully sliding the left skewer outward, slowly and painfully, she finally lays it on the computer table, reaches over and begins to slip the right skewer through that stretching nipple.  Trying to minimize that pain, tugging, giving a jerk, it plops out as she lays that skewer on the computer table next to the other one.  Again biting at her lip, hitting the next in line e-mail, watching it open, she stares at the instructions scrolling up the screen with a slow disapproving nod, a low moan.

       Slowly spreading her legs, agonizingly lifting her feet to the sides of the chair, her heels resting in grooved cups on either side, she slips the fingers of her right hand up between her parting lips, licks, dampens them as the countdown approaches single digits.   Forcing three, four fingers between her thighs, her aching breasts swaying as she arches forward, she jams her hand inward at zero, pushing, pumping as the screen directs.  Forcing her thumb to cup against her palm, jerking her hips, she feels the folds of her labia stretching, practically tearing as she tries for the first time in her life to fist fuck herself.

       Just over half of her hand inside, twisting, pumping in and out, she forces her hand to contort, to form into an oval position.  Spreading her thighs, gripping at her spreading vagina with her other hand while grunting, shoving and thrusting at the same time, she feels the burning, searing of her stretched vagina as the widest part of her hand finally slips in.  “Oomph!”  Feeling her wrist slipping inward, glancing down, she surprisingly realizes her whole hand is somehow fitting inside her.  Making a fist, feeling the walls of her vagina stretching, gripping at her own hand, she humiliatingly glances at the flickering red light of the camera above the monitor, again at the letters imposed across the screen giving her the next disgusting orders even as she can’t help wondering who’s watching, and how many.

       Continuing to follow the scroll, cupping her sore left breast, lifting, stretching her bulging globe toward her tilting face, pressing her lips across the tip of the oozing nipple, she sucks it in, painfully clamps her teeth across the pierced nub, tasting the blood, her blood, and sweat.  Again surprised that her nipple can stretch all the way to her mouth, actually be sucked between her lips, she keeps her lips locked across the oozing nipple, trying her best to follow the monitor’s continuing instructions.  Slowly, apprehensively pumping her fist in and out between her spread thighs facing the camera, her wrist bone disappearing, reappearing with each thrust as she pinches, twists her other nipple, she stretches it outward between her fingernail, thumbnail also in full view of the camera as the instructions form across the monitor.

       Working her breasts, pumping her vagina, occasionally glancing toward the countdown, the still over twenty some minutes of humiliatingly, painfully fist fucking, tit sucking; nipple pinching for the web camera seems like an eternity.  Breasts aching, vagina tearing, she grunts for breath, contorts on the chair as it rocks, swivels under her flexing body.  Her mind nearly blank, trying just to survive, to get past each humiliating instruction, she forces herself not to think of her future, her past, of anything else.  Legs quivering, body aching, an occasional glance, the time seems to pass in slow motion. Eighteen minutes, sixteen, twelve, her wrist’s sore, her thigh’s raw as she masturbates her vagina with her pounding fist.  Ten minutes, eight then seven, her body sweats, the perspiration sticking to the leather of the chair as she grunts, groans, mentally, physically exhausted.

       Less then five minutes remaining, her wrist barely moving inside her, her hand cramping, soaked with the sticky bodily fluids oozing inside her, sweat dripping across her brow, she notices the flashing screen with three minutes to go.  ‘Remove hand from vagina… Suck fingers clean while pinching, then stretching both nipples toward camera with other hand... Three… Two…’  Jerking her fist out from her thighs, her clenched fist resisting, she twists, adjusts her fingers, her hand finally ‘plopping’ free, the sucking sound noticeable as she slips her glistening fingers disgustedly toward her mouth.  Sticky, slimy, she tastes herself as a finger, a couple fingers slip across her lips, into her mouth, presses against her tongue.

       Even as she reflexively gags, pinching her burning nipples together, clamping them between her thumbnail and fingernail, she tugs, stretches toward the camera, her breasts thumping with each heartbeat.  Glancing toward the countdown, licking across the web of her hand, her thumb, she continues to halfheartedly twist and tug at her throbbing, oozing nipples.  Less then a minute and counting, her stomach nauseated, she fights back the burning in her throat as she licks her fingers for the final time.  Hitting zero, she slumps back, releases her breasts allowing the battered globes to sway, bounce across her perspiration soaked chest, her knees still spread, her vagina oozing across the damp leather seat.  Another appreciative fifteen minutes of respite, she closes her eyes, takes a couple deep breathes.  Aching everywhere imaginable, now she faces yet another dilemma, the realization she needs to relieve herself.

       Her kidneys’ beginning to ache, she glances toward the door, realizes she can’t leave.  Holding her thighs together, glancing at the time left, she frets about what’s next, about how long she can hold herself.  Ten minutes left, just knowing she needs to urinate seems to force the issue even more as she noticeably squirms on the chair.  Less then five minutes, she can feel a trickle on her thigh, unsure if its urine or the stickiness still oozing from her self fisting.  Counting down to a couple minutes, finally the last minute, then to zero, her legs firmly pressed together, she watches as just the original e-mails remain, then right at zero, a new blinking message.

       Apprehensively opening it, her eyes almost frozen to the screen, she reads the sickening order as she realizes the camera’s told on her, letting her obvious discomfort show to whoever is observing her embarrassing ordeal.  ‘BTA… Option one… Relieve yourself at the toilet in the suite and then immediately pierce your clit with the third skewer… Or Option two… Urinate in cupped hands… Drink… Lick up any spillage… Three… two… One…’

       Reflexively, instinctively, instantly reaching between her thighs, the skewer not even an option in her panicking mind, she feels the warm urine squirting, filling, overflowing her quivering hands, mixing with her other bodily fluids until she tries to hold off but still trickles.  Leaning forward, the odor of her urine mixing with her vaginal secretions, she forces her face close to her cupped hands.  Hesitating, but quickly thinking of how painful piercing her clit would be she takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes.  Pressing her quivering lips into the warm, sticky fluid, gagging, tilting backwards on the chair, most of her urine streaks across her lips and chin as less then half’s left to slosh around inside her mouth.  Gagging as she swallows, again reaching down between her legs, she again spurts into her forced cupped hands as she arches forward.

       The stench spreading, the leather between her thighs wet and sticky, she again reaches toward her mouth, gags as she forces her face between her clenched fingers.  Drinking, swallowing just a little more, sure she’s going to upchuck; she again slips her hands between her drenched thighs, spurts again.  Her chest, stomach, thighs saturated by her urine, perspiration as they mix and drip across the leather seat that’s becoming a hazy glaze, she again gulps the little fluid she can cup in her hands as she slides forward, slips off the front of the chair onto her knees.

       Glancing toward the seat, the floor, toward the computer, she reads the stationary scroll.  ‘Lick the urine clean… Or pierce clit…’

       Leaning forward, disgustedly lapping at the seat, her tongue sticking to the glistening leather, again she reflexively gags, forces herself to somehow continue.  Her breasts dragging across the edge of the seat, her raw nipples burn, shinning with her urine.  Licking, lapping, forcing herself to continue, she constantly struggles not to heave, to vomit as her glistening naked body mops the floor.  Struggling to the very end, as clean as she feels possible, she stands, turns and sets on the sticky chair, nauseated, aching, confused.

       Glancing toward the blinking screen, she slowly hits the buttons, hazily starts to read the newest e-mail.

       ‘BTA… You may exit the booth until 1800 hrs… Bathe… Shave… Return on time… You will be served in your suite… Do not be late…’

       Somehow feeling a sense of relief, yet virtually every other emotion overlapping, she stands, holds her mouth as she grabs for the door.  Forcing it open to sprint toward the restroom, she glances toward the curtains, sees the morning light shinning through as she finds the open restroom door.  Slipping across the marble tile, wet feet above head as her butt cheeks bounce off the floor, turning on her side, crawling; she vomits just short of the toilet bowl.                     

END PART 5          

       

         

       

       

       

       

            

E-Mail

Brooke’s secretary bargains to be her replacement

Chapter Six

       At his estate, his small, select inner circle present from the night before, just the two of them sit in the theater style seats facing the large flat screen for Brooke’s next session.  Six o’clock approaching, the dinner over, drinks have been served in the relaxed atmosphere, the rest of the guests ushered to the pool area as he’s asked Brooke’s secretary, now Brooke’s rumored replacement, to accompany him to the theater style computer room.  She’s spent the past evening of her invitation to his estate wanting to show her appreciation for her expected promotion, now alone with just him; she hopes she can show it with what she does best.

       She’s been eager to impress him, even the early morning activities involving Brooke last night was highlighted by the self fisting scene, her idea, another brownie point chalked up for her to the old man.  Now, a few more minutes and Brooke again will be center stage on the monitor, displayed in front of just the two of them this time.  This could be the best chance to really work on her promotion, to take Brooke’s position, to show him her aggressiveness.

       A couple minutes to the hour, they watch the monitor as Brooke slips uneasily across the seat in front of the camera.  Even as the time zones are different, the clocks are kept locked in tune.  Watching her fidgeting, preparing herself, her naked body glistens from an obvious recent bath.  A few slight bruises, a couple welts, her body appears not the worse for wear.  Six o’clock sharp, he hits the keys to the computer sitting in front of the armrest between them, instantly flashing his message to Brooke’s monitor.

       Watching her working her keyboard, reading the instructions, he grips his soon to be new executive’s hand, leans over and whispers.  “Okay Beth… Let’s really humiliate her tonight… At seven sharp I have a real surprise for her!”

       “Yes Sir.”  She whispers back, letting the back of his hand brush across her uplifted breast, pressing against the shear material barely concealing her outthrust globe, actually guiding his hand upwards from the armrest with her own.  “You want me to give her the next command?... Can I?”  She asks as they watch the image of Brooke obeying the instructions, assuming her submissive pose, arms above head, hands behind neck, those big ‘ol titties thrust out, looking even larger from the angle of the camera as she stares with her doe like eyes directly into the camera.

       “Yes Beth… I think you need to show me what you’ve got… See if you really are the replacement for her I hope you are.”  He whispers, their conversation obviously exciting to her, but with more of a concealed meaning for him.

       Her hand slipping from his, her fingers sliding over the armrest, she feels his swelling shaft between his spreading thighs as she murmurs.  “I’ll show you just what you want!”

       Typing a message awkwardly with her free hand as she squeezes with the other, a quiet giggle or two, she glances toward him, quips.  “There… Send it!”

       Hitting the key, setting back, he watches the expression on the screen, of Brooke’s widening eyes, her head barely noticeable twisting from side to side.  The next minute ticking off, the countdown to the command, he glances toward his protégé, smiles.  “She doesn’t look too pleased… What’s she going to have to do?”

       “You’ll see… Just watch.”  She answers, giving his cock a tight squeeze, a slow stroking tug.  “You’ll see… What I do too!”

       The minute practically up, Brooke’s image moves across the monitor.  Standing, turning, she bends over, her buttocks thrust straight toward the camera.  Hands spreading her butt cheeks apart, her fingers gripping her spreading labia, her vagina completely exposed, her dark gapping slit quivers as she forces herself to bend completely forward, the top of her head virtually scraping the floor.

       “Just watch what she does while you feel what I do.”  Beth murmurs as she leans close to his ear.

       Squeezing even tighter, her other hand gliding across his belt, Beth unsnaps the button, unzips his trousers.  Slipping his thickening cock out into the open, slipping her hand around and completely down his shaft, tautly stretching the foreskin downward, she leans across the armrest, slips her parting lips across the swelling crown, flicks her tongue back and forth, across, into the already oozing eyelet, tastes the saltiness.  Moaning, gently bobbing her head ever so seductively, letting her tongue swirl around his shaft, she glances out the corner of her eye toward the monitor at the close-up of Brooke’s spread vagina, puckered rectum thrust toward the camera.

       A shallow bob, a deep bob, a quick sucking motion, a slow flick of the tongue, she works his hardening shaft as her free hand slides downward, cups his scrotum, gently squeezes, manipulates, the tip of her finger pressing firmly across his rectum.  Feeling his shaft throbbing in her mouth, sliding her lips just up across the responding shaft as she gently nibbles the stretching ‘Y’ of the frenulum below the crown, she glances toward his serene expression as he lays back, watching the screen as Brooke’s beginning to slip her finger in and out of her own rectum.  Smiling to herself as Brooke follows the computer’s message, she continues to slowly stroke his foreskin as she whispers.  “Can I order her to hurt herself?... Please?”

       Not waiting for an answer, glancing toward his cock, she takes a quick breathe, stretches her lips across the crown.  In one long slow but continuous motion, completely deep-throating his shaft; she feels his thick manhood brush past her tongue, scrape across her tonsils, actually deep down into her throat.  Holding her breath, feeling his throbbing, twitching shaft stretching her throat, she slowly raises her head back up, hears the suction of his cock flipping out from between her lips as she gasps for a breath.  “Can I?”

       Slipping his hand behind her head, firmly pulling her toward his throbbing shaft, he flexes his hips as his cock again burrows into her mouth.  Forcing her face downward, pressing her nose against his stomach, feeling himself deep inside her throat, he holds firm, glances at the back of her head, her tightly wrapped hair beginning to strand between his fingers.  Feeling her body quivering, her hand tightening on his scrotum, he holds her head with both hands as he watches the monitor, at Brooke fingering her butt with one hand, her spreading vagina with the other.  Twitching, feeling the rush from deep inside, pumping even deeper into her mouth as he thrusts his hips upward, he grunts as her body jerks against the armrest.

       “Swallow it!... All of it!”  He grunts as his cock pulses, pumps inside her stretched, gasping mouth.  “And I’ll let you hurt her!”  Another harsh thrust of his hips, he feels the explosion pulsing through his shaft.  “Agghh!... Oomph… Agghh!”  Grunting with each spurt, shoving his hips upward into her face, his load spurts, gushes in her throat as she reflexively gags, her leg kicking as she grasps his scrotum with one hand, the armrest with the other.

       Holding his hips still, sliding her head upwards, again the gush of air as his still thick shaft slips from her mouth.  His cock slapping across her face, barely a dribble smearing her lips, he glances into her hazing eyes as she grunts for breath, stares back toward him with a somewhat stunned expression, heaving with each gasp.

       Releasing her head, sitting back, he glances back and forth at the monitor and at Beth as she sits back, silently wipes her lips with the back of her hand.  Slipping his hand across hers, he leans across the armrest, whispers somewhat sternly.  “You going to wipe my cock clean with those tits of yours now?... I think you should… With your bare tits… Don’t you?”

       Glancing back toward him, his still semi-erect shaft, she glances toward the image of Brooke bent over, still in the middle of her thirty minute exercise and begins to slowly unbutton her blouse.  “Yes… Yes Sir… I think I should.”

       From top to bottom, the buttons opening, the blouse spreading apart exposing her uplifting lace bra, her breasts spread, pushed up by the low cut material.  The tan of her areolas flashes above the black bra as she arches back and slips the blouse down off her shoulders.  Gently swiping her tongue seductively across her lips as she arches her arms behind her back, her fingers unsnapping the trio of latches, her breasts jaunt outward as the lace material slips down off her global melons, the large areolas flat, smooth beneath the hardening nubs of her thick nipples as they jiggle out off her swaying mounds.

       “Might as well get comfortable… Don’t want to wrinkle your skirt while you’re kneeling in front of me… Do you?”  He quietly directs as he glances toward her black skirt, the suggestion obvious as to what he expects.

       “Ye… Yes Sir… Thank you.”  She answers as she stands, faces him.  Laying the bra, the blouse on the seat, slipping the skirt downward from both sides, she drops it on her shoes as she slips them off her feet.  Still leaning forward, her bare breasts swaying between her arms, she presses the shoes, the skirt together, piles them on the seat.

       “Panties?”

       Standing upright, glancing down at her matching black thong panties, her breasts bobbles and sways as she arches her hips, slips the panties down across her thighs, below her knees.  Slipping them off with her raised foot, tilting toward her side, her breasts continuing to bounce, grabbing the panties with her right hand, she tosses the thong onto the pile.  A slight smile, her arms barely crossing below her spreading breasts, she feels the tingle in the pit of her stomach as she watches him slowly scan her naked body from toe to head.

       Consciously arching her shoulders ever so slightly back, letting her breasts jaunt outward, slightly spreading her thighs, knowing the nub of her clit’s exposed between the tight folds of her vagina, she slowly raises her arms, letting her hands arc back behind her sides, exposing her freshly shaven body, every attribute she has.  Holding her breath, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat in her chest, she waits for some kind of response, hopefully some kind of compliment as she takes a short breath, again holds it with her stomach hollowing beneath her ribcage.

       “Well Beth… Just how bad do you want that promotion for Brooke’s position?”

       Hearing his words, watching him, his eyes roaming her naked flesh, she feels her heart pick up a beat as she thinks.  Damn, she just deep throated him, that’s how bad!  Trying to find the right thing to say, knowing she’s virtually got the promotion in her grasp, she feels the Goosebumps across her bare flesh.

       “What are you willing to do for me… How far you willing to go…  To get what you want?”

       His voice firm, the question blunt, she stares straight back into his eyes, blurts.  “Anything… I… I’ll do anything you want me too!”

       Staring back into her eyes, making her wait, to stand naked in front of him, he thinks back to the day he made his choice, personally without anyone else’s knowledge, handpicked her as Brooke’s secretary and sent the order down to have her hired.  It’s hard to find such self centered and ruthless, yet beautiful women with so few strings attached, no one in her background to ask any questions later. 

       Now enjoying the closeness of her naked body, even her scent, again the obvious ruthless almost blind desire she has to get what she wants, he’s certain he’s made the right choice; she’s perfect for what he wants, especially knowing the background he had done on her, the photos, choosing her over at least dozens of other applicants, knowing she has no close family, barely any ties.  Now, seeing her completely naked, he has to admit, she’s also physically on par with Brooke.  Yes, little does she realize her body’s going to give uncountable pleasure to him and his associates as it’s really abused in the coming months.

       Still scanning her naked body, he makes her stand vulnerably in front of him, more for effect as he continues to reflect on choosing her.  Unlike Brooke with her upper class upbringing, the humiliation of her ordeal if exposed to her peers would be devastating; to lose her status would be unacceptable.  After all, that’s half of the enjoyment of torturing her.  Now Beth’s just a hustler, although a quite gorgeous hustler.  She can be dealt with without the physiological aspect.  She can just be used and abused when the time comes without the threat of repercussions of her peers, after all, she has none.    

       “Anything?”  He asks, actually more like an order.  “You’ll do anything I want!”

       Staring back at him, heart pounding, she answers.  “Anything!”

       “Start using those tits then!”

       Feeling somewhat relieved from the tension of wondering what he was thinking, quickly kneeling, squatting in front of his chair, cupping her breasts, squeezing his shaft between her smothering globes, she strokes back and forth, rubs his cock between her tit flesh.  Feeling his hand on the back of her head, she continues to stroke his cock, feeling it again thicken, throb.  Feeling the adrenaline of the satisfaction of being able to use her body to seduce, to get over on anyone, to get what she wants, she’s just hit a home run, men are so easy, even the powerful ones.  Again glancing back toward the monitor, she smiles at the vision of Brooke’s humiliating position, unwittingly thinking what that dumb bitch has to go through.

       Leaning back, watching the time expiring on Brooke’s exercise, watching her struggling bent over in front of the camera as she humiliatingly jams her fingers in and out of her spread orifices, he feels his cock again beginning to swell.  Rubbing his hand through Beth’s hair, gently through her hair as he feels her soft globes sliding back and forth between his thighs, her pressing hands, he’s about ready to let her mount him.  But then, another fifteen minutes, it’ll be close to seven o’clock, time for Brooke’s surprise.  He’ll wait till then, then let Beth mount him, fuck him, do all the work while he watches Brooke’s next ordeal on the monitor.

End Part 6 

                   

                   

       

          

        

E-MAIL

Another e-mail exercise for Brooke, another attempt for Beth to seduce her way to success… Plenty of humiliation and pain for both.

Chapter Seven

       Seven o’clock approaching, he watches the image of Brooke on his monitor.  Enjoying his position of superiority, of his dominance, he casually observes her staring at her own monitor’s screen, nervously fidgeting while sitting there naked waiting for her next e-mail instructions.  He also enjoys having his tramp sitting next to him, also naked, and better yet, leaning over him and sucking his cock while thinking she’s got her shit together, even thinking she’s actually playing him.  At least, he thinks to himself, Brooke has half a brain; she’s educated, willing to work and claw for success, even if she does have a ruthless side.

       Damn, he continues to think as he glances down, presses Beth’s head a little further down across his crotch with the palm of his hand, this girl sure can suck a dick!  But then, back to Brooke sitting there all naked for him, willing to be abused not only physically but mentally, just for the chance to run some dime a dozen company of his.  Actually, all things considered, if he could find that emotion most men are stuck with, that of actually caring for or even respecting a woman, she just might be that woman, that being said, he doesn’t really give a shit for either gender, after all he’s more like a shark, a Great White at that, fuck everybody, then eat their ass when he’s finished with them!  Chuckling to himself, the thought flashes by that someday he just might mean that, literally!

       Glancing down at Beth again, her backside raised up across the armrest, her head bobbing, he watches the firm rounded humps of her butt cheeks, glistening as her svelte body erotically contorts, her breasts flattening against the armrest, his thigh.  Has to be damn uncomfortable he thinks, even painful, yet, he’d bet the ranch that she’s going to make sure this is the best damn head-job she’s ever given, and actually, it ain’t too bad, he could cum right now if he wanted to.  Then again, he could hold off indefinitely, its all in the power of the mind.

       Sliding a fingertip down the hollow of her spine, slipping the same finger back and forth from one dimple to the other across the small of her back, he’s mildly surprised she lacks a ‘tramp stamp.’  Hell, some day she could look like a billboard full of tattoos for him if he wants.  There’s no doubt she’d do it if that’s what he suggested.

       Glancing at the monitor again, just another minute or so until the hour, he grips the back of Beth’s hair, raises her head, almost casually asking as he glances down. “Done?”  The look on her face priceless, obviously a deflated ego, he again glances toward the screen as he continues.  “Seven o’clock… Time to get to work with Brooke.”

       “Yeh… Yes Sir… Okay.”  She stutters, sits upright, her breasts swaying, the imprint of the armrest discoloring her right globe, leaving the cloth pattern barely visible across her bare flesh.  Glancing at the screen, back toward him, her concern shows, even as she tries to play it off.  “I’ll finish later… If you’d like… Okay?”

       “Sure.”  A single quick answer as he hits the e-mail, focuses on the screen, watches Brooke lean forward; hit the keys of her computer.

       Watching her stand, walk over to the counter, sort through, follow the directions off the computer screen, she comes back to the chair with her hands full, slips her feet up into the slots on either side and begins strapping herself in.  Cuffing her left ankle, then right, strapping her left knee, tugging it down toward the chair, following by cuffing her right knee, she leans back, the camera in perfect position to focus in on her gapping slit, her thighs spread outward nearly flat.

       “What’s she doing to herself this time?”  Beth asks, leaning over, letting her hand slide across the armrest; cup his still semi-erect shaft as she smiles at him for approval, seductively licking the tip of her tongue across her upper lip.

       “Watch!... I’m curious just how much she’s going to be able to do.”  He answers, feeling her fingers slipping around his cock, her thumb rubbing across the oozing slit, her fingernails manipulated just right, harsh enough for that stimulating sensation, gentle enough for pleasure.

       Watching the image of Brooke again glancing toward her monitor screen then leaning back into her chair, slipping her left hand beside the seat to a control, lowering the back of the chair flat, he continues to stare toward the monitor as he feels Beth’s fingers beginning to stroke, pump his shaft, squeeze and pump a little firmer.

       “Watch now Beth… Watch what she’s going to do next.”  He almost whispers, concealing the stirring inside, his response to her masturbating him while they again focus on the screen, the image of Brooke positioning herself for her next degrading ordeal.  “Watch what that chair’s capable of.”

       Brooke’s hand on another control on the side of the chair, she visibly begins to arch upward, her breasts spreading apart as the chair presses upward against the small of her back.  Reaching upward with her left hand, sliding her wrist through the mounted cuff, she presses the back of her wrist against the inside of the cuff causing it to automatically tighten, stretch upward.

       “Wow!”  Beth rasps as her own hand’s momentarily motionless as she watches the chair’s movement, Brooke’s cuffed arm being stretched above her.

       They continue to watch as Brooke reaching between her legs with her free hand picks up a black cloth.  Sliding it down over her forehead, it’s obviously an eye mask as she struggles to adjust it over her face with just one free hand, fitting the form fitting padded cloth across her nose and eyes.  Reaching up with her still free hand, searching, finding the cuff on the other side of the chair, she slips her fingers through it, presses her wrist back.  Again the chair does its thing; the cuff tightens, stretches upward, spreading her body with it.

        “Damn!”  Again Beth glances toward him as she squeezes his shaft.  “Look at her… All stretched out… Spread-eagled on that chair… Damn… Now what’s going to happen to her?”

       “Now she gets reacquainted with an old friend or two.”  He matter-of-fact states, keeping to himself that she’s not only at one of his private estates but the one on the island where she spent her vacation.  “She’s about to get mounted again by an old acquaintance… Now you can stand up and face me, yourself.”

       Hesitating, slipping her hand from his shaft as she slowly stands, turning her back to the monitor, she does as she’s told, spreads her arms apart, displaying her entire naked body as she smiles.  “You want me like this?”

       “Actually… Spread you legs across me and slide that butt of yours over my dick.”  He orders, his voice the same tone, almost casual.  “And I said your ass… Your ass over my cock.” He orders again, glancing from the monitor to her face, seeing just a hint of a blush, a tinge of embarrassment, or disgust, as it doesn’t really matter, actually both would be a good thing.

       “Knees on the armrests… Spread that pussy and squat over me.”  He instructs as he keeps one eye on the monitor, watching as the caretaker and the islander with the huge cock in the original video enter the picture, step beside the chair, above Brooke’s naked body.

       Glancing around Beth as she climbs on his chair’s armrests, positions herself, squats across his crotch, he grips his thickening shaft, probes past her parted slit, pushing the head of his shaft against the sphincter muscles rimming her anus.  “Okay… I’m going to let you slip just the head of my cock inside your butt… Then hold still till I tell you… Understand?”

       “Ye…Yes… Okay… Oomph!... Okay!”  She grunts as she spreads her knees, squats above him, feels his thick cock shoving between her butt cheeks.  “Oomph!... Damn it!”  She moans, her body arching precariously across the armrests as she humps her back, lets her breasts swing freely below her while feeling his cock aligning up with her puckered rectum.

       “What’s the matter?... Don’t want too?”  He asks, his voice a little sterner as he adds.  “That’s okay then… Forget it!”  Almost smiling to himself, concealing his thoughts, enjoying humiliating her, knowing she’s going to give her ass up for him if she likes it or not, he knows she just can’t help herself!  After all, she’s nothing but a slut trying to get ahead… By giving head.

       “No… No Sir… I mean.”  She stutters, fights for words, forcing herself to do what it takes, feeling the head of his shaft pressing, prying into her rectum, she moans.  “I want to… I do… I… I want to please you with… With my ass if you want!”

       “Okay then.”  He acknowledges as he again concentrates on the monitor, the big black guy stepping between Brooke’s spread thighs, slipping his huge manhood against her butt cheeks as her bound body arches, her thighs noticeably quivering.  Glancing down toward Beth’s spread thighs, his cock penetrating just the rim of her butt, he orders.  “Okay… The head of my dick’s in… Now when I tell you… I want you to drop all the way down in a single thrust!... Understand?”

       “Wha… What?... God… All the way?... I… I…”

       Cutting her off, still watching the monitor, seeing the caretaker working Brooke’s breasts as the black guy’s already pounding, burying his shaft completely between Brooke’s bucking thighs, he orders, even sterner.  “Just what I said… Or get off now!”

       “No… Okay… Okay!”  She whines, holding on to the rails in front of her knees.  “Okay… I’ll do it!”

       “”That’s what I thought!”  He scoffs, while still watching Brooke’s bucking body, her fists clenching, her thighs jerking as she’s manhandled by both men. “Get ready then… Raise your arms up above your head.”

       Straightening up, raising her arms as instructed, her elbows just slightly bent, she feels his cock slipping just a little further inside her stretching rectum, her muscles tensing, gripping his shaft.  Clenching her fists, her flat stomach even flatter, almost a rippling washboard, her breasts standing out taut across her arching chest, she softly moans to herself as she mentally prepares to drop.

       “Get ready Beth… Get ready.”  He orders as he continues to watch the monitor, transfixed on Brooke’s globes being twisted, squeezed as the crimson tinge between her quivering thighs have become obvious, even on the monitor.  “Ready?… Get…Ready………. Now drop!”

       The slightest of a hesitation, biting her lower lip, she closes her eyes, drops her knees inside the armrests.  “Aaaaaagggghhhhh!”  Screaming, her back arching further back, she feels his throbbing shaft impaling her as her hips jam down across his, her hands interlocking, her fingers clenching above the back of her head.

       Grabbing the armrests himself, thrusting upwards, he feels his shaft engulfed by her rectum, her tight sphincter muscles compressing, gripping and stretching his foreskin as she thrusts downward, bounces across his lap as her breasts bounce, slap together, brush across his face.

       “God!... Oh God!… Ohhhh God!!!”  She grunts, grunts even louder as her naked body trembles on his lap, her arms jerking, flailing above her thrust back head.  “My… God!”

       Feeling Beth impale herself on his throbbing cock, he glances around her side, watches Brooke’s image, her body contorting as the big black cock’s slipped out from between her thighs, the load of cum spurting between her legs, across her stomach, crisscrossing her breasts as the huge shaft pulses, flips back and forth while contrasting with her tan, shades lighter then the islander’s dark skin.  Turning his attention back to Beth, he grunts as he forces his own hips upwards again, his shaft firmly mounted by her stretching rectum.

       Able to see the crimson smudges spreading, marring Brooke’s thighs on the monitor, glancing down between Beth’s legs, he can pick up just the slightest pinkish smudge on her thighs too.  Again holding in his smile, his immeasurable pleasure of the simultaneous humiliating and painful treatment of both women, gripping her breasts, feeling the firmness of her natural melons, breasts that one day will obviously receive augmentations if she has her way, but not yet needed, he melds, squeezes as he lifts her upwards, whispers.  “Knees back on the arm rest Beth.”

       Opening her eyes, the slightest trace of a tear, she grips the sides of the seat, raises her left, right knee, feeling his thick shaft sliding partially outward, still gripped by her stretching sphincter muscles as he raises his hips below hers.  Arching her back, bowing forward as her breasts are still firmly gripped in his hands, she forcefully smiles into his eyes.

       “Like it?”  He asks, feigning sincerity as he keeps just the head of his cock inside her, feeling her body trembling above his as he playfully slaps at her swaying breasts, tugs the nipples, tautly stretching them down toward him.

       Barely nodding her head, refusing to allow herself to give him reason to be upset with her even as she felt like he was ripping her apart, she whispers.  “Yeh… It.. It was okay… Okay.”

       “Good!”  He smirks, releasing her reddening globes, grips her thighs straddling the armrests.  “Hands above your head then… Round two!... Get ready!”  Hearing her moan, feeling her thighs quivering, he glances around toward the monitor, sees the islanders leaving the picture, leaving Brooke’s glistening body covered with cum, perspiration, still spread-eagled, blindfolded, cuffed to the chair.

       “You don’t have to if you don’t want!”  He scolds, knowing her answer.  Leaning over, pressing a button on the control panel next to his seat, he watches the monitor, the cuffs lowering on Brooke’s chair, loosening and releasing her wrists.  Modern technology’s amazing.

       “Okay… Okay… I… I want to!... I do.”

       Glancing toward the monitor again, seeing the image of Brooke squirming on her chair, covering herself with her arms after sliding them down from the wrist cuffs, he reaches for the computer, rests his finger on ‘send’ as he prepares to send her the next e-mail.  Glancing up into Beth’s swollen eye’s the couple tears she couldn’t hold back trickling off her cheeks, he feels his shaft pulsing as its head’s firmly gripped by her puckered anus.  “Get ready Beth… Ready….”        

End Chapter 7        

       

       

       

             

          

E-Mail

Beth receives her much wanted promotion by his corporation after he uses, abuses her array of orifices time and again for the better part of a couple of weeks.  He almost immediately sends her on her first international assignment, and being the arrogant smart ass she is, she’s set up, almost too easily.  What could have been just a frivolous run of the mill minor drug bust in the states, but being south of the border; she’s arrested by the local constables and given the impression that she faces severe consequences.

Playing out the well planned charade, he intends to send his personal attorney to the stereotypical jail she’s held in to explain how obviously disappointed and upset the company, and more importantly he personally is with her.  But first she’s left to sit in the lice infested tattered rags called prison garb for a few more terrifying days with the roaches, rats and human vermin in the stifling surroundings of the ancient adobe prison, making it appear difficult if not impossible to get her released on bond.

The local chief of police, employed also as the head of security for the company’s holdings in that part of the world and more importantly is in on the set-up, wholeheartedly assists with the details for his nice personal bonus package from the corporation.  Confiscating her passport, the plan’s to release her on bond to be on house arrest at the company’s CEO’s private hacienda, where she’s to be ordered confined on those grounds and to be monitored by the chief personally until her trail date can be arranged sometime in the unknown and distant future.

The few horrific days of confinement and abuse by the prisoners and even some of the guards, exhausted with her lack of sleep and nutrition, the attorney finally arrives, presents the offer to her to sign a release even harsher then Brooke’s, and without an escape clause, literally.  Now facing a different kind of punishment for embarrassing the corporation, the thought of Brooke and her treatment can’t help playing in her mind as she reads over the agreement and realizes the seriousness of the situation she thinks she’s placed her own self in.

Literally to be confined to the rural ranch, facing criminal charges that could take months or possibly years to wind through the courts, she signs under the duress of knowing this is where she’ll remain, and that the company can revoke the agreement and bond at any time to send her back to that jail to rot if she doesn’t abide by the unconditional harsh set of rules.

Released from the jail, confined to the guest quarters behind the main structure, she stares at the computer system sitting in front of her desk in its specially laid out room, camera and all.  Instructed to obey the incoming e-mails at all costs for the foreseeable future, knowing the ramifications, realizing she’ll be immediately subjected to humiliating exercises not unlike Brooke’s, she’s overcome with her predicament.  Visited by the local chief randomly on ‘official’ business; actually more to let her know, sometimes exhibiting what’s waiting for her if she violates her bond, after a few days of agonizing anticipation, she’s notified by the already dreaded e-mail of an upcoming ‘contest’ involving her and Brooke.  Scantly instructed as to what’s expected of her participation when the time comes, she’s about to adjust to the whims of the computer room in front of a watching audience via the internet.  And, the local Chief of Police, Mayor and Warden will be present in the guest house with her for the added motivation for her to perform as instructed, or have the bond immediately evoked on the spot. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Two HD wide screens hang on the wall of the theater room in his estate house, each with an image of a seated naked woman in front of a computer camera, one being Brooke, the other, Beth.  His anticipating guests watching the prominently displayed monitors side by side on the far wall, they relax in their recliners on either side of his chair with the control panel.  The first e-mail sent, they watch Brooke receive the header on her monitor, hit a key.  The crisp image of her naked body leans forward in her chair as the e-mail opens.

Both women notified just the day before, given the perimeters of the contest, the sealed boxes of undisclosed implements to be used and placed in containers next to their monitors, Brooke’s had the entire past evening to plan her individual strategy, unlike Beth who’s been kept in the dark.  Brooke’s every reaction crystal clear; they watch her expression as she scans the monitor’s instructions scrolling down in block letters.

       ‘Entice the camera for the next three minutes by manipulating your breasts… If voted the victor after Beth’s turn you will be advised as such… If not… You will be e-mailed with another command… Begin at zero…… Five… Four…’

       Watching the countdown, obviously already prepared, leaning forward at the flash of zero, she cups her bare breasts, lifts, stretches the twin globes upwards, the nipples flattening against either side of her cheeks.  Tilting her head, slipping her tongue out between her parting lips, she flips the curling tip of it across the left nub.  Back and forth three, four quick flicks, turning and tilting her head further down, stretching her right breast between her squeezing fingers, she licks and moistens her lips, sucks the nipple inward, the taut areola stretching outward from her swelling breast as her lips curl around the tit flesh.

       Glancing directly toward the camera above the monitor, making eye contact, letting the glistening nipple slip out from her parting lips, she seductively melds both breasts, squeezes, tugs them firmly apart, elongating them toward her armpits, then slowly rotates them in opposite directions as she presses fingernails and thumbnails into the puffy areolas, pinching and twisting the thickening nubs.  By now glaring into the camera, parting her lips, licking completely around them in a slow, swiping circle, she lets out a rasping moan, arches her shoulders back forcing her breasts further outward between her manipulating, rotating fingernails.

       The time counting down on her monitor’s screen, still realizing there’s still well over a whole minute left for her exhibition, she again releases her breasts, haltingly shakes her shoulders back and forth as she raises her hands behind her neck and arches her elbows back.  Breasts swaying, randomly smacking together, she grunts with each movement as her torso twists from side to side.  Biting her lower lip, she leans forward, elbows remaining back as her fingers interlock with white knuckles.  Spreading her knees as the block numbers on the screen clicks down to under thirty, taking a noticeable deep breath, bowing her twisting back as she leans even closer to the camera, she forces her elongating breasts to flail in a haphazard circular motion.  Stretching, smacking the bottom of her chin, glancing across the computer keys, again across her cheek, she grunts with each jerking rotation as the screen finally strikes zero.  Jerking back, instantly cupping her aching breasts, perspiration glistening across her naked flesh, she collects her breath as she stares at the blank screen, agonizingly awaits the next e-mail, the three minutes seeming closer to the better part of an hour.

       The group intrigued by Brooke’s exhibition, eagerly anticipating what’s next, they watch him flick his computer key, send Beth her e-mail.  In just a flash of a moment she leans forward, opens her mailbox.  Her naked body already glistening, obviously freshly shaven as Brooke’s, she also leans forward, but with her bare breasts covered by her left arm.  Watching her eyes study the directions, sit motionless even a few seconds after the countdown begins, she finally lowers her arms toward her sides, slowly leaning closer as she blushingly faces the camera above her monitor.

       Bowing her back, obviously uncomfortable, she drops her hands over the chair’s armrests, arches her shoulders.  Her breasts obviously on par with Brooke’s, their globular dimensions maybe just a bit firmer, and a smidgeon smaller, her dark, flat areolas also spread out a tad more.  Her breasts pressing upward, they fill most of the screen, the slightest freckle, tiniest mole visible on the HD monitor.  Both nipples remaining flat across her spread areolas, her breasts barely sway as they jaunt outward as well as upwards, but basically motionless.  Quite impressive, actually stunning as they fill the screen, still she’s failing to manipulate them for the viewers.

       Obviously unfamiliar compared to Brooke as to how to model for the computer camera, its also obvious who’s going to be the first to perform the loser’s command.  The time quickly counting down, the group watching his reaction as the screen flashes to zero, they glance toward him as he just as quickly e-mails her a clip of Brooke’s exhibition.  Watching her open it, stare at the short clip as it plays through, her face actually reddening as she cups her breasts, mimics to a small degree Brooke’s motions, they realize she knows her next e-mail’s not going to be pleasant.  Nodding toward the others for their obvious votes, he clicks both the participant’s e-mails, watches Beth’s reaction as she flicks at the keyboard, and opens hers.

       ‘Prepare for ten minute exercise…. Open marked box 1… Place the entire contents in front of you by computer screen for next instruction…. 10… 9… 8…7…’

       Nervously turning, lifting the small dark colored box, she flips it open.  Slowly lifting out a hand sized stainless steel compression tool similar to a pliers, she instinctively squeezes it open and shut.  Its pointed tips forming a small sloped circle when pressed together, squeezing the handle spreads the narrow metal circle apart.  Dumping a number of small rubber black ‘O’ rings next to the tool from the box, she glances at the screen flashing at zero.

       ‘Slip second to smallest ‘O’ ring onto pliers… Spread apart…   Place deep onto left nipple against areola, then release…. 10…9…8…’

       Glancing a second time at the instructions, wide eyed, frantically grabbing the pliers, slipping an ‘O’ ring across its tip, hurried, she pinches her left nipple, slides the pliers against her thrust out breast.  Squeezing the handle and stretching the ring, tugging the bud of her nipple through the stretched oval, not realizing the physics of the tool as it easily spreads, she lets the elastic band slip off the pliers’ tip as she pulls the tool away.  “Oomph.”  The rubber viciously burrowing into her nipple, the taut narrow band practically disappears as the tanned flesh instantly swells across it.  The pain jolting, not entirely expected, her forearm reflexively presses against her chest.

       Grabbing her breast, now cupping her palm across the engorging nipple, she sees the screen flashing at ‘zero’.

       ‘Repeat process to right nipple… Deeply… Then face camera with fingers interlocked behind neck… 10… 9… 8… 7…’

       Her fingers jittery, her forearm again pressing against her throbbing left breast as she leans forward, she slips an ‘O’ ring onto the pliers, shakily presses the open tip across her right areola realizing the stretching band’s much more painful then imaginable.  Slipping the spreading pliers handles tighter together, sliding the ‘O’ ring deep against her areola, she glances toward the monitor, closes her eyes, bites her lip as she hesitantly releases the elastic rubber.  “Oomph!”  The sound of her voice resonates from the surround sound system while the tears streaking across her cheek are visible on the HD screen as she stares at the monitor, grips her fingers together behind her neck and then glares at the camera, back toward the monitor as her breasts sway downwards from her arched torso, the nubs of her nipples triple their normal size, aching, throbbing.

       ‘Arch shoulders back… Press breasts outward directly toward camera and remain steady for one minute… 5… 4… 3…’

       Watching the screen, the exquisite pain caused by the tightening ‘O’ rings, he wonders how she’s going to feel when she’s instructed to roll them off her engorged flesh with her fingernails once they’re deeply embedded and her nipples are swollen completely over them.  But, for now, just the look in her eyes, almost pleading, not like the almost lust when she was watching Brooke’s reactions a few weeks earlier.  She enjoyed Brook’s humiliation then, but then again, so did he.

       Pressing her breasts outward, upward, the pinched nipples painfully jiggling as her breasts sway toward her sides; she watches the one minute countdown begin.  ’60… 59… 58…’ The HD screen on the wall presents an oversized view of her breasts to the fascinated viewers, her engorged nipples discolored, virtually swelling with each of her breaths.  Trying to remain as motionless as possible, her steady heartbeat’s even noticeable on the large screen with the quivering and twitching of her aching globes, the nipples obviously painfully jiggling as her sullen grunts are audible with each breath.

       Watching her watch the screen, the countdown finally hitting zero, her expression’s priceless as she sees the new message scroll down her monitor as his fingers rest across the computer board.

       ‘Place another ‘O’ ring… One size smaller on pliers… Then your choice… Double ring each nipple or single clamp a ring on your clitoris… Then face camera with arms stretched apart above your head… Palms outward with thighs spread… 10… 9… 8… 7… 6…5…’

Seeing her eyes widening, her breasts actually twitching as her head barely twists from side to side, the screen counts down to three before she finally jerks the pliers from the table, hastily sorts through the scattered ‘O’ rings and slips one onto the pliers tip.  Quickly spreading her thighs as the monitor flashers to zero, tilting her head forward, biting her lip as she pinches her clit, she lets the pliers’ handles spread apart as the rubber ring disappears into the soft flesh of the nub of her clit.

“Aaaagggghhhh!”  Her scream echoing from the surround sound, they watch her dropping, almost throwing the pliers on the table as her quivering thighs spread apart, squeeze together, spread apart again as her arms stretch sporadically up over her head, her breasts jerking, bouncing as her fists clasp tightly shut, frantically twisting them back and forth.  Head lowering, raising, finally staring toward the camera with her tears visibly dripping across the key board in front of her, her naked body shudders, her stomach rippling with each gasping breath, hollowing beneath her defined ribcage.  “Oooommmppphhh!”        

       Perspiration streaking off her bare flesh, her agonized contortions dramatizing the pinching, burning elastic ‘O’ rings borrowing into her most sensitive flesh, her body contorts, arches, bends in the swaying chair as the tears drips from her swollen eyes.  Three tiny ‘O’ rings, all that pain as the screen scrolls again.

       Five minutes…Remain spread-eagled hands behind neck… Smile into camera.  ‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1…’

       Shaking, slowly twisting her head from side to side, biting her lower lip, she arches back, reflexively jerks as the rings seem to tighten harsher with each movement.  Spreading, grunting, struggling to part her knees, equally struggling to raise her arms behind her head as the tears roll off her cheeks, the searing pain obviously overwhelming, she finally positions herself with her spreading butt cheeks barely on the edge of the chair as she glares up into the camera, her lips forced into a straining smirk.  Finally in position, her torso arched, outward, she struggles to remain motionless as her globular breasts stand outward, barely sway, the dark nipples visibly pulsing.  Fingers interlocked behind her neck, her toes curling against the floor, thighs noticeably quivering as she struggles to hold them apart, her moans, sobs are deliciously audible to the audience from the surround sound of the large HD screen as the time counts slowly down.  4…44… 4…43… 4...42… 4…41…’

       The excited group watches, enjoys her agony, her squirming on the seat, her breasts quivering, every barely noticeable movement followed by a whimper, her body twitching.  Under four minutes, her gyrations almost small spasms as her teeth sink into her lower lip as she glares through her welling eyes toward the camera, the running clock on the monitor.  ‘3…38… 3…37… 3…36…’  Tendons rippling, muscles flexing, her thighs tremble as her knees continuously, almost teasingly press in and out.  Shoulders back, then arching reflexively forward, her breasts drop, bounce as the nipples jiggle, just causing more grunts, more rasping for breath as she again arches back, again painfully spreading her legs.

       The cameras closing in, her breasts, her clit fully exposed, the three rings are virtually embedded in her swollen, purplish nubs, concealed beneath the engorged searing flesh.  Body glistening,  perspiration beading and streaking, crisscrossing downward, her trembling navel flexing in her hollowing stomach, ribs pressing outward against her taut skin, her body erotically  contorts for the onlookers as the countdown passes the halfway mark.  ‘2…31… 2…30… 2…29…’       

   

       Checking the other screen, Brooke still patiently awaits the e-mail.  Smiling, he sends it.  Leaning forward, a slight smile on her face, she follows the simple directions, obviously with relief.

       ‘Set spread-eagled… Face camera motionless until advised otherwise… Relax Brooke… Your part of the contest is complete.’

       The pair of monitors contrasts.  Brooke almost relaxed, visibly smiling, her naked body spreads for the camera, breasts almost bouncy, legs spreading wide.  Beth on the other hand’s just reaching the single digits of the monitor’s countdown, virtually contorting to remain on the edge of the creaking seat, its wheels shifting on the floor as her agony’s obvious.

       ‘5… 4… 3… 2… 1…0.’

       Another command scrolling down the monitor, the tears streak off her cheeks as she frantically follows the directions, grabs her breasts, screams as her fingernails rip, tear at the embedded ‘O’ rings. “Aaaaagggghhhh!!!...Aaaaaggghhhh!!!”

       Breasts flailing, nipples stretched, she grunts, bucks as one ‘O’ ring, then the other rips from her thrashing breasts.  Fingertips crimson, a tad of a reddish cast across the swollen bulges of her nipples visible on the HD screen , she forces her fingers between her thighs, jerks her head back as the chair spins.  “Aaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!!”

       The third ‘O’ ring torn from her engorged clit, she jerks, bounces on the seat, slumps back in the chair curling into a ball as the chief and the pair with him come into view of the camera, surround the chair.  The chief positions himself in front as the others grip an arm and a leg, spreading them apart.  Arching her back, spreading her thighs across the edge of the chair, the chief steps between her spread thighs to continue the broadcast.  

End Chapter 8