Cutty the party

Actually liked the idea of posting a chapter like this (finally finished one and now the posting is stuck)
Would love to get some comments.

No character is or was ever real. No part of the story is a fantasy of the author. No part of this story may be used or posted on a site without expressed permission of the author.

Copyright 2006 by Bokkey.

Story by Bokkey
e-mail: bokkey2004@yahoo.com

The Party

“We're here,” Ninon said.

Donna looked out of the car at Ms. Brendan’s mansion. Lots of cars were parked on the sides of the street, and the garden in front was full of bright lights. Attendants were guiding the visitors into the building, valets parking cars, wait staff serving drinks to the few guest lingering outside in the cold. It looked like any other ordinary party.

“We go to the back.” Ninon said as she slowly drove past the house and took a turn at the next crossing. “You’re not a guest.” she smiled wickedly at Donna.

Donna couldn’t think straight with all the drugs that she recently had been given. Whenever her mind did clear, she felt pain all over her body. In her

mouth, her face, everywhere where her clothing touched her body, where her body touched the seat. She was glad when her mind would fog over again, and the pain lessened. Donna stared vacantly out of the car window from the back seat at the surroundings of the estate where she had been brought.

The car drove to the back of the mansion, though a gate that closed automatically as they passed and was soon out of sight behind a high fence. Donna had had no idea that there was a fence that big at the rear of Ms. Brendan’s property. Donna had only seen the large garden, but now she noticed a large wall that stretched all the way across the rear, blocking the view of the neighbors. It was obvious that Ms. Brendan wanted no prying eyes. They drove on to a small, secluded area with a few small brick buildings. The narrow road was made from the same square stones, and with the tall trees and the lanterns ablaze, it all seemed so picturesque. Servants were running between the buildings and over the hill to the mansion. The houses were obviously used as stock rooms.

“I’ll help you get out.” Ninon said as she unbuckled herself.

As she walked to Donna’s side of the car, Ninon stopped to chat with one woman and greeted

several others. Donna noticed that there were only women walking by. Some were waitresses, others were working help, cooks and the like, just as there would be at any fancy affair, busy fetching drinks, food, organizing, cleaning. And there were women, Donna saw, walking around dressed much more inappropriately. A women who looked to be about Donna's age passed by walking on plateau shoes, fishnet stockings, a very short skirt, busy buttoning some sort of corset, one that didn’t even attempt to cover her breasts.

As Donna followed the lady walking in the cold over the small hill up to the mansion Ninon knocked on the window. “Come, get out,” Ninon ordered. Donna slowly moved and opened her door. Ninon helped her get out of the car. The cold breeze reminded Donna that she was wearing only a short skirt and an open blouse. Her inflamed skin couldn’t bear contact so she had left her blouse unbottoned. Nor had she been capable of fixing her clothes properly in her drugged state. Feeling funny as she stood, Donna increasingly grew dizzy even as the cold roused her from her murky state. She stumbled a bit as Ninon placed her shoulders under Donna's arm and hoisted her to her feet.

“Let’s deliver you.”

They walked into one of the buildings, and then into a room where two young women sat, chatting with one another.

“Ah, there is... Cutty, right?” one of them said, as she got up.

The woman was wearing normal clothes, even a bit scruffy, and sneakers. When Donna saw the comfy footwear, she felt her feet ache in their high heels. It had been a long time since Donna's feet had felt sneakers - too long; Donna envied the girl.

“Come ... let me have a look.,” the girl said. “Sonia help me out here, she's got to undress completely, also the shoes.”

She took the slumbering Donna over from Ninon, and as she steadied Donna upright, the other woman, Sonia, started to pull off Donna's tiny skirt.

“Okay, I can see that Cutty's in good hands. Here’s her bag ... with all of the requested accessories. I will go home now, it’s been a long day.” Ninon

said as she placed one of Donna’s large handbags on a chair. It contained 'Lenny' Donna knew, but what else? And why?

Donna didn’t have time to think about it, as she was striped naked and led to a table with paint cans on it. On the ground nearby newspapers were spread to protect the floor. Expertly, they cuffed her hands, pulled them above her head and clipped them to a ring in the ceiling. A ball gag was forced in to her gapping mouth. All of this was intensely painful despite the fact that Donna was sedated. Her pain nerves were working overtime.

“There, that’s done,” the first woman said with a tone of triumph as Donna hung helplessly from the ceiling.

She proceeded to tie Donna’s hair straight backwards, painfully stretching the skin on her forehead. Donna moaned into her gag, but with her tongue anesthetized she made little noise. Donna buckled a bit but even her squirming was barely noticed. The women placed earplugs in her ears, deafening her totally. Sonia fetched a leather mask and gave it to the other woman, who pulled it over Donna’s head, blinding her. The straps at the back were fastened tight, and the leather painfully pulled on the much abused skin on her face. Donna squirmed once more in pain. She was happy that the anesthesia the doctor had given her was still working but knew this treatment would cause her a lot of pain in the coming days. The doctor had told her to be very careful with the new skin the first days.

Donna panicked as now she was blind, deaf, and numb, totally helpless.

“Test..test ... test. Can you hear us? If you can hear us please nod, Cutty.”

The earplugs were small headphones. Donna nodded, glad she could hear something again. Someone detached a strip of leather from her eyes and Donna could see. She looked straight into the eyes of the sneaker girl, who held up a microphone.

“Now you can see and hear us…” and everything went silent again. Donna saw the girl scream into the mike.

“Okay, it seems to be working.” The voice was back again. “Now you just keep still and follow our commands.”

Everything went silent again and they replaced the leather blindfold. They adjusted the mask again. Donna noticed that the mask left her face visible and covered only her hair and from below her jaw. They were coating her body with something warm, and sticky. The two women covered her entire body -- legs, arms breasts, ass, everything. Donna felt the gooey liquid quickly dry and stretch itself onto her skin. They kept on ‘painting’ her and Donna wondered what they were doing to her. The material began to irritate her supersensitive skin but she had no way to tell them, apart from some misunderstood wiggling. When they finished, Donna felt she had been coated all over with some rubbery substance, like a thick paint.

They left her for like an eternity hanging, unable to see or hear anything. As she dangled, the material clung to her skin ever tighter as it dried, increasing her pain.

"They have to know that I am not supposed to put anything on my skin for days. But now they coated me with some sort of paint," Donna wondered. "How could they, how could Ninon let them do this?"

Hanging from the ceiling, bound and drugged, Donna realized there was little that should could do now and just hoped for the best.

"They must know what they’re doing, or else Ms. Brendan wouldn’t have put me through an entire skin treatment, would she?" Donna tried to convince herself, without much success.

After what seemed like ages, she was released from the ceiling and nearly collpased to the floor. Sneaker girl guided her to a chair, where the two of them started to do her fingers. Donna could felt them applying paint to them. She wondered more and more what they were doing to her. How did she look? She could smell the paint, nail polish. They did her toe nails too and fitted high heels back on her feet. The shoes were locked onto her ankles. She was lifted and made to stand. She knew they were checking her out as she was several times turned around.

Without thinking, Donna posed for them. At least they were paying attention to her. It had been horrible to be left alone with nothing to see or hear. Just alone with her drug-fogged mind and the pain.

She felt them correct certain parts on her body, repainting here and there. They focused after a while on her vagina. Donna felt her juices leaking, and from their touches, the way that they pinched her, she understood that was a problem.

“Stand still” she heard through her earphones. It startled her and she stiffened. She had been so long without a sound. She felt something sharp splitting the coating between her legs.

“Look at that!” she heard Sonia say.

Donna felt her cumulated juices flow freely. With several towels, they wiped her wet thighs clean.

“She’s almost squirting all the time. We've got to stop the flow.”

“Turn off the mike.”

And everything fell silent again. Donna could feel them cut away a part of the coating, leaving her vagina and ass available. It was extremely painful when they pulled off pieces of the thick paint, or whatever it was they coated on her. Her sensitive skin burned, and she was happy she was still numb, so the pain didn’t register fully. But it didn’t go away neither. She felt the cold soothing air of the room breathing onto her lower lips and her asshole.

"It must be flaming red," Donna told herself as she stood still, "I feel it strangely tingling."

She felt them insert a tampon or something very much like one inside her vagina, probably to stop the flow. Again she was turned around several times and she knew they were discussing something again.

“Hold still again,” Donna heard through the earphones. She wished that her attendants would leave the earphones on. The silence was scary and the absence of sound left her with nothing but her pain to think about. Made her feel her skin, her aching discomfort, with much more intensity.

Donna stood still and felt a knife cut very carefully about her nipple. They gently pulled away bits of the thick material. A much larger area than between her legs was now exposed and it hurt all the more for that. She felt her nipples and part of the areola made bare and left burning. They stroked her nipples to make them harder and finish whatever it was they were doing to her. Now her asshole, vagina and nipples were exposed, and she wondered what would be next.

“This looks better, having just her vagina exposed won't do,” she heard Sneaker Girl snicker.

“Yes,” Sonia agreed, “ although I liked it better when she was fully covered. But she is leaking too much. Even the tampon will have to be replaced regularly so we can’t cover her up.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure Ms. Brendan and her guest will love the look. And this way, they can play a bit with her. Let’s finish up.”

They started to check her body again, and turned her around, gently guiding her to pose.

“Oh, the mike is still on!” and with that Donna plunged back into her silent private world. Donna sighed as she understood she would be exposed to strangers one more time. Naked, and with some weird coating on her body. But she was too drugged, too numb, to really care, she just took notice, and followed the girls commands. She worried more about the pain. Whatever was on her was painful when it was removed. How awful would it be once removed from the rest of her body? They fitted a collar around her neck, a thick one, forcing her head to lift up, and next she was pulled by a leash.

"Just as Ninon trained me yesterday," Donna thought, "it figures…"

She walked awkwardly to the direction in which the leash pulled her. She actually even expected them to make her kneel just like Ninon, but instead they just dragged her out into the cold, and up the hill towards the party.

She welcomed the warmth of the mansion but even in her drugged state Donna started to panic. They were going to exposed her to the guests -- naked, painted, totally helpless. And she couldn’t hear a thing except her own heartbeat! In silence, she was guided through the house, compounding her fears. Who was looking at her? What were they going to do to her? When the procession finally stopped, Donna was positioned. Her legs spread a bit, her arms raised up, wrists and ankles cuffed, stretched just the way it had been done when they painted her. She was completely immobile when they finished. Her legs were attached to the floor and she couldn’t move an inch. Her body was stretched so tightly that she couldn’t even bend an arm. All she could do was wiggle a bit. Suddenly, she was alone. Her female attendants had left her once they finished putting her on display.

Donna knew she was completely exposed. Anyone could see her breasts, nipples, her vagina, her ass, and she couldn’t do a thing about it. And where was she? Who was looking at her? Was she just tied in a closet? She had no idea. As she stood trying to guess what might come next, she could feel the drugs wearing off. Slowly yes, but it was happening even so, and in turn she felt pain, insidious aches and inflammations all over her body.

Everywhere where the paint was applied to her skin, where the cuffs touched her body, where the leather of her mask was tightly pressed on her skin, it hurt.

"Oh no," Donna panicked, "the pain will be unbearable. How could they do this to me? How am I going to get this horrible paint off me without hurting myself even more, without turning myself into some sort of freak show? Was that the plan of Ms. Brendan's plan all along, to turn me into something outrageous, to destroy me? But why? Why would she do that?"

Donna writhed and bucked against the straps that held her tight, and moaned as loud as she could, trying to get someone’s attention, to get help.

After a while, Donna calmed down and surrendered to her plight. It was no use; every move was painful. It was best to just stand still, when the numbness the drugs caused wasn't there to protect her. More and more, she began to understand what Hell was awaiting her in the future as her anesthesia wore off. On the other hand, her head had begun to clear so that she could sense more of her surroundings. She could sense people walking around, and she felt music, a soft booming vibration. She wasn’t in a closet, she was in an open space, filled with people. And these people were probably watching her.

Suddenly she felt fingers, nails touching her free nipples. It hurt but she was glad someone at least had noticed her. She moaned as loud as she could, and shook her head. The fingers just kept softly playing with her nipples, and then also with her leaking vagina. They touched her bruised nether lips, and soon a finger entered her asshole too.

"Stop this please!" she thought. "Just let me out, help me!" But no one could hear her thoughts, and they neglected her mewling into her gag.

Then a soft wet tongue touched her vagina. The softness, gentleness, of the touch was amazing, and her vagina reacted almost immediately, producing a veritable flood of female juices.

"This feels good... so good..." Donna thought surprised as she finally felt something other than pain at every touch.

The tongue gently, softly, explored her outer lips, and gently moved inside. She just felt the tongue, no teeth, no lips. Donna loved the feeling, the caresses. She was in desperate need of some kindness amid all the abuse and pain. And focusing on the tongue made the pain in the rest of her body bearable, forgettable. She almost automatically gave the tongue full access by spreading her thighs as far as her bondage allowed, jutting hips forward and her vagina out. She wanted to show whoever it was that she liked it, that she was grateful.

"This is obscene," Donna admitted as she did so, ashamed at her own actions.

"But I can’t help it. It’s so good to have someone licking me so gently. And anyway, I’m already obscenely exposed for all to see," she rationalized to herself. "It's nothing more than what those people expect from me right now anyway. I might as well enjoy the moment and let myself enjoy how good it feels."

And so she did. Having overcome her shame a bit she just let the good feeling, her arousal raced ahead. The tongue gently played with her lips and she gently bucked with her hips in synchronization, guiding the tongue to the places where she wanted it to be. And the tongue happily obliged and continued to explore her vagina. The soft touches were wonderful, exhilarating, a true relief.

Suddenly, she heard soft sounds again, coming from her earphones. As the sound got louder, she recognized that she was listening to her own recording of her fuck sessions with Robert.

"No," Donna squirmed, still enjoying the tongue but brought crashing back to reality. "This is cruel!"

Her mind was now thinking of Robert, of her family, and she knew that was Ms. Brendan's purpose. She thought of the weekend, remembered so many fucks. She thought of how she had betrayed her family and her shame returned full force. She fought hard with herself to stop her submission to the terrible kinky pleasure that she was feeling. It was too much, so wrong to succumb to this obscene sex game, watched by many men and women, all the while listening to Donna's falsely enthusiastic fuck sounds.

"They want me to think of Robert fucking me as they lick me." As bad as that was, at the same time Donna knew it was working. When she fought the tongue, tried to move her body away, her movements only caused her more hurt while allowing the tongue to have its way with her, even though obscene, was nice, wonderful.

Helpless to resist and exhausted, Donna surrendered to the psychological torture, and just imagined it was Robert licking her. She imagined his hands on her body, molding her breasts, her hips, her ass, her thighs. Just like they wanted her to do.

"I can’t help it,” she hopelessly sobbed. "That tongue is too nice; it feels too good. I just need some relief from the pain. I can’t force myself to fight it anymore...” She cried a few tears as she lost what little remained of her self esteem. They had won.

"They're all watching me, laughing at me, enjoying my humiliation," Donna cringed. "But it's impossible to fight, my body is reacting to their touches no matter what I do. I'm trained that way now. I can't help myself. It is either pain or sexual relief,"

"That’s how they force me to comply. And even my body is by now betraying me." Then she tried to convince herself once again "It is just natural, anybody would give in."

The tongue meanwhile continued to lick her juices away outside her vagina. Then it worked its way back in, softly touching her battered inside, as if to heal it with its touch. Donna rolled her hips more in response, again loving every moment of it, while she fought off feelings of remorse, shame, and degradation. She found that once she surrendered it became easy to freely imagine it was Robert, and to freely enjoy the tongue. The noise of her own fuck sessions now only made it easier for her, and she embraced lurid fantasies where Robert was licking her, made her orgasm again and again, moaning in sync with her own screams coming from the speakers in her ears.

The tongue finally, and ever gently licked its way up to her clit. Gently the tongue withdrew, and as a cool breeze brushed over her opened vagina, its tip touched her clit softly. It tipped it a few times, making her shiver of joy every time.

How wonderful! Donna loved the feeling of the cool breeze and the gentle tip of the warm tongue. She hungered for release. Donna wanted to keep this good feeling; she wanted, needed the impending orgasm. Totally distracted from her pain, away from the cruel world that trapped her

"... Yes, Yes, Yes!!," Donna screamed in her mind. New images of her husband taking her brutally, hovering above her, his eyes full of lust for her. She loved him so much. She could see his hard cock ramming into her pussy, both of them crazed with lust as they used to be in the beginning. How good this felt, how hot she was.

But then the tongue stopped. Donna waited a few moments, expecting the tongue to reappear, but it soon dawned on her it was over.

"Noooo ...!” she bucked a few times, arched her hips forward, searching for the tongue, but she found nothing.

She was left hanging in her highly aroused state, juices leaking, almost spurting from her vagina. The now cold breeze flowed across her wet lips, her opened vagina, making it all the more clear how badly she needed release.

"No!," Donna screamed into her gag and bucked in her bondage "No, no no!!!"

But the tongue still didn’t return and she was left hanging with the sounds of her own fucking ringing in her ears. Breathing heavily, frantically she started to imagine more explicit sex scenes: Robert fucking her, fucking her from behind, straddling him, sucking him off, him licking her pussy. She dredged up memories of their weekend fuck matches, imagined his long hard dick, licking it, putting it in her cunt, fucking it. All to just get off, to avoid the pain she felt coming. And when that failed, she imagined faceless, muscular men, white men, black men, groups of men taking her. She thought of the porn pictures, the nastiest of the movies she had seen over the past months, desperate to find anything that would get her off but it was to no avail. She felt her arousal stall and begin to fade, then rapidly subside as the pain took over again until finally, broken, she hung her head in defeat.

Her heart pounded wildly, she was covered in sweat, and tortured by the knowledge that her audience had seen her in her most intimate state. And with the pain's return, so did her shame. And with the shame, her anger at herself blossomed. She had allowed herself to be played once again. She just knew they were laughing at her, so self-satisfied and arrogant, enjoying Donna's terrible predicament.

"Damn you all!" She cursed them silently, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes. "Damn you all!!"

The pain was back with more force than ever before. Her sexual arousal and then her anger had washed away the last remnants of the drugs in her system, and now she felt her body beginning to tremble with growing agony. Her skin burned everywhere, save for the small spaces where none of the paint touched her body. At that same time, she was exhausted from her endless day of abuse, made worse by having hung on display for such a long time. For what seemed an eternity, Donna dangled there, in pain, surrounded by the sounds of her endless fucking. Almost without realizing, Donna drowsed off into something like sleep.

Without warning Donna's head was lifted roughly and her blindfold was removed. Donna blinked in the sudden light coming in her eyes, and groaned in surprise. She desperately hoped that whoever it was would now untie her, or at least her arms. When she could see clearly, Donna saw Ms. Brendan in front of her, joined by another woman. They were discussing Donna, inspecting her. Donna made eye contact with Ms. Brendan, who smiled back as she and other woman chatted on about her. Donna knew that something was coming, that she was not about to be be untied just yet. Ms Brendan was dressed in a black evening dress with shawl, black medium heeled shoes, her hair loose, freshly cut. Her face was made up with red lipstick as its only accent. She wore bits of jewelry that showed off her wealth. But even how simply cut her designer clothing was, her character, her dominance, showed through.

The woman with Ms. Brendan had a different presence. A black and white evening dress, dark blond hair, face neatly made up, beautiful shoes. But she had a friendly smile and eyes, as she observed Donna. Both of them were of a similar age, Donna guessed.

She had expected to see her torturers in extravagant fetish clothing, all whips and leather. Yet the two women standing in front of her looked as if they were attending one more perfectly lovely and entirely ordinary party, just as how everything had looked from the outside when Donna first drove by the house. Only when she looked passed them it become clear that there was quite a different party going on.

Donna saw she was standing on a landing, half way up the wide stairs that leaded to the living room that she knew so well. The furniture had been moved, and the whole living room was now filled with large red comfortable sofas, pillowed chairs, all in the form more or less of female lips. Between those small white podia where everywhere.

Everywhere you looked lipstick, brushes, where decorating the room. All red of course. Some models very large, some small. The decorator had really gone overboard, they were everywhere you looked. The white painted walls were decorated stylish with pictures and paintings with the same theme, red lips. Either just the face of a woman with big red lips, or just red lips alone. Also several very large statues of lip sticks were against the walls. The room was brightly lit, making it easy for everyone to see everything that was going on. Not the obscure dark dungeon she had expected.

Everywhere people were sitting, standing, moving around just like in a normal cocktail party. Only now various women, girls, walked through them who were naked, or partly naked. And if dressed, it was obscene. Apart from that everyone chatted with each other, mingled, just as you would see in any ordinary party.

Donna’s eyes locked on a women, naked on a small stage below Donna and to her right, who was fucking herself with a long, pink, slickly-wet dildo. She was on her back, with her hips and ass high in the air, legs splayed, her high heels firmly planted on the floor, showing exactly what she was doing to a group of women sitting together below. The woman was really putting on a show, moving wildly, shaking her head in ecstasy. She was thrusting her hips wildly on the dildo as she pumped the dildo roughly into her cunt. All the while smiling, and at times even conversing with her audience. The women looked like an aged pornstar. Her skin was tanned just like Donna, but she had also various tattoos on her body -- on her right calf, on her upper arm a band, and on her clearly fake left breast. Donna couldn’t see clearly, but something was also glittering at her nipples and belly button. The woman's fake platinum blond hair was tied straight backwards into a ponytail. Her face was made up with red rouge, or she was just flushing from her actions. Donna couldn’t tell. Even though her face was made up heavily, Donna could see that the woman was older than she was, probably in her late forties, early fifties. Her body was shining in the spotlight, probably oiled, but it was also sweaty. The woman had been going at it for quite a while, Donna guessed. What made it all the more obscene was the fact that the onlookers for whom she was performing paid her little, if any, attention. They were busy talking among themselves, glancing from time to time at the women giving her best, sometimes even commenting to her on her performance. Donna had no doubt that many of their remarks were cruel, given their arrogant laughter; yet the woman kept her smile and did her best to give a good show.

On the side of the room, where the glass doors led to the garden terrace, was a bar. In it, two women were attending to the needs of the women lounging by the bar. As they were close by, Donna could see their attire very well. The two were dressed in stereotypical erotic black and white waitress dresses, with black stockings, the white apron, the white vest, their breasts pushed up in a corset, their fake platinum blond hair up, and their faces made up with long fake eye lashes. The outlines heavily painted with black, and dark red lipstick abundantly applied to their lips. They were all smiles as they served drinks, and occasionally allowed the guests to touch them, usually bending over so they could pinch their tight trapped breast, or paint on them with the lipsticks in various red colors laying on the bar.

As Donna moved her eyes to yet another corner, she saw a larger stage opposite of her on the other side of the room where two women were pole dancing. The stage was also decorated with big fake lipstick tubes, even the poles were thin golden tubes, as were the spotlights. She recognized Rebecca, or should she say “Red Pussycat”. It made sense she was here as one of the performers.

"She has experienced what I’m experiencing now," Donna thought. "She, her family, have been taken over by Ms. Brendan, or one of her friends."

At that thought, she looked more closely at the crowed, trying to make sense of the different roles. Ms.Bredan's guests were all dressed as if attending a cocktail party while the unfortunate women who were there as her sexual subjects were acting out roles that ranged from the tawdry to the pornographic. It reminded Donna of the new rules of the strict regime that she now lived under.

Next to the dancing stage, two women were busy fucking each other, with dildos and even a whip handle. An enthusiastic audience watched and applauded the two women of whom one was much older than the other. They were dressed in fishnet stockings, garter belts, push up bra’s that left their large breasts exposed. One of the women wore fishnet gloves that covered her arms to the shoulder. Each had tied her hair up in a pony tail, just as so many others had, and had applied heavy, sluttish make up to their faces. Apart from licking each other, they penetrated each other with several dildos of the many lying about. The audience participated by fondling the women, or more often than not, roughly feeling up their private parts. In the brief time that Donna watched the show, she saw a woman pulling on of the labia of the older woman, stretching her tender flesh painfully, even while the woman herself didn’t even blink, too busy with the dildo up her ass and the dildo she was jerking into the younger woman’s vagina.

A sharp pain in her nipple brought her back at attention. Ms. Brendan's companion had pinched her nipple. She hadn’t really pinched that hard but in Donna's worked-up state, it was enough to make her moan and bring still more tears to her already reddened eyes. The woman looked Donna in the eye, and turned to make a comment to Ms. Brendan as she positioned herself in front of Donna and started to inspect her. Her hands molded Donna’s breasts, lifting her nipples painfully for a close up. Next she roughly checked Donna’s mouth, inspecting her teeth wrapped around the gag, feeling Donna's ass at the same time. At the end, she slid two fingers inside Donna’s wet pussy. Then, she stepped back and held up the wet fingers as she looked at the miserable Donna hanging in front of her. With a friendly smile she looked at Donna, while she continued her chat with Ms. Brendan. She then looked around for something and called a young women over.

The girl who was called over was young, in her twenties, and beautiful. She reminded Donna of Julie, if a bit older, and of darker complex. She looked like a Latin girl. The girl had long black straight hair, which hung halfway down her back. She was completely naked apart from black stockings and the ever present high heels. She walked confident of her beauty, swaying her hips and arms to flaunt her perfect figure. Her skin was toned nicely, a slightly darker shade than Donna’s. Probably due to the natural darker skin the girl had. Her small breasts jiggled naughtily as she walked quickly up the stairs. Donna just knew the girl did this on purpose.

When she arrived, Donna could see just how gorgeous this girl actually was. Her face was sharp in a way that suggested she might be Indian. It was only slightly made up. Black eyeliner, black mascara on her lashes, some rouge, and dark red lipstick. Her face needed nothing more to be perfect. To complete her face, she wore two pair of earrings, one consisting of several long hoops, the other a gold chain with red stones. It made her look sophisticated, intelligent, were it not that she was stark naked. Her body was perfect, a firm, round and petite ass, no belly, her hair nicely trimmed above her pussy, shaved into a small triangle. The stockings showed how perfectly shaped her long legs were. She might as well have done without the stockings as they were long and feminine. As she stood there, she stood with pride; she showed no shame of her nakedness. No, on the contrary, she smiled wickedly at the women who had called her over, knowing that she looked gorgeous and was turning them on. Donna noticed she even stood in one of the poses that Ninon taught Donna, only the girl did it naturally.

Donna felt admiration for the girl. She was in control, she was proud of her body, and she knew how to show it. And she had no shame in showing herself naked. How different she was! Donna felt ashamed as she hung in her chains, in agony, vulgar, her private parts bluntly on display to all, most of it whom, it seemed, didn't care enough to bother to look at her. Donna was just one more of the many ‘attractions’ of the party, and obviously not the most interesting.

At that moment, Ms. Brendan's companion held out her wet fingers to the girl, who with a smile bent forward and licked Donna's juices cleanly from them. She even sucked the fingers into her mouth. Donna was appalled at how the girl behaved. She looked like someone who had everything going for her, yet here she was behaving like a little slut. It was disgusting and demeaning. The girl even looked at Donna with a smile, looking straight into her eyes, showing no remorse at all. It completely ruined the perfect mental picture Donna had of this girl. She was a slut at heart, a despicable person who probably played the whore without regret, at this party and maybe in real life too.

Ms. Brendan's companion spoke to the girl after she finished sucking the woman's fingers clean. Donna saw Ms. Brendan stop them. Ms. Brendan walked over to Donna and switched something on the back of her head attached to her mask.

“..now she can hear us too. I think it is good for her,” Donna heard Ms. Brendan say as she stepped back.

The earphones were on now and Donna could hear the music and the murmur of the party. The music was a rather loud beat, obviously meant for the dancers. In the background, she still could hear the sound of her own fucking coming from the mics.

With all of that, she had to concentrate hard to have any chance to understand what was being said by the group in front of her.

“So, as I asked, how long have you been a party girl?” Ms. Brendan's companion asked the slender girl.

“Well, this actually is my first real party. I’ve only been in this scene for two months now,” the girl said with a smile. “And of that, the first month was more training than anything else.”

“You don’t say?” Ms. Brendan said in fake surprise.

“I met Ms. Hodgings two months ago when she kind of abducted me from a student party. She put me through a rough first month after which I was convinced this was what I wanted to do.”

“She abducted you?” Ms. Brendan asked.

“Yeah, more or less.” The girl said. The other woman was fondling her breasts and her hand slid down to the girl's nether regions at which the girl spread her legs a bit for easy access, giving the woman an approving smile. “I was at this frat party and when I left she took me into her car, or her chauffeur did. I was afraid at first, you know, with all the weird things happening lately but it all worked out fine.”

“So you study?” ms Brendan asked.

“Used to.” The girl nodded “Now I’m a full time party girl. I just took a sabbatical from my studies. Even gave up my room and all. I told my parents I needed some time to find myself and now here I am. I don’t know if I ever will continue my studies, this new life is so... amazing.”

“And that you decided in just two months?”

“I’m a smart girl. I knew what my possibilities were and I just figured it was best to embrace this new life. I mean...” the girl explained “...after a month's training I had done things sexually and was able to please people sexually in so many way... it seemed a waste to go back to the mundane life of a student.”

“It sure would be.” the other women said.

Ms. Brendan's companion was obviously in lust for this girl. She was constantly touching, plowing the girls body, which in turn the girl allowed and even encouraged by giving her easy access to all her beauty.

"Yeah, so now I’m here, flown in all the way from the other coast to give you all the pleasure of my body.”

“Rough ride?”

“I see you know Ms. Hodgings, Ma’am,” the girl replied to ms Brendan with a knowing smile. “Yes, it was a bit rough. She stuffed me in a crate and had that big dildo pushed up my ass. I was in pain all the way.”

She pointed to a large dildo standing straight up on a table below them. “Luckily she allowed me to pull it out when we arrived here.”

“You seem to take all this quite easy. Especially for someone who only endured these things for two months,” Ms. Brendan observed.

Donna knew that Ms. Brendan wanted to make a point, to show Donna how things could be if she just surrendered.

“Indeed, Ma’am “ the girl nodded, as she kissed the palm of the hand of the other women as it caressed her face. “But as I said, I’m smart. I know a good deal when I see one. I just weighed my options, and this is the best one. A pure 'win-win'. I get to have sex as much and as often as a girl my age could ever wish, and Ms. Hodgings, and you all, get to enjoy all the pleasures my body and mind can bring you.”

Ms Brendan looked Donna in the eye at that response and the amazed Donna understood the lesson that had just been taught. This beautiful girl has been abducted from a university, and turned into a whore in just a mere two months. How horrible could this Ms. Hodgings be? And how can this girl take it so easily? She walks like she is the most experienced call girl. She has no problem with people obscenely groping her body, and she tells her story so... so matter of factly, with no hint of shame, no remorse.

Donna wondered if the girl really was telling the truth. It couldn’t be; it was impossible that a girl would give up everything just to become a mere slave, a whore. But the example wasn’t wasted on her. She knew Ms. Brendan wanted Donna to see that others had no problem submitting to this degraded life style, and as she looked again about the party room, she saw all these whores happily doing their job, or so it seemed. Everyone of them had submitted. They had given up any hope of resistance and had embraced their new life.

A third woman came into view, who joined Ms. Brendan and her friend. This newcomer was older and had her black hair cut short, grey streaks of hair clearly visible. She wore a stylish black suit, complete with jacket and long pants.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” she said as she checked out the Latin girl in front of her. “A true beauty, isn’t she?”

“Indeed she is, Carol, indeed she is.” The other woman agreed.

“And this?” the older women, Carol, asked, nodding towards Donna.

“One of my latest girlfriends,” Ms Brendan explained.

“A naughty one, seeing you tied her up in a rather uncomfortable way.”

“Oh, that’s about half of it, “ Ms. Brendan replied. “She has disappointed me on several occasions and refuses to accept her inner feelings. So now she is in therapy and has agreed to have her body upgraded to a woman’s liking.”

"She has difficulty getting out of the closet?” Carol walked over to Donna and looked her up and down, checking how she was chained.

“Sort of,” Ms Brendan agreed. “But she is a beauty isn’t she?”

“She would make a good lesbian, for sure…” The woman said, still checking out Donna.

“Why is she so jumpy to every touch?” She asked as Donna squirmed as her hands molded her breasts, her waist.

She bend down out of Donna's view. “… And this is her family?”

Donna was surprised as Carol came up with a picture frame in her hands. She recognized it as being the one on the side table in her living room. It was a family shot taken about 6 months ago.

“Yes, she is married and has two lovely daughters,” Ms Brendan acknowledged.

“I just knew there was more to it than just this old woman.” Carol said with a smile as her fingers traced over the picture.

Donna squirmed at the remark. Was it true? Was Ms Brendan only after her daughters? Donna knew it could well be true; she had seen all the younger whores in the room. But Ms. Brendan surely knew that Donna would do everything to keep her daughters out of it! Or what she would do if they hurt her daughters! Donna wriggled in frustration as she thought of what might be coming. Either she had to fight Ms Brendan, and maybe even this whole group to protect her girls, or she had to submit to Ms. Brendan exactly as she wanted and trade herself for the safety of her daughters.

Both options were bad. Worse, neither way had a guarantee of success.

"No...," she convinced herself. "Ms Brendan likes me, she isn’t into such young girls. The only one in her crowd close to my daughters' ages is her chauffeur, and even that girl is years older."

Donna looked into Ms Brendan's eyes, hoping for pity. Surprisingly Ms. Brendan gave her a reassuring look. Donna returned it with a grateful one. "Yes, she is after me. I am the one that she wants. If I just keep her satisfied, my daughters will be safe, and can live their own lives."

“Oh, she’s all wound up right now.” Carol taunted when she saw the chained Donna's frantic movements.

She looked Donna straight in the eye. “And tell me about her husband. Is he a wimp?”

“He works for me. I send him off to Asia for long periods of time so I can freely mold Cutty here,” Ms. Brendan answered. “He’s actually very good in his work. I pay her now to entertain him, as a sort of bonus for him.”

“Oh, I see. And this is the contract, her first!” Carol had her contract to work as a whore in her hands, reading it curiously.

Donna began to understand that her private life was on display too, not just her naked body.

“How sweet...” The woman caressed Donna nipple with a the tip of a corner of a page from her contract. How could this get any worse? What else was on display?

“... and a diary!” Carol exclaimed in faux joy, answering Donna unspoken question. She obviously was enjoying the discomfort that she was bringing Donna.

Donna was now getting agitated at her, but there was nothing that she could do. Donna saw the woman lift her diary and flip through the pages. Ms. Brendan's companion peeked over Carol's shoulder. They were reading Donna's own words, even if they were forced ones, telling about all of the disgusting things she had done, all the lies she had penned down.

“A complete slut, totally out of control. Poor husband, eh?” Carol concluded after reading a few short episodes.

“Well now, he benefited too, now didn’t he?” The other woman noted as she gave a Donna a suggestive smile.

Donna felt all the more naked now these women knew the worst secrets of her private life. Everything Ms. Brendan had done to her was exposed to these women. Actually, to everyone who would take his time to pick up the book. Bridgette had looked at Donna's diary too, she recalled; and nothing good could come from that either. She blocked that thought out as quickly as possible. What a mess her life was turning into.

“And you have her on Lenny!” Carol continued, as she gave the diary to her mate, who browsed on and with much interest. “I thought that was over?”

“Well yes, but she needed extra attention and so I brought him back,” Ms Brendan conceded. “It wasn’t easy, but...”

The older woman looked in fake awe at the large black dildo. “Well, once this fits, she can take anything. She will be so happy that you went through all this trouble to teach her.”

“Well, up to now she hasn’t really showed much true appreciation, but I expect she will soon.”

“And why doesn’t she have red lipstick?”

“She just went through laser surgery on her skin so it's unwise to put make up on, might ruin the skin.”

“That explains why she's so jumpy. And this doesn’t?” The older woman went with her hand over the material covering almost all of Donna’s body.

“The latex can cause irritation for some people but also can act like a bandage while she heals. It's entirely breathable and washable. Trust me when I say that her latex covering will not put her training off a day.”

“But it will be painful to remove,” the woman observed.

“Certainly, you are right; indeed, it's even painful now as the material bound itself ever tighter to her sensitive skin while it dried,” Ms Brendan explained. “And as for taking it off… I doubt much will get off in the coming days. Not without much pain.”

“An additional punishment.” Carol nodded, “That also explains the awful green color.”

Donna listened to the conversation and started to understand her own predicament. This latex stuff would be on her for some time. How could she show up at her grandmother’s house dressed with this suite? For the first time, she looked at her arm and down her body. The color was indeed awful, an ugly dark green. She would be the freak of the family.

Ms. Brendan walked up to Donna and switch off her earphones, leaving Donna to listen to her own orgasmic screams together with Robert’s grunting on what promised to be an endless loop. Donna felt such shame as she thought of Robert and how Ms. Brendan manipulated him. How humiliated he would be if he found out! How angry if he knew how she betrayed him. How she had no backbone at all.

Carol apparently had lost interest in Donna and took the young party girl away by her arm. They walked upstairs and out of Donna's limited view. She could guess what they would soon be doing. Another couple were going up the steps too as a satisfied guest came down, stopping to chat briefly on the steps. Ms Brendan replaced the blindfold and Donna was again in the dark but with so many more things to worry about. Her husband, her children, the upcoming weekend, and for now the excruciating pain.

She was left hanging for the longest time, only rarely touched, usually in a painful way, be it because of her own sensitivity but that didn't matter - it hurt!. She became extremely thirsty and she felt her juices run down her legs; the gag made her jaw ache. Her teeth hurt. And she knew she had been left in this state on purpose. It was to make her see that resistance was futile. But her daughters, her family, she needed to protect them...

And so her mind whirled, transiting from what looked to be a miserable future if she submitted, to the dangers for her family if she didn't, cycling back to the pain whose grip would not let her go.

The rest of the night, the long night, Donna was manhandled without warning. Sometimes with the blindfold on, sometimes not; leaving her wonder who was there, who was looking at her, at the details of her private life. What was going on? Sometimes without the blindfold, she could see not only Ms. Brendan’s evil guests but also that the party was getting kinkier as it went on.

Whips struck sensitive flesh. Girls in chains were being lead around on all fours. There was an obscene show where a woman Donna's age had weights, heavy lipstick replicas, hung from her multiple piercings while the crowed taunted and cheered. Bets were placed. The victim's ‘owner’, or something like that, was laughing with the crowed as she hung one weight after another, making the poor woman squirm, even as she tried to smile. Soon, she was crying out in pain. Her labia were stretched to the limit; the cylindrical weights dangling down past her knees.

More and more couples were walking upstairs, and more and more party ‘whores’ came down looking exhausted, in pain and well used. The ‘pornstar’ lady that Donna had first seen came down with obvious whip marks all over her breasts, her back, her ass. Yet once down, she started a new dildo show on a different stage almost immediately.

On the stage in the back, a mixed group of younger and older women were fucking each in all sorts of ways to the rhythm of the music, whipping each other, putting clamps on each others nipples. It was a real life sex show and quickly was turning into a S&M show. Donna saw that the women were truly in pain and after a brutal fuck with a studded dildo one of them even passed out for a while. The group pushed their unconscious party mate to the sided, leaving her to lie ass up as they just continued with each other, stepping on the poor abused woman, shoving her aside when she was in the way.

Donna saw the woman slowly revive and drag herself to her feet. With great effort and a lot of pain, she joined the show again and pulled her ass cheeks apart to invite another penetration. Donna had not missed the fact that the poor sex subject had cried softly in utter misery for just the shortest of moments when she woke up and saw her own situation. Donna just knew the woman was in the same position as she was, hopelessly blackmailed, forced into this horrible way of life. Donna felt pity for her but mostly fear for herself. What if it were Donna up on that stage? She had to avoid that at all costs!

The waitresses had their costumes partly torn, exposing most of their upper body. Angry red bite marks on their exposed tits, and lipstick streaks, drawings, words covered their free skin. Drunk women, who now seemed to be everywhere, where pulling them roughly when ordering drinks, forcing them into tongue kisses, laughing as they shrieked when their tongue was bitten. It seemed the drunkest women were the meanest, and those all gathered around the bar as it became later and later.

Still the women offered their breast with a smile. Or at least with a fake smile. It seemed it was a goal for every bitch walking around to make the performing, serving women, cry, fall out of their act. It was some really fucked up society.

Donna considered herself lucky. Yes, she was in an awful pain, but she didn’t need to act as if she liked it. She could freely moan when someone unseen, or seen, pinched her or shoved a dildo into her cunt or raked her cunt with sharp nails.

Only one more time, a girl, a very young girl, had been ordered to come up to her and lick her. More accurately, the girl was instructed to like Donna clean of the juices that had run down her legs. But the soft young tongue did feel good and she enjoyed the moment, no matter how repulsive it was. The remarks of the women looking at the show, as they had browsed through her diary, looked at her family, tore at her heart. But she was too far gone to fight any more. The exhausting position that she was in, the fact that everything, everyone, around her was sexually abused, the constant shriek of her own orgasms, of Robert’s orgasmic grunts, she surrendered to the tongue and just enjoyed it, ignoring the remarks as much as possible.

When the girl had neared her clit, Donna had forced herself down on the girl, regardless how much her shoulders and arms ached, forcing the young girl to lick her to an orgasm. and she would have if it wasn’t for the other woman yanking the girl away, and angrily pinching, twisting Donna’s nipple. The pain had been awful but Donna had felt oddly satisfied by the fact that she had at least had a few moments of pleasure to preserve.

Donna finally was left alone and drifted into sleep. Tired, drained of energy by her constant torture and abuse, Donna hung in her chains as the party continued. At that time people started to leave, and it was obvious the party neared its end. The freak show was almost over...