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Pussy Whipped Sissy Slut - Chapter 6
I was turned over to the tender mercies of the blonde Amazon by her mother, who had stolen my heart and already proved to be a good counselor. There was some confusion in my mind over her title, let alone her actual name. If she was Martina, then who was Bonnie? Of course I dared not ask for a variety of reasons ranging from self-preservation to my status, which was less than any female of her species. Immediately she confounded me by stating that we were going to visit some dear friends, and likely would remain with them for the next few days. I was devastated? Any opportunity to bask in the presence of the Sea Spirit was doomed for the present. How could I possibly survive?
My new mistress wasted no time taking command of me. Her powerful hand captured my scrotum and began squeezing. She ordered me to put my arms out from my body and hold that position until she had softened my prong sufficiently that it could be contained in the wet leather pouch she had brought with her. The pain was terrible, but I did my best to follow her instructions. Gradually my shaft lost its rigidity and soon was draped over her hand which continued to crush my testicles. I began to tremble from the pain radiating from my testicles, bringing a chuckle from her as well as a slight incease in the pressure she applied. Finally she was satisfied to the point that she began fitting the pouch over my limp sex organ and throbbing scrotum. It took some effort on her part and generated a goodly amount of pain before she was satisfied enough to zip the pouch up, capturing my basket completely.
She next hobbled me with a link of chain and cuffed my hands behind my back, making sure to ratchet the metal down until I thought it would eat into the bones of my wrists. My mistress produced a wet, foul-tasting pair of panties which became my gag, filling my mouth and making me fear asphixiation if by chance it began to travel down my throat. She observed that the panties belonged to her and had been marinating in the hamper for almost a week before being allowed to soak in her private toilet that hadn't been flushed in over two days and contained copious quantities of her urine as well as two large bowel movements. I cringed at this revelation and redoubled my efforts not to think of what my mouth was containing. Naturally I was an abject failure, obsessing on the filth that was intruding into every nook and cranny of its new home.
My mistress was still not satisfied with my appearance,and bade me to bend forward and place my nose on the table before me. She muttered something about public decency and how it got in the way of progress, a comment that meant little to me. What followed did make an impression and aided in my understanding of her unhappy comments. I suddenly felt pressure on my anal passageway that grew substantial in no time at all. Without the horrid gag that prevented me from truly expressing my discomfort, I'm sure my outcry would have irritated or even infuriated my new mistress.
It did remind me of a number of male sex organs that battered and blistered my anus throughout the night and early morning at my uncle's residence. However this sensation was different in the sense that there was very little give in whatever was plowing its way past my over-extended sphincter muscle. I heard her grunt and the pressure intensified. The tool or toy had breached my defenses and was burrowing its way deeper into my rectal area, a most painful process since it had not been lubricated. Mistress Martine cursed and swore as she put more muscle to the task. The pain and pressure were now intense and I began to fear that it might rupture some portion of my insides. Then the movement ceased and all I could hear was mistress Martina's heavy panting. Whatever it was had found its proper place. I gave thanks to the gods for this consideration. My thanks dissolved when the blonde Amazon attached what felt at first like a massive weight to my straining scrotum, stretching the basket to what seemed like its limit and a little bit beyond. Then I felt her gloved hand slapping my flank, her voice ordering me to get a move on. The journey had begun.
It was hot, very hot, and I had no protection from the sun that blazed down as I trudged across the sand toward a house that seemed to be miles away. Just before we left the house, Mistress Martina had clipped a dog collar around my neck, attached to a leash. She informed me that between the butt plug with its faux tail and the leash, I looked for all the world like a strange breed of dog. We went another fifty steps or so, when she called a halt and announced we were taking a detour so she could show me off to the group of young teens taking the late afternoon sun.
The heat, whatever was wedged up my bunghole and the weight dangling from my basket all conspired to place me on the verge of exhaustion. I must have been a laughable sight to those young girls who pointed in my direction and talked among themselves. All I could do was waddle like a woman in her last weeks of a difficult pregnancy, perhaps carrying twins or even triplets to full term. My eyes were bleary and it felt as if my eyeballs were being scrubbed with steel wool from the pitiless sun bouncing up from the burning sand. Every step or two mistress Martina would give my collar a good yank, causing me to almost lose my balance, but keeping me on the course she had set. Somehow or another we arrived at where four young girls, all looking to be barely in their teens, giggled and acknowledged my mistress, but studiously ignored my presence for the moment. I was trembling from exhaustion, my all but naked body covered with sweat. I was breathing heavily through my mouth, making me appear to be more animal than human.
The quartet offered shade to my mistress, who quickly accepted this token of her exalted position. It appeared than one or more of these immature creatures had older sisters who were acquainted with Martina, my current mistress and owner.I recovered some of my equilibrium and took a closer look at the giggling girls. All wore strips of cloth that barely covered their budding breasts and certainly did little to conceal the clefts that marked the entry to their birth canals. All were just hinting at some small evidence of maturity, but still slim as seals. I wondered when they would be initiated by the local constables and how different it would be for them in contrast to what they afforded me.
My reverie had made a connection with my genitals, and I was painfully reminded that there was precious room for any additional blood flow. One of them, a redhead with green eyes gave a childish shriek at the display I was beginning to offer. Fortunately or unfortunately, my mistress put a stop to this offensive behavior by quickly kneeing me where it would do the most good. I feel to my knees gasping for breath, and only the sodden panties filling my mouth prevented me from making a terrible mess where the quartet of budding beauties was seated. Even through the pain I was able to inhale some of the fragrant aroma of marinating girl gash-goo, which placed me in further jeopardy. Martina kicked me in the side and I toppled over, gasping for breath since her blow had landed in my ribcage.
Suddenly I found myself face to face with a dark haired girl who might have been thirteen. She grasped my jaw and tilted my head back so I found myself staring into her dark eyes. Her face was set in stone at first, but my distress soon softened her to the point that her eyes began to dance with mischief. She glanced over to my mistress and observed that I had a rather large "package". Then she smiled like a cat about to dine on this canary and innocently asked if my prong actually functioned for females as well as my type. Before my mistress could respond to her question, which was more like a challenge to me, she pulled off the narrow strip of cloth covering her breast buds to reveal a set of hard nipples.
The pain I experienced as blood rushed into my hardening cock was almost overwhelming. The others roared at her display and one by one also became topless. Between the quartet they might have filled perhaps a B-cup bra, but the collection of hard nipples gave me pause. It suddenly dawned that they had either been exploring each other's bodies or enjoying the sensations they could create within their own. A quick survey of four damp crotches told me all I had to know. Martina was highly amused and there was a twinkle in her eyes as she realized I was on to them.
She quickly changed the subject and inquired of another member of the group whether her older sister was at home. The girl grinned and made an obscene gesture implying that she was not alone. Martina nodded and told the girl to inform her sister that we would be staying at the Wilson place for the next few days and she was invited to vist and participate in my training. The youthful teen innocently asked if the invitation extended to her as well. My mistress refused to answer, but did comment that what they were obviously doing in public could reflect badly on them in the future, especially if the beach patrol happened to come upon them while they were distracted. The girls were quick to don their tops and collect their belongings, the sun going low in the sky while the wind from the ocean was picking up.
We resumed our march with the wind at our backs. The rest had improved my situation markedly and we made good progress. The only fear I had was that we might be stopped by the dreaded beach patrol and they might spirit me away for another session that might be much more stressing and more professional than personal. My fears were unfounded, and at long last we presented ourselves at the entrance to this rather large house with very little character or charm in my opinion. After a few knocks the door swung open to reveal a tall brunette, perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, clad only in black. Her face lit up at the sight of my mistress and she welcomed her enthusiastically.
Our hostess ignored me totally, but made no effort to prevent Martina from ushering me inside. The moment the door closed she turned and led us to a stairway leading down to the cellar. I started trembling from the coolness of the house's interior, plus some slight exhaustion from fighting the elements during the lengthy trek to this destination and the fear of what was in store for me down in the bowels of this large house.I had good reason for my fear that was made obvious the moment I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the trio waiting for me.
( To be continued - rolf palsy )
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