BDSM Library - Trials of an Obese Wife

Chapter 1 Rude Awakening

Chapter 1 Maurice

“Ouch, you nicked me. Be more careful, dammit. Get a fresh blade,” said Maurice not trying to hide his irritation. “That one’s dull.”

“Sorry, but it’s new,” said Christine looking up at her husband from her position kneeling between his outstretched legs. She was holding his cock in one hand and a safety razor in the other. A pillow elevated his rear off the bed. She had agreed to shave his cock and balls in return for the kind of sex she needed and desperately wanted. Maurice had reluctantly consented after hard bargaining on Christine’s part. Having to negotiate with his wife had not put the haughty French aristocrat in a good mood.

“I don’t care. Get another one. It must be defective.”

“All right, whatever,” said Christine climbing off the bed and walking into the bathroom.

“How long does the post pregnancy conditioning program last,” asked Maurice picking up the remote? He pressed the Play button then the Mute button for the High definition DVD player.

“Twelve weeks, I start Monday. A girl named Dina Kramer will be my training partner,” said Christine climbing back onto their bed. They were in the master bedroom of their recently acquired suburban Boston McMansion. It was after ten.

“I should have gone with you when you signed up,” said Maurice. “But I couldn’t get away. Jules fucked up the EMK account and I had to straighten it out. I told him one more mistake like that and he would be looking for a new position.”

“It wasn’t necessary. We’ve established my goals for the first four weeks,” said Christine. “It would help if you held your cock up and stretched your scrotum to remove the wrinkles.”

“All right, be careful and watch what you’re doing. This is taking entirely too long,” said Maurice looking displeased.

“I’m sorry but this is a first for me. Where did you get the DVD?” asked Christine glancing at the screen.

“Jean Paul sent it last week in a bank pouch. He got it in Budapest. It’s first quality high definition video. There’s a part at the end that should bring back fond memories. I assume your goals include losing all the weight you gained with the baby.”

“Definitely, I should easily be my pre-pregnancy weight by the end of the program,” said Christine washing the razor in a bowl of water.

“The water is icy cold. Get some warm,” said Maurice grabbing Christine’s wrist to stop her.

“Maybe you should go to a spa. Why do you want them shaved anyway? Being shaved makes you look homosexual.” She said as she climbed off the bed and rushed to the bathroom to refill the bowl. It was the second time she had asked why Maurice wanted his pubic region shaved. He had never mentioned it before. And while he was fair skinned and not particularly hairy, he had a normal covering of dark pubic hair Christine had enjoyed nesting her nose in when she sucked his cock.

“Stupid question, it’s the fashion. Gay is the new hetero. Why do you shave your cunt? It doesn’t make you a lesbian; although you’ve never hesitated to plunge your tongue into anyone’s pussy, shaved or not.”

“I don’t shave it, at least not anymore, Brazilian bikini wax, one hundred dollars at the spa and it hurts like hell so I enjoy it,” said Christine resuming her task.

“How does that work,” asked Maurice, his interest piqued by his wife’s mentioning it was painful. Maurice considered himself a connoisseur of other’s pain.

Christine immediately realized that her explanation had the potential to arouse Maurice.

“I always use Miranda because she is the most thorough and as a consequence the most hurtful,” said Christine returning with a basin of warm water.

“Tell me about her,” said Maurice.

“She is Haitian, born in Port-au-Prince. Her French is passable, not Parisian by any means. At times, her patois is almost incomprehensible,” said Christine returning to the task of shaving her husband’s sex.

“How black,” asked Maurice?

“Very, her skin is the darkest ebony. She does not like white people, especially French,” said Christine.

“How can you tell? You’re not French.”

“No, but I speak the language and have a French husband. You should see the way she smiles when she pulls the strips off. The more agony she causes the greater the smile. Because I am quasi-French, she goes to great lengths to increase my pain.”

“How does she do that?” asked Maurice feeling his cock grow as he fantasized his wife’s sex being tortured by a half savage native.

“She places the wax on my most sensitive areas, my clit or the opening of my vagina, and even my anus. Instead of pulling the cloth strips off in one quick motion, she pulls them slowly to prolong and increase the pain. Last time, she placed a strip on across my asshole, allowed it to thoroughly dry, the peeled it off a millimeter at a time. I thought I would go mad with pain.”

“Do you think she knows you enjoy her extra efforts?”

“She must because my pussy runs like a faucet and my nipples get hard as emeralds,” said Christine. “Plus I tip her generously.”

“What an incredible slut you are. Have you ever done anything with her?”

“No, just the bikini wax,” said Christine. “But I come home immediately afterwards and masturbate. My skin is still red and tingling. I imagine she has coated my entire body in waxed strips of cloth and is ripping them off one by one as I scream and beg her to stop.”

“Your body and bikini are an oxymoron,” said Maurice allowing the disgust he felt with Christine’s weight to show.

“You’re being cruel. I know I let myself go when I was pregnant but I was alone all the time. You were in Zurich. All I wanted to do was eat,” said Christine starting to cry.

“Don’t start blubbering. I’m sorry. I was insensitive,” said Maurice looking past his wife at the television screen. “Would you like me to do that to you after you lose the weight?”

Christine stared at the screen before answering. “Yes of course, but where?” She watched intently as four heavily muscled men whipped two girls suspended upside down from the ceiling of a large well-lighted room.

“We have an unfinished full basement with twelve foot ceilings. I’ve decided to construct a modern dungeon. In fact since I have to be out of town next week, one of your tasks is to supervise the contractor installing the soundproofing,” said Maurice stretching his scrotum to remove the wrinkles. “We’re paying a premium for a quick installation but I won’t stand for shoddy work. Watch them carefully.”

“But I was planning to concentrate on finishing the first section of my text,” said Christine referring to the graduate level college textbook on macro economic theory she was writing. “See, much better.” She was gratified the safety razor slid easily across his ball sack.

“All you have to do is show them the basement and inspect the result. That shouldn’t be too difficult for someone with a doctorate. The plans are on my desk. Make sure I give them to you before I leave. Once that’s complete, there’s a number for you to call to schedule the contractor who will perform the rest of the work.”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me about this?”

“It was going to be a surprise but my travel schedule has turned monstrous. Therefore you’re going to have to take over. I’ve been promised everything will be completed in three weeks. Next month, the equipment begins to arrive.”

“Equipment,” asked Christine as she methodically shaved her husband’s groin area? Fortunately, Maurice, being a fair skinned blonde was not difficult to shave.

“There’s a purchase order in the folder along with the plans. Whittier & Cooper, Ltd of Shepard’s Market, London will be delivering and installing everything.”

“That’s very exciting. I didn’t know they had an office in the United States,” said Christine recognizing the firm’s name? It was well known in European S&M circles that the venerable English firm provided top of the line dungeon equipment. There most recent product line claimed to employ the most recent technology for creating unbearable pain with no permanent damage.

Christine had watched a promotional DVD they sent Maurice. After hours of various types of mind bending physical and sexual torture, the handsome couple had emerged unharmed to tout the company’s offering.

“Yes, mon cherie, upscale sado-masochism has arrived in the colonies. Your countrymen with means have discovered the value of good equipment as compared to the junk they purchase at the local adult store.”

“What did you order?”

“A St. Andrews, a whipping bench, its all in the purchase order. I chose recent designs to go with our home’s modern décor.”

“Good, we’ll be able to enjoy it together,” said Christine.

“Yes, as soon as you lose your rolls of fat. It should be an incentive for you. What do you think,” asked Maurice gesturing toward the television screen with the remote? “Would you like to be in their place?”

Christine felt terribly envious of the females. It was a classic inverted position she had experienced with great pleasure. She recalled the utterly helpless feeling of inversion with her legs spread in a wide V. The reversal of the blood flow enhanced the sensation as the arteries reacted to gravity’s new direction.

It left sensitive inner thighs and sex completely accessible to the whip. Binding her arms behind her back so tightly her shoulder blades nearly touched added to the discomfort and vulnerability. The arm binder make their breasts stand out making an inviting target for the whip.

Christine’s nipples hardened as she recalled the last time she was hung up like a slab of beef and whipped senseless. The crowd at the Paris club had been amused at her screams as well as her demands that Maurice whip her harder. They had even applauded when Maurice urinated in her open mouth. Her ability to swallow piss while hung upside down defied gravity.

The crowd shouted their approval at the surprise ending when a hidden floor panel, directly underneath her, had moved aside to reveal a tank of salt water. To her absolute terror, Maurice lowered her into the tank. Full immersion combined with the sensation of salt crystals contacting the hundreds of cuts left by Maurice’s whip resulted in a level of pain that sent Christine into an orgasm that only ended when she fainted.

On screen the whips imparted a centrifugal force to the women’s bodies causing them to spin and sway wildly. The frequent rotation produced dizziness and disorientation. Christine would have welcomed taking one of the girl’s places. If she thought there was any chance Maurice would agree, she would be on her knees begging him to do to her what was happening on screen.

“Yes, you know I would,” said Christine wiping the excess lather off Maurice with a warm towel.

“This is definitely not consensual,” said Maurice. “Probably, a couple of prostitutes they kidnapped off the street.”

The two females in the video did not strike Christine as willing participants either. Nor was it a safety conscience S&M performance in one of the EU’s fashionable sex clubs. It was crude, bloody, and brutal, what one would expect from one of the former Soviet republics. There was a savagery in the manner the female’s arms were bound behind their back. Thick strands of hemp circled their arms from their wrists to their elbows. The rope was tight enough to cut into their flesh.

Their long hair brushed the stone floor as their bodies spun each time a whip landed. Rope bound their ankles to a rough piece of lumber mounted on a swivel in the ceiling. The arrangement permitted them to turn easily, sometimes in a blur. They were both young with good figures. The blonde was longer and leaner while the shorter brunette had large breasts that had begun to drip blood on the concrete floor.

“Russians,” asked Christine when the camera showed a close-up of one of the muscular men’s Slavic features? They were identically clad in heavy work boots and abbreviated leather shorts. The shorts exposed their buttocks and there were large bulges in the front. Christine recognized the bisexuality found in Russian porn. If the women don’t give you a hard on, watch the men.

“Russians, Ukrainians, Kazaks, maybe even Chetiens, who the fuck knows. But they know how to use a whip,” said Maurice. “The Kazaks were always good with the knout. They kept the serfs in line for the Czar.”

“Yes, they’re good,” said Christine shuddering when she watched a close-up of one of the whips Turk’s head knots land on blonde’s inner thigh. With the sound muted, she opened her mouth wide in a silent scream. A red spot instantly appeared followed by a thin stream of blood.

“So take care of construction and we’ll soon have our own place to practice,” said Maurice.

“What will we tell Michael when he asked what’s in the basement?”

“Since he’s only three months old, I think we have time to come up with a satisfactory explanation. Besides he’s a Chernier. He must learn from an early age there are certain family traditions that are not to be questioned or spoken of”

“And what about Genevieve? She arrives next week,” said Christine running her hand over Maurice’s skin to assure it was smooth. She slowly stroked his cock resisting her urge to take it in her mouth. Genevieve Roches was flying from Paris to live with the Cherniers. She would be going to college and helping watch Michael while Christine was busy with her book and working out at the health club.

“Genevieve is French and therefore unlikely to be surprised at what she finds in the basement.”

“Will she participate,” asked Christine?

“Probably, but she is primarily here to study and take care of Michael while you regain your girlish figure and write your textbook. We are very lucky to have her.”

“She’s the daughter of your mother’s sister who I might add has absolutely no experience as a nanny or taking care of an infant. Turn up the sound, please. I want to hear.”

“Please, do we have to do through this again? Who do you want, some stranger who might abuse Michael when we’re not around? You recall what happened right here in Boston with that English nanny who shook her charge to death.”

“Yes I recall that but I would hope we would get someone with good references,” said Christine. Her hand was idly stroking Maurice’s cock allowing her to enjoy its warmth and the satisfaction of making her husband become erect. Not taking it in her mouth required every ounce of self control she could muster.

“Do you honestly believe my mother would choose someone who couldn’t take excellent care of her first male grandchild she positively dotes on? She would come and help you herself if father wasn’t ill. Besides, the Roches are not only related but people with important banking connections. Doing them a good turn is a wise move,” said Maurice pressing the Mute button then turning down the sound of the women screaming.

Christine decided further argument was useless and was likely to make Maurice welch on her reward for shaving him. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry. Going to school and taking care of Michael should keep her busy enough. Your mother said she was a good student and could help with my research. The DVD definitely looks authentic,” said Christine staring at the screen as the sounds of the whip and the women’s screams filled the bedroom. “Most of the time, they are such obvious fakes, no one suffering in the least.”

“It’s definitely not a fake. It was made in Minsk by the Russian mafia,” said Maurice. “Jean Paul assured me it was genuine. If you watch closely you can tell. It goes much further than any S&M film you can buy here.”

“All done,” said Christine. Jean Paul was Maurice’s younger brother who had recently relocated to Shanghai. Collecting sado-masochistic pornography and antique instruments of torture were hobbies enjoyed by both brothers.

“Feels smooth,” said Maurice rubbing his scrotum. “Now, I suppose you want your payment,” said Maurice climbing off the bed and walking to the closet.

“Yes, punish me,” said Christine quickly slipping off the bed and stepping to an open space in the oversized master bedroom. She removed her nightgown, tossed it on the bed then assumed a wide stance facing the television screen. Excited about what was about to happen, she bent at the waist slowing dropping the crown of her head toward the carpet as she reached out and grabbed her ankles.

Immediately a handcuff snapped around her wrist and then her ankle. Seconds later Maurice secured her other wrist to her ankle.

“Wet, already, what a disgusting slut you are,” said Maurice laughing as he pressed the heel of his hand hard against her sex allowing his fingers to enter her vagina while his thumb pressed against her sphincter. He was being rough but that was what his wife wanted.

“What do you expect? It’s been months since we had our kind of sex,” said Christine moving slightly so her vulva rubbed against Maurice’s hand.

“It’s not my fault you chose to make a pig out of yourself while you were pregnant,” said Maurice inserting a second finger in Christine’s vagina while the first joint of his thumb entered her anus.

“I only gained twenty seven pounds,” said Christine gasping in the pleasure of discomfort. “You’re planning to fuck Genevieve, aren’t you? You told your mother I disgusted you and you needed a fuck toy. So she obliged you by sending you one of the family whores.”

“I see your nasty mouth needs to be shut up,” said Maurice withdrawing his fingers and walking away. “Who I choose to fuck is my business. French wives understand these things. Don’t be so bourgeois American.”

Christine felt her excitement grow as she heard Maurice walk into the bathroom and search the dirty clothes hamper. Her breath quickened as she heard the sound of him urinating. He was making her a piss soaked gag.

A particularly loud scream from the television caused her to lift her head. Several cuts on the brunette’s breasts and thighs were bleeding and thin rivulets of blood were coursing down her body.

“I flavored it for you. Open,” said Maurice holding the soiled wet garment to Christine’s nose. “We can’t have your screams wake Michael.”

Christine allowed Maurice to stuff the pair of wet briefs he’d worn all day into her mouth. The smell of male body odor and the taste of urine filled her nostrils as she stretched her jaw to accommodate the underwear.

“Five,” asked Maurice holding the two-foot leather paddle out in front of Christine? The oval shaped business end of the paddle contained three concentric circles of brass studs.

Christine shook her head no.

“Ten?”

Again she shook her head.

“Twenty.”

Christine shook her head yes.

“Twenty it is. You are desperate for attention. Don’t say I didn’t warn you? You won’t be able to sit down tomorrow.”

Almost instantly her bottom exploded in pain as Maurice landed the paddle dead center on her buttocks. She screamed into the gag as loud as she could. Her saliva mixed with the urine and the taste filled her mouth. Her bottom on fire, she inhaled through her nose desperately trying to control the pain. She pulled on her ankles stretching the muscles of her shoulders and inner thighs. The metal cuffs cut into her flesh.

Three deep breaths later, she detected the sound of the paddle slicing swiftly through the air. A loud splat filled her ears as once again, the nerve endings in her buttocks announced the pain to her brain. Her hands desperately clutched her ankles as she repeated her breath control ritual making each breath last as long as possible. But the third exhalation had to end and when it did, the well-used leather paddle swung around in an arc to flatten Christine’s buttocks.

After the tenth blow, Maurice placed his hand on her bottom. He closed his eyes allowing his sense of touch to enjoy the heat coming from her beaten flesh. His hand slid easily over the perspiration covering her rear. He listened intently to Christine’s almost inaudible whimpers.

“You deserve this. Don’t you, Christine?” asked Maurice in a quiet voice? “You allowed yourself to become fat and unattractive. Your ass is huge and repulsive. Yes, I’ll fuck lovely thin Genevieve. I’ll let you watch as I slide my cock in her. And if you’re a good girl and loose the weight you promised, I’ll let you lick my semen out of her cunt.”

Christine nodded her head in agreement. She’d known all along that was what Maurice intended.

“Because you are a fat pig.”

Christine again signified her agreement.

“Oink for me, you bloated sow,” said Maurice delivering a fierce blow to Christine’s red and bruised bottom.

Once she sufficiently recovered from the pain, Christine made a sound more closely resembling a grunt than an oink.

“What, a pig that can’t oink properly. Try again,” said Maurice putting his shoulder into the next blow.

In spite of the firestorm on her buttocks she improved on her next attempt.

“Better but not truly satisfactory, promise me you’ll work on your pig imitation,” said Maurice once more pressing his hand against his wife’s wet sex. He had always been amazed at her capacity to exude lubricant when experiencing pain. He wiped his hand on her lower back to remove some of the fluid.

Christine slowly shook her head in the affirmative.

“Now for the final eight, bend over further. Put the crown of your head on the floor.”

The next blow almost knocked Christine off balance. It took every ounce of willpower to maintain her position. The impact was all the more excruciating because the over extended position allowed her vulva to partially absorb the force of the paddle. Both her buttocks and her labia were on fire.

After the twentieth blow, Christine collapsed to the carpet sobbing as she spit out the briefs. When she looked up, she saw Maurice bending over her to remove the handcuffs. He had an erection.

”Did you find the flavor of my jockeys enjoyable,” asked Maurice?

“Yes, I enjoyed their taste and smell.”

“What a disgusting fat piss-drinking whore you’ve become. Oh well, you will find the cock that was in them all day delicious,” said Maurice sitting down on the bed. Christine painfully knee walked to where she was kneeling between his legs. She opened her mouth to Maurice’s cock.

“Don’t rush. Take your time. Sample the aroma to start,” said Maurice lightly tapping the head against her cheek then placing it on her outstretched tongue.

“Your cock always smells so good,” said Christine holding the spongy head against her nose inhaling its aroma. She pressed the pink flesh against her nostrils as her tongue flicked over the underside of the shaft.

“French cocks smell the best,” said Maurice.

“Better than Italians or Germans?” asked Christine flicking his cock head with the tip of her tongue.

“Definitely, French cuisine and cocks are recognized as the best the world over. You were gaining weight before you got pregnant. I want you to weigh what you did when we got married, no first met.”

“I promise. I plan on getting in terrific condition and staying that way,” said Christine transferring her tongue’s attention to Maurice’s smooth testicles.

“Shaving makes them more sensitive,” said Maurice. “French men like their wives to be slender and attractive. Don’t forget my sister’s wedding is in the spring. I don’t want my friends laughing about Maurice Chernier’s fat American wife.”

“They won’t. I promise. I told Peter I would do whatever it took to meet my goals,” said Christine.

“Peter, who is Peter?”

“Peter Duchense, the club manager and owner. Actually, he owns a whole chain of clubs in New England. He’s assigned Lex as my personal trainer. According to Peter, Lex is absolutely merciless when it comes to shaping up wives who’ve let themselves go during pregnancy.” Christine lifted Maurice’s stiffening cock so she could run her tongue along the ridge of skin on its underside.

“They have my carte blanche to do whatever it takes to make you svelte once more. They can work you till you collapse. Throw cold water on you and start again. They can even fuck you if it burns calories although I doubt they will be interested. Fat women are not sexy. They deserve to be treated roughly,” said Maurice reaching down to grab Christine head. His slender tapered fingers embedded themselves in her dark curls as he took a firm grip on both sides of her head. His hands squeezed her head causing her to gasp at the pain.

“I know, Maurice. I’m disgusting. I deserve to suffer for being such a fat cow,” said Christine before taking a deep breath. Knowing what was coming she tried to relax her throat. Maurice’s hands held her head poised over his erect cock.

“Say it then. Admit what you’ve become,” said Maurice.

“No,” said a suddenly defiant Christine stepping into one of the roles they’d played since right after they met.

“Then choke on it, you ugly sow,” said Maurice. Muscles in Maurice’s arms tensed as he forced Christine’s head down on his cock. He guided it to the back of her throat. Christine flattened her tongue and held her mouth wide open straining her jaw hinge. When he sensed the large mushroom shaped head pressing into the opening of his wife’s throat, he applied sufficient pressure to slide the head past the opening. For a man of average height and a slender physique Maurice was exceptionally well endowed and his cock reached inches into her throat.

Christine’s throat muscles contracted responding to the intruder. Her stomach convulsed. The guttural choking sounds caused by her gag reflex brought a smile to Maurice’s face. He raised and lowered her head an inch or two taking pleasure not only from the sensations of having his cock embedded in his wife’s pulsating throat but also from her struggles as she attempted to breathe and control her involuntary muscle reactions.

Maurice closed his eyes enjoying the warm saliva dripping from Christine’s mouth onto his manhood. Repositioning one hand on her head, he used the other to clamp his wife’s nostril’s shut.

Cut off from her air supply, Christine began to struggle. Her body trembled violently as her lungs demanded fresh oxygen.

Finally, on the verge of losing consciousness, Maurice relented and released Christine allowing her to gasp for air. She made a loud rasping sound as she filled her chest with precious oxygen. Her mouth and cheeks were smeared with saliva. Dark curls were matted to her face. Drool cascaded over her lower lip. The desperate look in her large expressive eyes added to Maurice’s excitement.

Maurice took pleasure from her absolute terror of suffocation. It was the look of fear and the stories his friends had told him about the crazy American that first attracted him to Christine. When they first made love she had asked, “You won’t hurt me, will you?” When he replied, “Of course, I will hurt you,” she had smiled and said, “Good, Make me scream and I am yours forever.”

“Say it,” repeated Maurice relaxing the pressure of his hands on his wife’s head allowing her to speak.

“No,” said Christine.

“Then keep choking until you turn blue.”

Once again, he forced his cock into her throat. Keeping it there while she struggled. Taking her to the point where she was on the very edge of losing consciousness before he relented and allowed her to breathe.

They stared into each other’s eyes. Saliva was dripping from her mouth and nostrils onto his pubic area. Her beautiful face displayed not only her fear and pain but also her yearning to be treated that way. Her lips had grown puffy and her large breasts rose and fell as she fought to replenish her air supply.

Christine felt light headed and disoriented from the lack of oxygen to her brain. She also realized she was aroused. Her sex screamed for the attention of her hand but that would enrage Maurice. This had to be all about him and nothing for her. He would take a cane out of the closet and beat her black and blue if her hand strayed to her pussy.

“Say it,” said Maurice knowing the answer would continue to be No until she was too exhausted and terrified to refuse.

Once again, Christine endured the cruel lack of oxygen made worse by the pressure of Maurice’s cock pressing against the lining of her throat. The time he added to her misery by placing his hand around her throat and squeezing hard increasing the pressure on his embedded cock.

“Say it,” repeated Maurice allowing her to gasp for breathe.

“I’m a fat stupid American whore,” said Christine her will finally broken.

“Again,” demanded Maurice.

“I’m a fat stupid American whore,” said Christine.

“Yes, you are. Now, come here and open your ugly mouth and stick out your tongue for your reward,” said Maurice.

Christine moved up on the bed lying on her back beside Maurice. He rolled over on top of her taking hold of her nipples and flattening them between his thumb and forefinger. In acute pain, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue.

“First, tell me you want it,” said Maurice. “And make me believe you.”

“Please, Maurice, I want you to spit in my mouth. Do it for me, please.”

Maurice smiled as he allowed a large gob of spit to slowly fall on his wife’s tongue. She did not move holding it there. He added several more gobs of sputum. He could tell from the look in her eyes how much she yearned for this form of degradation.

Maurice waited a few seconds before saying, “Swallow it.”

She gulped down the slimy liquid.

“How utterly depraved you are, my dear wife. Finish me.” Maurice said rolling onto his back.

Christine returned to sucking Maurice’s cock. This time he laid quietly, eyes closed, his arms by his side as his wife’s mouth made love to his manhood. From experience she knew the techniques that would bring him to a quick and satisfactory orgasm. It was only a few minutes before she felt his body jerk then relax as he slowly exhaled. Semen discharged onto her tongue. A loud sigh of male satisfaction filled their bedroom. She sucked his urethra as she gently raised and squeezed his testicles seeking to milk as much as possible of the fluid into her mouth. When the supply was exhausted she passed his semen over her taste buds savoring the flavor until finally she swallowed.

“Good night,” said Maurice turning off the television then rolling over to go to sleep.

Chapter 1 Rude Awakening

Chapter 2 Christine

Christine climbed out of the bed careful not to wake Maurice. He’d be furious if she did. He had an early flight tomorrow leaving for two weeks at the home office in Lyon. She quietly removed the DVD from the player then tiptoed into her closet. Moments later she emerged carrying a nylon gym bag.

She walked quietly down the stairs to the family entertainment center at the back of the house. She placed the DVD in the player and picked up the remote control. She put on the wireless headset as the large plasma screen flickered to life. She pressed the fast forward button to reach the point where Maurice had turned the DVD off. Interesting she told herself as the men attached car battery jumper cables to the brunette’s large breasts. The spring powered copper points sunk deep into her soft flesh causing blood to seep from the edges. The woman screamed as the man used his thumb and forefinger to extend and twist her nipples before allowing the clamp to snap shut. Christine twisted her nipples imitating the DVD imaging how it would feel if those were her breasts being tortured.

This is excellent S&M porn decided Christine as she studied the screen. The camerawork and sound quality rivaled that of a first run Hollywood film. The woman was pleading with the man to remove the clamps. I’ve been there and I loved it but it’s been too long since I begged Maurice to stop hurting me. I need to be like her ever so often or I’ll go out of my mind.

After my spanking session I need to orgasm or I’ll be humping doorknobs thought Christine as she slipped off her nightgown then laid down on the couch. Christine placed one leg onto the back of the couch as she positioned a throw pillow under her hips.

“Totally open and exposed like one of the whores in Paris who flash their pussies at cars,” whispered Christine opening the gym bag to remove a recently purchased warming jell. The label on the plastic bottle promised to greatly sensitize those special places that give a woman pleasure. That morning despairing of gaining Maurice’s attention, Christine had searched the Internet then driven to an adult store outside of town and spent nearly three hundred dollars on adult toys. The clear substance contained both a warming agent and a chemical to increase sensitivity. The store’s cashier had enthusiastically endorsed the product even offering Christine a personal demonstration.

“My roommate and I use it to get each other off. You could join us. We like company,” said the young girl as she rang in Christine’s purchases.

“Perhaps I will but let me try it first,” said Christine feeling tempted. The girl wasn’t pretty but her face expressed a hard licentiousness that appealed to Christine.

The jell produced a surprisingly strong effect. “Oh fucking yes,” whispered Christine as she caught her clit in the web of her first two fingers. She squeezed the sensitive nodule enjoying the discomfort. I’m already so wet realized Christine feeling the presence of fluids coating her inner thighs. Her long graceful arm reached down allowing her fingers to locate her G-spot.

Why did I let myself gain all this weight thought Christine as she flicked her fingernail across the slightly rougher patch of flesh in the lining of her vagina? I knew Maurice would be upset. He warned me not to use the baby as an excuse to eat. But what did I do? Run to the store every chance I got to buy another pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

For safety reasons we stopped all S&M edge play as soon as we got back from our honeymoon and learned I was pregnant. I totally agreed with that. It would have been foolish to risk Michael’s health. We had good vanilla sex for the first three months but that was only when he happened to be home which wasn’t often. But once he saw I was gaining weight, he refused to have anything to do with me even vanilla. Tonight was the first time he’d paddled me since before I got pregnant. And that wouldn’t have happened if Maurice hadn’t wanted his pubic region shaved before his trip tomorrow. I wonder what my husband is doing that requires his balls be smooth as Michael’s bottom? God knows what he and Jean Paul will get into in Lyon. Those two are close, the opposite sides of the same coin.

After a few minutes of manual stimulation she reached into the bag to extract an odd shaped dildo. “G-Spot Zapper,” read Christine as she struggled to open the tamper-proof packaging designed to discourage shoplifting.

I want things like they used to be. He knows I desperately need our role-play and a good hard screwing but he refuses supposedly because I gained twenty-seven lousy fucking pounds. He’s told our friends and his family one look at my enormous behind and he loses his erection. That’s bullshit. He didn’t have any trouble getting hard tonight. That was his semen I swallowed not library paste.

Maurice knows what I need but he refuses to give it to me. He’s punishing me for disobeying him and not living up to his expectations for how the wife of a successful French businessman should look. Now his bitch of a mother is sending one of the family whores to service him since his fat wife disgusts him. How very French.

If he can be unfaithful so can I. Except for that one time I’ve kept my legs together since we got engaged. And that was with his brother Jean Paul who he allowed to fuck me like I was some common street whore. Still, it was erotic the way with absolutely no concern at all; he shared me with his brother. I knew it meant he really loved me.

My married life is a mess but I have to hold things together for Michael’s sake. If I lose the weight, that’ll prove to Maurice I’m loyal to him and we can take up where we left off. I don’t want to go back to the kind of life I had before I met Maurice. I don’t want to be the fuck toy of every man who looks my way.

These should help get me off thought Christine removing and opening a package of plastic closepins she’d bought at Wal-Mart. “You were my first real lover,” whispered Christine recalling her earliest experience with masochism. Her breasts had barely begun to grow the first time she discovered the exquisite pain of placing her nipple between the spring-powered edges and allowing them to slowly close. She had been proud of herself for resisting the almost irresistible urge to quickly take it off. Gritting her teeth and taking long deep breaths she had gained control over the pain slowly turning it into that odd form of pleasure only her kind could experience.

When Christine looked at her nipples, she saw they had become firm and erect in anticipation of what was to happen. She held the clothespin up and pressed it open as she whispered, “I deserve you for making a pig out of myself. For becoming fat and ugly.”

Moments later, she exhaled her pleasure as the hard plastic edge bit into her flesh. At first she struggled to resist the urge to remove it. It’s been too long since I’ve felt real agony realized Christine.

Pain under control she applied five more of the sharply biting clamps to the edge of her areola then one to the tip of her nipple. Reacting to the sensation she closed her eyes and masturbated with the G-Spot Zapper. Pleased with how her breast felt she applied clothespins to her other breast. Satisfied for the moment, Christine watched the screen as she masturbated.

I’ve never tried electricity thought Christine watching the man touch the lead to the post of a car battery. The woman’s reaction was immediate and startling. She opened her mouth to scream but what came out was more of a chortle. A moment later and she was able to express her agony as she screamed and twisted when the voltage ran through her breasts. A tiny puff of smoke floated away from one of the battery clamps.

On the other side of the room, the blonde was being caned. Loud wails of pain in response to the sharp snapping sound of bamboo on delicate human flesh drew Christine’s attention. This DVD is really hot thought Christine. I wish I were the one being caned. They’re both very pretty and the men are handsome in a cruel sort of way. It would be exciting to be there, hanging by my ankles screaming, my body contorting and jerking from each blow as I begged him to stop.

I promised myself that after I got married, I’d stop being every man or woman’s slut. But now that Maurice refuses me, I’m finding it hard to control myself. I’m not even sure Maurice wants a faithful wife. He practically offered me Genevieve if I lost weight. Most wives would envy my situation.

I’m married to a Chernier, one of the oldest noble families of France. They’re incredibly rich and surprisingly hard working. I fit into their hedonistic pleasure seeking life style. The family outside of his mother seemed quite impressed with my academic achievements. Now I’ve gone and fucked things up by indulging my appetite for food using the fact I was pregnant and lonely as an excuse. Maurice is right to be disgusted with me.

In today’s egalitarian France, titles were no longer used but technically father and mother Chernier were Marquis and Marquesa. The family history dated back to the internecine war of the thirteen hundreds that placed the Bourbons on the French throne. In the late seventeen hundreds the family was almost eradicated during the French Revolution

Christine recalled the lecture on family history she had received from Maurice’s mother on her first visit to the family chateau outside the city of Lyon. Madame Chernier, the family chronicler had recalled in detail how the peasants attacked the chateau in 1789 and burned it to the ground. Having removed the physical symbol of their repression they moved to the human ones. The Marquesa and her three daughters were subjected to a highly public rape. Christine fingers stroked her clitoris as she relived her mother-in-law’s tale.

“The sans culottes displayed them in the center of Lyon where hundreds had gathered to see the wives of the nobility publicly humiliated,” said Madame Chernier standing in front of the portrait of the beautiful female who was the Marquesa of her story.

“How awful. She’s very beautiful,” said Christine admiring the picture and wondering what if would be like to be naked in front of a large crowd.

“She was high born, a Rochefort, the daughter of one of Louis’s ministers. Simon Lagrange was in charge of the Committee of Public Safety in Lyon. He had an unfortunate history with the Chernier family. Two years earlier, he had been employed in the kitchen at the chateau. The Marquesa caught him stealing food. He claimed he was only taking home scraps to feed his starving family. The Marquesa called all the servants together in the courtyard. Marie Rochefort Chernier was not someone to leave the punishment of crimes to others.”

“How did she punish him,” asked Christine?

“The man proved an awful coward begging the Marquesa to spare him. He threw himself at her feet. She had her footmen remove his clothes and bind him upright to a post. The Marquesa suspected other of the servants were stealing and she wished to make Monsieur Lagrange an example. A coachmen’s whip was fetched from the stables. The Marquesa, although a noble woman of great beauty and delicacy proved more than equal to the task of making the miscreant suffer for his crime. When early on, he fainted; she had him revived before she continued. Her skill with the whip was remarkable. She was able to call out each testicle, first the right and then the left, and land the metal-sheathed tip precisely on target. His screams served as a warning to those who did not respect the property of their bettors.”

“Acquiring such skill must have required practice,” said Christine.

“The Marquesa was an expect horsewoman and one who enjoyed driving her own coach. In those times, the mistress of a great house was expected to maintain order among her household by the frequent use of the riding crop or cane. Maids and servants were lazy indolent creatures. Not a week would pass without the Marquesa having to punish some failing on their part. She recorded their transgressions in her journals” said Madame Chernier.

“I would love to read them,” said Christine.

“And you shall my dear. They’re in the library. Somehow they survived the fire.”

“Please continue the story,” said Christine.

“When the criminal could no longer be revived, she had him thrown off the estate. Everyone remarked on the stamina the Marquesa exhibited. How her arm never tired and the last blow was just as strong and accurate as the first. Unfortunately for the family, Lagrange took an active role in the Revolution and was elected head of the Committee of Public Safety. One morning he arrived at the chateau with a large force. They ransacked and burned everything. The ignorant savages destroyed priceless antiquities and works of art.”

“It’s beautifully restored. Maurice has promised to show me the dungeon after lunch,” said Christine.

“From their youth, Maurice and Jean Paul have shown a strong interest in that aspect of our family history,” said Madame Chernier.

“I am looking forward to meeting Jean Paul. Maurice said he’ll arrive this afternoon.”

“Maurice and Jean Paul are very close. They never argued when they were children and seemed to be of one mind on how to entertain themselves. But they work entirely too hard especially for ones so young.”

“Please tell me more about the Marquesa.”

“The Marquesa and her three daughters were placed in a tumbrel and taken to the jail like common criminals. They were tried by the Committee and sentenced to death by the guillotine. However, a simple straightforward execution would not satisfy Lagrange’s lust for revenge. He announced there would be a public display preceding their execution.”

“I’ve read the noble wives were brutally gang raped before they were executed during the Revolution,” said Christine.

“Yes, what better way to avenge yourself on your betters than to force your seed inside them. That was Lagrange’s plan but he failed at least in the execution phase. He spent recklessly of public funds to construct a platform in Lyon’s main square. On the designated day, the four women were taken from the jail. The mob roared at their arrival and the sad state of the noble woman and her daughters. The jailers had used the Marquesa for their pleasure.

The Marquesa was led to the center of the platform. The order for her execution and punishment was read. Members of the Committee ripped her clothes off then tied her to a X-shaped cross. LaGrange stepped forward with a coachman’s whip identical to the one the Marquesa had used on him. He whipped her until she fainted then revived her by the application of a salt brine. Salt applied to the open cuts was hideously painful. LaGrange himself dipped the sponge into the bucket and pressed it to the Marquesa’s flesh. Her ivory bosom had been the envy of Paris when she was young but now covered in the gashes left by LaGrange’s whip; it was the source of hellish pain as the crystals of salt found their way into the lesions. The onlookers cheered her piteous cries. After an hour, each of the three daughters was brought onto the platform to suffer a similar punishment. They went mad with pain when the coarse salt was pressed into their wounds.”

“I’ve read the application of salt to a cut is very painful,” said Christine.

“The last daughter to be whipped was the youngest. Her name was Sister Celine. It had only been a month since she had completed her novitiate at the Convent of Cluny where she had taken her sacred vows of marriage to our Saviour. She was of course a virgin until that day. LaGrange had forbidden the jailers to touch her so the entire city could witness her defilement. LaGrange himself insisted on being the first. She cried out for the Blessed Virgin to preserve her honor. The crowd mocked her piety. LaGrange’s penis was large and hideously deformed. She fainted at its sight. The Marquesa offered her own body in place of her daughters but LaGrange was merciless. Sister Celine was slowly stripped of her habit. Each garment flung to the mob. Her hands were cruelly bound with her rosary. At precisely the hour our Lord died on the cross, LaGrange knelt between her outstretched legs and with a cry of triumph took her honor. She screamed in pain as her virgin blood spilled onto the platform.”

“I cannot imagine how it must have been for a nun to suffer such a terrible fate,” said Christine.

“Lyon’s scum laughed at their nakedness and pelted them with garbage. Men and even women climbed on the platform to place their rough hands between their ivory thighs and violate their sex. Finally tiring of their game of humiliation and abuse of their bettors, they threw them down and the rape began. Long queues of the unwashed waited their turn. The poor women, coddled all their lives by family and servants, had to endure the sexual predations of hundreds. Only nightfall ended their suffering. Due to the drunken state of their captors and with the help of friends, the Marquesa and her daughters were able to steal away. They managed to get to England where they remained until the defeat of usurper Napoleon and the restoration of the monarchy. When they returned to Lyon, the Marquesa saw that those who had taken the lead in her punishment were themselves punished. Unfortunately Simon Lagrange had fled to American and was never heard from again.”

Madame Chernier had recounted the story to Christine standing on the chateau’s wide staircase before portraits of the family. Christine recalled thinking Madame was a little too animated and excited by the story of the family’s ordeal. She wondered if Madame Chernier vivid retelling was embellished by her imagination. Perhaps thought Christine she imagines herself spread out naked on the rough planking surrounded by sans culottes stroking their hairy cocks as they waited their turn to mount her.

“And the Marquis, did he escape too,” asked Christine looking up at the family portrait of the round faced man standing by the Marquesa.

“Oh not at all, after they tired of sodimising him they hacked off his testicles and forced him to swallow them washed down by a Bordeaux from his own cellar. Then the savages stuck a heated iron up his rectum. It took him several hours to die.”

Andre, Jean Paul, Catherine and Maurice were the children of the wealthy banking family. Andre the youngest worked in the Paris branch. Maurice the eldest had been dispatched to the United States to open a Boston branch as part of a planned expansion outside France. Catherine was engaged to be married to a high official on the European Union’s central bank. Jean Paul was Vice President of European Operations

Two years before, Christine had been finishing her doctorate in international finance with a year’s study in Paris. Friends aware of her sexual nature had introduced her to Maurice. It had turned out to be an excellent match. A year later they had married. Maurice and his family had been thrilled when Christine returned from the honeymoon pregnant. When the first ultrasound detected the presence of a male, the family’s response had been joyful. Christine blamed herself for ruining everything by gaining too much weight during her pregnancy.

Chapter 1 Rude Awakening

Chapter 3 the Dungeon

Screams of agony blasting through the headset drew Christine’s attention to the television. The scene had changed. The same two men were stretching a different woman on a torture rack. She was younger. Close ups of her pain ravaged face reinforced Maurice’s assertion the DVD was for real.

Christine used the remote to study the girl’s face. They had placed a small keg in the center of her back causing her body to arch obscenely as her spine was curved and stretched. Christine’s hand stroked her wet sex as she recalled how it had felt when Maurice and his brother had racked her.

She looks like me realized Christine, same color hair and eyes. My God, they’re about to pull her arms out of their sockets. One of the men maintained the tension while the other one climbed on the rack taking a position between the woman’s legs. Christine watched fascinated as the man spit on his large cock then placed it in the woman’s opening. Speaking in what Christine took to be one of the Slavic languages she was begging the men to stop. Instead one man turned the windlass increasing the tension as the other penetrated her.

Immediately, Christine knew what Maurice had meant when he said there was a part of the DVD that would bring back fond memories of an event that occurred during her first visit to the chateau. She had been terribly excited and apprehensive about meeting Maurice’s family.

Fortunately, everything had gone well. The fact she was a full professor with a well-received book on macro economics to her credit impressed the family who had the French appreciation for intellectuals and thinkers. Still it had been tense and when Maurice offered to show her the dungeon as a diversion she eagerly agreed.

It turned out to be one of the most erotic days of her life. Afterwards, Christine was certain that marrying Maurice was the right decision for her. They had both been in a playful mood when they entered the oldest part of the castle. On the way, Maurice had repeatedly stopped and taken her in his arms, pressing her against the wall, forcing his tongue in her mouth as his hands squeezed her breasts. By the time they reached the subterranean area, Christine felt overwhelmed by lust.

“This is part of the original edifice,” said Maurice as he switched the lights on. “Of course, we’ve modernized certain things. Torches were incredibly expensive so we had to switch to electricity.”

“Your mother said the chateau was burnt to the ground in the Revolution,” said Christine looking around at the furnishings of the stone walled dungeon they’d descended three steep flights of stairs to reach.

“It was but we are several meters below ground. When the chateau collapsed the entrance to the underground passageway was covered. After Waterloo and the Bourbon Restoration the chateau was rebuilt and the passageway cleared. Of course, by that time matters were more civilized. There was no need for a dungeon and it was allowed to fall into disrepair.”

“Who restored it,” asked Christine?

“My great grandfather began the restoration. It was something of a hobby plus a way to recapture the family heritage.”

“And was great grandmother involved,” asked Christine putting her arm around Maurice’s waist and pressing her sex against his.

“Only when she displeased the old man, then he would bring her here, strip her naked, and whip her senseless before giving her to the servants,” said Maurice placing his hands on Christine’s hips and pulling her hard against him. One of the gardeners had an enormous cock and grandfather made sure he took her anally. When her sphincter gaped open, everyone pissed in her ass.

“Sounds very Chernier, what happened to him?” asked Christine.

“He died in battle during the Second World War. The family never speaks of him. He was a Colonel in the Charlemagne Division.”

“Why? He sounds very heroic, fighting to liberate his countrymen from Hitler and the Nazis,” said Christine.

“Not quite the way it was. The Charlemagne Division was composed of fanatical French fascists who had sworn a blood oath of loyalty to Der Fuhrer and National Socialism. The surviving members of the Charlemagne Division were assigned to defend Hitler’s Bunker to the last man. On the day Hitler committed suicide, my grandfather lead his last four hundred thirty five soldiers in a suicide attack on the Red Army. None of them survived. If they had, they would have been tried and executed as war criminals.”

“How horrible, I’m sorry I asked,” said Christine.

“It happened a long time ago. Besides in two months, you will be a Chernier so you should know the good and bad of our family history,” said Maurice. “My parents continued the restoration. Jean Paul and I added to the collection of torture implements to make it more interesting. ”

“What’s this? It’s heavy,” asked Christine picking up the three-pronged iron tong without first realizing the weight of the cast iron.

“That my dearest is a breast ripper,” said Maurice casually draping his arm across Christine’s shoulders. He reached down and placed his hand over her breast and squeezed it. His strong fingers found her braless nipple through the lamb’s wool sweater. He smiled as his thumb and forefinger slowly flattened the flesh causing Christine to recoil in pain. She turned to kiss him wanting her tongue to intertwine with his as she suffered. After several seconds, he removed his hand allowing Christine to experience the sensation of blood flowing back in the capillaries.

“We should behave. I’m acting like a bitch in heat. You mean it was actually used to rip off a woman’s breast?” asked Christine wishing her fiancé had not stopped.

“Frenchmen never behave when they have a beautiful woman in their dungeon. But yes, first, it was heated until it was red hot. The Dungeon Master would capture the breast in the tongs then twist and pull. Off it came for the Dungeon Master’s supper.”

“You’re kidding me of course. They practiced cannibalism?” asked Christine.

“Such tales are handed down but only if it was the tender breast of a beautiful young girl like yourself. They were said to have magical restorative powers, like Viagra,” said Maurice lifting Christine’s sweater to expose her chest. He pressed her back against the stonewall forcing her mouth open with his tongue.

“These are not for supper,” said Christine pushing her sweater down once Maurice stopped. She stepped over to a nearby table and picked up a small metal object. “I recognize this. It’s a thumbscrew. I saw one used in a movie.”

“Bailiffs carried them because they’re light and transportable. They were used to extract confessions on the spot. A few turns and even the most determined criminal would be begging for mercy. Not everything in here is authentic. My parents participate in a local charity that permits the good citizens of Lyon to tour the chateau for a donation. The dungeon is by far the most popular attraction. Father and Mother bought much of what you see at auctions to give our visitors a thrill for their money. Jean Paul and I have added to it over the years.”

“Show me how it works,” said Christine handing the thumbscrew to Maurice signaling her willingness to engage in the kind of sadistic role-play that made them a well-matched couple.

“Suppose I wanted you to confess to having sex with the Queen of England,” said Maurice slipping Christine’s thumbs into the device and rapidly turning the small handle.

“It’s unbearable,” said Christine surprised at how quickly it created an agonizing pain in both her thumbs.

“You haven’t confessed,” said Maurice rotating the screw a half turn.

“And I shall not. The Queen is an honorable lady of the highest moral caliber. She is old enough to be my grandmother.”

“Yet, whore that you are, you have stolen into her bed and placed your mouth on her aged sex. The two of you pleasured one another in countless sinful acts.”

“No, I am falsely accused,” said Christine falling to her knees. Her eyes were beginning to tear from the pain. She could feel the studded surface crushing her nails.

“Confess,” said Maurice as he performed a quarter turn.

“No, sir, please stop I am innocent,” said Christine barely able to suppress a scream.

Maurice looked down at his beautiful bride to be. She was obviously in terrible pain. The thumbscrew’s platen was bending her thumbnails. “Confess now and the pain will cease.” Maurice turned the handle a full turn wrenching a pitiable scream from his bride-to-be.

“I confess. I have lain with the Queen of England,” said Christine. “Please stop, sir. I can bear no more.”

“Just a little more to punish you for being so stubborn,” said Maurice moving the handle slightly causing Christine to scream again. Seeing blood seeping from under her nails, Maurice quickly loosened and removed the thumbscrew. He raised a sobbing Christine’s hands to his lips and licked the blood off her thumbs.

“You should have confessed sooner. You’ve ruined your manicure,” said Maurice observing the cracked and wrinkled nail lacquer covering her thumbs.

“I know I should have but I didn’t want to give in too easily,” said Christine nursing her sore thumbs.

“Most women would have confessed to sucking the Pope’s dick several turns ago,” said Maurice once again kissing Christine’s thumbs.

“But you’re not in love with most women,” said Christine. “Or going to marry them.”

“Shall we continue with our tour,” asked Maurice?

“Yes, what are these,” said Christine picking up two of several odd shaped metal globes? Each had a short handle with a turn knob on one end. The other end of the globe contained sharp points and the sides were covered with an inscription definitely not French. “Ah, it opens,” said Christine turning the handle several revolutions causing the globe to separate like the pedals of a blooming flower.

“Pears, they were inserted in the orifices of witches and opened until they confessed to consorting with Satan,” said Maurice. “They’re Spanish not French in origin. But they were used by the Inquisition in both France and Spain.”

“Are they lethal,” asked Christine turning the handle rapidly imagining how it felt for a young girl unjustly accused of witchcraft to have such an object inserted inside her then slowly expanded? Others would be present to observe her ordeal. There would be the learned men of the church, the Inquisitors, watching closely as the dungeon master slipped the Pear inside her vagina and turned the knob. After a few turns, he would no doubt look to the Inquisitors to begin their interrogation. How long before the pain became too great and she told them what they wanted to hear. She would implicate innocent others. Christine had read where during the height of the persecution of witches, the entire female population of certain European towns were tortured then burned at the stake.

“They usually were when opened to the maximum extent. But if used carefully, they only produce agonizing pain,” said Maurice.

“And the inscription?” asked Christine.

“Latin, quotations from the official manual of the Inquisition, the Malleus Maleficarium, I recall the English name is Hammer of the Witch.”

“Were any Cherniers involved in the Inquisition?”

“According to Vatican archives, there was a period in the sixteen hundreds when several of my ancestors were members of the French Inquisition. There is a book in the Paris Library that describes in detail how a young noble woman of Lyon accused of witchcraft and heresy confessed to having sex with Satan after one of these was inserted in her vagina and slowly expanded,” said Maurice picking up one of the smaller Pears.

“Some of them must have gone mad before confessing,” said Christine examining the Pear closely.

“No one was allowed to leave a dungeon of the Inquisition without first confessing or dying,” said Maurice.

“And after they confessed?” asked Christine.

“Some were taken to the square in front of the cathedral and burned alive. Others who recanted witchcraft were allowed to resume their normal lives.”

“Not exactly an incentive to tell all. This looks newer,” said Christine standing in front of the large rectangular table in the center of the room.

“That is called a rack and the reason it looks new is Jean Paul and I restored it when we were boys as part of a school project.” said Maurice. “It had rotted out and fallen in disrepair. Only the iron parts are authentic.”

“Really, a school project,” asked Christine? “They taught classes in torture where you went to school.”

“No, Medieval History, we got the highest mark in the class. Would you like to try it? It would be something few experience these days,” asked Maurice looking down on the sixteenth century instrument of torture.

“Perhaps, how does it work,” asked Christine sensing another erotic spark one very much to her liking.

“The witch’s ankles were placed in these round holes formed between those two boards at this end of the table. That held her feet in place. These iron manacles were attached to the wrists. When you turn the windlass like so the chains wind around this take-up spool and the arms stretched overhead. Stretch a person too far and they’re a cripple for life. It’s quite simple, really. But it’s highly effective. Being boys, Jean Paul and I had to experience it once we got it working. It is truly hell on earth.”

“And the round barrel thing in the middle?” asked Christine feeling a more powerful spark of excitement as her hand touched the stone cylinder in the middle of the rack

“Referred to as the Pillow. It goes under the small of the back elevating the abdomen toward the ceiling. The victim is stretched across the Pillow. It adds greatly to the agony. That’s unique to a French rack. English racks allowed the victim to lie flat. The Spanish had a dual windlass version that stretches in both directions at the same time. However it required two persons to operate, a waste of manpower,” said Maurice.

“Good dungeon help must have been more plentiful in Medieval Spain,” said Christine before kissing Maurice. Ending the kiss, Christine pulled her sweater over her head. “You know I have never made love in a dungeon.”

“There was also another advantage to our use of the Pillow,” said Maurice.

“Yes,” said Christine slipping off her casual shoes as she unzipped her slacks.

“The Pillow elevated the sex organ making it available to the Dungeon Master. He could choose to slowly remove a male’s testicles over the course of several hours or in the case of a female relieve his sexual tension before excising her clitoris. I am told vaginal intercourse while being racked is a truly unique experience that only the most extreme masochist can enjoy,” said Maurice.

“You are making it sound enormously attractive,” said Christine stepping out of her thong panties.

“Legend has it that the Burgundians stretched Joan of Arc on the rack the night before she was executed. A local superstition held that bad luck came to those who burned a virgin; so her jailers solved the problem on the spot. Once she was stripped and stretched, the Messenger of God was mounted by a succession of her jailers.”

“How enterprising of the French. Did she enjoy it?” said a now naked Christine climbing up on the rack and placing her feet through the wooden half circles?

“Who knows, perhaps,” said Maurice adjusting the placement of her feet and lowering the top board to capture them completely.

“Am I the first woman to test your restoration,” asked Christine moving the Pillow slightly to place it in the curve of her back?

“Sorry but no,” said Maurice inserting the iron pin to lock the foot restraint into place.

“I never knew history could be so interesting. Please show me what the Burgundians did to the Maid of Orleans,” said Christine reclining over the Pillow extending her arms toward the windlass.

“We have a historical discrepancy to deal with. Joan D’arc by all accounts was a virgin and you are a whore,” said Maurice placing locking pins in the iron manacles circling Christine’s wrists.

“True, tis a problem, Milord. Maybe you should punish me doubly for my whorish ways,” said Christine her libido responding to the situation.

“I will punish you for being a whorish witch who consorts with Satan,” said Maurice grabbing the spokes of the windlass and turning it rapidly to take up the slack. When he reached the point Christine’s arms were fully extended, he paused for a moment took a deep breath then turned the windlass slowly causing two loud clicks of the ratchet.

“Please sire, I’m an innocent maid,” yelled Christine as the slack disappeared and the Pillow pushed hard against her spine.

“No, you are a whore from a nation of whores. You are a witch known to have lain with Lucifer himself. Women in the village witnessed you applying your tongue to his ass,” said Maurice giving the windlass another crank.

Christine felt pain in her shoulders, hips, and ankles as tension was increased. One more crank and Christine sounded a small cry of pain.

“My God, it’s like being ripped apart,” said Christine.

“I have something else to otherwise occupy your mind,” said Maurice walking over to a locked cabinet in the far corner of the room. Maurice carefully selected a key from the ring he had brought when they had first begun their tour of the chateau.

“What is it,” asked Christine straining to see?

“Patience, medieval torturers were known for the attention to detail and skill. They were patient men who didn’t rush things. Their subjects stayed alive for weeks or months. They’d torture their charges right to the very edge of death and madness then allow them to rest for a week or two before starting again. They were very serious about their profession,” said Maurice approaching Christine with a shiny brass contraption.

“What’s that,” asked Christine eyeing the ornate brass object?

“Manchu breast crusher, I said that not everything here was authentic. In our travels for the bank, Jean Paul and I have added some exotic devices of other cultures,” said Maurice fitting the device over the top and bottom of Christine’s breasts. “These are so lovely. It’s a pity they have to suffer.”

“It’s beautifully made,” said Christine watching as Maurice turned the wheel in the center narrowing the space between the top and bottom.

“I paid a small fortune for it at an antique dealer in Hong Kong. It’s been authenticated as early Qing Dynasty. It’s amazingly clever. The Manchu’s were known for the pleasure they took in the suffering of their enemies. Once you have it positioned, you capture the base of each nipple in the clamp then pull this handle like so,” said Maurice.

“Oh my,” said Christine with a hiss. “It feels like my nipples are being ripped off.”

“It pulls the breast forward until the base is between ten rows of sharp metal spines. It’s quite ingenious,” said Maurice locking the rings around Christine’s nipples then pulling a small handle on each side to extend her breasts outward.

“It’s intense,” gasped Christine feeling the pinch as the clamps tightened further. The metal edge pressed painfully against her breast bone.

“Now that your exquisite tits are ready to feel the pain of a thousand sharp needles, I will ask you a question,” said Maurice. “Do you want me to close the press? It will be horribly painful.”

“Yes, close it. I love you,” said Christine her eyes tearing with emotion.

“I love you too, darling,” said Maurice turning the large center knob narrowing the distance between the top and bottom of the device. Christine’s screams reverberated off the dungeon walls as hundreds of spines penetrated the top, bottom, and sides of each breast.

“It’s horrible,” said Christine taking deep breaths attempting to control the pain. She could feel the sharp points contact her skin, slowly push inward then puncture her flesh.

“Having fun with your fiancé without your dear brother, I should be offended,” said Jean Paul entering the dungeon. “I imagined I would find you here when Mother said you had taking her for a tour of the castle keep.

“Jean Paul,” said Maurice rushing to embrace his younger brother by one year who had just arrived from a trip to the Middle East

“And this must be Christine,” said Jean Paul when the embrace ended.

“Yes, Christine Winston, this is Jean Paul,” said Maurice.

“My pleasure, I see Maurice has been showing you our school project,” said Jean Paul stepping to the side of the rack.

“Yes, it’s very painful. This is terribly embarrassing. Maurice, would you mind letting me up so I can get dressed,” said a red faced Christine conscious of her nakedness.

“Who does this remind you of, Jean Paul,” asked Maurice ignoring Christine’s request?

“Agnes Langue,” said Jean Paul. “That was four, no three years ago.”

“Have you seen her recently,” asked Maurice?

“Yes, in Paris several weeks ago, still as beautiful as ever and just as unforgiving,” said Jean Paul.

“Who was she,” asked Christine?

“The last woman who occupied the same position as you do now,” said Jean Paul reaching down to touch Christine’s bare leg.

“Jean Paul thought he was in love with her. He brought her home at Christmas to meet the family,” said Maurice.

“I was in love with her. When I brought her to the dungeon she was intrigued with the rack and wanted a demonstration,” said Jean Paul.

“Just like you have done, Christine. She removed her clothes and allowed Jean Paul to place her in this horrible instrument of medieval torture,” said Maurice taking hold of the post and tightening the windlass slightly.

Christine groaned in pain as the round bones in her shoulders strained against the sockets.

“Christine and I were playing a game. She was pretending to be Joan of Arc and I one of her Burgundian jailers. I imagine she would enjoy the game even more if you joined us. Wouldn’t you, Christine?”

“Yes, Jean Paul should join us. Is that what happened to Agnes?” said Christine realizing what was happening. Role-play of a rape while being tortured excited Christine beyond anything she had experienced. There was no question in Christine’s mind that Maurice was the perfect husband for her.

“Poor Agnes was not the gamester, you are. She screamed and begged us not to rape her but like good Burgundians we both took her, several times as I recall,” said Jean Paul unbuckling his belt to step out of his trousers.

“She particularly objected to our taking some photographs of her with semen oozing out of her asshole,” said Maurice taking a small camera out of his jacket pocket.

“Of course, we didn’t have this little apparatus at the time, a recent acquisition,” said Jean Paul reaching down to turn the small wheel that further narrowed the gap between the two spike lined half globes crushing her breasts.

Christine screamed in anguish at what was happening to her body. She could feel every joint separating as the rack lengthened her frame. Her breasts were blood red and swollen to the point the veins were visible. They looked hideous.

“She’s magnificent,” said Jean Paul touching her sex allowing his fingers to slide down and enter her vagina.

“Take her. She’s a familiar of Satan,” said Maurice.

“Then we should begin with the Devil’s Kiss,” said Jean Paul who had finished undressing. Jean Paul nimbly stepped onto the rack, positioned his buttocks over Christine’s face then lowered himself to the point he felt the tip of her tongue touch his sphincter.

“Lucifer taught her well,” said Jean Paul reaching back to separate his buttocks as he felt the warm tongue explore his anus.

“Christine is an apt student in all matters of the flesh,” said Maurice maintaining a constant tension on the rack.

“Did Maurice tell you he planned to let me have you,” asked Jean Paul turning around to offer his cock to Christine’s mouth?

“No, but if it is what Maurice wants then I agree with his decision,” said Christine before placing her lips around the mushroom head.

“I think you have made an excellent choice in a wife, dear brother,” said Jean Paul as he felt his cock descend into Christine’s warm mouth.

“I knew we were kindred spirits the moment we met,’ said Maurice pushing hard enough to cause the ratchet to click twice.

“Join me, Maurice,” said Jean Paul. “It’s been too long since we shared a woman.”

“Of course,” said Maurice removing his sweater.

Moments later, Christine felt Maurice pressing his cock into her vagina. Between the French Rack and the Manchu Breast Crusher she was in incredible pain. Her arm and leg joints were on the verge of dislocation. The slightest movement caused the thousands of needles stuck in her breast to shift position causing her to scream in agony. The Pillow tightened her abdomen to the point that Maurice’s cock had to force its away down a narrow passage.

“There is nothing more erotic than a cunt stretched over a Pillow,” said Maurice as he began a slow thrusting motion.

“Let’s swap,” said Jean Paul after a few minutes.

After what seemed like forever, Jean Paul climaxed in her vagina. Maurice took his place and finished moments later.

“Now for her other side,” said Maurice removing the Breast Crusher. “Jean Paul, help me turn her over.”

“What are you doing,” asked Christine thinking her ordeal was over.

“Jean Paul wants to fuck you in the ass,” said Maurice as he rolled Christine onto her stomach.

“Satan preferred to sodomize his familiars,” said Jean Paul helping Maurice secure Christine face down on the rack.

“Such a tempting sight,” said Jean Paul running his hand over Christine’s upturned bottom elevated by the Pillow.

“What do you have in mind, dear brother,” asked Maurice?

“A good English caning would turn her bottom red. It would also be amusing to watch her sit calmly and listen to Father’s boring stories at dinner tonight,” said Jean Paul.

“Twenty five with a Malaysian bamboo cane should do it,” said Maurice.

“All together or twenty-five each,” asked Jean Paul?

“Each of course, we’ll stand on opposite sides and take turns,” said Maurice removing two flexible bamboo canes from a nearby display case.

“I forgot how nasty these are,” said Jean Paul cutting the air with the whip like cane.

“You want us to whip you? Don’t you Christine?” asked Maurice.

“Yes, I deserve it,” said Christine.

Twice they stopped to give Christine water when her voice started to crack. It took fifteen minutes for the punishment to be administered.

“Her bottom is certainly warm enough to be fucked,” said Jean Paul running his hand over the whelps covering Christine’s backside.

“Go ahead, she loves anal,” said Maurice putting his shoulder against the post increasing the tension causing Christie to scream from the pain in her shoulders.

“I congratulate you, brother, on finding such a wonderful match,” said Jean Paul as he pushed his cockhead past Christine’s sphincter. “Welcome to the family, Christine.”

“Harder, Jean Paul,” said Christine reacting to the dual pains of her ravaged bottom bearing his weight and his large cockhead forcing open her anus.

“Spoken like a true Chernier,” said Jean Paul slamming his cock into his future sister-in-law’s bottom.

Moments later, Maurice added his semen to Jean Paul’s.

“Is there anything more beautiful than the sight of a well fucked vagina and ass slowly leaking cum,” asked Jean Paul admiring Christine’s orifices as he helped Maurice remove her from the rack.

“Caravaggio should have painted such a scene,” said Maurice pushing three fingers into Christine’s not quite closed anus. He removed the fluid coated fingers and presented them to Christine’s lips. She signed with pleasure as she greedily licked them.

Christine recalled how the two brothers gently rolled her over and placed a rolled up blanket under her head. They used their mouths to bring her to an incredible climax. They took their time slowly licking her sex and breasts until she sensed the onrush of an explosive orgasm. Screaming her pleasure, she shook and writhed as her sex assumed command of her body. She almost fainted at the intensity of her orgasm. The French refer to the female climax as la petite morte, the little death. That afternoon, Christine learned the accuracy of the phrase as her climax took her to the edge of nothingness then slowly allowed her to retreat.

***

Flashes of light awakened Christine. It was morning in Boston and a fully dressed Maurice was standing over her holding the expensive digital camera she had given him for his birthday.

“Don’t,” said Christine starting to get up without realizing she had fallen asleep with the black dildo inserted in her vagina. Only the realistic ball sack that served as the base was visible.

“When did you buy that,” asked Maurice continuing to capture images of his naked wife spread over the couch as he pointed to the black dildo? A collection of clothespins, dildos, vibrators, and an inflatable anal plug were lying on the carpet by the couch. A plastic container labeled, “Wet”, stood open on the table.

“Please stop, Maurice,” said Christine starting to cry as she tried unsuccessfully to remove the dildo. Her lubrications had dried sealing it inside her. Pictures of any kind had been a non starter since she gained weight. Images of her with an oversized dildo stuck in her cunt horrified her.

“Having difficulty,” asked Maurice smiling as he grabbed the base of the faux cock and pulled dragging her off the sofa onto the floor. “Sorry, it seems to be stuck in your fat cunt.”

“Don’t pull. It hurts too much,” said Christine realizing that while she slept her fluids had dried causing her vaginal walls to adhere to the object. Only a good soaking in the tub or generating additional lubricants would permit its removal.

“Here,” said Maurice turning on a small vibrator and handing it toward her.

“What,” asked Christine not understanding what he meant?

“Get yourself wet or it will never come out,” said Maurice placing the plastic end against Christine’s clit then pressing the point into her soft flesh.

“Not so hard,” said Christine.

“You do it then,’ said Maurice handing her the vibrator then lifting the camera to capture another image.

“Stop, please,” said a sobbing Christine as she worked the hard plastic around her clit.

“No, it’s not everyday a man finds his wife sound asleep with a black man’s cock in her cunt,” said Maurice.

“It’s a dildo not a cock. I bought it the other day. Black was the only color they had left in this size. I had to have something. We haven’t made love for months.”

“And we won’t until you’re exactly the same weight as when we first met. My limo’s waiting,” said Maurice slipping the camera into his briefcase. He leaned down to kiss Christine on the forehead then turned to leave.

“What are you going to do with those pictures,” cried Christine?

“Show them to Jean Paul. They should be good for a laugh,” said Maurice as he stepped out the front door.

Chapter 1 Rude Awakening

Chapter 4 Dina

“They’re sleeping like little angels,” said Dina returning to the pool from inside her house.

“They’re adorable together,” said Christine who had just finished taking their luncheon dishes to Dina’s kitchen. “Thanks so much for inviting me. It was a perfect day for lunch by your pool and the salad was delicious. May I have the recipe?”

“Of course, I’ll email you a copy. I’ve enjoyed the adult company. Let’s catch some rays. Hot sunny days are a rarity in New England especially this time of year. I need to work on my tan. Would it bother you if I go au natural? I hate tan lines,” said Dina reaching back to untie the knot of her bathing suit top then allowing it to drop revealing her large breasts. Dina’s suggestion to sunbathe nude was carefully calculated.

“No, but won’t the neighbors see,” asked Christine noting both of the adjacent houses had a second story view into the Kramer’s back yard?

“Kyle, the Elliot’s boy is away at scout camp so he’s not at his usual post hiding behind the blinds wacking off and the Tanner’s are in Florida,” said Dina gesturing toward the two houses as she stepped out of her shorts to reveal her thong bottom of her bathing suit. “Oh hell, why not,” said Dina slipping out of the remaining garment. Her sex was shaved except for a narrow strip.

“Going to join me,” asked Dina?

“Sure,” said Christine reaching to untie her top. Her instinct told her Dina’s desire for nude sunbathing was more than just a need to maintain her tan. Dina pointed her bottom in Christine’s direction as she wiggled out of her thong causing Christine to suppress her desire to bury her face between her hemispheres. Christine reminded herself they had undressed and redressed together in the club’s locker room earlier that day after a grueling two-hour workout during which Lex methodically exercised each muscle group to the point of exhaustion

“Let’s face the afternoon sun,” said Dina pulling two loungers close together and angling them toward the west.

“I thought Lex was going to work us to death this morning. But that’s what he’s paid to do. My biceps and triceps are sore,” said Christine stretching her shoulders and arms.

“So how many workout sessions will it take before you decide to add your panty to Lex’s collection,” asked Dina after they had settled into the loungers?

“What,” asked Christine uncertain she had heard correctly?

“Rumor has it Lex sleeps with every woman he trains and keeps a pair of their panties as a souvenir. He writes their name and date on the crotch and asks them to autograph it,” said Dina.

“Sounds very sophomoric.”

“True, but that’s men for you. The first time I had sex it was with a sophomore and I was a freshman and damned if the bastard didn’t keep my panty as a souvenir.”

“Who told you about Lex,” asked Christine trying not to sound too interested?

“Sarah Pearson, a neighbor, she went through the program two years ago. In fact she was the one who recommended it.”

“The post pregnancy fitness program or sleeping with Lex,” asked Christine laughing?

“Both, surely you’ve noticed the oversized bulge in his spandex shorts,” said Dina using her hands to make an estimate of the length of Lex’s member. “Sarah says he’s quite the swordsmen and very creative. Your biceps and triceps won’t be the only thing that’s sore when you let him have you.”

“Well yes, how can you help but notice when you’re doing bench presses and he’s standing over you with your head practically between his legs. He’s incredibly good looking and his body is awesome. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to hop into bed with him. Are you?”

“It’s certainly tempting, probably,” said Dina sounding wistful. “Sarah said he’s capable of multiple acts in a single afternoon and he puts a lot of energy into each stroke. Poor girl even demonstrated how she walked around bow legged after riding his pony. She also said he was into some pretty kinky stuff.”

“Kinky how,” asked Christine having to make an even stronger effort not to sound too interested.

“Sarah only let him spank her and drip hot wax on her nipples but she said he wanted to do a lot more. He offered to tie her up, whip her, and can you believe this, shock her pussy with electricity. But Sarah isn’t into S&M nor am I normally. However, I’m feeling so horny lately, I may change my mind.”

“From the pictures in the hall I’d say your Alex is incredibly handsome and from all the trophies in the case an amazing athlete.”

“Just between us girls, Alex was awesome in the sack when we met but somewhere between steroids, Jamal being born, my bulking up, and his career ending knee injury, things have gotten a little too quiet in the Kramer bedroom,” said Dina. “Lex just might be what this girl needs to get her Mojo running again.”

“Fat wives with babies and good sex are not always compatible,” said Christine thinking about her own relationship.

“That sounds like experience talking. I always heard French husbands were supposed to be the best in bed. What about all that famed Gallic tongue action,” said Dina?

“Sex with a Frenchman is terrific especially the tongue part but Maurice’s been on my case since I gained weight. All the women in his family are skeletons even his mother. He claims my weight prevents his erection which is bullshit because he makes me give him oral.”

“And you don’t like giving head,” asked Dina?

“No, I love it but I want other things too,” said Christine. “When we first met, the sex was awesome but once I got pregnant, he had to travel on bank business all the time. I became depressed and sought companionship with Ben & Jerry.”

“So one solution is to let Lex take care of your other things until you slim down,” said Dina.

“Hardly seems fair. I gained the weight having his child.”

“Nothing is fair about being a fat wife with small children these days. Sun’s hot. I don’t want to burn. Do my back and I’ll do yours,” said Dina reaching for a tube of sun block.

“All right,” said Christine squeezing lotion onto her palm then applying it to Dina’s back.

“I sensed we had more in common than Jamal and Michael,” said Dina relaxing in response to Christine’s hand on her bare flesh.

“You mean we’re also sexually frustrated, overweight, and enrolled in big cock’s fitness program,” said Christine laughing.

“Don’t neglect my tush. The last thing I need is a sunburned butt.”

The conversation lulled as Christine applied the lotion to Dina’s backside. She allowed her hand to linger as she massaged circles on Dina’s globes. The warmth of Dina’s skin caused Christine’s attention to wonder. Her fingers pressed the lotion into the cleft between Dina’s buttocks. Dina’s low moan interrupted Christine’s reverie bringing her back to the present. “Sorry,” she said quickly pulling her fingers out of Dina’s bottom.

“Don’t stop. I was enjoying it. You got a nice soft touch. You know we don’t necessarily need our bastard husbands and their snot spewing peckers. We could take care of each other. If you’re not interested, just say so and I’ll never mention it again.”

“I think you’re very beautiful and I’m enjoying touching you,” said Christine slowly working lotion over Dina’s globes until they were covered then she worked the lotion down her legs. Dina moaned again when Christine’s fingers reached the back of her knees.

Dina was pleasantly surprised that Christine hadn’t said no.

“The back of a woman’s knees are an erogenous zone,” said Christine. “I’m very sensitive there.”

“I believe it. I’m getting turned on. Keep rubbing and I’ll come,” said Dina pressing her sex against the chaise.

Christine covered Dina’s legs down to her ankles before saying, “All done.”

“Your turn,” said Dina rising up displaying her large milk laden breasts. The fact her nipples were hard and erect was not lost on Christine.

“You have the most beautiful skin,” said Dina applying lotion to Christine’s shoulders. She was seated on the edge of Christine’s lounger. Her bare hip was touching Christine’s side.

“Thank you, you’re sweet,” said Christine turning her head back toward Dina. Dina leaned forward to brush her lips across Christine’s. It was a light touch but it provided an electric spark whose import Christine found undeniable. I shouldn’t be allowing this thought Christine but I want it to happen. I’m glad Dina feels the same.

Conversation halted as Dina’s hand slowly worked down to Christine’s buttocks. Christine moved her legs apart sending the unmistakable signal Dina’s touch was welcomed there. Her breath quickened as she felt a lotion coated finger press against her sphincter then pass down to her vulva. Fingers stroked her opening causing her to moan.

“We better go inside,” said Dina concerned the neighbors might be watching.

Christine wordlessly agreed by standing, picking up her clothes, and walking toward the patio door. When she stepped into the kitchen she turned to intercept a trailing Dina. The two embraced pressing every possible inch of flesh together. They kissed gently at first then with growing intensity. Soon their hands were stroking one another’s sex as tongues met and fingers captured nipples. Christine pulled Dina’s head to her breast.

“Harder,” said Christine her hand on the back of Dina’s head pressing her into the soft flesh. “Suck so hard its hurts.”

Sighs and moans filled the kitchen as they released their pent up passion.

“The guest bedroom,” said Dina taking Christine’s hand and pulling her toward a doorway a few steps away.

“I want to taste you now,” said Christine helping Dina sweep unfolded clothes off the bed onto the floor. Dina lay in the center of the bed with her legs spread. Without a second’s hesitation, Christine applied her mouth to Dina’s already wet sex.

“Oh shit, that’s good, eat my pussy, eat it,” said Dina cradling her knee pits in her hands as she lifted and spread her legs pushing herself against Christine’s face.

“Lift up. This will make it better,” said Christine forcing a pillow under Dina’s hips.

“Suck my clit. It’s been too long since my box was licked,” said Dina. The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of sex as Dina sighed, moaned and spoke the occasional expletive.

“You’re juicy. I like that and I like it when you talk dirty,” said Christine licking the opening of Dina’s vagina.

“You’re wonderful. You must have learned to eat pussy in Paris. I’ve heard that French girls are really into going down on each other. You’re going to make me come,” said Dina sensing the onrush of an orgasm that couldn’t be denied. Christine’s fingers and tongue were bringing her to a crescendo of pleasure.

“Just let it happen,” replied Christine sensing Dina’s pending climax she placed the pad of her moistened finger against the wrinkled brown skin of Dina’s anus. “Are you anal friendly?”

“Oh shit yes, finger fuck my asshole,” said Dina moving slightly downward inviting Christine’s digit to penetrate her further. “My butt’s in love with your finger.” She ended her remark in a long hiss of pleasure.

“Don’t hold anything back,” said Christine fully engaged in pleasuring Dina. The two fingers in her vagina massaging her G-spot felt slight muscle tremors foretelling the arrival of the contractions that would accompany a powerful vaginal orgasm.

“Here I go like a cur bitch in heat,” said Dina giving up control to the unstoppable wave of pleasure that crashed over her, allowing it to sweep her up and carry her along. She kicked and twisted as Christine put the finishing touches on the best climax she’s experienced in months.

As her climax ebbed and her breath rate returned to near normal, Dina pulled Christine into her arms and they kissed. “God I love the taste of pussy on your lips. That was unbelievable. Now I’ll do you,” said Dina before kissing Christine again.

“Please don’t think I’m some kind of sicko but would you mind spanking me first,” asked Christine taking a position on her knees and elbows offering her bottom to Dina. “It’s one of the other things I desperately need.”

“Sure, whatever floats your boat,” said Dina mildly surprised at the request. “Let me run upstairs and get something.” Dina dashed out of the room.

Christine maintained her position, reaching between her legs to insert two fingers in her well-lubricated vagina. Her other hand massaged her clitoris as she fantasized about Dina’s punishing her. By the time, Dina returned Christine was fully eroticised.

“Toys, marital aids, the things an overweight wife being neglected by her husband needs,” said Dina emptying a nylon sports bag of marital aids onto the bed. “Will this do it? Alex likes his bum swatted ever so often,” said Dina picking up a long handled leather paddle. There were three concentric circles of brass studs on the oval end. She’d made it sound like Alex’s taste for S&M was pretty casual when in fact; she had another bag upstairs containing some far more serious implements of femdom torture.

“Yes, it’s exactly like the one we have at home,” said Christine reaching for a large dildo. “I want this in me, too.” She positioned the dildo in her opening. Dina took hold of the large faux testicles and forced the dildo into Christine as far as it would reach.

“I’m ready to be your bitch,” said Christine moving the dildo back and forth.

“The cunt likes to be super sized,” said Dina. “How hard you want it, bitch?”

“Twenty hard ones, Mistress Dina, turn my butt red, please,” said Christine concentrating on the sensation of having a thick column of latex inside her vagina reaching to her cervix.

Dina assumed the proper stance, lined the sweet spot of the paddle up with Christine’s left buttock and swung. The sound of hard leather landing on soft flesh filled the small room.

“Good but harder,” said Christine wishing Dina would curse her, tell her what a no good lesbian bitch slut she was, even spit in her mouth; but that wasn’t to be. Dina wasn’t one of the highly trained dominatrices Christine encountered in Paris or was she a skilled torturer like Maurice. Still, she needed the pain and humiliation that Dina was prepared to give. Christine decided to accept the pleasure afforded by the leather paddle and enjoy her spanking.

“Yes, Bitch, I’ll turn your ass cherry red,” said Dina reacting to the urgency in Christine’s voice.

“Nineteen hard blows later an out of breath Dina covered in sweat watched Christine writhe in orgasm, her fingers pulling her clit as she slammed the dildo into her pussy with all the force she could muster.

“A beautiful cock hardening sight, right Winston,” said a deep male baritone from the direction of the bedroom door?

“I totally agree. Nothing gets my Johnson hard faster than watching a couple of lesbians whipping the piss out of one another,” said another.

Christine turned quickly toward the male voices. She saw two black males dressed in business suits. Their ties were loosened and one of the men was holding his crotch. Apparently, they had been standing there a while. She recognized Alex, Dina’s husbands from his pictures. The other man looked familiar. Wasn’t he in some of the pictures, too? Embarrassed and unable to respond, Christine buried her face in the bedding.

“Get out,” said Dina confronting them while reaching for the bedroom door to close it.

“No fucking way, you don’t tell me to get out of my own home,” said Alex stepping into the room forcing the door open as he pushed his wife roughly back.

“Hi Dina, long time no fuck,” said the other black man.

“Hello Winston, this is so embarrassing,” said Dina sitting down on the bed starting to cry. “What the hell are you doing home early, anyway?”

“Computer failure shut down the stock market early so Winston and I decided to take off and see if we could get in nine holes before dark,” said Alex.

“You should have called,” said Dina lamely.

“Didn’t know I needed to call before I came home to a place I am paying the mortgage on,” said Alex.

“We were just having lunch,” said Dina.

“So that’s what they’re calling it now,” said Winston smiling. “Is this dessert or the entree?”

“Very funny,” said Dina. “Now, get out so we can get dressed.”

“No way, I’m hungry. All I had for lunch was a pack of chips out of the vending machine. You want some lunch, Winston?” said Alex placing his hand on his crotch and pulling down the zipper.

“The sandwich with the red butt looks appetizing. I’m in the mood for a hot lunch,” said Winston. Christine had not moved or spoken since the men arrived. At the moment, her face was buried in a pillow in a fruitless attempt to wish their arrival away.

“This is my friend Christine Chernier. We work out together,” said Dina.

“Hello Christine, Dina’s very good friend from the club, it’s nice to meet you,” said Alex taking off his suit jacket and tie. “The blonde child asleep in the crib with Jamal must be yours.”

“Hello Alex,” said Christine turning slightly to look in his direction. “Yes, that’s Michael.”

“This is my friend, Winston Burdette,” said Alex unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Hello Winston,” said Christine sheepishly looking his way.

“I see you’re into butt busting,” said Alex. “I like a good ass whipping myself now and then. Did Dina warm your rear up good?”

“I really don’t know what to say,” said Christine. “This is the most humiliating moment of my life.”

“What’s the play, Alex,” asked Winston watching Alex kick off his loafers.

“I figure instead of nine holes we play these two first. You in?” said Alex unbuckling his belt.

“I’m not supposed to play unless Nadine does too,” said Winston.

“She ain’t going to know because these two are going to keep their mouths shut, right, ladies,” said Alex?

“Christine is recently married,” said Dina. “She may not be up for taking on the two of you.”

“Last time I checked so were you,” said Alex stepping out of his trousers and laying them across a chair. “Married or not, Christine doesn’t have any choice. We caught the two of you getting it on and we intend to join in whether you like it or not.”

“As long as Nadine doesn’t find out, sure, why not,” said Winston beginning to quickly undress.

“Let Christine leave,” said Dina. “I’ll fuck you both.”

“Why should we let the new piece of tail run away? We’ve already fucked you in all three holes. A piece of strange would be nice. I come home and find you two rug muncher getting it on, with a little S&M thrown in for good measure. I’m entitled and so is Winston,” said Alex pushing his briefs down and stepping out of them. “We’re going to join in the fun.”

“Here, Christine Chernier, open wide, time to suck a real cock,” said a rapidly undressed Winston stepping to the side of the bed offering his penis to Christine’s face.

“Christine, I’m so sorry but I don’t know what else to do,” said Dina reaching for her husband’s cock.

“The old saying, when rape is inevitable, you might as well lie back and enjoy it, applies,” said Christine reaching for Winston’s cock to bring it to her mouth. She leaned forward to lick the head. Maintaining oral contact, she managed to slip off the bed to her knees.

“Obviously, your friend recognizes her situation and has decided to make the best of it,” said Alex pushing Dina to her knees. “Get on your knees, you pussy eating whore and suck my dick.”

“Its’ been an afternoon of surprises,” said Dina raising Alex’s cock to lick his balls.

“She’s good, damn good, and she’s noisy. I like noisy and I even like the fact she’s carrying some extra weight,” said Winston looking down as Christine’s licked and sucked his cock while making loud slurping sounds.

He wasn’t kidding about Christine’s figure. The roll of fat around her belly tickled his erotic fantasy.

“Tell me what a fat disgusting slut I am,” said Christine as she raised his cock up to swirl her tongue over his balls before she took one of his testicles in her mouth and gently massaged it with the insides of her cheeks.

“This fat whore has got technique,” said Winston raising one leg to rest his foot on the bed.

“Bend over and spread your legs wider so I can rim your ass,” said Christine.

“Bitch’s definitely ghetto hard core, eat my asshole, Miss Piggy,” said Winston shifting his stance, leaning slightly forward from the waist as he reached back to separate his buttocks.

Christine twisted her body to pass her head between Winston’s legs bringing her mouth to his anus. The sound of wet lips kissing the puckered skin of his anus while her tongue probed the center filled the room.

“Get in there, baby, and show me you ain’t afraid of recycling the nasty stuff either,” said Winston his eyes closed as he enjoyed his cock being stroked while a warm tongue probed his butt hole and licked the wrinkled tissue surrounding his sphincter. The knowledge he wasn’t too clean and that a slightly chubby white woman was playing his Rusty Trombone added to his pleasure. “Dina’s friend got not limits. She’s cleaning my dirty hole.”

“My brown eye needs some loving, too,” said Alex turning around and leaning over so his bottom faced Dina. He crouched down while reaching back to spread his buttocks.

Dina wrinkled her nose at the smell. The site of her husband’s heavily stained anus caused her to hesitate; but she was enough of a competitor not to be outdone by Christine. She leaved forward and passed her tongue over a narrow streak if dried shit. “Christine, you’re a bad influence,” said Dina after licking Alex’s sphincter clean. “Is eating butt popular in Europe?”

“Yes, especially among the young in Paris and Prague. In Berlin, there are clubs who specialize in recycling,” said Christine forcing the tip of her tongue past Winston’s anus.

“Christine, are you the one Dina’s been telling me about who’s married to a Frenchmen?” asked Alex enjoying the feeling of his wife’s tongue on his sphincter?

“Yes, Maurice is from Lyon, France,” said Christine taking Winston’s cock out of her mouth to lick his balls.

“Was what you were doing in here part of the workout program because if it is, I want to join,” said Winston?

“We should invite Christine and her husband to the next party,” said Alex. “Christine, do you and your man swing?”

“We haven’t before,” said Christine wondering how Maurice would respond to mate swapping. He’d probably be too particular she realized.

“But you’re into some real kinky shit,” said Alex holding up the leather paddle.

“I’m trying to get my cock sucked here, Mr. Kramer. Can you please hold your questions until I have emptied my nuts?” said Winston.

The room got quiet as the two wives performed orally. It was several minutes before Alex made a suggestion.

“Let’s swap,” said Alex. “I want to try out the new mouth.”

“All right, she’s got talent,” said Winston reluctantly stepping aside for Alex to take his place.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” said Dina before putting her mouth on Winston’s cockhead.

“Sometimes you get lucky,” said Winston. “Make a lot of noise like Christine. I like a noisy cocksucker with a lot of spit.”

The thought she was for the first time committing adultery entered Christine’s mind but she pushed it away. In the two years since she married Maurice she had been faithful except for Maurice’s brother. She’d assumed Maurice being both French and away from her for weeks at a time had not been faithful. French husbands were expected to have their mistresses. The only requirement was to practice a minimum of discretion and not publicly humiliate their spouse.

“Lick my sack,” said Alex lifting his cock then watching closely as Christine’s pink tongue swirled around his mocha colored testicles. “Are Winston and I your first black cocks?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Christine after thinking for a moment. There had been one fellow undergraduate student whose skin was very dark but whose racial identity was indeterminate.

“They say once you go black you never go back,” said Alex. “Black cock is a white girl’s crack cocaine.”

“Can the racial shit, Alex,” said Dina taking her mouth off Winston’s cock to speak while continuing to stroke it. “If blacks are so terrific at sex, why did you marry a white girl?”

“A brother just naturally gravitates toward white pussy,” said Winston.

“I love all cocks regardless of race, ethnicity or national origin. I am an equal opportunity cock sucker,” said Christine before taking Alex’s cock all the way to her throat opening and forcing the head into the narrow passageway.

“We got us a throat fucker here, Winston. A white girl who loves having black dick in her gullet,” said Alex enjoying the sensation of having his cock squeezed by Christine’s neck muscles.

It wasn’t long before Alex felt something about to happen he wanted to put off for a while. He stopped Christine and made an announcement, “Time for you to ride my pony.” Alex rolled onto the bed on his back and gestured for Christine to get on top.

“Play with my tits, please. You can hurt them if you like.” said Christine as she straddled Alex holding his cock in one hand as she guided it into her pussy.

“Nice,” said Alex enjoying the sensation of his cock sliding into Christine. He reached up to capture Christine’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He exerted sufficient force to flatten them causing breast milk to shot out on his chest. “You want a little pain with your cock?”

“Oh God yes, Alex, I want you to hurt me,” said Christine starting to rock back and forth. “Please hurt my nipples.”

“Dina, you didn’t mention your workout buddy was a down and dirty pain slut,” said Alex flattening Christine’s nipples.

“Didn’t know it myself until half hour ago,” said Dina straddling Winston and guiding his cock inside her vagina.

Oh God, I’ve missed real cock decided Christine. I don’t care if I’m not faithful to Maurice. I need this in the worst way. Her eyes were closed as she concentrated on the pleasure she was experiencing. Christine wrapped her mind around the idea that after months of having only dildos or her fingers in her vagina, there was a solid column of blood hardened male flesh of a length and girth comparable to Maurice’s inside her. Alex’s strong athlete’s hands were doing a more than credible job of inducing much desired pain to her breasts. Just enjoy the moment Christine told herself as she raised and lowered herself commanding her core muscles to squeeze and release the adulterous penis she’d welcomed into her body.

“You’re a good fuck, Christine,” said Alex. “Your pussy is tight and it loves being filled. I can tell. Some women are born whores.”

“It’s been a while but you feel so good inside me,” said Christine her eyes closed as she concentrated on the sensations emanating from her vagina.

“Swap time,” said Winston. “I want to see if my Johnson fits the new hole.”

“All right,” said Christine raising her body and moving over to straddle Winston’s.

“You dykes show us a big wet porn kiss, a real slutty one,” said Alex.

Dina and Christine turned to each other and embraced their tongues meeting in mid air.

“Spit in each other’s mouth,” said Winston.

The two men watched as first Dina spit into Christine’s open mouth then Christine responded.

“They’re both pig whores. Nothing like hot lesbian action to make a brother want to blow his load,” said Winston working Christine’s nipples hard as he thrust into her.

“Let’s switch to dog style,” said Alex.

It ended with Winston ejaculating in Christine’s vagina as he finger fucked her anus. Sensing his orgasm, Christine allowed hers to happen. At almost the same moment, Alex dumped his load in Dina’s vagina.

“I think we still got time for nine holes if we hurry,” said Alex hopping off the bed and grabbing his clothes.

“I need a shower. We’ll have to get a move on,” said Winston glancing at his watch then getting up. He picked up a piece of the unfolded laundry from the floor to wipe his cock dry.

“Hate to screw and run, ladies; but the links are calling,” said Alex picking up his briefs off the floor

“Nice to meet you Christine, thanks for the BJ and fuck.” Winston bent down and gave Christine a perfunctory kiss. “When you meet Nadine, I‘d appreciate your not mentioning this.”

“I won’t,” said Christine.

“Be home about nine,” said Alex kissing Dina and then Christine before grabbing the rest of his clothes and rushing upstairs.

“Bastards, they’re probably upstairs soaping each other’s dick and talking about what a pair of whores we are. Let’s wait until they leave before we get up,” said Dina cuddling up with Christine.

“Are you sure Alex and Winston aren’t from France,” asked Christine?

“Decatur, Alabama is where they grew up and probably would still be if it wasn’t for football,” said Dina. “I’d say I’m sorry but I don’t know what good it would do. Are you ever going to speak to me again?”

“It’s okay. Just relax and let me suck your husband’s come out of your pussy,” said Christine slipping down in the bed to place her mouth on Dina’s pussy.

“You’re into that too,” said Dina raising her legs to allow Christine to put her tongue inside her vagina. “You’ve surprised the hell out of me. I hope you don’t think I intended for any of this to happen. Oh, your tongue is so soft.”

“No, it just happened. I prefer life to be spontaneous. We’re still friends,” said Christine using her tongue to flick the tip of Dina’s clit before taking it into her mouth and sucking gently.

“I didn’t take you for the type,” said Dina enjoying the feel of Christine’s warm mouth working on her clit. This woman has eaten her share of pussy decided Dina. She is definitely bisexual.

“What type was that,” asked Christine before forcing her tongue deep into Dina’s come filled vagina?

“Well, for one thing, the type who would enjoy getting her butt paddled or licking semen out of another girl’s pussy.”

“If you don’t want me to do it, I’ll stop,” teased Christine.

“No, God no, don’t stop. It feels great. I’m going to come again. Just keep at it. It’s just that it’s pretty hard core and you seemed so innocent.”

“Everyone thinks I’m innocent but I’m not,” said Christine savoring the taste of Alex’s come on her tongue.

“Obviously, appearances in your case are deceiving. I would assume mine is not the first pussy you dipped your tongue into.”

“No, I had my first serious female lover at Smith but even before there were girls in my high school I made love to. I’ve been promiscuous since my high school freshman year. I used to worry about it. I even went to see a therapist.”

“He didn’t’ help.”

“She taught me how to eat her pussy and to enjoy my submissive nature.

“Were you strictly into girls growing up?”

“No, there were boys too but it was Dr. Michelle Collins who taught me about myself,” said Christine.

“And what did she teach you?”

“To take my pleasure in pleasing others and allowing them to hurt me would make it even more erotic. She taught me my sexual appetites were more normal than I thought. I have a true submissive nature. I find it difficult to refuse anyone.”

“Submissive, so instead of hopping out of bed and telling Alex and Winston to fuck off, you did what they wanted,” said Dina playing with her clit as Christine licked her vagina.

“It’s my cross to bear but I love it.”

“You won’t tell anybody that Alex and I are swingers,” said Dina. “It could hurt Alex’s career at the brokerage if word got around.”

“Of course not, why would I?”

“People like to talk. It all started when he was playing ball, wild parties, drugs, groupies, and girls so desperate to fuck an NFL player they’d offer to do his wife too. But we’ve been off the party circuit since I got pregnant and had Jamal.”

“Is that why Alex wants you to lose weight,” asked Christine?

“Yes, he says I’d embarrass him especially with all our friend’s skinny wives. His old teammates are pretty free when it comes to sleeping with each other’s wives and girl friends. He’s worried he’ll be the one with a fat wife nobody else wants to screw.”

“I think you’re beautiful just as you are,” said Christine pulling her labia gently with her teeth.

“It’s a male ego thing. Handsome stud like Alex needs a wife that complements him,” said Dina.

“Winston didn’t seem to mind other than us not telling Nadine,” said Christine pressing her thumbs into Dina’s vagina as she sucked her clit.

“He actually screwed me before Alex did. He and Alex go all the way back to Abraham Lincoln High School. They played together at USC. Now they’re both investment councilors and doing pretty well. In my opinion, Nadine is a controlling cunt who’ll fuck anything with a cock but wants to keep Winston for herself.”

“I love the way Alex tastes inside you,” said Christine.

“Alex is into three ways if you’re interested. I could set something up if you’re willing,” said Dina. “We could do some S&M. Alex likes his butt whipped and his balls twisted.”

“I’m willing. Until today I haven’t had a real fuck in over a year. I liked what we did this afternoon. And Lex may be adding some of my lingerie to his collection.”

“There’s another rumor about the club I wasn’t going to tell you but seeing how you’re into S&M, I’ve changed my mind,” said Dina.

“What is it?”

“A special weight and conditioning training farm operated by Peter Duchense,” said Dina. “It’s run like a boot camp.”

“What kind of training?”

“Very intense physical conditioning that leaves you buff by the time the course is over. They only recruit females who are into S&M and are seriously motivated to lose weight and gain muscle mass. They also teach Tantric Yoga and how to cook a healthy macrobiotic diet. It’s very complete,” said Dina.

“It sounds it. How did you hear about it,” asked Christine?

“Kathy Coleman, she used to live here but they moved to Los Angeles. She said it changed her life and saved her marriage. She and her husband were heavy into the lifestyle. They were serious swingers and got off going to this club in New York for BDSM play.”

“A boot camp for S&M, it sounds interesting,” said Christine.

“The training is supposedly pure hell. But there’s lots of the kind of sex you like. And since the fee doesn’t cover all the costs, Peter arranges for wealthy businessmen to come and pay to participate in some very hard core games,” said Dina. “Kathy said the games were the wildest.”

“Sure it’s not just a crazy story Kathy concocted? It sounds pretty unbelievable.”

“No, Kathy was pretty straight with me. I’d think you’d be a good candidate,” said Dina. “But you can’t volunteer to go. You have to be chosen. Lex scouts the girls for Peter.”

***

“How was golf,” asked Dina using the remote to switch to the ten o’clock news channel she preferred?

“Shitty, three over par, I had to birdie the final hole to get that,” said Alex sitting on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.

“You loose any money,” asked Dina?

“Only a couple hundred.”

“You should quit gambling with Winston. He always wins,” said Dina.

“Not always, that was quite a shocker this afternoon. I almost lost it when I walked in on the two of you,” said Alex. “Man, you were wearing that cunt’s ass out. I got hard just watching.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack. I’m still totally blown away at what happened. I almost pissed myself when she wrapped her lips around Winston’s prick like a horny high school cheerleader.”

“You told me a week ago, you planned to seduce her. Christine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, the woman who sucked and fucked you and Winston this afternoon is named Christine, Christine Wallace Chernier,” said Dina sarcastically.

“Don’t get pissed, baby. You know I’m terrible with names besides I remembered the Christine part. You never told me the rest. You said she was married to a French banker,” said Alex continuing to remove his clothes.

“I googled her name after she left. She has a PhD in International Finance and Economics,” said Dina. “She’s published two books on global economic theory. Woman’s got brains.”

“Did her PhD come with a masters in cock sucking? She’s no amateur when it comes to polishing a knob. Winston ranked her among his top five and the brother’s prick has landed in a lot of mouths. What did you do after we left?”

“After you two dropped your load and hurried out the door, Christine insisted on retrieving Winston’s from the place he left it,” said Dina.

“She went down on you again,” asked Alex heading into the bathroom.

“Yes, she gave me a tongue douche,” said Dina sliding off the bed to follow her husband.

“Nice, a cock sucking, come eating, pig fucking slut,” said Alex standing at the commode and starting to urinate. “Definitely, my kind of woman.”

“Watch your aim. I just mopped the floor. You left out the good part about how she likes a heavy dose of pain with her sex,” said Dina.

“Yes, now that is interesting. She’s like that girl Katrina that Rodney Stilton used to bring to the parties,” said Alex shaking his cock several times before heading toward the shower. “She used to walk around with clothespins on her nipples asking guys to spank her.”

“It’s a safe bet Christine’s nipples are on speaking terms with clothespins,” said Dina.

“So what’s the next step? Something you said would take weeks maybe months happened in a single afternoon,” said Alex.

“See if she’s up for a three way or invite her and her husband to one of the parties,” said Dina taking a seat on the commode and starting to urinate. “Funny, I planned to take my time seducing her, bringing her along slowly. I only gave myself a fifty-fifty chance to succeed. It was going to be a challenge. Start with a few kisses; press some flesh then ever so gradually get into the more serious stuff. The finale would be the three of us getting it on. Amazing, one afternoon and the horny bitch is raring to go”

“Have you met the husband?”

“Briefly, when I picked her up the other day, nice looking, very charming, not sure what he’s into. But I have the feeling whipping her ass raw is part of it. Girls like Christine are attracted to sadists.”

“Frenchmen love to eat pussy that’s just been whipped raw. They invented going down on red meat,” said Alex soaping up his cock.

“She said they had a paddle just like ours,” said Dina looking at her husband’s body. “Want company? I could wash your cock.”

“Sure baby,” said Alex offering her the soap.

Chapter 1 Rude Awakening

Chapter 5 Genevieve

“Are you a student, Mademoiselle,” asked Michelle, the attractive flight attendant as she handed Genevieve a cup of coffee. To Michelle, Genevieve’s seat in first class, designer clothes and stunningly good looks had seemed incongruous with the thick text titled Introduction to International Finance she was studying.

“Yes, and a part time nanny, I’ll be helping a couple with a newborn when I’m not in class,” said Genevieve taking the coffee intentionally brushing her hand against Michelle’s. Genevieve caught the look in Michelle’s eyes when their flesh touched. It confirmed the correctness of her judgment about the tall, strikingly beautiful woman’s sexual preferences.

“You are so beautiful. I took you for a model. You must like children,” said Michelle excited by the fleeting touch. Michelle had hardly been able to take her eyes off her since the plane left Charles DeGaulle. She had been thrilled when the girl sat in the nearly empty first class section that was her responsibility on the non-stop flight from Paris to Boston. She’s stunning thought Michelle as Genevieve took her seat allowing her short skirt to ride up.

“Among other things,” said Genevieve smiling as she visualized how Michelle would look in one of the club’s private rooms, naked, suspended by her wrists with her toes straining to touch the floor. Genevieve pictured the woman’s large breasts with the nipples captured in Nuremburg clamps with two kilogram weights stretching them downward causing the sharp teeth to bite into the soft flesh drawing blood. “Unless there is blood, it is not true sadism,” had been the dictum of the Master who had trained Genevieve.

Or perhaps instead of clamps, a breast press would have been better. The flight attendants breasts were large and a press would crush the flesh causing it to tighten. Once tightened, it would be time to bring out the needles, heat them in the autoclave and make her scream and beg. Genevieve felt her sex react as she pictured herself pushing a needle through the breast until it reached the sternum then slowly scraping the point over the bare bone.

Michelle’s question brought her mind back to the present. “What will you study?” asked Michelle wondering whether she would find the nerve to ask the girl for lunch or coffee before the flight landed. That would be risky. Air France frowned on crewmembers attempting to seduce passengers, especially an older female and a young girl obviously wealthy and perhaps connected to those in high places.

“International Finance, at MIT’s Sloan School of Management,” said Genevieve extending her hand. “I’m Genevieve Roches.”

“Michelle Dumont, MIT, you must be very intelligent as well as very beautiful,” said Michelle accepting the handshake.

“Thank you, but I’m hardly that. Friends and family connections got me in the program at MIT,” said Genevieve holding Michelle’s hand in hers, not letting go.

“You’re being modest. Perhaps we could meet some time and have lunch. I could show you around Boston,” said Michelle feeling terrified she might have stumbled into a messy situation that would cost her job but exhilarated at the prospect of such a beautiful conquest.

“I’d like that and later we could go somewhere and compare bracelets,” said Genevieve moving her hand quickly to capture the silver bracelet that encircled Michelle’s wrist. She twisted it to the side where the tiny points dug into the flesh causing intense pain.

“You’re hurting me,” said Michelle grimacing as the sharp metal penetrated the delicate skin of her wrist. The bracelet was designed to cause the wearer pain when it was tightened in a certain fashion.

“See, I have one, but mine is different,” said Genevieve allowing her sleeve to fall back revealing a bracelet almost identical in design but vastly different in its meaning.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I didn’t know. Please forgive me,” said Michelle shocked that someone so young and innocent looking would be wearing that particular bracelet.

“Nor do you know that I am not to be called Mistress where others may overhear,” said Genevieve.

“I apologize. I wasn’t expecting one so chic and beautiful to be in your position,” said Michelle. “Is there anything I can bring you, Mademoiselle?”

“A cognac and a piece of chocolate would be nice.”

“I did not see you on Avenue St. Germain last night,” said Genevieve when Michelle returned with two miniatures of Remy Martin and several pieces of Belgium chocolate. She was referring to the location of Club Justine, the exclusive sex club for sadomasochism. Their bracelets signified they were members.

“I had a family crisis. My sister is very ill. But surely you are not a member of the Paris club or I would have met you.”

“My home club is in Lyon; but I was in Paris with friends celebrating my departure,” said Genevieve.

“I’m sorry I missed you last night.”

“Yes, it might have been interesting,” said Genevieve picturing Michelle’s tightly bound arms thrusting her breasts out and perched on the club’s Spanish Donkey with ten-kilogram weights attached to her ankles. Her tender sex bisected by the studded metal apex of the wedge would be creating a nexus of agony so intense her entire awareness would be concentrated on that thin line where the metal touched her flesh. Genevieve wondered how long before she begged to be taken down. Would she last longer than the pathetic little cunt she and Nicole had played with last night? Of course she would. Michelle was wearing one of the club’s slave bracelets. She could have only earned it by demonstrating outstanding capacity to endure mind numbing pain.

It was two hours into the flight when Genevieve encountered Michelle on a visit to the restroom. A quick glance around convinced Genevieve no one was watching. She grabbed Michelle’s wrist and pushed her into the tiny compartment.

“Get me off,” said Genevieve raising her skirt then pulling the narrow band of her panty to one side as she sat down on the commode. Genevieve raised her legs planting the soles of her shoes against the wall bracketing Michelle as she noisily allowed her bladder to empty. The confined space filled with the aroma of fresh urine and the sounds of Michelle gulping down mouthful after mouthful.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Michelle displaying not the slightest hesitation to pass her tongue over Genevieve’s dripping sex.

“Who trained you,” asked Genevieve after several minutes of Michelle’s oral ministrations? Genevieve’s hand was on the back of Michelle’s head pressing her face against her vulva, smearing her fluids over the woman’s face.

“I serve Mistress Simone,” said Michelle. “Shall I do your anus?”

“Of course, show me how you perform for Mistress Simone,” said Genevieve relaxing back against the bulkhead as she raised her legs further and elevated her pelvis giving Michelle access to her sphincter.

Michelle murmured, “Yes, Mistress Genevieve,” before tracing the tip of her tongue across the wrinkled flesh of Genevieve’s rectal opening. Once the surface was sufficiently moistened she placed her finger in the center of the anus and applied a slight pressure. A sigh of pleasure escaped Genevieve’s mouth as she felt the first joint of Michelle’s index finger slip inside her rectum.

“Eat me slowly and well or I will not tell Mistress Simone to whip you till you bleed. If you do a good job, I just might give you a reward,” said Genevieve closing her eyes as she relaxed.

Genevieve’s orgasm arrived quickly but once there, she managed to make it stay for a while causing her Bartholin glands to dispense a thick and copious flow of fluids Michelle eagerly swallowed.

“That was satisfactory. Here is your reward,” said Genevieve leaning forward to kiss Michelle. As their lips met, Genevieve’s hand slipped into the flight attendant’s tunic then down into the cup of her brasserie. Her strong young fingers seized the nipple twisting and compressing the fleshy tendril. Once extended and vulnerable Genevieve angled her thumbnail into the soft flesh and pressed hard. It was a simple technique for causing intense agony Genevieve had learned by having it practiced on her. A hiss of pain escaped Michelle’s lips followed by a moan of pleasure.

“You may stand up now,” said Genevieve breaking the kiss and releasing Michelle’s breast.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Michelle rising to her feet.

“Raise your skirt.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You have beautiful legs but pantyhose, how ridiculous,” said Genevieve reaching out to run her hand up Michelle’s thigh.

“The company requires it, Mistress. It’s part of the standard uniform.”

“Take them off.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Michelle somehow managing in the small space to push her pantyhose down to her ankles, step out of her pumps then the hose. Michelle stood silently looking straight ahead while Genevieve pulled down her panty.

“Are these Mistress Simone’s,” asked Genevieve referring to the gold rings piercing Michelle’s labia and clitoris? Genevieve separated Michelle’s labia then flicked the three gold rings piercing each side with her fingernail.

“Yes, Mistress Genevieve,” said Michelle fighting to control her desires. Michelle would have loved to be groveling at Genevieve’s feet begging for the kiss of her whip.

“Provide me her email address along with yours. I will send her a full report of how you offered yourself to me like some pussy starved slut desperate to get her head between a young student’s legs. I’ll recommend she punish you severely for your disloyalty,” said Genevieve trailing her fingers across Michelle’s clit.

“Thank you Mistress,” said Michelle her brain reeling with the masochistic pleasure of the encounter. Pain and humiliation were her opiate.

“And if Mistress Simone does not object, I will give you my email address. Before each visit to Boston, email me your itinerary. I may have use for you while you are there. The husband of the couple I will be living with is a seneschal of the Lyon Club. Perhaps, he will deign to punish you.”

The prospect of being punished by a seneschal was exhilarating. He would know ways to hurt her she had not yet experienced. “Thank you, Mistress. You are most kind.”

“Now, unbutton your tunic and blouse. Expose your breasts.”

Once Michelle had slipped her bra up over her breasts, Genevieve spoke, “Now you may play with yourself. Get yourself off before you wind up going up and down the aisle begging some poor dyke to let you go down on her.”

Genevieve watched silently as Michelle’s fingers worked her clit and nipples. It wasn’t long before she climaxed. Once Michelle’s orgasm had run its course and she fell back against the corner, Genevieve quickly stood up, straightening her skirt. She unlocked and opened the door to find one of the male passengers waiting to use the lavatory. The man’s face registered his shock as he looked past Genevieve at a half naked Michelle whose hand was still captured in her crotch.

Genevieve stepped close to the man and asked, “Would you like to fuck that slut?”

“Huh,” said the disbelieving man.

“You are from Berlin,” asked Genevieve recognizing the Prussian accent.

“Yes, I am employed by Siemens,” said Oscar.

Genevieve brought her mouth to the man’s ear and whispered, “Her name is Michelle. She just ate my pussy. She gives excellent head. Do you want her to suck your cock?”

“Why yes, I do,” said the man having a difficult time trusting his senses.

“What’s your name,” asked Genevieve?

“Oscar Homolka.”

Genevieve’s arm circled his waist drawing him tight against her. “Oscar, there is one precondition?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Before Michelle sucks your cock, she wants you to piss in her mouth. Have you ever pissed in a woman’s mouth?”

Oscar looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes, once, the fraulein was willing.”

“Michelle is very willing. Aren’t you, Michelle?”

Michelle had not moved. She was still standing against the bulkhead with her skirt above her waist and her bare sex on display. She nodded her head in agreement.

“Michelle, this is Oscar and you are to do whatever he wants. When he comes in your mouth, don’t swallow it. Show it to me first.”

Genevieve pushed Oscar into the restroom. She waited until she heard the click of the lock before returning to her seat. A half hour later, a redressed Michelle appeared in the aisle beside her.

“Show me,” said Genevieve.

Michelle opened her mouth to reveal a pool of pearl white liquid resting on her tongue.

“Good, you may swallow,” said Genevieve watching Michelle immediately gulp down the liquid.

“How was he?” asked Genevieve.

“A German pig, he fucked me in the ass; then made me lick his filthy cock clean,” said Michelle.

“Excellent, you can always count on a Prussian to be brutal and cruel. Now bring me a blanket and pillow. I need a nap.”

***

Unable to sleep, Genevieve slowly pulled her skirt up and pushed the crotch of her panty aside. Her sex was still warm and wet from Michelle’s oral service. As her fingers slid into her vagina while the heel of her hand massaged her clit, Genevieve purred with pleasure.

A slight movement from across the aisle caught her eye. The distinguished looking man of the elderly couple was watching her. His wife was fast asleep. Genevieve found the idea of being watched by a stranger exciting. She shifted position so he could see more.

Deciding she needed further stimulation, she reached into her carryon bag, extracted an anal probe made of rings of graduated soft polymer and a tube of lubricant. She coated the probe’s surface with some of the lubricant then eased the pointed tip past her sphincter. Inhaling and exhaling in rhythm, she slowly pushed each ring into her rectum until her anus closed around the narrow neck holding it inside her. She clinched her sphincter enjoying the sensation of having her rectum pleasantly filled.

She purred with pleasure as she recalled the events of last night. She and her best friend Nicole had met at Bar Noir to plan their evening.

“I want to do something special my last night,” said Genevieve conscious that her looks and short skirt were attracting the attention of the other patrons. The two stunning girls, one blonde and the other brunette, were seated at the bar.

“I could call Rudi and Jeremy to see if they have anything planned,” said Nicole, recent bride of a prominent London banker, Jeremy Stewart.

“I reserved a room at the Club for later,” said Genevieve

“Rudi would like that. He adores it when you twist his balls,” said Nicole taking a sip of her vermouth cassis. “Jerry is always up for a good thrashing. That’s the English in him.”

“No, we can do that anytime. I want someone fresh; a married couple who have never known pain would be best. A man who has never had his balls twisted and a woman that has never been whipped,” said Genevieve looking around the room.

“Tourists perhaps,” said Nicole. “Paris is full of Americans.”

“And I know just where to find them. A new club called The Satyr opened in Montmarte a month ago. The crowd is absolutely depraved. A rich American owns it. It’s popular with couples who come here from the New York club scene.”

“A couple would be nice,” said Nicole. “Especially if they are on their honeymoon, madly in love and without a care in the world.”

Chapter 6 Lindsey and Wallace

“How do you like Paris,” shouted Genevieve sliding her naked sex down Lindsey’s bare leg as they danced? The Satyr’s dance floor was packed with bodies writhing to a techno beat. The girls were performing a leg over leg grind that hiked their short skirts to their waist. They took turns rubbing their sex on each other as they maintained the desperate rhythm of the music.

“We love it. This place is wild,” said Lindsey pressing her panty-clad sex against the top of Genevieve’s leg. “It’s a wonderful place to honeymoon. It’s the most romantic city in the world.”

“Have you known Wallace long,” asked Genevieve pressing her mouth to Lindsey’s ear passing her tongue over the curved surface?

“We lived together at Princeton for two years before we graduated. Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have worn panties. I want to do that to you,” said Lindsey conscious of the warm wet trail that Genevieve was leaving on her bare flesh.

“Here, let me take them off,” said Genevieve slipping her hands under Lindsey’s short skirt to take hold of the waistband.

“They’re watching us,” said Lindsey looking around. They were in a group of men attempting to dance with them. The floor was crowded and there was a constant movement of bodies as they touched together.

“Who gives a fuck? This is Paris not New York or London,” said Genevieve pulling the scanty garment down to Lindsey’s thighs then kneeling to help her step out of them. Genevieve pressed the warm damp material to her nose and inhaled Lindsey’s musk then tossed them onto a nearby table.

Several males took that as an invitation to become more aggressive. They pressed in against the two girls lifting their skirts to run their hands over their bare sex. Being fondled and even digitally penetrated by strangers in a public place was new to Lindsey and very erotic.

“Wow, I love this city,” said Lindsey separating from Genevieve for a few moments to find herself pressed against a handsome Spaniard. The man pressed his lips to her ear, whispered an invitation then pushed the tip of his tongue into her ear canal as he slipped his hand down her top to feel her breast.

Genevieve joined Lindsey in grinding her bare sex against the Spaniard’s leg. The girls continued to dance with various men allowing their partners to feel their sex. When the music stopped for a second, Genevieve grabbed Lindsey’s hand and led her off the dance floor to return to where they had left her husband, Wallace, with Nicole. As the girls arrived, Nicole had just finished sucking him off under the table. Genevieve embraced and kissed Nicole sharing Wallace’s essence.

“There’s the man I love more than life itself,” said a drunken and excited Lindsey before leaning to engage in a prolonged kiss with her husband.

“Here, have a taste,” asked Nicole kissing Lindsey’s mouth?

“What is it,” asked Lindsey sticking out her tongue?

“What does it taste like,” asked Genevieve?

“Right off hand I would say it is Wallace’s ejaculate. Don’t you just love that word? Ejaculate,” said Lindsey before smacking her lips. “I bet it’s a French word.”

“I love the way ejaculate tastes,” said Genevieve once more taking Nicole into her arms for a prolonged kiss.

“You girls are so fucking hot. It’s terrific we met. Tell me. Where can we score some quality blow? I’m all out,” said Wallace leaning back in the booth as he put his long arms around all three girls and hugged them.

“I know a place not far from here,” said Genevieve placing her hand on Wallace’s exposed cock. “But you’ll have to fuck me on the way.”

***

“Where am I? Where are you taking me?” muttered Lindsey as Karl carried her on his shoulder into the mansion located on the outskirts of Paris?

I must have passed out realized Lindsey in her drugged state. The four of us were getting it on in the back of the Rolls. Nicole and I were eating each other out while Genevieve was fucking Wallace. I shouldn’t have let that happen now that we’re married. But we agreed anything goes on our honeymoon. We’d settle down and act respectable after we return. Maybe it was the drugs that got me so screwed up. We’d just done several lines of Genevieve’s cocaine. Nicole’s tongue was driving my pussy crazy and she had her fingers in my pussy and ass. I was about to cum big time when everything went black.

“Where are we,” asked Lindsey again as they walked down a long hall?

“Somewhere, you’ll never forget,” said Nicole as they entered a room decorated in the style of the Sun King. Karl carefully laid Lindsey on a chaise glancing briefly at her exposed hairless sex and the rose tattooed above her clitoris.

“There’s Wallace,” said Lindsey seeing her husband lying on a nearby chair realizing Karl must have carried him inside earlier.

Unable to move but still vaguely aware of her surroundings, Lindsey watched as Karl moved to Wallace and started to untie his shoes.

“Are we going to fuck some more,” asked Lindsey as Nicole pulled her top off while Genevieve unzipped her skirt.

“I want to eat both your pussies while Wallace fucks me dog style,” said a now naked Lindsey as she watched Nicole and Genevieve begin to remove their clothes. Lindsey licked her fingers and placed them on her sex. As she rubbed her clit, she saw that Karl had removed his jacket to reveal an enormous pair of shoulders. Karl was removing Wallace’s clothes. “Is Karl going to fuck me?”

“We have other plans, Mon Cherie,” said Genevieve as she stepped into a tight fitting leather dress.

“Where’s Karl taking Wallace,” asked Lindsey watching Karl easily lift her two hundred pound husband and carry him toward a free standing rectangular frame in the center of the room? It was on a raised pedestal that functioned as a turntable making it visible from every angle.

“Somewhere he can watch us play with you,” said Nicole slipping her feet into a pair of five inch black pumps.

“Don’t you just adore the way Wallace’s tush sticks out? All the girls in my sorority used to call him Bubble Butt,” said Lindsey watching her now nude husband being chained to the wooden frame.

“Karl likes it too,” said Genevieve.

“You two are dressed alike. Is there a dress for me?” asked Lindsey admiring their attire.

“Sorry but you’re not a member,” said Genevieve turning Lindsey on her side. She and Nicole quickly removed the girl’s minimal attire.

“What are you doing,” asked Lindsey when the two pulled her arms behind her back and encased them in some kind of leather sleeve?

“It’s called an arm binder,” said Genevieve adjusting the leather to where it encased Lindsey’s arms from her hands to slightly above her elbows. The binder forced her shoulders back and thrust out her breasts.

“Ouch, it’s too tight,” said Lindsey her shoulders complaining as Genevieve tightened the laces.

“An arm binder can never be too tight,” said Nicole helping Genevieve pull the lacings tighter until Lindsey’s elbows touched.

“See how your tits stand out,” said Genevieve flicking Lindsey’s nipple hard with her fingernail.

“Here, let me show you something, I learned from Giscard,” said Nicole pulling a package of rubber bands from her purse.

“You still see him,” asked Genevieve pinching Lindsey’s nipples hard causing her to cry out.

“Every day, now that I work at the ministry,” said Nicole opening the plastic bag and removing one of the rubber bands. “Sometimes we do it in his office but lately, he’s been taking me to his place in Montmartre.”

“Is he still married to that pig,” asked Genevieve?

“Yes, I suppose he loves her. Anyway, he and I were working her last week at his place and he showed me this trick,” said Nicole stretching the rubber band over Lindsey’s breasts then pulling it back and letting it go.

“Fuck, that hurt. Stop it,” screamed Lindsey.

“Give me one,” said Genevieve reaching for a rubber band.

“Giscard is thinking of writing a book on how to use common home and office items in S&M,” said Nicole repeatedly flicking a protesting Lindsey’s breasts. Genevieve joined her and Lindsey’s screams filled the large room.

After a few minutes, Lindsey’s breasts began turning red.

“Have you seen this before,” asked Genevieve pulling and twisting Lindsey’s nipple then wrapping the rubber band tightly around the base of the extended nipple.

“Yes, Giscard did that to me at work and made me keep them on until we got to his place. Wearing them got me so hot, I jerked myself off in the Ladies Room,” said Nicole.

“I like it rough but don’t go too far,” said Lindsey who was feeling turned on in spite of the pain. She was feeling fear and that added to the eroticism.

“Mon Cherie, you look so beautiful in your arm binder with your nipples standing out. I must have a picture to show my friends,” said Genevieve taking a small digital camera from her purse. “Lick your lips and smile.”

“Yeah, they look hot but my shoulders hurt. You better loosen it,” said Lindsey looking down at her boobs to note the effect. Her shoulder blades were practically touching and her breasts were elevated. Nicole and Genevieve ignored Lindsey’s request as they each took a nipple in their mouth and sucked it. “Oh yes,” moaned Lindsey.

Paris is so much better than I expected thought Lindsey as she closed her eyes to concentrate on enjoying the sensation of having her nipples sucked. I’m glad I let Wallace talk me out of Mikonos. My breasts have always been so sensitive. I’ll have to remember the thing they did with the rubber bands so Wallace can do it to me. My nipples are hard as sapphires. Lindsey let out a loud yelp as she felt cold metal cover the top of her breasts. “What are those,” she asked looking down the cone shaped objects being fitted over the tops of her breasts?

The two continued to ignore her as they guided her erect nipple through the open top of the cone. Lindsey watched as Genevieve and Nicole each grabbed the tip of her nipple in their front teeth and stretched it out till it was a thin band of flesh.

“There,” said Nicole allowing the spring loaded clamp built into the device to snap shut on the base of Lindsey’s nipple.

“Ouch, that pinches,” said Lindsey as the metal saw teeth sunk into her areola.

“All secure,” said Genevieve pressing the tiny trigger on her side.

“Is this some kind of special brassiere,” asked a confused Lindsey wondering why Nicole and Genevieve were hurting her?

Genevieve and Nicole began to turn the wheel on the cone’s side. Slowly Lindsey’s nipples began to stretch away from her areola as the metal pressed against her chest.

“Christ that hurts. What the fuck’s going on,” asked Lindsey panicking when she realized that with her arms bound behind her back she was helpless?

“An Indochinese nipple stretcher,” said Nicole continuing to turn the wheel on her side while Genevieve turned the other. “It was first used in the brothels of Saigon because the Vietnamese were under the mistaken impression, the French colonists preferred long nipples.

“Take it off, now. It’s hurting me,” said Lindsey watched in horror as her nipples reached an inch in length.

“Don’t you want nice long nipples for Wallace to suck,” asked Genevieve? Each turn increased the pain level Lindsey was experiencing.

“Look, maybe we gave you the wrong impression. We’re not into heavy S&M. We’ll do any kind of safe vanilla sex you want but edge play is definitely out. God, what’s he doing to Wallace?” said Lindsey seeing Karl suspend her husband from the frame. Karl was kneeling in front of him attaching weights to his balls.

“Karl is securing Wallace to a St. Andrew’s cross so he can be whipped,” said Nicole.

“All right, we’re leaving. Get this crap off me,” said Lindsey horrified that her nipples looked to be over an inch long and translucent. There were drops of blood where the teeth had broken the skin.

“Stupid little American cunt, haven’t you figured anything out by now,” asked Genevieve before she landed the first of several open palmed slaps to Lindsey’s cheek?

It took a moment for Lindsey to recover. “You better let us go. I’m sure that even in France kidnapping is a crime,” said Lindsey responding to Wallace’s first scream as Karl landed a nasty looking whip across his back. After the blow, Karl gently stroked Wallace’s cock in order to associate pain with sexual pleasure.

“Shut up, you’re getting on my nerves,” said Genevieve slapping Lindsey so hard she fell off the couch. Genevieve belonged to the school of S&M that believed while whips, nipple stretchers, branding irons, etc, were enjoyable; they were no substitute for a good beating.

“I always like this part,” said Nicole lifting Lindsey by the hair then punching her in the abdomen. Lindsey wound up kneeling on the floor desperately trying to breathe.

“A good beating gives a sense of immediacy and personal contact,” said Genevieve again using Lindsey’s hair as a handle to lift her to standing. Genevieve had been trained in Savate, the French form of foot boxing. In a blur, she delivered a powerful blow to the side of Lindsey’s head followed by a straight kick to her groin. The top of Genevieve’s foot flattened Lindsey’s clit causing her to collapse in a whimpering heap on the floor.

“I think we should allow our guest to experience a Spanish Donkey ride,” said Genevieve.

“Karl, help us lift her onto the Spanish Donkey,” said Nicole. Karl reluctantly set his custom-made kangaroo leather whip aside as he hurried to perform his Mistresses’ bidding.

“What kind of Donkey,” asked a sobbing Lindsey thoroughly frightened as the mammoth Karl carried her several steps to place her on top of a wedge. The feeling of the cold metal bisecting the sensitive area between her vagina and her anus caused her to further panic.

“It will be a ride you’ll never forget,” said Genevieve bucking a leather cuff around Lindsey’s ankle.

“Hey, what the fuck,” said Wallace. Even in his drugged state, the pain in his shoulders and back was excruciating leading him to discover he was hanging by his arms. Cursing he struggled to his feet, fell, and then managed to rise and stay. Standing wasn’t easy in his condition. His feet barely touched the floor causing his six feet three frame to be fully extended. He realized he was also completely naked. Leather cuffs around his ankles bound them to the sides of the same heavy wooden frame he was hanging from. When he looked down, he saw leather straps separating his nuts. Several kilograms of weights were pulling his balls toward the floor. It hurt like hell. There was a shiny metal rod sticking out of his piss hole.

“Let me loose,” he bellowed, as he pulled hard to free himself. The fact the frame hardly moved at all convinced him to give up. Wallace had worked construction for his dad’s company in the summer. One quick look at frame’s construction and he realized it was hopeless.

A scream from across the room drew his attention. It was Lindsey and she was missing her clothes also. He recognized those two French hotties he and Lindsey had hooked up with at the club. They along with their chauffeur had placed Lindsey on some kind of wedge shaped contraption. He was looking straight at her and he could see she had one leg on each side of the wedge. The strain in her shoulders indicated her arms were bound tightly behind her back. That was causing her boobs to stick out and there was some kind of metal contraption on her nipples. He could see even in the dim light the tip of her breasts was extended several inches. And from the look on her face, she wasn’t very happy about her situation. That was confirmed when she opened her mouth and screamed that her pussy hurt.

“Hey, stop, Karl,” he yelled trying to recall their names. For some unexplained reason, the chauffeur’s name, Karl, came to him first. He recognized the completely bald head. He’d been surprised when they stepped out of the club and in response to Genevieve’s mobile telephone; a Rolls Royce had appeared driven by a livered chauffeur. “Thank you, Karl,” said the blonde when the bulky man opened the door for her.

But at the moment he wasn’t wearing his uniform. His bare torso rippled with muscles. He was handing the blonde something heavy and she attached it to the cuff around Lindsey’s ankle. Lindsey screamed again when the blonde let the weight drop down the side of the wedge.

“I can’t stand it,” screamed Lindsey. “Please, I’ll do anything you want just get me down.”

As his senses returned he could hear Lindsey begging. She was sobbing and in obvious pain. “Nicole,” he said aloud finally remembering the brunette’s name. It was Nicole who had given him the blowjob while Lindsey had danced with the blonde. “Genevieve,” said Wallace recalling how he had promised himself that before the night was out he was going to fuck the blonde. And he had in the back of the Rolls. Lindsey and Nicole had been on the opposite seat eating each other’s pussy like a pair of horny dykes when Genevieve hiked up her skirt and mounted him. Her cunt was tight and hot and he recalled how great it felt when she lowered herself. She’d pulled her top up exposing her perfect braless breasts. He’d sucked her titties while they fucked. It had been one hell of screwing and he’d blown a big load in her cunt.

It was after he climaxed she offered him the cocaine suppository. He’d never heard of such a thing but she’d produced the foil-covered object from a plastic case in her purse.

“You fucking French take your dope up your ass,” asked Wallace?

“It gets in the blood stream quicker. The rush is unbelievable,” said Genevieve. “You’ll be ready to fuck the three of us in no time.”

“How does it get in my ass,” asked Wallace.

“I’ll do it. Turn around and put your butt in the air,” said Genevieve.

Wallace had done as he was told. He relaxed as he felt her lips and tongue massaging his sphincter. Her hand was working his balls and cock.

“I’ve read you French like to eat butt,” said Wallace as he felt the suppository being pushed past his sphincter. Then everything went black until he woke up naked, chained to this crazy wooden thing and listening to Lindsey screaming her fucking head off.

When did everyone change clothes wondered Wallace realizing both girls were no longer wearing the same clothes they’d had on at the club. They were wearing identical short leather dresses slit up the side. There was some sort of insignia on the front but he couldn’t see it clearly

Wallace yelled, “Leave her alone,” in response to Lindsey’s loud plaintive cry of, “Wallace, help me.” Wallace repeated his demand only much louder causing everyone to look in his direction. Genevieve said something to Karl causing him to smile.

Karl continued to smile as he returned to Wallace. The Mistresses were allowing him to participate. They were both great beauties and women of the best character and families. Karl felt honored to be present while they entertained themselves with the American couple.

Behind him, he could hear the female begging to be taken down off the donkey. She hadn’t lasted long. No one did. The pain was too great. Once just to see what it was like he’d undressed and climbed up on the wedge. He’d carefully lifted his scrotum as he lowered his powerful body onto the brass-studded apex. Not too bad he told himself for maybe the first thirty seconds before the pain began to increase exponentially. In less than five minutes, he had slipped off the device, the area between the base of his balls and his anus a nexus of hellish pain.

Of course, the young female didn’t have the option of hopping off when the pain became too great to bear. Her arms were bound behind her back to where her elbows touched. Karl loved the effect of the arm binder. It made the young American’s breast lift. Thin trickles of blood from her overstretched nipples traced their way down her abdomen to her thighs. The Mistresses would decide when she would be taken down. And that wouldn’t happen until she was half mad from an agony so intense and unbearable she would agree to anything.

“What are you doing,” asked the man when Karl stepped in front of him?

Karl kneeled down in front of the man. He took the American’s scrotum in one hand and pulled down hard. “My name is Karl. Address me as such.”

“Hey, watch it, Karl. Look my name is Wallace, Wallace Treadwell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Karl. I’m not a homosexual but I have absolutely nothing against gays and lesbians. So would you mind stopping whatever you’re doing?”

“I am stretching your scrotum, Sir,” said Karl pulling with one hand as the other placed a three-inch metal collar around the loose tissue. As he closed the collar, Wallace’s testicles were squeezed tightly against the bottom of his ball sack. “You have low hangers, Sir. I dare say they will be hanging lower before the evening is over.”

“Christ, Karl, you’re ripping my nuts off,” screamed Wallace reacting to the pressure his testicles were experiencing. The collar was heavy and its weight added to the pressure Wallace felt.

“I assure you we do not intend castration,” said Karl slowly stroking Wallace’s shaft as he twirled the metal rod embedded in his urethra.

“What is that in my piss hole,” asked Wallace.

“It’s called a sound. It reaches all the way to your bladder,” said Karl picking up a tuning fork. Karl struck the fork against the floor, and then touched it to the exposed metal tip of the sound.

“Man, that feels weird,” said Wallace feeling his cock grow harder as the tingling sensation reached deep inside his groin.

“Yes, it is quite a unique sensation,” said Karl once more applying the fork to the sound.

“Look, I’ve got five hundred in American money and about that in Euros in my wallet. Get Lindsey and me out of here and its all yours,” said Wallace.

“No thank you, Sir, I’d rather suck your cock before I fuck you,” said Karl before taking the head of Wallace’s cock in his mouth.

It wasn’t the first time Wallace had let a man suck his cock. At Yale, he’d belonged to a secret society where the young men serviced alums who had achieved wealth and power. Wallace owed his position at Bear Sterns to an executive who had a fondness for Wallace’s manhood. Still, Lindsey was under the impression he was straight, even homophobic. “Lindsey probably got some money in her purse. You can have that too. That’s a lot of money for a chauffeur.”

“Driving for the Mistresses is only a hobby, a pastime that makes life enjoyable and interesting,” said Karl taking Wallace’s cock out of his mouth to lick around the head. “I work in the energy industry during the day.”

“Jesus, you’re getting me hard. Look, money is money. I’m sure you can use the cash. What do you do in the energy industry? You drive for the boss?”

“I’m the Director. What you in America call the CEO.”

“Christ, what’s with the chauffeur bit if you run the company?”

“A diversion, something that takes my mind off my company,” said Karl as he put his mouth around Wallace’s balls and gently sucked them.

“Fuck, what are you going to do to us,” asked Wallace?

“That’s up to Mistress Nicole and Mistress Genevieve,” said Karl licking his testicles.

“You not going to kill us or anything like that,” asked Wallace.

“No, of course not, Sir; but you may wish you were dead,” said Karl as he placed a cock ring around the base of Wallace’s fully erect cock and balls then tightened it. Karl continued to stroke the cock as he inspected and adjusted the ring.

“God, what’s that for,” asked Wallace?

“To keep you erect, Sir. Mistress Genevieve directed me to get you hard and make sure you remained that way. The Mistresses prefers the subject be fully erect.”

“So she and her cunt friend can fuck my brains out,” said Wallace.

“I am not privy to the Mistress’s plans but for now it will maintain your erection while I whip you.”

“Whip me? You’ve got to be shitting me. I’ll have you all put in jail.”

“That would be very unwise sir. You were seen using illegal drugs and they are in your bloodstream where they will be detectable for weeks to come. That’s a very serious violation of our civil code. I won’t cause any permanent damage but it will be very painful.”

“I don’t know whether I can stand it.”

“You have no choice,’ said Karl going to a nearby cabinet to remove one of the nine strand floggers with the special knots on each strand.

“Jesus, what’s that,” asked Wallace watching Karl?

“It’s a flogger. It might interest you to know that it’s of the finest quality, hand made from kangaroo leather imported from Australia. Observe, if you will Sir, the knot on the ends of each strand is called a Turks Head,” said Karl holding the end of a strand up for Wallace.

“Shit, a knot’s a knot,” said Wallace dismissively.

“You couldn’t be more wrong. These particular knots add greatly to the pain and they have an interesting history. The Ottoman Turks introduced them to Europe during the siege of Vienna in 1529. Each night, the army of Suleman the Magnificent would tie one hundred captives within hearing of the city’s walls and whip them to death with floggers whose strands were knotted as these. History says the Viennese were much affected by the piteous screams of the men and women. But they withstood the siege and saved Europe otherwise we might all be followers of the Prophet Muhammad. Would you like me to record your screams?” said Karl walking over to a small digital recorder.

“Christ, this isn’t human,” said Wallace.

“The recording can serve as a souvenir of your honeymoon in Paris,” said Karl pressing the On switch.

The first sound on the DVD was the snap of a whip followed by Wallace’s full-throated scream of agony.

“Are you enjoying yourself on your last night in Paris,” asked Nicole after taking a sip of the Grand Cru Bordeaux before returning her head to a position between Genevieve’s thighs. At the moment she was servicing Genevieve’s sex with her mouth. Genevieve was seated on an overstuffed couch with her legs spread wide. Her head was back and her eyes closed as she focused her senses on the screams of Wallace and Lindsey and the sensations created by Nicole’s practiced tongue as it coursed over her aroused female sex.

“They scream well together,” said Genevieve noting there was a pleasing harmonic between Lindsey’s high pitched cries of agony as the Donkey’s apex burrowed ever deeper into her flesh and the deeper, richer sounds of Wallace as the flogger peeled the flesh from his back.

“It speaks well for them making it as a couple,” said Nicole looking up from her position between Genevieve’s legs. “My Jeremy yips like a puppy dog when I ride him around our London flat. It’s quite charming.”

“Next time, I’m in London, promise me you’ll let me ride him,” said Genevieve.

“Of course,” said Nicole. “My cock is your cock.”

A particularly loud scream from Wallace drew Genevieve’s attention. “I love that sound. Is there anything more enjoyable than the sound a man makes when the whip rips the scream from his body? Wallace is holding up very well.”

“I prefer our little song bird on the Spanish Donkey. It’s a tune that begins with a strong high pitch and ends like the ravings of a lunatic.”

A sobbing and hysterical Lindsey was pleading to be removed from the Spanish Donkey while at the opposite end of the room, there was the regular sound of Karl’s whip followed by Wallace’s full-throated scream. Lindsey, as the spoiled and pampered daughter of a wealthy attorney was not used to pain and suffering especially of the magnitude created by the force of gravity pressing the rounded metal studs into the narrow area were her legs met. The agony was far greater than anything she had ever imagined.

“This is turning out better than I expected. They both express their pain well,” said Genevieve.

Chapter 7 Nicole and Christine

“Boston is going to seem awfully dull after a night like this,” said Nicole reaching into a nearby drawer to extract a double-ended dildo.

“Actually, I’m looking forward to it,” said Genevieve lifting her legs to allow Nicole to slide the head of the studded, double ended dildo inside her vagina. Genevieve hissed in response to the pain and pleasure of the rubber studs raking the walls of her vagina.

“Have you slept with Maurice,” asked Nicole taking a seat on the couch facing Genevieve? She placed the free end of the dildo in her entrance. The two girls grabbed each other’s hands to pull themselves together. Slowly, the dildo slid inward until their vaginas met at the halfway point. Nicole sighed when she felt her clitoris contact that of Genevieve.

“No, but I will. I plan to wind up in bed with the two of them,” said Genevieve licking her fingers then placing them between their sexes. She captured Nicole’s clitoris between the nails of her thumb and index fingers and applied enough pressure to cause Nicole to cry out. Nicole responded in the same fashion. The two girls faced each other refusing to acknowledge the intense pain until finally Nicole relented with a simple, “Enough.”

“No one can take pain like you, Genevieve, except maybe Christine. She’s off the charts when it comes to extremes,” said Nicole.

“You make her sound interesting. I can’t wait to get her face between my thighs,” said Genevieve.

“That shouldn’t be difficult. Christine’s any man or woman’s whore. I was shocked when I heard that Maurice Chernier of Lyon had married that American slut,” said Nicole.

“She suited him I suppose. And now that she has produced a male child, her position is unassailable. But I’ve never met her. I’m told she’s very beautiful and highly intelligent. But she got fat while she was pregnant. Madame Chernier says she’s disgustingly plump and her poor son deserves someone more attractive to screw.”

Genevieve and Nicole closed their eyes as they began a slow undulating motion rubbing their sexes together. The effortless coordination of the act indicated it was not the first time the pair had shared a double dildo.

“She is brilliant but it seems odd that someone like Maurice from one of the oldest aristocratic families would marry a girl whose idea of a good time was a visit to a youth hostel where she would spend the night hopping from bed to bed. She can be insatiable,” said Nicole matching Genevieve’s motion. “She is absolutely indiscriminate when it comes to whose cocks go in her.”

“I didn’t know that. Tell me more,” said Genevieve.

“At the institute, Christine was the easiest lecturer to bed in the entire university. They called her the American whore whose command of French did not include Non. She never refused anyone. All, including the young, old, handsome, ugly and even disabled were welcome. I attended her lectures. She was brilliant with theories that far outstripped the other professors.”

“We French can never resist an intellectual especially one who fucks,” said Genevieve as she slowly delivered open palmed slaps to her clitoris in time with the sound of the whip landing on Wallace’s flesh.
“But tell me more. I want to hear it all.”

Genevieve synchronized her clit slaps to the landing of Karl’s whips on Wallace’s back. She moaned her pleasure as Wallace screamed in pain then fruitlessly begged Karl to stop. On the other side of the room, Lindsey was pleading to be taken down from the Spanish Donkey. For Genevieve and Nicole listening to other’s agony while they pleasured each other’s sex was the ultimate sexual experience.

“There was a student who had been burned in an explosion. He was hideous. His face was horribly disfigured and his body was covered in scars. After her lecture, she grabbed his one good arm and forced him to accompany her to office. Once there, she stripped him naked, ran her tongue over his scars, then mounted and rode him until he ejaculated. She sucked the poor cripple’s cock until he was hard and repeated the act. She told me she found his hideousness irresistible.”

“You’re exaggerating. Maybe it was just talk.”

“I slept with her too, many times, even on the Metro,” said Nicole. “She loved to perform before an audience.”

“Tell me more.”

“Good figure with big breasts, very pretty face and eyes, and she’s an intellectual. She’s got her doctorate at twenty-six. Maybe that’s what appealed to Maurice. Or maybe it was the fact she is sexually submissive.”

“How do you know that?”

“The first time I met her was at the party at one of Rudi’s clubs, the one that caters to North Africans. He told me several of his Algerian friends were having fun with an American girl in one of the dungeon rooms. He said she was a pain slut unequaled in her ability to absorb punishment and call it pleasure.”

“Algerians can be exceptionally cruel. And so can I,” said Genevieve. “Hold your tit out.”

“True, these were recent arrivals from Algiers, friend of Rudi’s. Sex without screams was not sex to them. It sounds like our sweet little Lindsey has about lost it. She’s beginning to babble. No doubt this will be the high point of her honeymoon,” said Nicole as she squeezed her breast with both hands offering it to Genevieve while maintaining the rocking motion.

“A Kelly hemostat will look charming hanging there,” said Genevieve opening a nearby drawer to extract several of the surgical clamps. She expertly opened the curved tip as she took Nicole’s nipple between her thumb and index finger. She pulled hard to stretch the nodule as she rotated her hand, twisting the flesh tin the shape of a corkscrew.

“Did you know I would be in the mood to switch from S to M,” asked Genevieve.

“I sensed it. You did the last time we were together. I’ll join you tonight. Lindsey can last a while longer. If she goes mad, I’m sure Wallace can find a new wife,” said Genevieve crushing Nicole’s nipple in the clamp then locking it shut. “What were the Algerians doing to Christine?”

“Oh fuck that hurts. Now do the other one, please,” said Nicole rubbing her sex against Genevieve’s to associate the pleasure of penetration with the pain from her nipples.

“All right, but then I want you to do mine,” said Genevieve extending Nicole’s nipple with her fingers as she twisted it. Genevieve kissed Nicole before placing the curved edges of the Kelly hemostat at the base of the nipple then slowly closing and locking it.

“It hurts. It hurts but I love it,” said Nicole staring at the surgical clamps hanging down her chest pulling her nipples toward the floor.

“My turn, tell me about Christine and the Algerians,” said Genevieve handing Nicole a hemostat then taking hold of her breast and squeezing it to a point.

“Rudi asked me if I wanted to watch this crazy American cunt. Of course, I said yes. She’d been brought there by one of her graduate assistants. They were pretty drunk when they arrived. The assistant passed out. When he came too, Christine was on top of a table with a man between her legs and another’s cock in her mouth. You know what happens at Rudi’s place gets when a girl drinks too much. Every one fucks her to teach her a lesson. The graduate assistant declared the scene too bizarre and left; but our little Christine having exhausted the crowd informed Rudi she was interested in the dungeons on the second floor. She begged him to put her in the dungeon and torture her. The crazy bitch bragged she could handle as much pain and humiliation as he could provide.”

“And of course Rudi obliged her,” said Genevieve.

“At first he thought he’d teach her a lesson. See how long it took before she was begging to be released. He put her in the DeSade dungeon on the second floor. To start, they placed her in one of the wooden frames that makes it easy to get into all three orifices at once.”

“I’ve been in one,” said Genevieve. “You’re helpless and stretched until you feel like your spine will snap in two.”

“He put the word out there was a crazy American bitch upstairs who’d offered to fuck any man or woman who came to the disco that night. The club was crowded and quite a line formed. Rudi said it went on all night. The next morning, she challenged him to really hurt her; so he called in some of his Algerian friends to work on her.”

“And you arrived when?”

“A few hours after the Algerians had started on her. It was after lunch on Saturday. As I recall they were eight Algerians still present but I think there were more earlier. God know how many cocks she’d serviced. She had the look of someone who had been screwed for hours, totally out of it, fucked senseless. All her holes were too loose and sloppy for anyone to enjoy sex with her. She was caked with filth. She swallowed so much semen and piss she had this little round belly. Her vagina was inflamed and a rosebud was hanging out her butt. They caused that by shoving one of those dildos gay guys use up her rear,” said Nicole.

“You mean the kind shaped like a human arm,” asked Genevieve as Nicole first sucked her nipple before pulling and extending it.

“Exactly, he puts the name of his gay club on the forearm as advertising. Insertion must have hurt because she screamed her head off. As you can imagine, that caused the Algerians to laugh.”

“Enjoy,” said Nicole fastening the hemostat to the base of Genevieve’s nipple.

“I love it when you cause me pain,” said Genevieve as the burning agony of compressed flesh swept rose from the clamp.

“Have you ever been anally fisted?” asked Genevieve offering her other breast to Nicole?

“No,” said Nicole.

“Me neither, I wonder if little Lindsey has ever had a hand up her ass,” said Genevieve.

“I doubt it. Perhaps we should make that part of her honeymoon experience. But first finish telling me about Christine and the Algerians.”

“Her boobs were roped at the base with cord. The looked like big red balloons. Someone had pierced them with a meat skewer and her nipples were decorated with syringe needles, lots of blood. She was covered in whip marks front and back. Someone had put his cigarettes out on her labia. When I arrived, they were making her drink a glass filled with urine. She is definitely a hardcore masochistic slut. I decided I wanted to meet someone whose masochism was so extreme. After the Algerians had reduced her to a whimpering sobbing blob of flesh, I offered to take her home and take care of her. We became friends.”

“You said you and she did it on the Metro,” said Genevieve pulling and twisting the hemostats attached to Nicole’s nipples causing her to writhe in pain.

“On the way back from a party at one of the professor’s, we thought it would be fun to let the passengers watch us have sex. We ate each other out while two guys we didn’t know fucked us. God I love how this feels,” said Nicole as she kissed Genevieve.

“You mentioned a youth hostel,” said Genevieve.

“After the party, we got to know each other better. She invited me to lunch. We made love at her place several times. She was into heavy S&M role-play. One night, she asked if I’m in the mood for lots of partners. When I said yes, she produced two nun’s habits. We dressed up as Sister’s of Mercy but we were naked underneath. Then she drove me to a youth hostel on the outskirts of the city. We worked out way from bed to bed until the sun came up. My pussy was sore for a week and my jaw wanted to drop off. But not Sister Christine, she looked ready to try another hostel.”

“You’re getting me excited about my trip,” said Genevieve. “Living with the Chernier may prove to be very interesting.”

“You’ll wind up fucking them both. If Christine had been French I would have brought her to Club Justine,” said Nicole.

“I think the French only rule is antiquated,” said Genevieve. “It’s a global economy.”

“Now that Christine is married to Maurice, she’d be eligible if she lived here,” said Nicole.

The two were silent as they worked toward a mutual climax. They closed their eyes, concentrating on the screams of the two victims and the sensations created by the dildo and the hemostats. It wasn’t long before the two orgasmed together.

“We better get Lindsey down before she has to spend the rest of her life in the asylum. I’ll get some lubricant and we’ll have a fisting party,” said Genevieve catching her breath.

“And Wallace?” asked Nicole.

“Karl deserves a reward. I’ll tell him that cute bubble butt is all his,” said Genevieve.

***

“What is this place,” asked Wallace feeling the chill of the night air as Karl led him by a leash toward the doorway? They were walking through a narrow alley. Lindsey and the others were waiting in the Rolls at the entrance to the alley. Wallace was walking gingerly due to the slight pain he was feeling in his recently invaded rectum.

“A sex club where you will end your evening,” said Karl.

“What kind of sex club,” asked Wallace glad the alley was deserted since his only attire was a pair of leather boots and a dog collar? Wallace considered making a run for it or attacking Karl but both seemed pointless. Physically, Karl looked to be more than a match for him. He had no idea where he was and running around a strange city naked at night didn’t seem like a good idea. Besides, Lindsey was still in the car and they might do something awful to her if he didn’t do what they said. Poor Lindsey thought Wallace. It’s a good thing they gave her those painkillers to calm her. I though she had gone permanently off the deep end when they took her off the Spanish Donkey. She was babbling like a lunatic. And then those bitches stuck their hands up her pussy and ass. God I hope she’s all right.

“A private club for homosexuals,” said Karl as he inserted a card key in the electric door lock. “It is known for the aggressiveness of its patrons.”

“Christ, I’m not gay,” said Wallace. “Yours was the first cock I’ve ever had in my ass.”

“The members won’t mind,” said Karl opening the door allowing Wallace to enter first. “Think of mine as the first among many.”

“Good evening, Karl, said the very tough looking man standing at the reception desk as he extended his hand.

“Good evening, Hans,” said Karl shaking hands. “This is Wallace, an American. Rudi is expecting him.”

“It’s nice of you to join us tonight, Wallace,” said Hans offering his hand.

“What’s going to happen to me,” asked Wallace taking his hand feeling very self-conscious since both men were fully clothed?

“That will be up to your host and here he is,” said Hans referring to the older distinguished looking man who had just entered the reception area.

“You must be Wallace. Welcome to Club Rectum. I’m Rudi, a friend of Nicole and Genevieve’s. Karl, how are your lovely Mistresses? Express my appreciation for their gift.”

“They are waiting outside. Mistress Genevieve leaves for the United States tomorrow,” said Karl handing Wallace’s leash to Rudi.

“Am I going to be all right?” asked Wallace looking to Rudi?

“Of course, there are a dozen young men anxiously waiting to meet you. If you’re polite and follow directions, you’ll be back in your hotel in the morning with your bride. But if you misbehave, things may turn out otherwise,” said Rudi. “The club is full of North Africans tonight and they can get nasty if they’re crossed.” Rudi reached in his pocket to remove a small packet of two tablets. He handed the tablets and a bottle of water to Wallace. “Take these, it will help you get through the night.”

“What is it,” asked Wallace.

“Crystal methamphetamine, it will keep your energy up,” said Rudi.

Wallace looked the tablets a second then put them in his mouth and swallowed.

“I’m not going to be a problem,” said Wallace. The idea of resisting had been whipped out of him.

“Who knows, this may be a life changing experience for you. You wouldn’t be the first man to enter Club Rectum a hetero and emerge a homo,” said Rudi leading Wallace away.

***

“What is that place,” asked Lindsey watching her husband and Karl enter the building?

“A sex club for homosexuals,” said Nicole.

“No one can say they’ve really experienced Paris unless they’ve visited our sex clubs,” said Genevieve. “Club Rectum caters to the hardcore sado masochistic gay market. A friend of ours owns it.”

“Wallace is not gay nor is he into S&M,” said Lindsey despondently.

“Nonetheless, we thought it would make his honeymoon more interesting if he spent several hours sucking cock and getting fucked in the ass. Of course, if he cooperates, his cock will be sucked and there will be plenty of pretty boys with tight holes willing to accept his member,” said Nicole.

“Rudi expressed his gratitude for Wallace,” said Karl climbing back into the Rolls.

“He’s always such a gentleman,” said Nicole.

“Where are you taking me,” asked Lindsey as they started to drive away?

“Club Amazon,” said Genevieve.

“And what is what,” asked Lindsey feeling resigned to whatever fate awaited her?

“A sex club for transsexuals,” said Nicole.

“What’s the American expression, chicks with dicks? The three of us are going to stay there the rest of the night,” said Genevieve.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Lindsey.

“You’ve never had sex with a transsexual,” asked Genevieve?

“No,” said Lindsey.

“Then you should appreciate the novelty of sucking on a female’s nipples while impaled on his cock. Many of the Club’s Amazons are very beautiful and amazingly endowed. Nicole and I have reserved a private room.”

“Sounds like fun, I guess,” said Lindsey.

“And by morning, you will be back in your hotel with your husband. The two of you can spend the day resting and talking about your experiences in gay Paree,” said Nicole.

***

“How was your flight,” asked Christine when Genevieve emerged from Customs and Passport Control at Boston’s International Terminal.

“Excellent, I slept most of the time. My friend, Nicole Evermond, took me out partying last night and I didn’t get any rest,” said Christine as they pushed the luggage cart through the crowd.

“There was a Nicole Evermond in one of my classes,” said Christine.

“Yes, she said she knew you. She even told me about some of your adventures together.”

Chapter 8 The Basement

“Tell me about her,” said Maurice looking at the computer screen. He was seated at the desk in his home office. He’d just switched the video input from their satellite provider to the cameras mounted in his basement. The screen divided in rectangles each representing one of the four cameras mounted in the basement dungeon. He selected one and refocused it to provide a close up of the nude female’s face. She was obviously in pain. But who wouldn’t be. She was hanging by her wrists, her toes barely brushing the floor.

“She’s nobody really. A flight attendant I met flying to Boston. She’s a new member of the Paris club. The horny slut tried to pick me up,” said Genevieve who had just entered the study and taken a seat on the edge of the desk. Genevieve was dressed for the role of a dominatrix. No one would mistake her for the pretty ingénue often seen driving around Paris in an expensive sports car. Her blonde hair was swept back in a ponytail, styled close to her skull. Dark ruby colored lipstick matched her nails. A careful application of makeup had changed her appearance from innocence to sinister. A flogger hung from her belt. Her leather mini-dress open to her jeweled navel was slit to the waist on both sides revealing her brief leather thong panty. A pair of thigh high boots polished to a gleam completed her attire. “I noticed she was wearing one of our bracelets so I tested her.”

“How?”

“I had her eat me in the lavatory. Afterwards I made her suck a man off and drink his urine.”

“Who was he?”

“Don’t have the slightest idea, just a fellow passenger waiting to take a piss.”

“So how did she do?”

“Orally, I’d say she was competent. She got both of us off,” said Genevieve.

“You watched her with the man?”

“No, but I instructed her not to swallow before she proved her success. She showed up at my seat with a mouth full of cum and breathe stinking of stale piss that I graciously allowed her to consume.”

“She’s pretty enough, a nice lean figure,” said Maurice moving the camera up and down the woman’s body. “How old?”

“Your mother said you were a stickler for details so I came prepared,” said Genevieve taking a piece a paper out of her pocket and reading. “Michelle Agnes Dumont is thirty-two years old. She was born in Rouen. At age twelve, she, along with her two brothers and three sisters, relocated to Paris when father Eduard took a position as a minor official in the Ministry of Transportation. Papa’s a transportation engineer. Mother Marie is a dietician. Michelle was married for five years to Jean-David Dumont who was killed in a train accident of all things. What an absolutely hysterical coincidence. Air France has employed her for ten years where she has received several promotions and excellent reviews by her superiors. According to Mistress Simone LeCarre, her membership sponsor, she is a high pain threshold submissive who should give us outstanding pleasure.”

“Mistress Simone, I know her. She’s very experienced,” said Maurice. “If Michelle was trained by Simone, we should be in for an interesting afternoon.”

“According to Simone, since her husband’s death, Michelle is changing into a lesbian with an aversion to sex with males. At their last session, Simone arranged for Rudi and a dozen of his North African friends to whip and gang rape her. They made a video of it. I can get a copy if you like.”

“A video could be entertaining. With what result?”

“Close to a nervous breakdown and a case of gonorrhea, since cured,” said Genevieve. “We should get started. Aren’t you worried your wife might come back and spoil things?”

“Christine isn’t due back for hours. And it wouldn’t matter if she came back,” said Maurice.

“She wouldn’t object if she found us enjoying ourselves with Michelle,” said Genevieve?

“Christine would understand,” said Maurice. “And maybe even be allowed to participate.”

“Your mother doesn’t like her, you know. She calls her the American whore my son married.”

“Christine is an American and definitely a whore but also a woman of accomplishment,” said Maurice becoming defensive. “My choice of a wife is my business.”

“My friend Nicole says her sexual accomplishments at the university have never been matched. Your wife slept with more students and faculty than anyone before or since. Completely indiscriminate, men, women, fat, thin, young, old, handsome or ugly, she never said no. She was something of a legend around the college.”

“And how would Nicole know?”

“You forget she was at the same college where Christine was teaching.”

“Did Nicole sleep with Christine?”

“As a matter of fact she did several times. They did it a parties and once on the Metro. They even engaged in a night of bed hopping at a youth hostel. Nicole said they fucked a least one person from each of the EU countries. According to Nicole, it was Christine’s idea. Something she’d done several times before. So why did you marry such a slut? You must have known.”

“Of course I knew. Her omnivorous sexual appetite was part of her appeal. I knew it could be trained and directed to my needs. There were other reasons. She has an exceptional mind. She received her doctorate in her mid twenties and has two published books on global economic theory to her credit. Potentially, she is a future Nobel Prize winner in Economics. She has also given me one healthy, beautiful son with dual citizenship and there are prospects for more. Christine had three brothers, her mother four and her father four. Plus I was and am still intrigued by her.”

“So her voracious appetite for sex was part of her appeal along with her potential for breeding male Cherniers and her academic achievements. I suppose there are worse reasons to choose a wife.”

“How are the two of you getting along?”

“Remarkably well, given that she suspects I’m having sex with her husband. I’m not sure what she thinks of me. I suppose the two of us will eventually wind up in bed together,” said Genevieve.

“You find her attractive, too.”

“Definitely, I am looking forward to getting her head between my legs. Christine is very beautiful, especially the eyes. She’s losing weight and toning up. Her body is becoming more defined. Her biceps and triceps are visible. She’s serious about regaining her figure.”

“Yes, to please me,” said Maurice.

“I wonder who she is screwing since you refuse her. She strikes me as the type of whore who needs her hole filled frequently. Probably some stud at the Health Club is taking care of your precious Christine.”

“Just because we are in the land of the Puritans is no reason to act like one. Why should I care who my wife is screwing as long as I don’t read about it in the media?”

“Does she know you’re fucking me?”

“Of course, she saw me kissing you in the kitchen the other day and as I recall my hand was down your blouse like this,” said Maurice reaching into Genevieve’s décolletage to grasp her breast. His long slender hand wrapped itself around the soft mound of tissue capturing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Squeezing hard as he turned his wrist causing pain simultaneously in the base and areola, he calmly asked, “Whom are you fucking beside me?”

Genevieve slowly exhaled allowing the pain in her breast to transform into sexual pleasure that warmed the area between her legs. She took a second slow breath to maximize the warmth before she replied.

“So I’m not the only nouveau Puritan, the lady on your screen for one. I spent an evening in her hotel room riding her face. I think we’ve kept her waiting long enough. She’ll not be any fun if we’ve dislocated her shoulders,” said Genevieve removing Maurice’s hand.

“I’ll change,” said Maurice standing up.

***

“Michelle, this is Master Maurice Chernier,” said Genevieve entering the room. “He is my cousin and a member of the Lyon Club. In fact his grandfather founded Club Justine.

“Master Chernier, it is a great honor,” said Michelle lowering her eyes at the sight of Maurice clad in the leather doublet of one of the club’s seneschals. Michelle’s arms ached horribly from being suspended.

“Lower her, Genevieve. I’ll begin with the whip. Put her on the bench,” said Maurice.

Michelle’s eyes followed Maurice as he stepped to a wall cabinet, opened it and selected from the dozen or so whips.

Genevieve pressed the hoist’s control button. There was a barely audible whirring sound as the electric motor lowered her slowly to the floor.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said Michelle as soon as her feet touched and the horrible strain in her arms and shoulders was relieved.

In a blur, Genevieve grabbed the short flogger off her belt and struck Michelle hard across her body. “Cunt, who gave you permission to speak,” demanded Genevieve screaming at the top of her voice?

Michelle’s body contorted as her hands grasped the places the nine strands landed. Seconds later a second blow on the opposite side of her torso ripped a scream from her throat. “I’m sorry, Mistress. Forgive me,” cried a sobbing Michelle clutching her breast where one of the flogger’s strands had done particular damage.

“Assume the first position,” said Genevieve. “The punishment for speaking out of turn is five and you will count aloud each one.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Michelle quickly kneeling down and sitting back on her ankles then bending over to place her forehead against the floor in the classic kowtow position.

“Mistress Simone taught her well,” said Maurice observing the scene.

Michelle managed a reasonably controlled shout of ‘One’ when Genevieve’s first blow landed on her back. That was in spite of the fact the strands of tanned kangaroo leather created a firestorm every place they touched. The cry of ‘Two’ was tinged with only a slightly greater degree of desperation. But someone in agony unquestionably put voice to the ‘Three’. Only a well-trained slave who had experienced the penalty for not counting satisfactorily could have sounded the ‘Four’ and the ‘Five’ that Michelle screamed as the final two blows reddened her back. She rolled on her side sobbing in pain after Genevieve finished.

“Excellent,” said Maurice.

Both Maurice and Genevieve were keenly aware of the difficulty of maintaining the count when your brain was completely focused on the white-hot pain caused by the whip. Like all new members, they had begun their club apprenticeship with slave training. Maurice recalled the day not very long ago when his Uncle Etienne and Aunt Chloe had stood over him delivering blow after blow until he learned that the only way to stop the pain was to mentally form the count into a scream and then release it the instant the whip landed.

“Back or front,” asked Genevieve lifting a sobbing Michelle off the floor by her hair?

“Front,” said Maurice enjoying the panicked look in Michelle’s face at the prospect of his whip landing on her sensitive breasts and sex.

Maurice had purchased the whipping bench from the venerable London firm of Whittier & Coopers, Ltd. Implements of torture were one area where Maurice’s preference for all things Gallic was overcome by the realization English made dungeon products were superior in every aspect from design to construction to quality of materials.

It was the first actual use of the bench since its installation by the company’s representatives. The tubular frame was made of a lightweight titanium alloy. The padded areas were covered with the best leathers chemically treated to resist stains from body fluids. It was the latest model with a host of new features and it was necessary to carefully study the instructional DVD. Maurice noted with satisfaction the professionalism with which Genevieve went about buckling the many straps around Michelle’s arms and legs. His mother’s opinion, “Genevieve is a born sadist,” was proving to be true.

“Good and tight,” said Genevieve delivering a forceful open palmed slap to Michelle’s abdomen that was now pointing directly toward the basement ceiling. Her legs were spread apart and angled downward as were her arms.

“Bind her hair,” said Maurice after inspecting the result. “I don’t want her head bobbing about.”

Genevieve opened the built in accessory drawer and removed one of the items. She carefully gathered Michelle’s hair in one hand, encircled it with the spring-loaded clip then triggered the release. An audible click was followed by a loud, “ouch,” as Michelle’s hair was captured and pulled tight. Genevieve’s arm muscle showed the strain as she inserted the S-hook at the end of the elastic cable in the hair clip’s O-ring then released it. The visible tautness of the tendons in Michelle’s neck demonstrated the force that was now holding her head immobile.

“You’ve very privileged, Michelle, to be the first slave in my new whipping bench,” said Maurice walking between Michelle’s outstretched legs to rest his hand on her sex.

“I thank you for affording me the honor, Master,” said Michelle.

“I would say a worthless slave like you does not deserve such an honor. Is it true that you attempted to seduce Mistress Genevieve on the flight?”

“Yes, Master.”

“The behavior of a slut, a stupid horny cunt, who is a disgrace to both her employer and her native country, do you agree,” asked Maurice allowing his fingers to explore Michelle’s sex? The fact her vagina had self-lubricated to the extent his fingers slid easily inside her opening was not lost on Maurice or how her sex pressed around his finger once it was within her body.

“I agree with Master,” said Michelle suppressing a desire to moan and fighting to stay in control.

“Is your mother also a whore,” asked Maurice exchanging his fingers for the whip handle? It was thick with an uneven knobbed surface, especially at the base. Designed to cause discomfort, Maurice forced it in a squirming Michelle.

“She had a lover at the factory where she worked, Master. Yes, my mother is a whore,” said Michelle following the club’s strict rule about honesty. Lying to a Master was considered one of the worst offenses a slave could commit.

“And how do you know this,” asked Maurice twisting the handle as he pushed it deeper to where it rested against her cervix?

“I saw her once at the park. I was on my way home from school and had taken a shortcut. They were in his car talking when all of a sudden she disappeared. It was obvious what she was doing.”

“And what did you do,” asked Maurice capturing Michelle’s clit between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed hard pressing his thumbnail into the base as he pulled the nodule of flesh away from its mounting.

“Mercy, Master,” cried Michelle sounding a sharp cry of distress. Maurice pulled harder and the appendage slipped out of his fingers.

“Answer my question, Michelle,” said Maurice re-establishing his hold on the base of her clit.

“I told my father, Master,” said Michelle breathing hard to control the pain.

“What exactly did you tell him,” asked Maurice? “Genevieve, a surgical clamp please.”

“I told him I saw Mother sucking Mr. Benoit’s cock, Master.”

“Here, Master,” said Genevieve handing Maurice a Kelly hemostat with a curved tip.

“How did he react?”

“He slapped my face and told me I was never to spy on her again.”

“Spoken like a true Frenchman,” said Maurice taking the hemostat from Genevieve. He placed the metal prongs on each side of Michelle’s outstretched clit then closed the clamp locking the handle. Once again, Michelle sounded a sharp little scream. Her breathing became more rapid and drops of perspiration appeared on her brow.

“Were you an adulteress before your husband Jean-David was killed,” asked Maurice beginning a regular motion of thrusting the whip handle into her vagina as he pulled and twisted the hemostat?

“Yes, Master,” said Michelle. “I continued to sleep with an ex boyfriend.”

“And after his death,” asked Maurice.

“I had many lovers, Master.”

“Men or women?”

“Both, Master, mainly men at the start then mostly women.”

“And when you saw Genevieve on the plane, you wanted her,” asked Maurice sensing that Michelle was becoming aroused to the point of orgasm.

“Yes, Master. Mistress Genevieve is very beautiful.”

“Would you like to lick her sex while I whip your pussy?”

“Yes, Master,” said Michelle.

“Genevieve, spread her sex,” said Maurice abruptly pulling the whip handle from Michelle vagina as he released the hemostat then stepped away. The sudden release of the clamp allowed the blood to rush back into the crushed capillaries sending the nearby nerve endings into a paroxysm of pain. Michelle writhed back and forth to the limited extent her restrains allowed.

Genevieve retrieved what she needed from the accessory drawer and in less than a minute Michelle’s sex was opened like a flower in bloom. Small saw tooth clamps applied to her labia major tethered to elastic cables spread her sex in a way that was heartbreakingly beautiful and terribly vulnerable.

Maurice smiled, pleased with his purchase from Whittier & Coopers, Ltd. He felt his cock stir as he looked upon Michelle’s open vulva. He considered whether Michelle or he would receive the greatest pleasure from what was about to happen. As he uncurled the whip, he knew the answer was Michelle and hated her for it.

***

Why not me thought Christine staring at the screen? She’d arrived home minutes ago to find Maurice and Genevieve’s cars in the garage but no one obviously home. After she checked on Michael who was sound asleep in his crib she followed her ears to the home office.

Ignoring the possibility she’d find Maurice and Genevieve making love; she entered the office to discover the noises were coming from Maurice’s computer. Thinking it was another of Jean-Paul’s Russian mafia DVDs, Christine sat down at the desk to watch.

It took only seconds for her to understand what she was watching. Genevieve was kneeling in front of Maurice sucking his cock as he whipped a naked female restrained face up across the whipping bench. Christine knew from experience the excellence of Maurice’s skills with a whip. The front of the restrained female’s body from her neck to her thighs was covered with red stripes. Her labia were stretched open with alligator clamps and there were several red marks on her sex.

Who the fuck is she wondered Christine as she gently touched the controls to change the camera angle and tighten the focus on the woman’s face. I’ve never seen her before but she is very pretty. Christine further tightened the focus. Each time the whip landed the woman’s mouth opened and an ungodly scream of pain escaped. Christine’s jealousy grew as she looked in the woman’s pain-filled eyes.

She’s a submissive and she’s where I should be. Where there’s the pain and only pain and nothing else exists. It’s a good thing Lex tortured me with electricity at his place or I would be downstairs on my knees begging Maurice to let me join her.

Christine realized her hand was unconsciously stroking the crotch of her workout shorts. Needing more contact, she slumped back in the chair and raised her hips in order to slide them off. Half naked she dangled her legs over the chair arms. Christine delivered a powerful open palmed slap to her vulva then followed it with an even harder blow. Her other hand reached under her bra to grasp and twist her nipple. She slipped two fingers in her vagina, coated them generously with her fluids then placed them on her tongue. The smell of Lex’s cock and the taste of his semen filled her senses and reminded her of the wonderful things he had done to her mere hours ago. She began to stroke her sex as she watched the scene in her basement.

The scene below had changed. The woman’s immobilized head was jerking slightly as Maurice brutally thrust his cock in her mouth. It was the kind of savage skull fucking he loved. The woman was choking each time he drove his cockhead into her throat. She’s a submissive like me realized Christine or she wouldn’t be there.

Christine gimbaled one of the four cameras to focus on Genevieve. Genevieve’s youthful face expressed her delight and erotic feelings as she repeatedly caned the woman’s butt. Christine recalled the time in the chateau’s dungeon when Maurice and Jean Paul had caned her to the verge of madness while making her choke on their cocks.

Curious, Christine muted the sound to listen if she could hear the screams coming through the floor. There was only silence. Excellent thought Christine recalling the day the soundproofing was installed and her conversation with the builder.

“What you going to be doing down here, Mrs. Chernier,” asked the grinning subcontractor Maurice had hired to build out the basement? He was a well-built Italian and if circumstances had been different, she might have been interested in more than his construction skills. Thick sheets of the same soundproof material used in the bank’s coin counting rooms were being cut and fitted between the ceiling joists and wall studs.

Christine could tell from the look on his face, this was not the first time he’d soundproofed a home dungeon where there was a concern loud screams would bring the neighbors or even the police.

“My husband’s hobby is woodworking. He doesn’t want the noises to disturb anyone especially our infant son,” answered Christine.

“Well, this stuff will definitely absorb and suppress the sound. You could scream your head off or operate a lathe and nobody will hear a thing,” said the man smiling at Christine.

Whipping the fluids in her vagina to froth, Christine imagined herself rushing downstairs to throw herself at Maurice’s feet. She begged to take the woman’s place or be whipped alongside her. Maurice and Genevieve could strap them together their faces buried in each other’s sex then lash the two of them at the same time. Christine, her face covered with the submissive’s fluids would find herself screaming her pain into an open dripping vagina. Maurice would encourage Genevieve and even the other submissive to hurt and humiliate her.

Christine’s fingers established the right rhythm as she played with herself. One set of fingers worked her clit while the others rubbed her G-spot. On screen, Genevieve’s hand was forcing its way inside the woman’s vagina. Christine was no stranger to the fisting ritual practiced by the femmes of Paris. She’d both witnessed and experienced it in the bars and sex clubs catering to the city’s female homosexuals. In the places patronized by the wealthy fashionable lesbians, exotic oils created by the city’s perfumers were used to lubricate the vagina. But in the clubs catering to the diesel dykes and leather girls, the girl was only permitted to spit on the invading hand.

“You’re still a virgin until a woman has put her fist in your womb,” was the challenge issued by the beautiful lesbian professor who offered to help Christine explore the dark under world of Paris’ most depraved homosexual clubs.

At Club Garbo, the fisting ritual was performed to Ravel’s Bolero. The supplicant was restrained in an antique wooden structure especially designed for the event. The sponsor stood between the outstretched legs. Two others stood to each side with a breast flogger. Silk chords bound the base of the breasts tightening and making them more vulnerable to the thin strands of the whips. Christine recalled her ritual deflowering by the tall mannish professor as hell on earth.

It began with a single finger inserted in the vagina while the female’s breasts were whipped with small floggers. After ten slow sensuous strokes of whip and finger, a second finger was added. The twenty-first required three fingers and the thirty-first all but the thumb. The fingers went deeper each time keeping with the rhythm of the music and synchronized to the floggers. Usually by the time, the count reached thirty; the femme’s breasts had turned red and began to swell.

If the girl were a novice, she would be offered a chance to stop at that point and try again later. But if she agreed to go on then any subsequent loss of nerve or the ability to withstand the pain was treated harshly. Christine had witnessed the failure of a beautiful Italian student who was in one of her classes. At forty-two she had called a halt unable to endure the twin agonies of her whipped breasts and the large female hand forcing its way into such a narrow passage. The audience cursed and spat upon her. She was brutally beaten by the onlookers. Covered in her own blood she was thrown out into the street naked. But for Christine and others like her, the forty-first stroke saw the insertion of four fingers and the thumb into the vagina. The pressure was increased as the palm slowly disappeared until exactly on the fiftieth stroke the woman’s opening was stretched tightly around her lover’s wrist. At that point, the breast flogging stopped.

Next came the coup de main as the elongated hand was formed into a fist and pushed to the walls of the cervix. Success resulted in champagne for everyone or beer in the case of a diesel dyke.

Obviously, Michelle was no stranger to the ritual. Genevieve’s hand had disappeared inside her. The flexing of the tendons in Genevieve’s arm signaled the formation of a fist. Michelle’s face reflected the agony of its journey deep into her womb. But Genevieve’s fist was not Michelle’s only torment. Surgical clamps were attached to her nipples. A Whitehead gag forced her mouth open. Maurice slowly rotated and pulled on the nipple clamps as he thrust his cock into her wide-open mouth.

Christine’s imagination took over her being and put her in the strange woman’s place. Her breasts felt the pressure of the cruel clamps as her flesh was painfully stretched and twisted. Her vagina was filled with Genevieve cruel fist and her mouth with Maurice’s hard cock. She slipped off the chair as she orgasmed. Rolling over and over it was several minutes before it ended.

***

“You’ve done well. You may bring yourself to orgasm,” said Maurice. Michelle’s loud moans reflected her effort to slowly raise then lower herself over the gigantic studded dildo mounted on a rounded padded bench she straddled. Moments before she begged not to be impaled on such a phallus, but they had ignored her entreaties. Holding her legs spread they had positioned it in her opening. Once the pointed cockhead was barely inside the narrow opening, Genevieve pushed down on her shoulders as she begged for mercy. But once impaled, she accepted her fate and found pleasure in having her vagina expanded to its maximum width.

“Thank you, Master,” said Michelle her voice unable to hid her desperate need for relief. One of Michelle hands moved immediately to her sex while the other reached back to her empty hole. She forced two fingers past her sphincter as she stroked her clitoris.

“Smile and stick out your tongue as you cum,” said Genevieve clicking still images onto the memory stick of her digital camera. “I promised Mistress Simone something interesting for her photo album.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Michelle attempting to smile while she endured the pain of having her vagina stretched to an obscene girth. Michelle was glad Genevieve would be driving her back to the airport hotel. She didn’t think she was capable of driving herself. Once there, she would take a handful of painkillers and sleep until she had to get ready for a midnight departure. She straightened her back lifting her badly bruised breasts as she posed for Genevieve.

Maurice’s keen senses and peripheral vision had noted the slight swivel of the video camera and the refocusing of the lens. He half expected Christine to burst into the basement begging to share in Michelle’s punishment. Perhaps it would have been amusing thought Maurice looking at the untried St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner. Genevieve could have played with her while I punished Michelle. But no it was better she cowered upstairs. She needs to be taught a lesson. Self-discipline is important in the wife of a Chernier. Christine had gained thirty pounds with Michael. She had used the excuse he was frequently away on business to stuff herself with sweets. Fortunately, she was shedding the extra weight quickly.

Hopefully, it won’t be long before she will take Michelle’s place on the whipping bench. And after that if she practices the proper dietary restraint, I will impregnate her again.

Chapter 9 Lex

“Healthiest lunch on the planet,” said Lex handing Christine a plate of fresh greens and almost raw vegetables.

“It looks delicious. Where did you learn to cook this way?” said Christine admiring not only the healthy content of her plate but also the attractive presentation. They were seated on the second story deck behind Lex’s house enjoying what she thought was an impromptu lunch. The sunny day combined with good results from the weight loss program had put her in an expansive mood. She was also feeling more than a little randy and had to remind herself to stop staring at the visible outline of Lex’s cock afforded by his thin Spandex workout shorts.

“I’d always been something of a health nut when it came to what I put in my body but I didn’t get really serious until this girl I was dating showed me I was eating the wrong things. Anyway, after we broke up I took several courses in macrobiotic cooking.”

“Is it difficult,” asked Christine?

“Not at all, very easy to prepare, a few of the ingredients are hard to find but the recipes are simple. There are rarely more than six ingredients. I grow most of what I need in my greenhouse,” said Lex pointing to the glass-paneled dome structure located at the edge of the woods.

“French cuisine is rarely less than sixteen ingredients and often closer to twenty. Nouvelle cuisine is healthier than the traditional recipes but it’s still full of butter and cream,” said Christine.

“Butter, cream, horrors, actually I believe it’s not only what you eat but how much. You can pig out on the healthiest food. How’s the wine?”

“Excellent,” said Christine taking a sip.

“Peter recommended it when I asked him what to serve someone who’d lived in France for several years.”

“Peter knows wine,” asked Christine realizing that Lex had planned to invite her? She had thought Lex’s invitation was on the spur of the moment. He’d seemed genuinely pleased when she got on the scale after that morning’s workout. He insisted on a luncheon at his house to celebrate the progress she was making. Christine had exceeded her first month’s weight loss goals.

The realization Lex had planned their lunch caused Christine to consider whether she would have sex with him. Why not decided Christine recalling what she had witnessed when she had walked in on Maurice and Genevieve that morning? The two were kissing and Maurice’s hand was inside her blouse. Maurice had not seemed at all upset Christine had seen them. He had given her a peck on the cheek then left for work. Was it his way of telling her that if she wanted him to touch her tits, she needed to lose weight? She did not blame Genevieve. If not her, his Mother would have provided some other slut realized Christine. Yes, why not sleep with Lex? Dina said it would be interesting.

“Peter has an enormous wine cellar with everything entered into his computer. And the man is totally anal when it comes to keeping his inventory current. Congratulations on being my best student,” said Lex touching his wine glass to Christine’s.

“I owe it all to you. You a terrific instructor,” said Christine wondering if she was too out of practice to accomplish a seduction.

“No, the credit is yours, Christine. You’ve lost more weight, added more muscle, and improved your cardio vascular capacity more than any one in the class. You’re motivated to succeed. That’s what important.”

“Getting back to my old self is very important to me.”

“What does your husband say? Surely he’s noticed,” said Lex.

“Maurice did say something the other day when he saw me coming out of the shower.”

“And?”

“He said I was making progress but still had a long way to go.”

“Not exactly encouraging,” said Lex looking put off.

“Well, he’s very French and considers any woman who’s above Size 4 grossly overweight. And of course having a nanny for Michael that’s a drop dead gorgeous Size 2 and wears very little around the house is not helpful.”

“Well, keep at it and you can be any Size you want. I prefer women with muscle. Those emaciated runway manikins who look like they could use a good macrobiotic meal aren’t anything I want to roll around in bed with. They might break.”

“I don’t believe Genevieve would break easily. She does what and whom she wants regardless. The girl appears innocent and sweet but she’s not. She’s a fully trained dominatrix whose mentors operate the most exclusive and savage S&M club in France, maybe the EU and the world beyond it.”

“The way you said that make me think you’re concerned about her,” said Lex.

“Is she sleeping with my husband? Is that your question?”

“Sorry, it’s none of my business,” said Lex.

“I caught them kissing in the kitchen. His hand was inside her blouse,” said Christine. “Of course, they’re fucking. They’re both French.”

“So why don’t you send her packing?”

“The French look at sexual relationships differently. In my husband’s mind, there’s nothing wrong with his adultery especially since his lack of sexual interest in me is attributable to my gaining weight. I deserve what’s happening with Genevieve because I indulged myself when I was pregnant. All that aside, he wouldn’t even need an excuse if he wanted to get in another woman’s pants.”

“His adultery is okay. Yours is a sin.”

“Actually I suspect he could care less who I sleep with as long as I’m discreet.”

“Sounds very different from the way we New England Puritans are brought up,” said Lex putting his hand on top of Christine’s applying a small amount of pressure.

“The Cherniers are an old aristocratic family from Lyon that dates back to the founding of the Bourbon dynasty. The rules that apply to ordinary mortals aren’t in their code of conduct. Since I am a Chernier by marriage I live by their rules. I’ve accepted that,” said Christine.

“I’ve never been to France or anywhere outside of the US but you make me want to go.”

“You’d like Paris and the French girls would go crazy over you. It’s very private here,” said Christine noting the thick forest surrounding the house.

“Eight wooded acres and the property runs all the way down to the Saugas River so I have no immediate neighbors. I inherited the place when my parents passed on. I could never have afforded a home like this on a trainer’s salary,” said Lex.

“It’s lovely,” said Christine placing her hand on Lex’s and squeezing lightly.

“Mom and Dad bought it for a song before I was born. They remodeled it twice. Last year I redesigned the master bedroom suite and kitchen. One of my clients was an interior decorator who helped me plan the layout and select the appliances. Would you like a tour after lunch?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” said Christine.

“Also, I thought we could take your first month’s progress pictures here on the deck where we have natural light. I have the ones we made at the club before you started. We’ll compare the two. You’ll be surprised at the difference.”

***

“Lunch was delicious. Can I help you clean up?” asked Christine enjoying the peace and quiet of Lex’s deck.

“No thanks, I’ll take care of it later,” said Lex returning from the kitchen with a half empty wine bottle in one hand and a Nikon camera mounted on a tripod in the other. He refilled Christine’s glass before he spoke. “The light’s still good. Why don’t you stand over there?”

“Are you sure? I still have a long way to go,” said Christine walking to the spot where Lex pointed.

“And you’re getting there. That’s what important. Let’s start with the exact same poses you did at the beginning,” said Lex handing her a folder of the ‘before’ pictures.

“God, I looked hideous. What an ugly roll of fat around my waist,” said Christine examining the folder.

“You weren’t that bad compared to many others I’ve trained,” said Lex looking through the viewfinder.

“I wasn’t wearing a shirt when you took those,” said Christine taking off her top leaving her in her sports bra.

“Stand up straight back against the wall. Let your arms hang naturally,” said Lex aiming the camera then clicking off several images. “Now face the wall so I can capture your backside.”

“I used to love to pose for the camera. Photography is Maurice’s hobby. He filled a dozen photo CD’s on our honeymoon. But cameras terrify me now that I have gotten fat,” said Christine posing in her sports bra and black Spandex shorts.

“No more negativity. You are not fat and I am an expert in the fat business. Sideways, please, where did you go on your honeymoon?” asked Lex.

“Marrakech for a week then Ibiza for two weeks,” said Christine turning her shoulder toward Lex.

“Marrakech, Ibiza, where’s that? I have to confess I’ve never left the country, not even to Canada. Stand up very straight and stick your boobs out.”

“Marrakech is in Morocco a very exotic place where they sell hashish on every street corner. Ibiza, is one of the Balearic Islands off the coast of Spain,” said Christine arching her back.

“I’ve heard of Ibiza. One of the female trainers at the club went there on vacation. She loved it, wild parties and nude beaches.”

“That’s what it’s famous for,” said Christine. “Disco all night and lay naked in the sun all day.”

“So your husband has photo CDs of you lying on nude beaches,” said Lex. “And all I have is ones with you in Spandex.”

“Is that a request to pose in the all together,” asked Christine finding herself turned on by the prospect of posing in the nude

“Why not,” asked Lex? “It’s very private here.”

“Of course, it would be for comparative purposes,” said Christine smiling. “Christine’s before and after nude pictures.”

“Definitely, Spandex is hiding what is becoming a very good figure,” said Lex.

“And these would not wind up posted on the club’s WEB site for all to see,” said Christine.

“They would exist only on the memory stick in this camera and the hard drive of my computer. I promise,” said Lex. “You can count on my discretion.”

“Let’s start topless and go from there,” said Christine pulling her sports bra off as she reached for her purse. “I need to comb my hair and put on a fresh face.”

“You have exceptionally beautiful breasts,” said Lex admiring the large pink nipples.

“Thank you,” said Christine combing her hair out. “When I was twelve and sprouted I hated them. Everyone teased me about my big boobs and my nipples were always showing through my blouse. Every boy and some of the girls in my class pinched them. But by fourteen my attitude changed. It was like having two boy magnets attached to my chest. I adored the attention.”

“They certainly drew my attention. Have you been doing the uplift exercise I showed you?”

“Yes, every other day and I’ve moved up from five pounds to eight. Feel the muscle,” said Christine as she replaced the cap on her lipstick and presented her bare chest to Lex. She had performed three sets of the exercise to build the small muscles at the front of the armpit. Tightening and enlargement of the muscle raised the breasts naturally. Lex had told her they were especially important for large breasted women like her.

Lex placed his fingers in Christine’s armpits pressing the webbing between his thumb and forefinger against the chest muscle that lifted her breasts.

“Flex,” said Lex.

“Feel them move,” asked Christine straining to tighten a difficult muscle? Her breasts rose slightly as a result.

“Yes, you’ve definitely added mass,” said Lex his thumbs pushing hard into her contracted flesh

“Now, move your thumbs down to my nipples and rub them,” said Christine deciding her seduction would not be a problem for Lex. Besides, at the moment, she very much wanted him to touch her breasts.

“Are you sure,” asked Lex making his question superfluous by rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the center of her breasts stimulating the tissue?

“I want them standing proud in your pictures,” said Christine stepping into Lex’s arms. There was the slightest of hesitation then they kissed.

“We better get these pictures taken,” said Lex breaking the kiss.

“Let’s start with romantic glamour shots then we can move to more explicit ones,” said Christine pushing the waistband of her shorts down to expose more of her abdomen.

A quarter hour and several dozen poses later, Christine was posing with her naked rear to the camera as she bent over looking back through her legs.

“Very sexy,” said Lex feeling his manhood respond to the sight of Christine’s sex.

“I’m going for raunch. Am I giving you an erection?” asked Christine changing the pose slightly.

“Yes, as a matter of fact you are,” said Lex capturing the image.

“What do you plan to do with it?”

“That depends on you,” said Lex.

“Let’s go to your bedroom and discuss my seduction which since I’m already nude would appear to be a foregone conclusion,” said Christine.

***

“Is this where you do your best work,” asked Christine as they entered the oversized master bedroom? The décor was very contemporary and masculine but in the best of taste except for the mirror on the ceiling.

“I see you have been listening to gossip. It’s all a lie. Actually I’m gay,” said Lex laughing.

“There’s no drawer full of panties, souvenirs of your conquests,” said Christine looking at the large chest on the far side of the room.

“That’s full of workout clothes, tee shirts, shorts and athletic supporters.”

“You didn’t bring me here to seduce me,” asked Christine?

“Not at all but I gather you willing to be seduced.”

“Even if I was, you’re gay.”

“I’m speaking hypothetically,” said Lex taking Christine’s hand and pulling her into his arms.

“Not the actions of a homosexual but perhaps premature. I need to ask you something first before you throw me on the bed and have your way with me,” said Christine allowing Lex to mold his body against hers.

“The lady wishes to establish her limits before anything bad happens,” said Lex.

“Quite the contrary the lady wants something bad to happen and you strike me as possibly too nice a guy for that,” said Christine.

“I have a bad side I can show you but I’m not sure I’m following you,” said Lex looking into Christine’s violet eyes as he reached down to place his hands on her buttocks and pull her hard against the bulge in his shorts.

“I will speak plainly then. I am available in two flavors. Vanilla is perfectly acceptable but so is Rocky Road,” said Christine.

“That’s not exactly plain speaking in my book. Vanilla I understand but Rocky Road requires clarification.”

“A submissive female who is willing to travel the Rocky Road likes to be restrained, spanked, whipped, verbally abused, and/or tortured in any of several exotic fashions,” said Christine. “I only mention this because there are rumors possibly untrue you like to take willing females along that path. If I’m mistaken, I am more than willing to participate in a good old fashioned vanilla fucking,” said Christine.

“If by restrained, you mean rope, handcuffs, leather cuffs, yes, my Mom and Dad left me theirs,” said Lex pleased that his earlier guess about Christine’s sexual preferences was turning out to be correct.

“Interesting parents, and perhaps a whip or two, maybe a paddle, even a candle in case you feel like dripping hot wax on my privates,” said Christine.

“Whips and candles were included in my legacy,” said Lex.

“And you possess the will and strength of character to use them,” asked Christine pressing herself against Lex? She felt her excitement grow at the prospect of rough sex.

“I’ll let you in on a little family secret. I was lying about being gay but I’m telling the truth about my parents. They were very much into BDSM. There was a time when I used to tell them I was going to a movie or a friend’s house and I would sneak back through the woods to spy on them. At an age when most boys were getting their nut off dreaming about bonking their high school cheerleaders, I was laying in the wet grass looking through the basement window while Dad beat Mom’s butt until it turned cherry red.”

“So you don’t have a problem with whipping my tush until it is New England cranberry red,” asked Christine?

“Quite the opposite,” said Lex. “I find it highly encouraging.”

“You can be very harsh with me.”

“I intend to. Recently, I’ve added something new to my repertoire,” said Lex reaching his hand to feel Christine’s sex. “You’re very wet. Does the prospect of traveling the Rocky Road excite you?”

“Terribly, I’m an adulterous whore and a slut who deserves whatever you have in mind, Master Lex,” said Christine pulling Lex’s form fitting shirt up. She passed her hand over his firm pectorals leaning forward to kiss his nipples. “This slave is more than willing to do anything her Master desires.”

“Excellent, the lady who designed my kitchen taught me electricity had uses beyond the ordinary ones.”

“Electricity sounds intriguing, I’ve always wanted to suffer electrical torture,” said Christine grinding her sex against the growing bulge in Lex’s shorts.

“It will be,” said Lex taking a firm grip on Christine’s nipples then pinching them flat. “I’m surprised your husband hasn’t gotten around to wiring you up. You’ll be shocked at how a few volts will make these feel.”

“The French are attached to their traditions,” said Christine sighing with pleasure at the pain she felt in her breasts.

“I suggest we start with basic S&M, then go modern and finish up with some good old fashioned vanilla fucking,” said Lex opening a chest at the foot of the bed.

“I agree completely, Master Lex,” said Christine falling to her knees beside the bed and bending her head in submission.

***

“Go ahead and scream you filthy whore,” said Lex tipping the candle to one side allowing the molten wax to fall on the flesh between her clitoris and vagina. The hiss of burning flesh was not audible above the outcry Christine made. He had positioned two tripod-mounted digital cameras at the corners of the bed heightening Christine’s sense of the erotic. Lex hadn’t asked if she objected to the cameras. Once she was restrained in a fashion that left her totally exposed and vulnerable, he took them out of a closet and set them in place. The images the cameras would capture added to the risk and therefore the eroticism of what was happening.

Lex slipped two fingers into her vagina then extracted them covered in her body fluids. “You’re oozing cunt cream, slut,” said Lex as he pushed the fingers into her nostrils filling her nose with the aroma of her own sex.

Christine was on her back, wrists tightly bound above her head and ankles bound to her wrists. Lex had placed a thick pillow under her rear elevating her orifices to more accessible levels. The position itself was keenly uncomfortable.

The cleverness of Lex’s restraints surprised her. It had all been so fast and efficient.

“Lay in the center of the bed with your arms extended over your head at a forty five degree angle,” said Lex at the start.

He quickly wrapped a Velcro locking nylon cuff around each wrist. Each cuff was attached by cable to a motorized take up reel concealed under the bed. In a matter of seconds, Christine’s arms were painfully stretched toward the top corners of the bed. Moving quickly, Lex secured her ankles in similar cuffs then bent her double as he hooked the ankle cuff to the wrist cuff.

“You’re a real slut. Aren’t you Christine?” asked Lex placing his hand on Christine’s wet sex sliding his fingers into her opening. He wasn’t gentle about it as he pushed three fingers inside her vagina and twisted them stretching her with his powerful hands.

“Yes, Master, I am a slut,” said Christine thrilled by the type of sex she had been missing for over a year.

“How many men had put their cocks in your hole,” asked Lex roughly pushing four fingers into her vagina? He raked his nails across her G-spot.

“I don’t know, Master, hundreds I would think.”

“Hundreds,” said Lex mildly surprised. “Are you bi?”

“Yes, Master, both sexes.”

“Anyone at the club?”

“Dina Kramer, Master,” said Christine. “And her husband Alex and his friend Wynston in the same afternoon. It was my first act of adultery since I married Maurice.”

“And I am the second,” asked Lex taking an expensive beeswax candle from the chest and lighting it?

“Yes, Master,” said Christine.

“Adulterous whores deserve to be punished. Do you agree?” asked Lex lighting the candle.

“Yes, Master, I am an adulterous whore and I deserve to be punished severely.”

“I’m going to burn you,” said Lex tilting the candle slightly to allow the melted wax to fall on Christine’s areola. Christine’s back arched in pain and a long hiss escaped her lips as the liquefied wax burned her flesh. The pain in one breast had hardly subsided when an even large amount of wax landed on the other breast. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes, Master, it hurts,” said Christine reacting to the slow burning sensation.

“And if I hold the candle closer, the wax is even hotter,” said Lex as he lowered the candle to where the flame almost touched Christine’s nipple. A large splash of wax covered the entire surface of her areola. Christine’s efforts not to scream failed. A loud plaintive cry bounced off the bedroom walls as she writhed in her restraints.

“Nothing makes my cock harder than to hear a whore screaming from righteous punishment,” said Lex taking hold of the base of Christine’s breast in his strong fingers. He squeezed hard forcing the breast tissue to tighten. Her reddened skin shed the dried wax causing it to flake off onto the bedding.

Christine moaned with pleasure as she lifted her body offering her breast to the burning candle. “Oh yes, burn me,” she whispered as she watched the candle turn slightly and a pool of molten wax descend onto her breast. The pain was intense causing Christine to cry out. Torture with candle wax was new to her and she was finding it incredibly exciting. Squeezing the base of the breast tightened the flesh at the top making it more susceptible to the momentary but intense heat. Christine screams followed one on another when the wax dripped on the tightly stretched skin of her areola.

“I’m having fun,” said Lex smiling when Christine’s sounded an ear-piercing shriek of agony. “Are you?”

“Yes, Master, I needed this,” said Christine when she gained enough control to reply.

“Now, I imagine a stupid slave like you thinks your breasts are the worst possible place for hot wax to land. But you are wrong,” said Lex moving the candle to the back of Christine’s knee then tilting it. Christine’s high-pitched cries immediately followed.

“Don’t want the other knee pit to feel neglected,” said Lex spilling melted wax on the back of her other knee.

“Oh God, that hurts,” said Christine her eyes filling with tears.

“How is it, glorious, wonderful, mind numbing” asked Lex when Christine had calmed down enough to speak.

“Hellish but I love it, Master. The wax burns for what seems like forever,” said Christine.

“New England’s pure bees wax candles are best. They hold their heat longer. I buy mine from a little shop in Marblehead. They’re made on premises by two elderly sisters,” said Lex stopping a moment to allow the pool of melted wax surrounding the wick to grow.

“I’ll remember that, Master,” said Christine thinking that once she had lost all the weight, she would go to the shop Lex mentioned and make a purchase then beg Maurice to burn her.

“Of course, while the tits and knee pits are extremely sensitive, the arm pit is even more so,” said Lex tilting a large splash of wax onto Christine’s armpit surprising her.

The effect was instantaneous, loud screams as she twisted and contorted her body.

“It’s worse for women because they shave there,” said Lex covering the other armpit in molten wax.

“Oh God it hurts, Master,” cried Christine reacting to the sensation that her most sensitive tissue was suffering the flames of hell fire.

“But you deserve to be burned, don’t you slut” asked Lex once more dropping wax on Christine’s now inflamed areola.

“Yes, Master, I deserve to be burned,” said Christine almost out of her mind with pain.

“Because you had sex with Dina Kramer and her husband. Did you eat her pussy?” asked Lex torturing the other breast.

“Yes, Master,” said Christine between sobs.

“Would you bring her here to perform cunnilingus in front of the cameras?”

“Yes, Master if she’ll come,” said Christine.

Conversation ceased for the next few minutes as Lex applied the wax to various parts of Christine’s body. Christine totally lost control when he unexpectedly covered her clitoris in wax. Lex sat on the edge of the bed smiling as the sweated covered woman writhed in pain.

“Ready to move on,” asked Lex holding a bottle of water to Christine’s lips. He had put the candle out moments ago.

“Yes, Master, I am ready for whatever Master desires. Please shock me.”

“I will but before we connect you to Mr. Franklin’s discovery, I plan to indulge a fetish of mine,” said Lex standing up.

Christine watched as Lex moved the cameras to where they were focused on the soles of her feet.

“There is nothing more beautiful than a woman’s foot,” said Lex as he leaned down to kiss Christine’s instep. Christine relaxed as Lex spent the next few minutes kissing and licking her feet. He methodically sucked all ten toes as he stroked his cock. She watched as he combined foot worship with masturbation. Surprisingly for such a large masculine person, he made child-like cooing sounds while his mouth made love to her feet. Christine had experienced various forms of body worship before. It was a fetish she did not personally relate to but she remained quiet willing for him to find pleasure in whatever pleased him.

“The soles of the feet are also incredibly sensitive,” said Lex walking to the chest and retrieving a small flexible cane.

“Oh God, no,” whimpered Christine knowing what was about to happen. Where candle torture was new to her, foot torture was not. One of the professors on her doctoral thesis committee had whipped her there. He had tied her across his desk, produced a rapier thin bamboo cane and whipped the soles until she was hysterical. She recalled the pain as beyond awful.

Without hesitating, Lex landed the cane on her exposed instep. The agony was so sharp and unexpected instead of a scream Christine screeched like a bird.

Lex raised the whip-like cane. “For being an adulterous whore, you will receive ten lashes on the soles of your feet.”

“Please no, Master,” said Christine recalling how much it hurt when she had allowed Professor Kronenberg to celebrate the committee’s approval of her thesis by whipping the soles of her feet. It had been a terrible experience and the Professor was elderly, almost infirm where Lex was the epitome of athletic conditioning. Still, Christine was totally helpless as Lex shouted, “One” and brought the cane into action. The whirring sound of the cane disturbing the air ended in a loud smack followed by Christine’s full-throated cry for mercy.

Lex immediately switched to the other foot as he alternated giving the sole time to recover while its counterpart experienced the agony of having a whip like piece of bamboo land on a very sensitive place. The pain proved too much for Christine and she fainted as the count reached ten. When she came to, Lex was standing by the bed holding her ankles in one hand as he jerked himself off with the other. Semen squirted on the soles of her foot as Lex climaxed. He used his cock head to smear the fluid over the bottoms of both feet before he reattached them to her wrists.

“Lick me clean, slut,” said Lex placing his cock at Christine’s mouth?

“Yes, Master,” said Christine applying her tongue to the task.

“Are you ready to experience the agony and ecstasy of Ohm’s Law? My last subject said it was the most painful torture she had ever experienced and she claimed to be a secret member of New York’s Hellfire Club,” said Lex.

“Hit me with your best shock.”

***

“What is that, Master,” asked Christine rising up to see Lex carefully inserting a thin metal rod into the opening of her urethra?

“It’s called a sound probe or just a sound in medical parlance,” said Lex holding up one of the shiny objects. “Sound in this case refers to the acting of taking a sounding or measuring a depth as opposed to noise. I bought these from a medical supply house. They’re made in Germany of surgical steel.”

“What are they used for,” asked Christine?

Lex held up two leather cases containing different types of the instruments. “Doctors use them to unblock or enlarge the urinary tract. Women and men have very different shaped tracts so men require these longer ones with a J-curve. Sounds for women are shorter and almost straight. I plan to insert this inside your urinary track. This small bulb will be in your bladder. Electricity will create a line of pain that stretches from your pee hole down to your piss. Urine having a high salt content is an excellent conductor. The pain will radiate outward through your abdomen. You’ll beg me to stop.”

Christine felt the metal rod slowly travel down her urethra. “It feels strange, Master.”

Lex picked up a tuning fork struck it against the nightstand then touched it to the end of the probe sticking out from Christine. “I bet that feels even stranger.”

“Yes, Master, definitely weird,” said Christine struggling to cope with the intense sensation.

“It’s vibrating at four hundred hertz all the way down your urinary tract to your bladder,” said Lex attaching a copper wire to the end of the probe. “But where the tuning fork is mildly stimulating, a healthy dose of high voltage is something else entirely.”

“This is for your rectum,” said Lex holding up another shiny metal device except it was much larger with a rounded bulb on one end and a T-shaped handle at the other. He covered the rounded end with the contents of a tube labeled Surgical Lubricant. “It’s also a medical instrument slightly modified for purposes of electro torture.”

“It feels heavy inside my bowels, Master,” said Christine reacting to the sensation that a weighty metal object was traveling up her rectum into her bowels. She could feel the pressure of the bulb inside her.

“It weighs over a kilogram, twelve inches of high quality German chrome steel. A slightly smaller version goes in your vagina,” said Lex forcing the bulb past her opening.

“Now, I can feel both of them inside me, Master. It’s a very unusual sensation.”

“In just a minute or two, you will feel electrical energy passing between them,” said Lex grabbing the very tip of Christine’s nipple in a Kelly hemostat. He ignored her obvious pain as he stretched the nipple outward then placed an adjustable metal ring at the base of the nipple and closed it then released the hemostat. He quickly repeated the procedure with her other nipple.

“A man with a foot fetish would never neglect a slave’s toes,” said Lex as he placed metal rings around the base of her largest and smallest toes.

“And of course, we can’t neglect the little man in the boat,” said Lex grabbing the tip of Christine’s clit in a hemostat to stretch it outward before allowing an alligator clamp to snap shut on the base of her clitoris. Christine screamed as the metal bit into the nerve dense tissue. Christine’s body was covered with wire leading to an electrical control box.

“The only problem with electrical torture is that is takes considerable effort to ready the slave,” said Lex as he connected the leads to a control box. “It’s a patient man’s form of S&M.”

“You slave Christine is grateful Master is willing to take the time to torture her with electricity.”

Lex flipped a switch and turned a dial slightly. “I need to perform a low voltage check of the connections. Can you feel anything, slave?”

“Yes, a slight buzzing in my left breast, Master.”

“Good,” said Lex flipping more switches. “How about now?”

“Right breast, Master,” said Christine.

Moments later, all the connections had been verified.

“Open wide,” said Lex pressing a block of black rubber between Christine’s lips. “We wouldn’t want you to bite your tongue off.”

Christine opened her mouth to accept the hard rubber. Lex wedged it between her molars.

“It won’t stop you from screaming. The sound of you screaming is very important when I have some friends over to watch your video.”

Christine watched as Lex made a final check.

“We’ll start with your urethra sound,” said Lex throwing a switch as he slowly turned a dial.

For a few seconds, all Christine experienced was a tingling sensation. Seconds later, it became painful and then it was a new form of pain that was so undeniable she threw her head back and screamed with all her vocal energy.

“Everyone says that the urinary tract does not like electrification,” said Lex jiggling with the dial sending waves of agony that reached from the very opening of Christine’s urethra down into her full bladder.

“From here on I follow a preset program of torturing individual body parts then combinations of two parts next three and finally four. Four’s the most this control box will handle. They make one that will go up to eight but it’s quite expensive and human beings don’t have eight places that interest me. Ready to be punished, slave, for your sluttish behavior,” asked Lex placing a neatly typed sheet of instructions on the bed.

“Yes, Master,” said Christine barely audible through the rubber gag.

“Good, because a few minutes from now, you will be begging me to stop or even kill you,” said Lex flipping the switch labeled LB for left breast then turning the dial. Lex slowly stroked his cock as Christine screamed while she twisted her body and looked at him with desperate eyes bulging from their sockets.

***

“That was incredible,” said Christine handing Lex back the joint she had just inhaled. Christine moved down in the bed to Lex’s midsection and lifted his cock to her lips. “I want to thank you in my own way.”

“Electro torture of the sexual organs is not for everyone,” said Lex closing his eyes as the tip of Christine’s tongue flicked across his piss hole. “By the way, you’re pretty incredible yourself.”

“Are many of your partners willing to be electrically stimulated?”

“Hard to say since I don’t keep a spreadsheet of likes and dislikes. But most women are not into S&M. They’re looking for simple pleasure not pain.”

“To me, pain is pleasure,” said Christine lifting Lex’s cock to suck on his balls

“I love having my nuts sucked,” said Lex.

“Most men do,” said Christine licking the ridge of skin at the base of Lex’s scrotum. “Raise up a little further and I’ll tongue fuck your ass?”

“A rim queen, that’s unusual, something few of my female partners are willing to perform,” said Lex pulling his knees to his chest exposing her anus.

“Aha, female partners, perhaps a slip of a tongue not up your ass, you have male partners too I assume,” asked Christine before passing her tongue over the wrinkled flesh of his anus? She paused a moment to savor the aroma and taste.

“No, strictly hetero so far, unlike many of my fellow male trainers. You have the most talented mouth,” said Lex his sphincter responding to Christine’s tongue.

“So you’re a straight man in a gay profession,” said Christine placing a finger on the center of Lex’s anus.

“I’m just saying personal trainers tend to be body centric individuals and there are a fair percentage of gay and lesbians,” said Lex.

“So when I put my finger in your ass, you don’t consider it homoerotic?”

“Just erotic,” said Lex experiencing the pleasure of her index finger entering his rectum.

“And if I make it two fingers.”

“More erotic, as long as it’s not someone’s cock,” said Lex after he moaned from the sensation of having his sphincter stretched to accommodate two of Christine’s fingers.

“Even when I massage your prostate,” asked Christine gently pressing the pads of her fingers against the walnut sized gland?

“Wow, where did you learn to do that,” asked Lex?

“A medical student taught me,” said Christine.

“Education is a wonderful thing.”

“Now close your eyes and relax while I express my sincere gratitude for your excellent training. I want you to cum in my mouth while I massage your prostate.”

***

“Here,” said Christine handing her panty and the felt tip pen back to Lex.

“You must think I’m weird,” said Lex dropping Christine’s signed and dated panty into a dresser drawer along with the others.

“I’ve known weirder,” said Christine snuggling against Lex when he returned to the bed.

“Really, example, please?”

“In undergrad, there was a girl in my dorm who kept an old mayonnaise jar of used condoms in her mini-fridge. After each fuck, she would knot the rubber and freeze it. She ran out of freezer space by the time the school year ended.”

“I picture her somewhere in suburbia leaving her Health Club twirling a used safe around her fingers heading home to a twenty cubic foot upright,” said Lex.

“I prefer to swallow. The taste is divine,” said Christine kissing Lex’s cheek. “So how many drawers of knickers do you own?”

“Never counted but there must be thousands considering the storage boxes in the basement and the warehouse space I rent,” said Lex.

“Braggart,” said Christine.

“Would you be interested in a different kind of weight loss program if it had the potential to transform you body and soul,” asked Lex?

“Transform me how?”

“Into a more sexually aggressive and assertive person. You’d also lose more weight than you would in the program you’re currently in. Plus there would be other benefits.”

“What other benefits?”

“You’d learn about macrobiotic cooking and how to increase your sexual pleasure employing Tantric Yoga,” said Lex gently pulling and twisting Christine’s nipple. “There’s also plenty of the type of sex you like.”

“How long does it last?”

“It’s total immersion. Eight intensive weeks at a facility, actually we call it the Farm in New Hampshire. Peter run’s it as a sort of hobby.”

“It’s Peter’s farm,” asked Christine?

“Yes, he designed the entire program. Its part health club, part boot camp, and part re-education center. Women who attend claim it changed their lives. If you’re interested, I could give you the names of previous attendees as references,” said Lex taking Christine’s nipple in his mouth.

“Do you stay there the entire eight weeks,” asked Christine reaching between her legs to stroke her sex?

“Yes, if you leave you forfeit the fee, no exceptions.”

“I suppose Genevieve could mind Michael and suck his father’s cock for me while I’m away,” said Christine turning to kiss Lex.

“There’s a new class starting Monday. They only take eight students. When I spoke with Peter yesterday, there was one vacancy.”

“I’ll have to ask Maurice but I’m sure he’ll agree. He desperately wants me slimmed down for his sister’s wedding,” said Christine.

“I’ve got to have you one more time,” said Lex climbing between Christine’s legs.

“I need a good hard pounding in both holes. Use this,” said Christine handing Lex a pillow as she raised her hips off the bed.

“And a good pounding you will get,” said Lex sliding the pillow under Christine’s rear.

“Will I get a good pounding at the Farm,” asked Christine placing her legs around Lex’s waist.

“Definitely,” said Lex positioning his cockhead in her vaginal opening. “You will be pounded unmercifully.”

“And will my tender flesh feel the lash of the whip when I disappoint my Master,” said Christine exhaling as Lex’s cock slowly traveled nine inches plus inside her vagina.

“You will be whipped multiple times each day.”

“Sounds like eight weeks of bliss,” said Christine using her legs to grind her sex against Lex’s muscular groin.

Chapter 10 The Farm

“Get up, whore,” said Ahmad placing the Hot Shot LS-432 cattle and hog prod between Christine’s legs. His arms flexed as he used the two feet of hard plastic baton to leverage Christine off the ground where she had collapsed. Christine whimpered as the prod dug between the folds of flesh covering her vagina. He’d skillfully managed to place the prod’s blunt end right at the nerve dense entrance to the orifice. It was a technique he’d learned years before in Abu Ghraib. An Iraqi doctor who was on Saddam’s personal medical team had used charts and live detainees to demonstrate where the female body was most vulnerable to electrical torture.

As she was about to regain her footing, Ahmad pressed the trigger. A one second burst of fifteen thousand volts left the Hot Shot’s capacitor and instantly traveled to her vulva signaling the circle of pain receptors something terrible had happened.

Christine’s eyes opened wider than anyone would have thought possible. Her hands involuntarily flew to her crotch as she fell to the ground. A screaming, twitching and naked Christine rolled over and over in the soft earth clutching both hands to her groin. Loose soil clung to her sweat covered body coating her as she lay twitching with involuntary muscle contractions.

The dark skinned men assigned as trainers for the eight women laughed and jeered in Arabic. When her violent muscle contortions subsided Christine filled her lungs and sounded a long plaintive cry of pain and frustration that carried for a quarter mile through the White Mountains. Since it was the first day and important to establish who was in charge, Ahmad placed the business end of the Hot Shot against Christine’s clitoris and triggered a second jolt. Over and over in the loose dirt rolled Christine, the muscles in her legs kicking wildly out of control.

Tiring of the show, Ahmad took hold of Christine’s curls and lifted her to standing. She was trembling with fear and whimpering in pain, her hands massaging her still throbbing sex.

“Fall again and I’ll stick it up your ass,” said Ahmad as he placed her hands on the heavy wooden pump handle. “Now, push.” Ahmad delivered a sharp and painful blow to her already striped backside with the quirt tied to his wrist.

Blinded by pain and exhaustion but terrified of more punishment, Christine’s cross trainers dug into the earth as she along with the other seven trainees began to slowly turn the giant wheel that brought well water to the surface filling the bathing pool. When the water tank was full, they would be allowed to bathe, eat lunch, and take a short rest.

Lex had told her the training was exceptionally difficult and brutal but Christine had not fully appreciated its severity. It was barely past noon of her first day and she was on the verge of collapse. Her back was raw from the small multi-strand whip or quirt her trainer applied without the slightest hesitation. The other women were in no better shape. Everyone’s backside was striped. Christine wondered how anyone could make it through the entire boot camp and emerge sane.

Her day had started peacefully. She had gotten up at six to drive the sixty miles to Peter’s isolated training camp in the foothills of New Hampshire’s White Mountains. Maurice was still asleep but Genevieve had awakened to feed Michael. In spite of their rivalry over Maurice, the two maintained an outwardly pleasant relationship. Christine blamed herself for Genevieve’s presence. If she hadn’t made a pig of herself during her pregnancy, Genevieve would still be in Paris.

Observing the care and attention, Genevieve paid to feeding Michael; she was forced to admit the girl made an excellent nanny. Her performance in the basement dungeon had shown she was also a well-trained dominatrix. Christine’s exclusion from the S&M session had reinforced her desire to attend Peter’s Boot Camp. Watching Maurice and Genevieve brutally punish the attractive female slave had made her realize what her weight gain had cost in her husband’s esteem. Christine would have been more than willing to take the woman’s place on the whipping bench and subject herself to Maurice and Genevieve’s worst cruelties.

“Who was the beautiful girl in the basement yesterday,” asked Christine her curiosity getting the best of her?

“Oh, I didn’t know you saw her. Her name is Michelle Dumont, a fellow countryman. She is a flight attendant I met on my trip to Boston,” said Genevieve thrilled to find out Christine was watching.

“She seemed to be enjoying what you were doing to her.”

“She was trained in Paris by a Mistress of some renown. Her capacity to withstand pain while bringing pleasure to her Masters is exceptional. I hope you weren’t upset by anything you saw,” said Genevieve lifting a tiny spoon of strained apricots to Michael’s mouth.

“No, not at all,” said Christine aware that as soon as she left, Genevieve would climb in bed with Maurice where she would sleep until Christine returned.

Arriving at the Farm’s gate, Christine had been impressed with security. An armed guard had carefully inspected her driver’s license and thoroughly searched her Lexus before allowing her to proceed.

The morning had begun with the eight women introducing themselves as they ate a macrobiotic breakfast in the rustic dining hall. A neatly typed handout documented the recipes and listed the calories, carbohydrates, and vitamins of each item. A tall thin woman introduced herself to the group as Alexia. She would not only be cooking their meals but also teaching the daily macrobiotic classes.

The eight were all in their twenties or early thirties, attractive, and suffering from a recent weight gain they were desperate to reverse. The rules were simple. Each would be assigned a personal trainer who would drive them unmercifully throughout the boot camp. Corporal punishment would be the principal form of motivation. They were totally at the mercy of the personal trainer; however, they were guaranteed no permanent damage would be done.

Each day after the first week a yoga instructor from a nearby New England Institute of Tantric Studies would lead a practice designed to increase the length and intensity of their orgasms. After the first four weeks, there would be activities where they could apply what they had learned.

They could leave any time they chose but the money they paid for the session was not refundable. Left unspoken was the women’s hunger for the severe discipline coupled with sex the Boot Camp offered.

“No way I’m going to leave no matter what you do to me,” commented Amanda one of the trainees when Peter explained the rules. “I need to loose weight and if my trainer has to whip it off my fat ass, so be it.”

Breakfast finished, eight foreign-looking men marched quickly into the dinning room. Their military bearing was obvious as was their contempt for the wealthy, overweight females who would be under their control.

“Mohammed and his crew are Sunni Arabs,” said Peter after he had paired each girl with a trainer. “They don’t like you very much and that’s why I chose them. They consider you unclean whores. In their eyes you as depraved females who use their body to tempt men from the worship of the one true God and his Prophet Mohammed. Touching you defiles them. If any of you thinks she can lighten her burdens by offering sex you are sadly mistaken. They will whip you senseless for tempting them.”

Christine’s trainer was named Ahmad. She guessed his age as early thirties. The long scar across his face was the only thing that prevented her from considering him handsome. He gave her a look of utter disdain when they were introduced refusing to shake her outstretched hand.

During the course of the training, Christine learned they were all former members of an elite Republican Guard unit that once protected Saddam Hussein himself. Because of the horrific crimes they committed against their fellow citizens, they fled Iraq after his fall from power. Christine also learned Peter’s statement about their unwillingness to engage in sex with the women was untrue. At least once a day and sometimes twice, Ahmad would grab her hand and take her somewhere private where she would perform whatever sexual act he demanded. Still, Ahmad always made it plain that his inability to control his desire for her did in no way increase his esteem. To Ahmad, Christine was nothing more than a common street whore. The kind he would buy in one of the brothels surrounding a market in Baghdad. He used her at his will. She was nothing to him.

On her first day he had followed her into one of the small temporary latrines on the edge of the track. It was after their run. She was out of breath and covered in sweat when Muhammad signaled they could relieve themselves.

God, I’m not allowed to pee in private thought Christine ignoring his presence in the dark confined space as she pushed her shorts down and sat. She’d consumed several quarts of water and had to go in the worst way. When she looked up, she saw in the dim light Ahmad had exposed himself.

“Suck it, unclean whore,” he said stroking his large uncut cock.

A weary Christine signaled her assent in the manner women the world over have announced their willingness to perform orally. She looked directly into his eyes as she opened her mouth and licked her lips while extending her hand toward his hardening member. Christine didn’t doubt any unwillingness on her part would lead to some form of horrific torture. And she was too exhausted and hurting to endure further ordeals.

“You are nothing but filth,” said Ahmad taking a step forward bringing his penis to her face. As she worked his cock and balls with her mouth and hands, he slowly whispered a long string of what Christine took to be Arabic curses or prayers, maybe both.

Christine was an experienced fellatrice with a gift for discovering what gave her partner the greatest pleasure. She’d read the advice of successful courtesans and street whores regarding the art of the blowjob. Most agreed an understanding of the male’s psychology was critical. Christine followed two rules. First make eye contact and secondly use that to convince them that having their cock in your mouth was a mind blowing erotic experience that brought you to instant orgasm. “Always act like having their weenie between your lips is the thrill of a lifetime,” an old New Orleans prostitute who worked the famous brothels of Storyville had advised in the 1920s.

“You have a beautiful cock,” said Christine looking directly in Ahmad’s eyes as she held it to her mouth and performed a three sixty swirl over the head. “And what magnificent balls,” she said lifting his shaft to elevate his testicles slightly allowing her tongue to tease the underside.

His large low hanging testicles proved to be his place of greatest sensitivity. A deep exhale followed by a throaty moan informed Christine she should pay particular attention to his gonads. Christine sensed his positive reaction as she sucked one ball between her lips pressing it gently against the roof of her mouth as her tongue massaged its underside. She alternated massaging his testicles with her mouth as her hands stroked his shaft.

It was only moments before his increasing breath rate signaled the imminent arrival of a climax. Keenly aware of the penalty for not pleasing Ahmad with a great finish, Christine grasped each testicle in her hands and pulled them down and away as her lips captured the underside of the mushroom head. Her tongue attacked his cockhead as she maintained manual pressure on his balls. A slight jerk of his body, a quick inhale, and a small spurt of semen on her tongue caused Christine to focus on his urethra.

Maurice had always marveled at her expert sense of timing when it came to aiding the extraction of semen. Her lips pressed the tip of the head down opening the urethra wider as she applied suction.

Ahmad’s hands took a vise-like grip on the sides of Christine’s head as he experienced the sensation of semen leaving their reservoir and traveling rapidly through his urethra. When his cock stopped spurting, Ahmad was left leaning against the side of the latrine breathing hard. Christine’s mouth was filled with semen she shifted back and forth over her taste buds before swallowing.

“Ah, that was delicious,” said Christine enjoying the sensation of the thick liquid traveling down her throat and entering her esophagus. She felt its warmth as it descended.

Ahmad’s next move surprised her. As Christine unrolled some toilet tissue to wipe her dripping sex, a hand clutched her hair as another grabbed her throat. Ahmad forced her head back to where she found herself looking up at the light entering from a small vent in the latrine’s ceiling. His strong fingers roughly grasped her lower jaw forcing her mouth agape. He pressed hard straining her jaw hinge. His face, a mask of hate, appeared inches over hers. She could feel his warm breathe on her face. He whispered something in Arabic that Christine did not think was a complement on her terrific oral technique. A large gob of spit slowly left Ahmad’s mouth falling into Christine’s open mouth.

Ahmad quickly closed his trousers and left the latrine. Christine spread her legs slightly and placed her fingers on her sex. She allowed Ahmad’s slimy sputum to rest on her tongue as she masturbated. She swallowed his spit when she orgasmed.

The next day Ahmad again followed her into the latrine for oral sex. But this time after he ejaculated he immediately went to leave. Christine grabbed his hand stopping him. When he looked back he saw she had tilted her head back with her mouth wide open. Muttering curses, he positioned his face over hers. A look of scorn filled his face when their eyes locked and he saw her need for debasement. Christine detected the movement of his throat and jaw as he gathered his saliva. Slowly he brought his lips to where they were almost touching hers then released his spit. For the remainder of her training, their daily sex act that evolved to include vaginal and anal intercourse always ended with the same final act of degradation.

Later that night when the women compared notes, it turned out they had all been forced to service their trainer. They were about to turn in when Amanda brought up the topic.

“Peter’s full of shit about their religion forbidding them to screw us. Mohammed couldn’t wait to get his cock in my mouth. And he blew his load like a high school nerd getting a hummer from the prom queen. It tasted strange and he wasn’t circumcised either,” said Amanda a pretty buxom blonde who was the most overweight of the group. She was a member of Peter’s Cambridge health club. An ambitious and successful trial attorney with one of Boston’s most prestigious law firms she saw her recent weight gain as snatching away the partnership she’d worked eighteen hours a day to acquire.

“I blew Ahmad in the latrine. He was so horny he made me suck him while I was peeing. They probably eat a different diet and that causes their semen to taste different. He wasn’t circumcised either,” said Christine. “Middle Eastern males normally aren’t cut. My husband, who’s French, still has his foreskin so I’m used to rolling back the wrapper.”

At that point the others agreed none of the trainers were circumcised and their semen had a different flavor.

“Mohammed’s was a fattie not a longie. I got a thing for fat sausages,” said Amanda. “I hope he wants something more than oral tomorrow.” All the women proved amazingly candid in discussing their sexual history. All but one, Deirdre, were married. None considered marital fidelity important. Each had a history of being involved in S&M relationships.

“Thick is definitely better than long because most of the nerve endings in your vagina are located around the opening. Their sperm tastes like some exotic spice from the East. It was more floral; no spicy is more accurate,” said Laurie, a dark eyed beauty from the same club as Amanda. The station manager where she was a newscaster had told Laurie to either lose weight or find another job. Appearance was critical and the television camera added ten pounds. The fact she was willing to engage in three ways with the station manager and his wife counted for something; however even willingness to endure the wife’s severe whippings didn’t make up for falling Nielsen ratings.

“Quantity is more important than quality. I once blew my high school basketball team after they won the state finals. It was all great,” said Deirdre the tough talking Manchester, New Hampshire girl. “Basically, they all taste the same.” Deirdre, the youngest of the eight, was desperate to lose weight for her wedding. For their honeymoon, her husband-to-be was taking her to a resort in Rhode Island that catered to the serious S&M couple.”

“Not if they been eating asparagus,” said Christine. “It makes their sperm taste like a vegetable garden.”

“Once I swallowed my husband’s load after he had just finished a meal where one of the courses was asparagus wrapped in prosciutto. I thought I was going to puke,” said Marilyn the only Oriental in the group. “All I could taste was asparagus.” Marilyn’s husband practiced the ancient art of rope bondage. She showed the other trainees pictures of her tied up in ways that seemed part art and part torture.

“My husband eats strawberries to make his semen taste sweet,” said Kay a redhead with enormous boobs who belonged to the club in Boston’s financial district. Being overweight did not suit the image of the high profile money market fund manager she hoped to become. She and her husband were both submissives who considered themselves the property of one of Boston’s most influential business leaders and his wife.

“The best thing is we’re not on a meatless diet. I’d bet Mohammed and his crew will graduate from blowjobs to fucks,” said Cynthia, a housewife who recently found out her dentist husband was sleeping with his hygienist. In order to save her marriage, she’d agreed to attend the Farm and achieve the same weight as her husband’s mistress. She’d also agreed to have sex with the two of them and to serve as their sex slave.

“Lex told me this place was wild but I had no idea how wild,” said Christine rolling over to fall into an exhausted sleep.

***

Each morning the women were weighed. That first morning it had been something of a shock the way it was handled.

“Everyone strip for weighing, quickly,” said Mohammed standing by a medical scale located in a corner of the dining room.

Peter stood nearby as the eight women removed their clothes. It was understood they would frequently be nude during their training. Still, Christine felt a slight erotic tingle as she slipped out of her clothes in front of strangers.

“One forty six point five,” said Mohammed reading the digital scale when it was Christine’s turn. Ahmad wrote the number down on Christine’s chart. Mohammed then painted the numbers in large letters on her front and back using a thick tar like substance that proved very difficult to remove during the nightly bath. The ladies quickly learned the purpose of the pig bristle brushes located in the large communal shower. Unfortunately they removed a certain amount of the skin along with the paint.

After their weight was painted on, the women were stood against a white backdrop to be photographed front, back, and sideways. The images were printed and stapled to the dinning room wall in the order they were taken. At the end of the boot camp, Christine was amazed at the differences between the first and last pictures.

The first day after breakfast, the naked women were quick marched to their quarters, a large room with eight single beds. The furnishings were Spartan. There was no privacy. They were given five minutes to stow the few personal items they were allowed to bring. The trainers confiscated any makeup or beauty products.

“Change,” said Ahmad placing a large bag of workout clothes on Christine’s bed. The bag contained shorts, sports bras and sweat suits. Five minutes later, she and the others were running through the woods for two miles. Any woman, who fell or halted, was whipped until she rejoined the run.

After a short break, it was an hour of calisthenics motivated by the liberal use of the trainer’s quirt. A water break was followed by an hour of classroom training in the basic theory of macrobiotic cooking. Alexia explained that only by adopting a healthy diet could they maintain the weight loss the Farm would help them achieve.

“If after you leave, you return to your old eating habits, you will gain every pound back and the hell you go through here will be a waste of time and money,” said Alexia in her opening remarks to the class.

After cooking class the women were marched double time to the Farm’s athletic field. They were divided into two teams for a one-mile relay race. Although Christine managed to win her quarter mile leg, her team lost. The losers were ordered to remove their shorts and bra then marched naked to the far end of the field.

“I don’t think those are for chin-ups,” said Marilyn who had lost the race by falling on the last quarter mile.

“Quiet,” yelled Ebrahim applying his quirt to Marilyn’s fleshy bottom causing her to cry out.

Except for the pairs of handcuffs hanging from each cross bar they do resemble the chin up bars we had in school realized Christine as they approached the end of the field. A short three-legged stool was positioned under each pair of cuffs. Christine sensed the growing erotic tension of the women as they approached their place of punishment. Any normal group of females would be terrified realized Christine but not us. I bet there isn’t a dry pussy in the group.

“Climb up,” said Ahmad gesturing for Christine to step up on the stool. It took only a few seconds to buckle the cuffs around her wrists then kick the stool out from under her. Christine found herself hanging painfully by her arms. Her toes barely grazed the ground as she swung back and forth.

“Winners punish the losers,” announced Mohammed pushing Amanda to a position behind Christine and handing her a large flogger made exactly like the ones employed to maintain discipline in Admiral Nelson’s Navy. It was a heavy, vicious looking instrument of corporal punishment.

The first blow landed with no particular force. For an experienced masochist like Christine, the pain was minor. The trainers immediately expressed their unhappiness with the punishment meted out by the winners.

“Harder, like this,” screamed Mohammed pushing Amanda aside as he took the whip from her. He carefully shook the tangle strands free so each could find its way to a place on Christine’s flesh. It was easily the hardest blow Christine had received that morning. A firestorm of agony raced across her shoulder blade. Her determination not to scream failed. She opened her mouth allowing a sharp cry of agony to burst forth. Christine’s body involuntarily contorted and twisted as she swung back and forth, her toes desperately seeking the earth. As the pain subsided, Christine attempted to distract herself by identifying the other trainees by the sound of their screams.

“Now, you,” said Mohammed handing the flogger back to Amanda.

Amanda’s second attempt was harder than the first but still nowhere near the force of Mohammed’s. Pretty much the same scenario was occurring under the other cross beams. The winners were not whipping the losers hard enough to satisfy the trainers. The trainers began to apply their smaller quirts to the thighs of the women to increase their zeal for whipping their fellows.

“I said harder, you worthless whore,” said Mohammed reacting by once again grabbing the whip from Amanda then lashing it across Christine’s back with real force. He then turned on Amanda and whipped the woman to the ground and continued to whip her as he cursed her in Arabic. Finally he stopped and pulled the near hysterical female to her feet. He gave her a second to recover herself then handed her the whip for another attempt. Mohammed screamed at Amanda urging her to strike harder. It was only at the last that the force of Amanda’s lash approached Mohammed’s. Ahmad placed the stool under Christine’s feet and she along with the others was taken down. Weeks later when Christine had another opportunity to be whipped by Amanda, she marveled as she screamed at how the woman’s technique had improved.

“The winners did such a poor job they too must be punished,” announced Mohammed.

Christine regained her composure as she watched Mohamed and Ahmad suspend fleshy Amanda from the crossbeam. Amanda had a rubenesque figure with the kind of curves most men found appealing. One five nine was painted across her back and chest. Christine found herself excited at the prospect of whipping Amanda’s large bottom. That shocked her somewhat. She had always been a pain receiver never a giver. When Ahmad kicked the wooden stool out from under the woman and she howled at the sudden pain in her shoulders, Christine felt no pity.

“Begin,” said Ahmad stepping aside.

Christine recalled the weekend when one of her macroeconomics professors she was sleeping with at the time, Doctor Marx, used her to teach a divinity student named Daniel correct whipping methods or as he called it, the Art of The Lash. Doctor Marx was an avid collector of antique whips and his collection, housed in a restored Victorian in Boston’s Lexington suburb, included several thousand whips from over sixty countries.

Working from memory, Christine took a position behind Amanda standing sideways. She planted her lead foot forward pointing toward Amanda’s pink bottom. The foot on the side holding the whip was angled away from Amanda. Christine rocked back and forth on the balls on her feet grounding and balancing herself. She drew her whip arm back bending slightly at the elbow while holding her free arm forward for balance.

“Whip her,” said Ahmad directing her to begin.

Christine rocked slightly back on her rear foot then shifted her weight forward as she brought her arm around in an arc. The flogger reached Amanda’s backside with all of Christine’s weight behind it.

The leather strands made a sharp cracking sound when they impacted Amanda’s flesh. Immediately, red strips appeared on the screaming woman’s shoulder blade.

“Good,” grunted a surprised Ahmad. “Now, ten more and harder.”

Following Doctor Marx’s advice to seek flesh not yet kissed by the whip, Christine reversed her stance to land the flogger on Amanda’s other shoulder blade. She took a moment to allow Amanda to recover so she would truly feel the pain of the next blow not allowing it to be blurred and diluted with its predecessor. Methodically, she alternated her stance moving down to her bottom. The final two were perfectly placed across each buttock. The soft flesh indented as the leather struck then turned bright red almost immediately. Poor Amanda was literally dancing in the air at the pain.

I wish I could keep on thought Christine as she stood out of breath enjoying the whimpering sounds Amanda made as she begged not to be whipped anymore.

“Time for a bath,” said Ahmad taking the flogger from her hand.

As Christine walked back with the others, she recalled how Daniel, Doctor Marx, and she had spent the afternoon whipping each other into a state of ecstasy. Daniel had surprised her by maintaining his erection while she vigorously applied a flexible bamboo cane to the shaft. It had ended with the three of them having sex together in his Jacuzzi.

The women were not allowed to redress but told they must pump enough water to fill the wooden tank that supplied the showers. This turned out to be a backbreaking task. It reminded Christine of something she had once seen in a movie. The water pump consisted of a large vertical center post that used a system of gears and pulleys to draw water from an artesian well. From the center post, four smaller posts extended horizontally about a yard above the ground. These four posts turned the center driving the pump. Two women were assigned to each post. Overcoming the inertia required two of the trainers to help.

The women were completely exhausted by the time they re-filled the cistern. Christine fell from exhaustion. That was when Ahmad introduced her to the Hot Shot LS-432 he always carried fully charged.

Chapter 11 The Hunt

“Damn,” said Christine responding to the sting of a paintball hitting her thigh. Two others quickly followed one dead center in her navel and the other on her shoulder. They stung badly and Christine winced in pain as she stopped running and bent over to catch her breath. The game was over.

“Got her,” said a tall distinguished-looking man in camouflage fatigues stepping out from behind a white pine. He was carrying a paintball rifle he’d last used in an old converted warehouse near Boston’s financial district that offered luncheon competitions.

“Nice shot, Warren,” said his partner emerging from the other side of the tree. He was similarly dressed but shorter and stockier. He quickly advanced several steps then took careful aim and fire a volley of paintball pellets at Christine’s crotch.

“Enough,” shouted Christine grabbing her sex with both hands. Unluckily for her, one of the pellets landed on her clit. It felt like a bee had just stung her.

“Right in the pussy,” said the man laughing.

“Quit fucking around, Hank,” said Warren.

Christine pushed her protective goggles up on her head as she watched them approach. The game was called, “Shoot and Screw,” and she had just lost which was expected. She’d spent the last thirty minutes attempting to circle through the woods back to the camp and safety. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to win. The hunters had paid serious money to bag one of the females and use her for their pleasure. Peter had designed the game to appeal to the primitive instincts of wealthy businessmen bored with their marriage’s tepid sex and put off by the mechanical fucks provided by the beautiful hookers who serviced Boston’s business elite. Peter told them they would be amazed how the game brought out the cave man instincts of well educated MBA types who coached their kid’s soccer teams on weekends.

The rules for Shoot and Screw were straightforward. The eight females were released into the Farm’s game preserve five minutes before the men started the hunt. Each female ran to a specific spot in the preserve, collected a flag from their trainer then ran back to the safe zone at the starting point. If she managed to return without being struck by a paintball, she was free for the remainder of the afternoon. But if she did get hit, she became the sex slave of her captors. They could rape and torture her within limits until the sun went down.

It was unspoken but understood that the women were to loose the game. Peter gave some insight into the psychology of the hunt.

“Men are more aggressive when they’ve got a buddy along to show off for,” said Peter briefing the women after breakfast. “A normally sexually timid man can become incredibly macho when there’s another competing male present. Based on past experiences you can expect them to act like a bunch of outlaw bikers.”

“They hunt us down like animals then have sex with us,” said Amanda.

“Not quite, they hunt you down and rape you,” said Peter.

“Do we role-play a rape,” asked Laurie laughing? “That’s going to be difficult if we’re horny.”

“Just let them have their way with you while looking scared shitless. No one will get really hurt although you may be sore for a few days. And let’s face it, if you didn’t like pain with your sex you wouldn’t be here. Role-play the part of an innocent girl enjoying a run in the woods and don’t go totally slut until they’ve blown their load as least twice. Since most of these guys are in their late forties, early fifties, they’ll be using ED drugs to maintain their erections. So you can expect to be mounted more than once by the same guy.”

“Good,” said Marilyn spreading her legs and rubbing her crotch. “They can mount me as many times as they want.”

“Spoken like a true slut,” said Amanda.

“But everyone act like a lady to start. When you’re in the pen during the viewing try to look frightened,” said Peter. “It adds to the excitement.”

“Oh Mr. Hunter, please don’t rape me. I’m a virgin. My pussy hole’s real small and that big thick cock of yours will split me open,” said Kay causing the group to laugh.

In spite of the women’s jokes, matters quickly took on the feel of a real hunt and the women had been excited when Peter finished explaining the rules. Christine had once read that violent rape was the number one sexual fantasy of women and that the better educated the woman, the more violent the fantasy.

In order to heighten the erotic tension, the trainees were put on display before the hunt began. They were crowded together in a small pen for the hunters to view. Twenty hunters working in pair had signed up for the hunt.

Christine felt the excitement as the strange men leaned on the wooden rails peering at the women and making comments about what they would do when they captured their prey. They were well equipped for the hunt. In addition to the paintball gun, each man carried field glasses, eyes protection and a backpack. Peter had casually mentioned the men would be carrying whatever needed to restrain the captured female and some of the hunters could be quite creative.

“You like it in the ass, Christine,” asked one of the men leaning over the rail to pat Christine’s rear?

“Absolutely not, Warren, that’s disgusting,” said Christine slapping his hand away as she read the name stenciled on his fatigues.

“Well, sweetheart when I catch you, my cock is going right up your shithole,” said Warren. “Then I’m going to pull it out of your butt and make you suck it clean.”

“You have to catch me first, Warren,” said Christine looking Warren directly in the eye challenging him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Christine. And when I do, my buddy Hank and I are going to give you the meanest, nastiest fucking of your life.”

“Right,” said the man wearing the fatigues stenciled with the name Henry. “You ain’t going to shit right for a month after we’re done with you.”

Christine was shocked at the men’s crude and graphic language. The hunters were going out of their way to speak in the foulest possible language to the women. According to Peter, they were well-educated, wealthy executives and business leaders able to pay thousands to participate. However, their aggressive behavior added to the erotic feel of the hunt.

“I really prefer not to waste my energy running through the woods,” whispered Amanda to Christine. “As far as I’m concerned, they can throw me down in the dirt and rape me right here.”

“Be a good sport and run like the wind,” replied Christine. “It’s make them angry if they have to work at it. And an angry rapist is a good rapist.”

When the klaxon sounded and the gate opened, Christine and the others ran into the woods. A mile away near the small creek that flowed through the property she found Ahmad at the designated spot. He barely looked up from the Quran he was studying as he handed her the small square of yellow cloth she tucked into the waistband of her shorts.

Christine’s speed afoot caused most of the shots to miss as she ran along the path back toward the camp. She was captured when she reached a hill and was forced to slow down.

“Bend over, bitch,” said Warren taking a spiked leather dog collar out of his pocket.

Christine bent at the waist. Hank grabbed her hair pulling her head between his legs. “Hold still,” said Hank as he clamped his knees against the sides of her head. Quickly, Warren buckled the collar around Christine’s neck.

“You’re our fuck bitch, now,” said Hank relaxing his grip as he once more used her hair as a handle. Warren attached a leash to the collar. Next he slipped a nylon cable tie over her wrists and pulled it tight effectively handcuffing her.

“Don’t move and don’t speak,” said Warren taking a K-bar knife out of his pocket and opening it.

“What are you going to do with that,” asked Christine staring at the knife? Peter had assured the women no one would be really hurt but he hadn’t mentioned anything about knives.

Immediately, her back exploded in pain as Hank lashed her with a short flogger he’d removed from his backpack.

“Didn’t we tell you not to speak, cunt,” said Hank slashing the flogger over her inner thighs. The polymer strands stung her flesh causing her to yelp in pain. Instinctively, she tried to use her hands to protect herself; but Warren grabbed her wrists allowing Hank to viciously land the strands where they hurt terribly. Christine shrieked in pain and was surprised to hear the answering cries of other females echoing back to her through the trees. Warren and Hank weren’t the only successful hunters. Christine recognized Amanda’s distinctive scream as it traveled through the dense forest.

“This one needs a lesson,” said Warren.

“And we’re just the ones to give it to her,” said Hank finishing with a full strength lash that sent Christine to the forest floor sobbing that she would do whatever they wanted.

“Don’t move a muscle, slut,” said Warren reaching down with the K-bar to cut Christine’s tee shirt down the middle. The razor edge easily knifed through her bra, shorts, and panty leaving her clad only in her cross trainers.

“Nice big titties, we are going to have ourselves a party with those,” said Warren reaching down to pinch Christine’s nipple then grabbing her wrist to pull her back to her feet.

If ever there was a moment in her life when Christine experienced a look of unbridled lust, it was then. Warren’s eyes scanned her naked form, his hand rubbing the bulge in the crotch of his fatigues.

“Please don’t hurt me,” pleaded Christine starting to cry. Unconsciously, she had slipped into the role of an innocent woman who found herself at the mercy of two men bent on rape and mayhem.

“Need something for the album, say cheese,” said Hank pointing the tiny silver camera lens at Warren and Christine. Christine stood silent as Warren smiled at the camera while holding her leash.

“Grab her tits and smile,” said Hank.

Warren stepped behind Christine then reached his arms around her to grab her breasts. His large hands cupped her breasts and pressed hard as Hank captured several images.

“Nice,” said Hank.

“You done,” asked Warren? “I’m anxious to get started.”

“One more, get on your knees, bitch, take Warren’s cock out and hold it pointed toward your mouth.”

Christine knelt reaching for Warren’s zipper. The prospect of rape had already brought Warren’s cock to a full erection. Christine found it difficult controlling her own lust as her hand wrapped around the warm penis. At that moment, a very loud scream of female pain sounded from just the other side of the hill.

“Somebody’s having fun,” said Hank moving in for a close-up. “Stick your tongue out and lick his dick.”

Christine flicked the tip of her tongue over Warren’s cockhead tasting a clear drop of precum.

“Now me,” said Hank handing the camera to Warren.

It only took a minute or two to complete the photo session. Christine recalled how her father loved to hunt and fish and how he treasured the pictures of himself with his kill. The walls of his den were covered with photos of him with deer, elk, marlin, and even a giant Kodiak bear he’d bagged. However, Christine doubted any of Hank’s trophy images were going to be displayed in a suburban home. Photo session done, Christine, handcuffed and leashed, was led down a hill to a small clearing where a giant elm had recently fallen. The trunk was enormous.

“Up you go,” said Warren lifting Christine to where she was seated on the trunk. They removed the plastic cuffs with the K-bar.

Christine was surprised at how efficiently they restrained her. They must have done this before she realized as they quickly removed nylon straps from their backpacks and attached them with Velcro to her wrists and ankles.

“Lie back across the log and extend your arms and legs,” said Warren attaching an S-hook to each of the cuffs.

Christine’s back painfully accommodated the curvature of the fallen forest giant. She watched as they attached mountain climber ropes to S-hooks and passed them under the log.

“Warren and I do some rock and ice climbing,” said Hank by way of explanation.

“This whore ain’t interested in our hobbies,” said Warren as he connected an adjustable rod between Christine’s ankles then extended it fully.

“Let’s tighten her up,” said Warren pulling the ropes taut on his side of the log as Hank worked the other side.

Christine felt her arms and legs being extended past the point of comfort. She felt herself being slowly pulled into the same contour as the log. She began to wail as the pain grew. Finally when her hands were only inches from her feet they stopped. Christine realized she was covered in perspiration. The crown of her head was pointed toward the ground.

“Best way I know to tighten up a pussy,” said Warren roughly placing his index finger at the entrance to Christine’s vagina then pushing hard to gain entry. Christine grunted in response as the large digit forced its way into the compressed passageway.

“Suck it, bitch or I’ll care my initials in your face,” said Hank putting his cock to Christine’s lips.

“Let’s balloon her knockers before we whip them,” said Warren handing Hank a ring of hard black rubber as he placed his cock at her vagina and started to shove hard to force it inside her.

“She’d got awful big boobs to fit through these,” said Hank holding the ring to the side of Christine’s breasts.

“Make them fit,” said Warren beginning the painful process of forcing her breasts through the small ring.

Throughout the forest, the eight women were restrained in various painful positions being furiously assaulted. Peter had been right about the creativity of the well-equipped hunters. They had brought lightweight nylon strapping with quick-release Velcro fasteners. Expensive ice and rock climbing ropes were being used to restrain the women in positions that left them terribly vulnerable to whatever predations the hunters desired.

Christine, her mouth filled with Hank’s fat cock, was unable to protest her situation. Her legs were spread in an extreme split by the titanium bar. Her spine was hyper-extended around the tree trunk. The ropes maintained a painful tension between her ankles and wrists. Warren was ramming his cock into her painfully constricted vagina. All the while, both men were slowly forcing her breasts through two impossibly small rubber rings. Their earlier threat to give her the nastiest meanest fuck of her life was turning out to be true.

“Done,” said Hank. Both rings rested tight against Christine’s breastbone. When she managed to glance up, she saw that the ring had so constricted the base the breast was swelling and changing to a reddish tint. Veins and arteries were becoming visible.

“Isn’t that a pretty sight,” asked Warren when he finished? “I love the way they swell up like balloons, only takes a minute or two.”

“And the nipples get long and hard,” said Hank using his nail to flick Christine’s buds.

Out of sheer desperation, Christine busied her mouth with Hank’s cock as she contracted her abdominal muscles to please Warren. It was not long before Christine’s orifices accepted the semen of both men. When Hank pulled his cock from her mouth, he wiped it in her hair.

“Need a break,” said Warren tossing Hank a bottle of mineral water

“Thirsty,” asked Hank looking down at Christine.

“Yes,” said Christine. The salty semen had increased her thirst.

“Open wide,” said Hank looking down at Christine. His cock was still resting on her forehead.

Hank took a large swallow of water, bent to where his face was inches from hers and spit into her open mouth. Christine swallowed what she could.

“Just be glad it isn’t piss. Peter made us stop that,” said Hank repeating Christine’s hydration. This time she choked and coughed.

“Here, let’s light the bitch up. She’s had it too easy,” said Warren handing Hank a flogger as he climbed over the log to Hank’s side.

The men took positions on opposite sides.

“Know what this is, bitch,” asked Warren holding the nasty looking flogger for Christine to see.

“It’s a whip, a flogger. Please don’t hit me with that. I can’t stand it,” pleaded Christine who was actually looking forward to a good flogging. Christine refrained from saying, “It’s a high quality nine strand flogger made from kangaroo the leather preferred by sadists the world over. Please whip me as hard as you can. I’ll love it.”

“Lying cunt, we know you want it. All the girls Peter brings here are dying to get their ass whipped cherry red. We won’t disappoint you. We’re going to start at your neck and whip down your body until there’s not a square centimeter of flesh that doesn’t hurt,” said Warren.

Christine’s screams joined the other seven, as the hunters sought to maximize the pain they could induce in each of their captives. The first blows landed right below her neck then slowly moved downward to her swollen breasts that proved to be hypersensitive. Warren and Hank sat straddling the log as they punished her torso leaving no flesh unscathed. Their broad grins and frequent laughter at her cries for mercy convinced Christine her captors were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

“Ten good ones per titty,” cried Hank laying the lash across her chest with all the force he could muster. “That’s one.”

By the time, the men reached ten both breasts had changed to globes of burning hot agony. Methodically and with precision they applied the flogger to her sex then her thighs and lower legs ending at the soles of her feet. They’d neglected nothing. Even her armpits felt the lash. Maurice had taught her a blow to the armpit was exceedingly painful.

Christine had screamed herself hoarse by the time they finished.

“The bitch’s screams have gotten me hard again,” said Hank putting his cock head at her entrance and shoving forward.

“I’d love to do this to Lauren,” said Warren slipping his cock into Christine’s mouth.

“She’d divorce your ass in a New York minute,” said Hank. “And take half of everything you own.”

“It might be worth it just to make the unfaithful cunt scream like her,” said Warren.

“Tracey would be my choice. God, I love sloppy seconds. Nothing better than putting your dick in another man’s spunk,” said Hank forcing his cock into Christine’s vagina. Warren’s semen oozed out the sides of Hank’s cock.

“There would be a certain poetic justice in that,” said Warren pushing his cockhead to the back of Christine’s throat causing her to gag. “That’s right, honey, you choke on Warren’s big dick.”

“And she already knows all the rape counselors and how to make her own rape kit,” said Hank laughing as he rhythmically pounded his cock into a grunting Christine who in spite of the pain was close to experiencing an orgasm. Stacy relaxed her throat to accept Warren’s cockhead.

“What do you think, Christine,” asked Warren withdrawing his cock so she could answer?

“About what,” asked Christine disappointed Warren had ceased his attempt to wedge his cock into her throat opening.

“We have this attorney named Tracey Lawson who is always doing pro bono work representing women who have been raped or abused by their husbands. She claims she was date raped in college,” said Warren.

“She told her paralegal she was date raped several times. How logical does that sound,” added Hank? “Personally, I think she’s not playing with a full deck. Who gets date raped more than once unless they’re asking for it?”

“We all do some pro bono but most of us have enough class not to tell everybody how wonderful we are for helping the less fortunate. Anyway she is a real pain in the ass and nobody likes her but we can’t fire her ass because she’ll sue the firm for discrimination. We’re not exactly staffed with female partners if you know what I mean. What would you advise? I wish these were Tracy’s buds I’m squeezing,” said Warren capturing Christine’s blood-swollen nipples in his fingers and crushing them.

“Is she pretty,” asked Christine between licks of Warren’s balls? Christine was having difficulty following Peter’s order to constrain her sluttish nature. She resisted the urge to scream for Hank to squeeze her nipples harder.

“Figure’s not bad just a little heavy, face would stop a clock,” said Warren. “I’d have to put a bag over her head while I fucked her.”

“Her tits are a lot smaller than yours but her ass is much bigger,” said Hank working Christine’s nipples hard trying to make her cry out.

“Hank, can you reach my pack,” asked Warren? “Christine is getting too comfortable.”

“Sure,” said Hank tossing the pack over the log to Warren.

“So, Christine, what’s your advice,” asked Hank.

“Do to her exactly what you’re doing to me,” said Christine.

“And go to jail for the rest of our lives,” said Warren taking a package of disposable syringe needles out of his backpack and tearing open the package with his teeth.

“Give her a scholarship to the Farm. Tell her she needs to lose some weight to make partner,” said Christine.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Warren plunging a needle unexpectedly into the side of Christine’s breast. He twirled the needle adding to the pain.

“Too bad they don’t give an award for the girl who screams the loudest,” said Hank after Christine had run out of air making a long wail of agony in reaction to having a needle stuck into the center of her nipple.

“Give me some of those,” said Hank reaching over the log toward Warren.

“When you ring those puppies and let them swell up to where they are tight as a tick, the needles really hurt,” said Warren sticking a needle in the other breast.

During the scream that followed Christine orgasmed surprising the two men.

“True fucking pain slut,” said Hank in admiration before placing the tip of the needle against the surface of the breast. He pressed slightly to make a depression then quickly forced it in as far as it would go.

“Want to see the new trick I learned from one of my clients,” asked Warren?

“Which one,” asked Hank twisting the needle as it punctured the flesh?

“Seth Brophy.”

“That sick bastard, show me,” said Hank.

“It’s called bone scraping. You put the needle through the side of the tit right above the top rib. Then you push down to where the tip rests on the bone and you give it a little wiggle,” said Warren.

“Mercy, no more, please,” screamed Christine as she felt the metal tip scrape over the surface of the bone. The pain was so intense she almost blacked out.

“Let me give it a try,” said Hank.

The intense pain of the needle on the bone brought Christine to a loud, screaming orgasm.

“The more you hurt her, the harder she cums,” said Warren inserting another needle. “When she screams like that, it makes me want to blast my load down her throat.”

“Let’s finish with her tits and flip her over. I promised myself an ass fuck,” said Hank.

The two men pounded their cocks into Christine keeping their excitement at a pitch by inserting needles into her breasts until they reached her rib or sternum then scraping the point across the surface. Christine had reached the Tantric plateau of continuous orgasm as the men once more filled her orifices with their seed. After they finished, they turned her over causing her badly whipped front side to contact the rough tree bark. The needless remaining in her swollen breasts added to her agony. Once again, while stretched to the maximum possible extent, her backside was methodically whipped from the top of her shoulders to the soles of her feet.

“Think your cunt’s big enough to take this,” asked Warren putting a super sized dildo in front of her face. “Actually, you opinion doesn’t count.”

Christine groaned as she felt the faux cock expand her entrance.

“She loves it, Hank,” said Warren pressing with the palm of his hand against the base.

Slowly, Christine felt the walls of her vagina expand giving way to an object whose girth far exceeded the capacity of her tunnel. Christine ground her clitoris against the bark seeking to reduce the pain by distracting her senses.

“That’s what I call a stuffed pussy,” said Hank taking multiple close up images with his camera. “Here, take a look, Christine. I bet you’re wondering if your pussy will ever snap back to its normal size.”

When Christine looked in the display, she found it hard to believe those were her labia stretched around the base of the dildo. While she was looking at the images, she felt a finger enter her rectum.

“This is going to be an ass fuck you’re never going to forget,” said Warren slipping a second finger inside Christine. “The dildo in your cunt acts as a bushing tightening up your ass.”

“It feels so tight,” said Christine as Warren’s fingers stretched her sphincter open.

“You Boot Camp ass whores are used to being butt-fucked. Last time we were here, this little blonde slut loved having my cock up her ass. Her butt was so loose we had to stick both our fists in to make her feel it. So Hank and I decided a new approach was in order,” said Warren leaning forward to place his cock at the center of Christine rosebud.

Warren’s new approach worked. The dildo caused her rectum and bowel to be much tighter than normal. As Warren’s cock reached its maximum depth, the pain recalled Christine’s first anal intercourse. It hurt like hell.

“How is it,” asked Hank standing beside Warren waiting his turn.

“Tight, fits like a glove,” said Warren delivering a loud slap to Christine’s rear. “Not going to last long.”

A few strokes later, Warren released into Christine’s asshole that was screaming in pain.

As Hank mounted her, Warren hopped over the log to present his cock to her mouth.

“Lick it clean, bitch,” said Warren raising Christine’s head to bring her lips to his cock.

After Hank finished, they untied Christine. They removed the rings from the base of her breasts. That proved to be an incredibly painful process as her swollen boobs were forced back through the much smaller openings.

“Good job, Christine, here’s my card with my private number if you ever want this kind of action back in the city. I know a dominatrix that rents out dungeons by the hour,” said Hank returning their things to his backpack.

“Here’s mine,” said Warren putting his card in her hand then handing her a bottle of water.

“All right if I bring a friend,” asked Christine thinking that an afternoon of Hank and Warren’s loving care might be the perfect way to pay Genevieve back for sleeping with her husband.

“If she’s as pretty as you are, sure why not,” said Warren.

As Warren and Hank were finishing their packing, two unsuccessful hunters stepped out from behind a nearby tree. One of them had an obvious semen stain on his fatigues.

“You two finished with her,” asked one of the men sounding sheepish?

“Doesn’t she look finished,” asked Warren glancing in Christine’s direction? Christine was leaning against the log barely able to stand.

“I’d say you got pretty much all she’s got but I’d still like to give her a try,” said the other man. “We took a lot of shots but they all missed.”

“She’s yours,” said Hank handing Christine’s leash to one of the men.

“Enjoy,” said Warren walking away leaving Christine with the two hunters who had been watching her suffer for the last hour.

Chapter 12 Tantric Marathon

“Think there’s enough of them? I’m horny as hell. I may have to borrow some of yours,” said Amanda watching the men exit the bus. It was late afternoon of the final week of boot camp and the women had earlier been informed they would be putting their Tantric Yoga training to use in a wild party where the men would out number the women ten to one.

“Today you will have opportunity to apply the Tantric skills you have learned over the last weeks,” announced Sanjay, the tall lean yogi who taught the class. His thin wrists and long tapered fingers had repeatedly found their way inside his student’s vaginas. The girls had quietly nicknamed him, Fister.

Tantric class was held in a quiet forest glade away from the main buildings. Sanjay considered it an ideal spot to commune with nature and teach the woman the five thousand-year-old yoga practice whose primary goals were to increase the intensity and duration of their orgasm.

As usual the women were working in pairs. Christine was in a comfortable supine position on a mat with her legs spread. A U-shaped pillow favored by Tantra devotees elevated her hips giving Deirdre, her partner, comfortable access to her lower orifices and pleasure centers. Deirdre, eyes closed, was seated in the classic Lotus position between Christine’s legs. Her knees pressed lightly into Christine’s inner thighs maintaining two important points of physical contact allowing them to exchange psychic energy during masturbation.

Other than the sounds of the forest and the gurgling of a nearby brook, the only noise was the women’s controlled eight-count breathing and the occasional throaty moan resulting from the females arriving at the next and more exalted level of orgasmic pleasure.

Christine’s eyes were also closed as she silently repeated the mantra Sanjay and she had chosen. Her consciousness was centered on the sensations emanating from her vulva and anus. She allowed no stray thoughts or concerns to enter her mind. Worries about Maurice or even Genevieve had been gently dismissed if they occurred at all. She existed in a world limited to two forms of awareness. The first was the all-important eight-count breath and the second was her sexual organs.

Weeks ago, they had begun with the four count breath. Breath control was vital to Tantric Yoga. After long periods of controlled breathing, the class had moved to six and ultimately eight count. Christine had been the first student to connect her breath to her orgasm. When Amanda finally made the connection, she had remarked, “Getting off is as easy as inhaling and exhaling. The lining of my pussy is keyed to my respiration. Who would have thought it?”

In the past, Christine had practiced several different styles of yoga, Hatha, Astanga, and Iyengar but Tantra was new to her. She had been amazed by what she and the others had achieved in a short period. Her orgasms were more profound and she was increasingly able to prolong them maintaining a Tantric high lasting several minutes. She also learned to follow one orgasm with another all the while building intensity while maintaining control.

Under Sanjay’s careful instruction, all the women had vastly increased their enjoyment of orally stimulating both male and female partners.

“I never knew eating pussy or sucking cock could be such a wonderful, self satisfying experience,” said Cynthia after Sanjay had allowed her to blow him.

Christine had made the greatest progress. She had reached the stage where she could orgasm without touching herself while performing cunnilingus on the other females and while sucking Sanjay or Ahmad’s cock.

Deirdre’s fingers coated in aromatic oil were stimulating Christine’s vulva and anus. Both orifices were completely relaxed. Deirdre’s hand was inside Christine’s vagina. Relaxing the vaginal opening to allow for insertion of your partner’s fist was considered a vital first step to achieving Tantric nirvana. The fingers of her other hand were slowly rotating back and forth stimulating the nerves in Christine’s sphincter. Tantric sex considered the backdoor a neglected pleasure center.

At the start of class, Sanjay lead his students through a sequence of meditation and breath control followed by stretching and relaxation exercises that rendered their pleasure centers highly sensitive to stimulation.

Christine has excelled at Tantra. She had been the first to achieve a prolonged multi-orgasmic state. The pads of two fingers massaged Christine’s G-spot sending waves of pleasure resembling the ripples produced by a stone thrown into a still pond. Sanjay had even suggested that with additional study, Christine might well achieve the high Tantric state of being able to orgasm without any form of tactile stimulation. According to Sanjay, achieving a sexual climax employing only meditation was something rarely found outside of his native India.

Deirdre, eyes closed, repeated her mantra as she rhythmically massaged Christine’s clit with her thumb. At the start of class, Christine had centered herself, quieted and emptied her mind then opened her senses to the pleasures Lord Shiva would bring to those who summoned him. Unconscious of anything but her breath and erotic senses, Christine had reached a state of orgasm that neither rose nor fell but maintained a constant stream of pleasure. The other seven had managed to prolong and intensify their orgasms but not to the same extent as Christine.

The students had been surprised when Sanjay made his announcement as class was ending.

“You mean we won’t have to get each other off,” said Laurie.

“Men will be provided,” said Sanjay.

“Great, I was getting a callus on my finger from jacking Christine,” said Deirdre holding up her hand for everyone to see.

“That’ll match the callus on your tongue,” said Amanda.

“Bitch,” responded Deirdre good-naturedly.

“What are you talking about, Sanjay,” asked Christine?

“The management has arranged for a number of young men to visit the Farm this afternoon. They should arrive later this afternoon. There will be a big party and much fucking.”

“Oh goody, more Arabs to quote the Quran to us about what filthy whores we are,” said Amanda.

“No, I believe these gentlemen are mainly from Mexico,” said Sanjay. “Yes, they are Latinos who love to fuck with the American girls.”

“Mexico is a long way off,” said Christine. “Surely, Peter’s not flying them here.”

“These men come from Mexico but they live in New England,” said Sanjay. “They build houses.”

“How many men,” asked Marilyn?

“There are usually at least eighty,” said Sanjay.

“You’re telling us that possibly eighty Mexican men are coming to a party here at the Farm,” said Cynthia expressing disbelief?

“Yes, there will be a party, music, dancing, beer, and plenty of food,” said Sanjay. “Alexia has prepared some special dishes to please them.”

“Exactly, where are these Mexicans from,” asked Laurie?

“The Home Depot in Manchester,” said Sanjay. “At least that was where they came from last time.”

“Day laborers, UAs,” said Marilyn. “They hang out in the parking lot looking for construction work.”

“UAs, what is a UA,” asked Sanjay?

“Undocumented alien, wetbacks, they sneak across the border,” said Marilyn.

“Latino men are muy macho,” said Christine.

“I dated a Puerto Rican in high school. His name was Renaldo. He was like the Energizer Bunny. He kept going and going and going,” said Laurie.

“I bet he wore you out,” said Marilyn.

“I’m part Energizer Bunny too. He crawled out of bed when I was done with him,” said Laurie.

“Somebody’s bragging,” said Amanda.

“And we’re expected to have sex with all eighty of them,” asked Cynthia?

“Yes, employing your knowledge of the Tantra and your desire to please Lord Shiva,” said Sanjay. “Now go back to your place and make yourself attractive. There are pretty clothes for you to wear. You will dress as young Mexican peasant girls.”

***

Sanjay had been correct. Under a nearby stand of trees, there were two rows of four picnic tables. Each table came with a large galvanized tub of iced Mexican beer. Several long buffet tables were nearby. There was even a DJ setting up his equipment at the edge of a recently installed temporary wooden dance floor.

“Eight tables and eight of us,” said Christine looking over the preparations.

“What are the air mattresses for,” asked Kay eying the row of four large inflatables positioned on the ground between the tables?

“What do you think they’re for,” asked Amanda sarcastically?

Kay looked surprised as she spoke, “I didn’t realize we would be screwing while everyone watched.”

“I’ll be too busy to watch you,” said Christine. “Even if you’re right there beside me.”

“Well, Sanjay said a true follower of Tantra should be able to orgasm anywhere, even on a crowded subway,” said Laurie.

“I like to be watched. I think it’s hot,” said Deirdre. “Let’s pick out something sexy to wear.”

There was a pipe rack of brightly colored skirts and blouses in their sleeping quarters when they returned. There was also make-up, perfume, and costume jewelry

“Are we going to get fucked or make a Mexican cowboy movie,” asked Amanda looking at the traditional Mexican clothes?

“It’s role-playing. Loosen up. This is going to be fun,” said Christine taking several garments off the rack to try.

“They’re even letting us have make-up,” said Deirdre picking up one of the make-up kits.

“I’m showering first,” said Christine stripping off her clothes. “Let’s do our part to improve relations between the United States and the Republic of Mexico.”

“Right, I need to clean my pussy out and get it ready for some hot Mexican spunk,” said Amanda leading the women toward the shower room.

“If before Boot Camp started, you had asked me if I would be excited by the idea of sex with illegal Mexican immigrants, I would have told you were insane,” said Marilyn seated on a plastic stool in the communal shower squeezing the bulb of a douche to fill her vagina with warm water. “Watch, every one,” said Marilyn leaning back against the shower wall. She tilted her pelvis slightly upward as she forcefully contracted her abdominal muscles. A stream of water shot several feet out of her vagina.

“That might get you a job in Tijuana,” said Christine lathering her breasts.

“My father told me that when he was in the Philippines he used to go to this club where the women shot ping pong balls out of their cunt into the audience. The trick was to catch one in your mouth. You won a beer and a blowjob under the table,” said Marilyn reloading her shooter.

“You and your dad must have been very close,” said Kay.

“So, Christine, you’re the world traveler. How do Mexicans like their sex,” asked Amanda soaping her breasts? “Oral, vaginal, or anal? Will they suck my nipples until I beg them to stop?”

“Nothing exotic like Frenchmen or Italians, they go for quantity but they cover the bases if they’re anything like Spaniards,” said Christine. “It’s going to be a three hole night so douche fore and aft. And yes, they’ll suck your nipples until your scream.”

“Good, I need a break from the Middle Eastern diet I’ve been on,” said Laurie.

“I can’t believe I’m going to have sex with ten different men,” said Cynthia taking Marilyn’s place on the stool to douche.

“What’s the most you’ve ever done before at one time, Cynthia,” asked Laurie?

“I don’t know. My only time with more than one man was in college,” said Cynthia after thinking for a few seconds.

“You don’t know. You were there when it happened. Weren’t you?” said Deirdre.

“It was at Les’s fraternity. I passed out during the party after the homecoming game. When I woke up, I was upstairs in bed naked with one of Les’ frat brothers on top of me. There was a line waiting down the hall. As soon as he finished, another one hopped on me. There was a fat girl I didn’t know in the bed beside me. They were raping her at least I think they were. She was crying and begging them to stop. They made us sixty-nine. That was my first time with another girl. She must have been a lesbian because she stopped crying and ate me like one. Then I passed out again. I kept waking up but there was always someone different on me,” said Cynthia. “They didn’t let me leave until almost noon the next day.”

“Les, isn’t he your husband,” asked Christine busily soaping Laurie’s back.

“Yes, he was a Sigma Alpha Epsilon, Gamma Chapter,” said Cynthia.

“And he let his fraternity brothers screw his future wife,” said Laurie. “How brotherly of him.”

“We were just dating at the time. He slipped some E into my beer,” said Cynthia. “Later, he said he was sorry about setting me up and making the video.”

“Oh, I suppose that makes it all right,” said Marilyn.

“He made a video of you pulling a train,” asked Amanda taking her position on the shower chair and filling the douche with clean water.

“Yes, it was a tradition at his frat. At least once, all the guys were expected to get a date drunk, drug her, and let everyone have a piece,” said Cynthia. “The videos were kept in an archive in the basement.”

“Think we can apply our Tantric training to pulling a train of horny Latinos,” asked Laurie?

“Ten men, three different holes, all the while silently chanting my mantra and maintaining a state of continuous orgasm,” said Kay drying off. “Yeah, I can handle it.”

“Not that I care anymore but I bet they’re not circumcised either,” said Kay.

“I’m getting used to sucking foreskin,” said Amanda. “Circumcised cock won’t taste right to me.”

“Let’s hurry and get dressed. I want to see them arrive,” said Christine. “I plan to flirt, dance, fuck and have myself a hell of a good time.”

“Too bad Les isn’t here to video the entire thing, right Cynthia,” asked Marilyn?

***

“They’ll think we look like something from an old John Wayne movie,” said Amanda watching the men get off the bus with the name White Mountain Tours painted on the side. The eight women were dressed in colorful peasant blouses and skirts. There was even a box of inexpensive silver and turquoise jewelry. Christine had selected a matching bracelet, necklace and earrings.

“Those movies were before my time,” said Deirdre.

“And theirs, they look so young,” said Cynthia referring to the men getting off the bus.

“Good, I want my ten to be young and horny,” said Laurie.

“Peter must be an old movie fan,” said Christine. “Still I have to say we look pretty damn hot. Every one of us has met or exceeded our weight lost goals and our abdominals are tight as a drum. It feels good to be wearing makeup for a change.”

“I can’t wait to put a lipstick ring on one of their cocks,” said Amanda.

“Yeah, but all that body shaping we’ve done is hidden under these clothes,” said Kay referring to the ankle length skirt. “I haven’t worn a skirt this long in forever.”

“I don’t doubt that before very long you will find an excuse to show them what’s underneath,” said Marilyn.

“I won’t need an excuse,” said Kay. “I intend to get naked and put my newly acquired Tantric skills to work. I plan on hitting the big O and staying O-ed for the rest of the night.”

“Ten Latin meat rockets each, that’s a challenge,” said Cynthia nervously eyeing the young Latin men as they stepped down from the bus.

“They covered the windows so they wouldn’t know where they were going,” said Christine noting the black curtains drawn tight over each window.

“Hey, Alexia, going to join the gang bang tonight,” Amanda said to the cook who had just arrived and was also dressed as Hollywood’s idea of a Mexican peasant girl.

“Why not? I’ve had to spend hours arranging for all this Mexican food to be catered,” said Alexia. “Then Mohammed and I had to go and pick it up.”

“Where are our Arab lovers tonight,” asked Deirdre?

“All this open unbridled lust would shake their faith in Allah. Peter sent them off to the mosque in Manchester to pray for our souls.”

“I doubt they credit we whores with having a soul,” said Laurie.

“All right, ladies, let’s get the party started,” said Peter after the bus discharged its last passenger. “Please go to your assigned table and introduce yourself.”

***

The party started slow. The men were shy and most spoke little English. Christine’s fluent Spanish helped to break the ice. She quickly learned they were mostly roofers, masons, and ordinary laborers. They were being paid slightly over a day’s pay to get on a bus and take a ninety-minute drive. Once they arrived, they were promised beer, food, music, and eight horny gringas they would have to share sexually. Although it sounded too good to be true, the word had gotten around the offer was genuine. Peter had been pleased with the group who chose to attend.

The presence of double sized air mattresses on the ground beside the tables got a number of nervous glances. As the men helped themselves to the beer and food, Christine sat in each of the ten men’s lap and introduced herself. She asked their names and the town in Mexico they were from. Two of the men were actually from Guatemala and one was from Honduras. Several of the men had been to the Farm before. They didn’t hesitate to put their hand on Christine’s bare leg as they talked. She kissed all the men pressing her breasts against their chest.

The local Mariachi band Peter had hired began to play. How clever thought Christine seeing how the band created a relaxed atmosphere? The band moved among the tables playing requests. Ignoring Alexia’s disapproving looks, Christine sampled some of the food and drank a beer as she began to flirt more openly. The band played while the men ate dinner. But as the men finished eating Christine could sense an increase in sexual tension. She played to the more aggressive males encouraging their hands to wander.

“I am very horny,” said Christine sitting in the lap of Esteban, the one she took to be the Alpha male. She kissed him passionately before adding, “I hope you like women.”

“I love women,” said Esteban placing his hand on her bare knee then sliding it up her thigh.

“And the others,” asked Christine?

“If one of us is a queer, I will fuck you twice as hard,” said Esteban emphasizing his commitment to heterosexuality by rubbing Christine’s panty covered sex. “And I can tell the Senora prefers men to girls.”

“You can tell how ready I am,” said Christine referring to the wetness Esteban felt through the thin material. Christine felt the hand of the man seated beside Esteban slip under her loose fitting blouse to feel her bare breast. “Oh my, is that your hand on my titty, Carlos?

“Yes, Senora,” said Carlos.

“Carlos and I are brothers,” said Esteban.

“Good, sex with brothers is special. My husband and his brother have shared me. I love two, even three men at the same time,” said Christine turning to kiss Carlos pressing her boob against his callused roofer’s hand.

Christine stood up and moved around the table establishing physical contact with each of the ten. She encouraged them to feel her breasts and crotch. Calling on her Tantric training, she emptied her mind and focused on her pleasure centers.

As the men were finishing dessert, Christine walked over to the DJ and looked through his selection. Her request began to play as she returned to her table. According to Peter’s instructions, Christine passed among the men allowing them to draw a slip of paper out of a box placed on the table. The slips were numbered from one to ten. Esteban proudly displayed the slip numbered one.

“Time to get laid, girls,” shouted Christine as she climbed up on the table. Amanda and the others immediately followed suit. Christine began to dance allowing her skirt to flare up as she turned.

“I can’t dance to that,” shouted Cynthia from the top of her table.

“Take your top off and shake your tits,” yelled Marilyn pulling her top over her head and tossing it to the men who were standing touching her bare legs.

The women did not so much dance as strip. As soon as Christine removed her blouse and threw it away, two of the men pulled her off the table and carried her to the air mattress. In a matter of seconds, they stripped Christine down to her sandals. A breathless Laurie arrived on the other side of the air mattress seconds later.

“Oh, I need this,” murmured Christine looking up at the men surrounding her. She could see the lust in their eyes. “Hurry, Esteban,” she urged spreading her labia open.

Esteban knelt between Christine’s legs stroking his already hard cock.

“Here,” he said handing her a slip of paper with the number one printed on it.

“Put it in,” said Christine reaching for his cock to guide it into her vagina. Seconds later, she enjoyed the feel of being penetrated. “Oh fucking yes, that’s good,” yelled Christine as his cock descended and she felt his pubic hair touch her hairless mound.

“Nothing like letting everything go and being a real slut,” said Laurie as her number one slipped his cock inside her?

“Show everyone how a real man fucks a gringa whore, Esteban,” said Christine locking her ankles at his back and pulling him into her. “Fuck me, Esteban, fuck me as hard as you can.”

“Suck momma’s titty, sweetheart,” whispered Laurie as her first attacked her nipples with his mouth.

The first ten were rapid missionary fucks that left Christine’s and the others with cunts filled with semen. Eighteen men were gathered around the mattress watching as their compatriots took their turn with the girls. Christine had wondered if any of the ten would be too shy for public sex; however, it wasn’t long before a very handsome your roofer named Miguel handed her his ten slip as he entered her. The prospect of sloppy tens didn’t faze him as he cradled Christine’s legs, bent her double and pounded his cock into her cunt.

“Oh shit, I love it,” squealed Laurie as a larger than usual cock forced her passage.

After that, it became more creative. Christine lost track of time and numbers as she serviced whoever was next. It wasn’t long before the positions became more varied and she found herself sucking one cock while being fucked by another. At some point, she was anally penetrated. After that, double and triple penetration became the rule. At the end it was lengthy mano a mano fucks with the few men who had staying power.

It was nearly midnight when Peter gave orders for the men to grab any remaining food and beer and get on the bus. Christine kissed each of her ten lovers as they left. Then an exhausted Christine and the others stumbled into bed. They were too tired to shower.

“I bet I have a gallon of chili-flavored semen in my belly,” said Laurie before adding, “And a quart each in my snatch and asshole.”

“I wonder if come is macrobiotic,’ said Kay.

“I once read it’s mostly protein,” said Amanda.

“Builds strong muscles,” said Christine.

“My tongue is sore and my pussy and asshole are too but it was fun,” said Cynthia. “Les keeps talking about watching me fuck a couple of his golf buddies. I think I’ll take him up on it.”

“If you do, send me a copy of the video,” said Deirdre.

Chapter 13 The Arena

“Shit,” cried Christine as Amanda’s shoulder drove her into the rough-hewn wooden wall of the arena. Christine’s back impacted with an audible thud that could be felt all the way to the spectator’s feet in the stands above. She felt the air rush out of her lungs. Amanda was in a crouch, her shoulder at Christine’s midsection. Christine saw stars when the back of her head snapped against a plank.

“A hundred on blue,” yelled one of the women seated above watching the contest. Christine’s color was green. A large green square was painted on her bare chest and back.

Amanda’s gloved hands took a firm grip on one of the planks that made up the octagonal side of the arena. Using it for leverage, she once again slammed her shoulder into Christine’s gut causing the smaller woman’s back to crash into the wall. Her skin scraped the unfinished wood drawing blood. Sensing Christine’s helpless state, Amanda repeated the body slam a third time before stepping back to allow her to sink to her knees obviously dazed.

Deciding the fight was under her control, Amanda chose to enjoy herself and take her time finishing Christine. Like the other female gladiators, Amanda’s adrenalin was flowing and she wanted to play to the crowd’s bloodlust. Too quickly for her satisfaction she had rendered Christine helpless. Plus she’d spent hours learning how to cause an opponent the maximum amount of pain. This was her opportunity to apply the things she’d learned. The crowd wanted more.

“Go blue, beat her brains out,” screamed one of the female spectators. Watching previous fights through the crevices in the boards, the gladiators had noted it was the female spectators who appeared most animated, yelling for more blood. When Amanda looked up she saw the woman’s hand was stroking the erect cock poking out of her partner’s toga. Peter had said the spectators would have sex while viewing the combat.

“In the Circus Maximus, the men often bent their wives over the rail and sodomised them while they watched the chariots,” said Peter describing the audience’s propensity for public sex. “And in the Coliseum, there were mass rapes of reluctant females. During the course of an afternoon, a woman might be raped fifty or a hundred times.”

From the start, sex had certainly been part of the competition. When Amanda and the others first entered the arena to be viewed, she’d felt something land on her shoulder. When she looked up, she saw a spectator ejaculating over the railing. Amanda, to the crowd’s loud approval, opened her mouth to catch a few of the falling drops.

Amanda placed her foot in the center of Christine’s chest and roughly pushed her onto her back. Bending at the waist she grasped the base of Christine’s long nipples between the fingers of her kickboxing gloves. The rough leather managed to maintain its grip on the tender flesh as Amanda dragged a screaming Christine through the soft sand by her nipples. Christine had come out of her dazed state to sound a piteous cry as her heels traced a circle in the sand. She flailed her arms attempting to dislodge Amanda’s iron grip.

The crowd lustily shouted their approval. Amanda stopped in the center of the ring positioned one hand between Christine’s legs allowing her first two fingers to enter her vagina as the fingers of the other hand hooked into her nostrils. Somehow Amanda brought a protesting Christine to standing before stepping back to swing her sandal-clad foot into Christine’s sex. The force of the blow almost lifted Christine off the ground as the top of Amanda’s foot landed flush between her legs. The crowd jumped to their feet applauding the sheer brutality of the blow.

Amanda stood pointing and laughing as Christine danced about clutching her sex and screaming in pain. As Christine struggled to overcome her pain, she delivered a vicious combination to the stomach and nose dropping Christine to the ground. Drops of blood dripped out of Christine’s nose staining the white sand Peter had trucked in from a nearby beach.

“Do her tits again,” yelled a spectator.

Playing to the crowd Amanda rolled Christine onto her back and planted her right foot in the center of her chest. She bent over, grasped the base of Christine’s swollen and stretched left nipple in the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and pulled. Christine’s breast was stretched to an obscene length as the stronger Amanda brought all her strength to bear. Christie’s heels beat a tattoo on the ground as she grabbed Amanda’s wrist attempting to dislodge it.

“Rip her nips off,” yelled an enthusiastic female spectator who had exposed her own breasts.

Amanda brought her right hand around in an arc to land in the palm of her left hand knocking it free but not before creating a firestorm of agony. Christine’s nipple was locked between two of Amanda’s fingers and the force of the blow came close to ripping the flesh. Christine looked down surprised to find her nipple was still there and not in Amanda’s left hand. As the fiery pain welled up in her breast, she grabbed the offended flesh and rolled over and over shrieking.

“Shit, that made my titty hurt just watching,” said another of the female spectators exposing her breasts and pulling her nipples to mock what was happening in the arena. “Again,” urged the crowd causing Amanda to repeat the hand slap with the other breast. A near hysterical Christine writhed in the soft sand.

Amanda raised her arms in victory strutting to the cheers of the spectators. Christine had rolled to the side of the arena. Christine’s hands clutched her wounded mammaries as she lay face down in the soft warm sand. Amanda raised her gloved fists in salute to the audience. A cheer arose since most of the crowd had bet on the larger Amanda.

Amanda stepped forward to finish Christine off. A dazed Christine had used the sidewall to rise to a half kneeling position. There were thin streams of blood on both her breasts and her nipples were red and stretched. The spectators watched expectantly as Amanda prepared to deliver the winning blow. Amanda had won her earlier bouts and was looking forward to meeting out the victor’s brutal punishment to the loser. She walked slowly to where she stood over Christine her naked sex inches from Christine’s face.

“Time to end this,” said Amanda drawing back her fist to smash Christine’s face.

“Suck it up, girl,” whispered Christine summoning the last of her strength to deliver an uppercut that landed squarely on Amanda’s sex. There was the sound of a loud smack as the hard leather glove landed dead center on Amanda’s sweat covered vagina. Christine actually felt Amanda’s clitoris flatten against her pubic bone. Perspiration from Amanda’s sex splattered in her face.

Amanda’s face changed instantly from a proud victor to one in extreme pain. Her swagger disappeared as both gloved hands flew to her crotch. She staggered backward several steps struggling to stay upright. Her face displayed her acute agony.

“Right in the cunt, fifty on green,” yelled someone. “Green’s not done.”

Christine grabbed the side of the arena to pull herself to her feet. Ignoring the blood dripping from her nose and knowing she had to move quickly, she took three steps and put her hand on Amanda’s shoulder to spin her around. Amanda managed a clumsy roundhouse swing as she turned. Christine stepped under Amanda’s arm to slam her fist into her solar plexus. Christine’s shoulder was behind the blow. Her fist sunk deep snapping Amanda’s diaphragm into a violent exhale. Now, it was Amanda’s turn to fall to her knees gasping for breath.

Christine’s fist landed on the side of Amanda’s jaw causing her head to snap to the side. A mouthful of blood splattered the sand. Christine delivered two more hammer blows to the side of Amanda’s head then a third cracking her nose. With the last of her strength, Christine grabbed Amanda’s head in her hands as she brought her knee to the woman’s chin. There was the loud crack of bone on bone. The top of Christine’s knee went numb. Amanda collapsed to the hot sand and lay still. It was over. Christine had won.

***

A female gladiator fight followed by a Roman orgy was the finale of the boot camp role-play events. It was also the most elaborately staged and brutal. The day after the fight, Christine and the others would leave and a new class of eight would arrive the following day.

When Christine looked in the mirror in the free weight training facility, she could tell without referring to the chart containing her Goal Weight, Body Mass Index or her Fat to Muscle Ratio she had achieved her fitness goals and more. Most of the muscle gain had been in her shoulders and arms. Her abdominal wall was slightly concave with defined muscles. Her weight was seven pounds lighter than when she first had met Maurice. Her cardio-vascular condition allowed her to easily run two miles at a fast pace then return to a normal pulse rate in a matter of minutes.

The Tantric classes had greatly added to her capacity to orgasm. It had also taught her to control and focus her sex drive. No longer did she feel driven to feed any available cock to the mouth between her legs.

Half way through boot camp, the women were introduced to kickboxing. Kurt, a well-regarded competitor and instructor, taught the daily ninety-minute class. The women learned to overcome their innate reluctance to physical combat. Christine discovered that slamming her fists into a body bag and on occasion another female was the best stress reliever she had ever encountered.

Three days before the end of boot camp, the women were taken to the arena where Peter described the upcoming event. It was almost noon when the trainers ushered the women into the octagonal wooden structure.

“Three days from now, your boot camp experience will come to an end here in this arena. There will be roughly a hundred spectators in the stands, most of whom have previously attended one of these events. At the start, the eight of you will walk into the arena to be viewed by the crowd. Your color will be painted on your bare chest and back. You’ll be wearing only these,” said Peter as he held up a pair of sandals and boxing gloves.

“We don’t wear any clothes,” asked a surprised Cynthia?

“Why not? Gladiators in ancient Rome fought nude,” said Peter.

Amanda was incredulous. “The last movie I saw they were wearing leather skirts.”

“Hollywood couldn’t very well show you an actor striding into the arena with his penis dangling; but it’s a historical fact. Roman gladiators fought with their privates exposed to the mob. Fighting nude with the possibility of having your cock and balls hacked off had crowd appeal. Any gladiator who lost his nerve and refused to fight was castrated before he was executed. The last thing he saw was his manhood being tossed into the stands,” said Peter.

“The females in the crowd must have enjoyed the show,” said Christine. “I wonder if there was a correlation between the size of the member and success in combat.”

“I doubt it but Roman noblewomen often paid handsomely to spend the night in the cell of a successful and well-endowed gladiator. Become pregnant by a champion was considered a very enviable thing even though they were slaves,” said Peter. “Husbands encouraged their wives to be seeded by such men. They eagerly adopted any off spring.”

“So this is where we apply the skills we learned in kickboxing class,” asked Deirdre looking around the wooden structure?

“Yes, other than to teach you the art of self defense so the next time someone leaps out of the bushes to rape you, you kick him in the family jewels,” said Peter.

“If the family jewels are heirloom quality, I’ll let him fuck me first then smash his balls,” said Amanda.

“Explain the contest,” said Christine excited at the prospect of the competition.

“Fifty couples have accepted my invitation and paid the fee so there will be a good crowd,” said Peter.

“But nothing like the hundred thousand they packed into the Circus Maximus,” said Laurie.

“Not hardly, one hundred plus the staff and I, will be it. I suppose I could arrange a WEB cast of the event to reach a wider audience but that might embarrass everyone. However, based on past experience, they will be noisy and of course, they like to wager. It begins when the eight of you enter from that door to be introduced to the crowd. You will draw lots to determine your opponent. You fight two at a time. Everyone fights at least once. We start with eight then go to four and the final two. So the winner and runner up will fight three times. After the contest is over, we will have a sumptuous meal followed by an authentic Roman orgy. At least it will be as authentic as I can make it. There will be food, excellent wine and unbridled sex until the sun rises,” said Peter.

“What do the winners get,” asked Kay?

“Glory and the right to punish the losers,” said Peter.

“What happens to the losers,” asked Cynthia?

“Public flogging by the trainers and sexual humiliation by the victor that should serve as an incentive to win.”

***

An out of breath and bleeding Christine leaned forward with her hand on her knees watching as the trainers wheeled in the third round punishment stock and positioned it in the center of the arena. It was different from the one used in her earlier two competitions.

“Here, good job,” said Ahmad handing her two bottles of cool sports water and smiling at her for the first time ever. He along with the other trainers was dressed in Peter’s idea of the attire of the men who worked the arena floor of the Coliseum in Rome, a short cotton skirt over a pair of leather underpants. The underpants were cut high and Christine had been amused when she saw him bend over exposing his hairy buttocks. The trainers except for Muhammad didn’t seem happy to be there in all that wickedness. Christine had learned from Amanda that Muhammad was the most relaxed about the sexual goings on at the Boot Camp.

“I don’t think he’s as religious as the others,” said Amanda.

“Religious or not, they all seem to like infidel pussy,” said Christine.

“Men are the same the world over. Show them a hot wet hole and they’ve found their one true God,” added Laurie

Christine tried to imagine what Ahmad and his fellow trainers thought of Peter’s gladiator fight and orgy. Did it demonstrate once and for all the depraved state of Western culture? Would they be tempted to join in the sex that followed? There would be plenty of available females eager for cock. Or was their contempt so great, they considered the idea of sex with the audience a terrible sin. Christine couldn’t fathom Ahmad’s true feelings.

He and Christine had engaged in some form of furtive sexual intercourse almost every day of boot camp, often more than once between breakfast and lights out. She referred to it as her daily quickie. It had begun as strictly oral, a blowjob in the latrine or behind a building. Later, he had changed to vaginal intercourse and ultimately anal intercourse.

The fact it included some form of physical degradation made it something Christine looked forward to. The day before had been the worst or the best depending on your point of view. After an hour of calisthenics in the mid morning sun, he followed her into the portable latrine located at the side of the open field. It was a hot humid day and the women had consumed several liters of water to stay hydrated. She was dripping sweat when she sat down on the plastic seat. The smell of rotting sewerage filled the stifling oven-like space. That day had been the same as usual. As soon as Muhammad announced a break, the trainers lead the women away for sex.

“I have to pee,” said Christine walking toward one of the latrines.

Ahmad didn’t say a word as he followed a few steps behind.

The trainers and the women quickly left the field. Few if any words were exchanged. When the women compared notes, they found the acts were performed in a similar fashion.

“Rashid makes me kneel before him like I’m some sort of slave,” said Marilyn. “I have to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. At first he just rests his cock on it like it’s a pillow. Then he puts his hands on the sides of my head and begins to slowly skull fuck me. It’s weird.”

“You are his sex slave,” said Kay. “I think Tariq is praying to Allah while I suck his cock. At least it sounds like he’s praying.”

“Prostitutes get more words out of their johns than I get from Ahmad,” said Christine.

“Muhammad curses me, at least I think he’s cursing,” said Amanda. “Maybe it’s just Arabic for suck that dick, Christian whore.”

“We are whores to them and they hate the fact they desire us and can’t resist the sin of having sex with us,” said Kay. “Sellim slaps me after I swallow him. Most men appreciate a girl who doesn’t spit it out.”

“I have Ahmad’s semen in my rectum. See,” said Christine that night in the shower as she bent over and contracted her abdomen forcing a thin stream of semen to dribble out of her asshole.

“Me too, here’s Rashid’s,” said Marilyn imitating Christine. “Behind the Weight Room, I sucked Rashid’s cock, fucked him and got my shit stirred. I guess that’s progress.”

It turned out all the women had been subjected to anal intercourse for the first time on the same day.

“There is a method to their madness,” said Christine. “They must get together and decide what particular orifice is next. I wonder how today got to be butt fuck day.”

“Maybe it’s national sodomy day in Iraq,” said Marilyn.

Christine wondered whether her last time with Ahmad would hold any surprises. She pushed her sweat-drenched spandex shorts down then lifted her sports bra to allow him access to her breasts although he rarely touched them. Her bare bottom had barely touched the plastic seat before his cock was pressing against her lips. She’d hoped he would take her to the same place as yesterday, several yards into the woods where it was cooler and she could rest on her knees and elbows while he took her dog style. At least, it was in the open air and away from the smell of the latrines.

She opened her mouth and used her lips to push back the foreskin as she probed his piss hole with the tip of her tongue. Ahmad’s loose scrotum allowed his testicles to hang several inches below his cock. Christine wondered if that was natural or the result of wearing a ball stretcher. His ball sack was large and roomy reminding her of Maurice’s. She took each gonad in her hand, pulled downward, and twisted.

“Yes,” he hissed as Christine applied sufficient pressure to cause him a slight amount of pain. She’d learned through experience he wanted her to hurt him. The discomfort of having his balls twisted made up for the sin of having sex with an infidel whore. He was sweating profusely as he slowly moved his hips thrusting into her mouth. One hand took its usual position at the back of her skull while the other wrapped around her breasts twisting the globe as he dugs his fingers into the soft flesh. Pain was very much a part of their having sex.

“Oh yes, hurt my tits,” she responded when he flatted her nipples with his strong fingers pressing his nails into the flesh to form a blood-rimmed haft moon.

Needing to empty her bladder, she added the sound and aroma of her urine to the confined space. Ahmad muttered in Arabic as Christine’s mouth brought him to erection.

“Turn and get on your knees, whore of the infidel,” said Ahmad moving his hips forward to embed his cock in Christine’s throat. A phase of Christine’s Tantric training had involved suppression of the gag reflex while a man’s cock was in your throat. Christine squeezed her throat muscles pressing Ahmad’s cockhead.

Moments later, Christine’s elbows were resting on commode seat as Ahmad crouched behind her. She felt the blunt head of his hard cock seeking her opening. She wiggled her hips slightly to aid his search, anxious to have him inside her.

“Whore,” whispered Ahmad delivering a loud stinging slap to her backside. Her desire for sex damned her in his eyes.

“Fuck you, fuck me, yes, I am a cocksucking whore who wants your dirty Arab dick inside my pussy, Ahmad. Slap me again. I love it when you slap me,” said Christine flexing her spine to offer him her buttocks. Ahmad delivered several harder slaps to her flank.

“Yes, that’s it,” hissed Christine responding to the pain. It encouraged Christine to reach between her legs and take his cock in her hands and rub it over the valley of her sex as she moaned.

“You filthy infidel slut,” said Ahmad delivering two hard slaps to her rear. If you were my sister I would not hesitate to kill you and throw your body in the garbage.”

“Oh yes, fuck me to death, hit me harder,” said Christine moaning loudly as his cock slipped into her opening. She titled her pelvis to aid his entry as she pushed back to slide more of him inside her.

They settled into a rhythm for a few minutes. Ahmad was holding her hips driving his cock into her hole. The sound of wet bodies slapping together filled the latrine.

Christine reached between her legs to rub her clit. She orgasmed the instant her fingers touched her clitoris. Totally focused, the muscles lining her vagina contracted informing Ahmad that once again the Godless infidel whore had achieved the first orgasm. Ahmad’s anger overflowed as his cock felt the pressure from the convulsing flesh.

“Is there no end to your filth,” asked Ahmad grasping Christine’s hair and pulling her head back to where the tendons in her neck stood out and she yelled in pain?

“That’s right. Hurt me, fuck me in the ass, Ahmad,” begged Christine. “The Prophet wills it.”

“Whore of Satan,” was all Ahmad could manage as he struggled to his feet coming into a crouch over Christine’s rear.

Christine heard the sound and felt the impact of his spit landing on her anus. His strong hands clutched her buttocks separating them as he placed his thumbs in her butt hole, stretched it painfully open and spit again. She felt the slimy fluid slip down the walls of her rectum.

“I love it,” said Christine as she felt the hard cock head push past her sphincter and travel through her rectum. It was a quick descent with no time for her anus to accommodate the intruder. “Oh it hurts so good,” murmured Christine experiencing the pleasure of having her bowels painfully stretched.

Ahmad placed one hand on the back of Christine’s head and pushed her face down into the dark hole below the latrine seat. “Breathe your own shit,” said Ahmad.

The stench was overpowering but Christine could not move. She struggled and succeeded in getting one hand on her clit. Overcome by the smell and reacting to the sensation of Ahmad’s cock ramming repeatedly into her rectum, she reached an elevated orgasmic state as Ahmad released his semen deep into her bowels. He continued to spasm as he spurted semen choosing to leave his cock in place until it softened and popped out.

Christine covered in perspiration slid to the floor leaving her upper body resting on the commode stool. Ahmad’s hand embedded itself in her sweat-drenched hair turning her to face him. She smiled as she opened her mouth and stuck out her flattened tongue. Sucking a slime covered cock withdrawn seconds before from her ass was a form of degradation Christine and the others craved.

“Lick your filth from me,” said Ahmad placing his cock on her tongue.

Christine ignored the taste and smell as her lips and tongue caressed the softening penis.

“More,” she said grabbing his arm when he turned to leave. Once again, she opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. He leaned down, his face inches from hers. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose onto her face. The rattle in his throat signaled he was gathering his sputum. A large bubble of warm spit appeared on his lips, hesitated for a second then dropped. He left immediately.

Holding the substance on her tongue, Christine resumed masturbating until she experienced another seemingly never-ending orgasmic wave.

That night it was after lights out Christine made an observation to the others. “I’m going to miss the love that Ahmad and I have shared.”

“It has been incredibly erotic in an insane kinky sort of way. Where else can you get fucked every day by a man who loathes and despises you,” said Laurie.

“Who makes you lick clean his cock after he fucks you in the ass,” said Marilyn.

“Who leaves a gob of fresh spit on your tongue as a keepsake,” said Kay.

“Who calls you a filthy infidel slut and a whore of Satan and even worse in Arabic,” said Deirdre.

“My husband and I have all that except for the fucking,” said Marilyn causing everyone to laugh.

***

“Congratulations on your victory. I won over three hundred dollars from the others,” said Ahmad buckling a three inch wide belt around Christine’s waist. After a victory walk around the perimeter of the arena, Ahmad had escorted her back to the staging area where he set about preparing her to punish Amanda. The buckle was in back and she found herself aroused by the feeling of his hands on her rear.

Out in the arena a moaning and still unconscious Amanda was being tightly restrained to the punishment bench two of the trainers had wheeled to the center of the arena. The bench was dubbed the ‘cow’. The name was apt because the woman’s position somewhat resembled that of a cow. Amanda was draped face down over the skeletal frame. Her legs were strapped to a cross member that extended them at almost a ninety degree angle from her torso. Her arms were strapped to the cow’s front legs. Her breasts even hung down like a cow’s udders. A chin support held her head upright forcing her to look straight ahead.

Amanda started to wake when Muhammad attached pressure clamps to her downward pointing breasts then allowed the two pound weights attached to the clamps to drop. Rashid brought her to full consciousness by pouring a bottle of cold water over her head. Amanda began to whimper when she realized her position.

“I got lucky,” said Christine between sips of the cool water that was restoring her spirits.

“We must hurry,” said Ahmad attaching straps to the belt that circled her thighs. “Muhammad has begun. ”

Christine heard the sound of a whip landing on bare flesh followed by Amanda’s loud scream. The sound of the whip and its accompanying scream took on a regular rhythm as Christine prepared herself.

“Those are huge,” said Christine watching Ahmad fit a long flexible anal dildo to the top of her pubic region then a thick rigid vaginal dildo below. “God I’ll kill her.”

“No, she will not die but she will suffer,” said Ahmad. “I have seen this before. The pain will be very great but she will not be harmed.”

“This is far more than I did to Deirdre or Laurie,” said Christine noting the curved and rough surface of the vaginal dildo.

“That is Peter’s intent. The punishment of the loser becomes worse at each stage,” said Ahmad placing the bull’s head on Christine’s shoulders.

“How many lashes does Amanda get from Muhammad,” asked Christine?

“Thirty, her back will be bleeding when you mount her. Smear your body with her blood. Peter said it would please the spectators.”

***

Deirdre had been her first opponent and the easiest victory. Seconds after Peter signaled for the combat to begin, the top of Christine’s foot had landed hard on Deirdre’s sex almost lifting the woman off the ground. Deirdre danced around in pain both hands attempting to comfort her protesting clit. She proved defenseless to Christine’s quick follow up to her chin. Christine grabbed her arm and spun her into the wall where she landed with a thud before sliding slowly to the ground. Christine was on her in a flash.

Deirdre’s hair proved a useful handle to bring her to her feet for a series of punches to the rib cage. Deirdre collapsed to the sand only to once again be brought to standing by Christine’s grip on her curls. Another vicious kick to the groin left Deirdre twitching face down in the sand.

“Submit,” demanded Christine bending Deirdre’s arm behind her back as she used her hair for a handle. Deirdre signaled her surrender to Muhammad the referee.

While Christine circled the ring in victory, Sellim and Rashid wheeled a large wooden turntable into the center of the ring. Muhammad and Ahmad placed adjustable rings around the base of Deirdre’s breasts and closed them causing her breasts to swell into round red balls in a matter of seconds.

Balloon tits said Christine to herself as she stood sipping from a bottle of water. Christine was no stranger to that particular form of breast torture. Sadists whose specialty was causing breast pain preferred to first constrict the mammary causing it to swell into a round shape. As Deirdre’s breast expanded, the veins and arteries became visible.

Deirdre was restrained on her back to the turntable in the spread eagle position. Rashid and Sellim appeared each carrying a nasty looking flogger. They looked to Peter awaiting his signal.

“Mercy,” cried Deirdre aware that in moments she would be in horrible agony.

Peter stuck his hand out, hesitated then turned his thumb down. Immediately, the flogging began. Thin rivulets of blood appeared on Deirdre’s breasts. The erotic nature of the tableau in the arena was undeniable. Deirdre begged for mercy between screams. Lust and depravity shone on every face as the floggers turned Deirdre’s breasts into angry centers of intense pain. Several of the spectator couples were having sex as they watched Deirdre’s flogging. When it ended, Christine was brought forward to squat over the prone Deirdre.

“Eat your victor’s pussy or we’ll whip the flesh off your tits,” threatened Muhammad.

Rashid slowly rotated the turntable as Deirdre applied her mouth to a squatting Christine’s sex. Her sense of victory complemented by the eroticism of having her sex licked before a crowd brought Christine to a strong climax. She rubbed her wet cunt over Deirdre’s face coating it with her secretions.

***

Laurie was Christie’s opponent for the second round. She had defeated Kay quickly with a vicious upper cut in the first round. Kay’s eyes had rolled up in her head as she fell slowly to the ground. Christine had watched through a crack in the boards at the savage pummeling Kay had absorbed. Not content with merely winning, Laurie gave Kay a brutal beating that focused on her breasts and vagina.

This is bringing out the savage beast in us realized Christine as Laurie repeatedly kicked a helpless Kay. Laurie turned Kay on her side, placed the heel of her sandal on the side of Kay’s breast and ground the wailing woman’s mammary into the sand before ending with a stomp that landed the sandal’s hard heel on the end of the breast. The crowd applauded wildly as Kay rolled in the sand begging Laurie not to hurt her any more.

And when it was Laurie’s turn to receive oral sex from a prostrate Kay whose breasts were swollen and bruised, she grabbed the flogger from Rashid. As the turntable slowly rotated, Laurie landed painful blows on Kay’s sex encouraging her to lick harder. The onlookers loudly approved her additional spontaneous punishment of her defeated opponent.

Fast and agile, Laurie proved more difficult than Deirdre landing several blows before Christine’s foot crashed into her jaw knocking her cold. Christine and Laurie’s match was the first of the second round. As Peter had stated, the savagery of the loser’s punishment increased each round.

Christine stood with Ahmad as a X-cross was wheeled into the arena. Muhammad and Sellim picked up Laurie and with the help of Rashid suspended Laurie upside down with her legs spread in a wide V. The top of the cross was adjustable and the men forced her legs into what must have been an incredibly painful position. The strain of the extended split was evidenced by the visible tension of the tendons in her inner thighs.

Playing to the crowd, Muhammad took two large brass colored clamps and allowed them to snap together to demonstrate the force they would apply. Laurie’s nipples began dripping blood as soon as Muhammad attached sharp saw-toothed clamps. The clamps were connected to iron weights pulling the over stretched bleeding flesh toward the earth.

“Vicious,” whispered Christine her hand stroking her sex as Rashid and Sellim buckled leather bands around Laurie upper thighs. The crowd watched in rapt silence as the men inserted large fishhooks in both sides of her labia major then connected them by elastic cords to the thigh bands. A collective roar of approval sounded from the crowd when the men stepped aside to reveal how the hooks spread Laurie open.

“Magnificent,” muttered one of the male spectators near Christine.

They’re spreading her open to flog her sex realized Christine as Ahmad fastened a harness to her waist and thighs. The tight fitting harness held an evil looking punishment dildo rigidly in place. The dildo was covered in hard rubber nodules. Over her pubic bone there was a spine-covered area for the victim’s clit. Christine had seen strap on dildos like the one she was wearing for sale in the S&M shops in Paris. There were intended only for those who could take pleasure from pain.

Muhammad and Sellim filled two large pails with ice and water. Sellim slowly poured his bucket of ice water on the unconscious woman bring her awake with a start. As a loud wail escaped her, Muhammad dumped the second bucket.

Laurie looked up at her stretched bleeding breasts and screamed. The weights were suspended only inches from her face. But it was when she saw Rashid approach carrying one of the heavy floggers she reacted in sheer terror.

Rashid raised the flogger in salute to the dais where Peter and several couples sat. Once again, Peter decided the punishment. At the sight of the down turned thumb the nine strands of the flogger traveled in an arc to land with a loud splat on Laurie’s most sensitive flesh. Based on the way Laurie’s body reacted and the ear-splitting scream that followed, the pain must have been off the charts. Christine found herself fantasizing that it was her pussy that was being whipped. Responding to the crowd’s desire for a show, Christine masturbated as her eyes traveled over the crowd imaging what it would have been like at the Circus Maximus being gang raped by the unruly crowd.

Laurie fainted when the count reached five and had to be revived by Muhammad dumping a handful of coarse sea salt onto her bleeding sex. Laurie’s labia were swollen to twice their normal size by the time the count reached twenty.

“No,” screamed Laurie when she saw Christine approaching with nine inches of strapon dildo dangling between her legs.

Following Ahmad’s instructions, she stepped between her legs, positioned the faux cockhead just inside Laurie’s opening and began to raise and lower herself. Laurie’s screams filled the air each time the rubber spines tore into her tortured sex.

The dildo’s spines raked the vagina walls embedding the salt crystals. Each stroke of the dildo was total agony. When Ahmad signaled she was to stop, Laurie’s sex was covered in blood. To staunch the flow, Muhammad took a large handful of salt and rubbed it into Laurie’s sex pushing the salt into her vagina. After a long series of screams the crowd thoroughly enjoyed, Laurie passed out.

They quickly removed her from the arena so the next fight could begin.

***

“I can barely see, Ahmad,” said Christine attempting to look out the small eye sockets in the hollow bulls head he had placed over her.

“I will guide you to Amanda and help you mount her,” said Ahmad.

“Why a bull,” asked Christine while they were waiting for Amanda’s whipping to finish.

“Peter said the pagan Romans executed women by allowing bulls and other animals to fuck them. That was before the time of the Prophet when only evil was known to man,” said Ahmad.

“What kind of women were executed,” asked Christine?

“Criminals, child murders, women who offended the Emperor, Peter said they were put in a special stock so their sex matched the animal’s penis. Bulls, stallions, and even rare animals brought from Africa were trained as executioners. People who do not know of the Prophet and the Quran do such vile things,” said Ahmad.

“They’ve finished,” said Christine noticing that the sound of the whips and Amanda’s screams had ended.

“Wait, Muhammad will salt her wounds,” said Ahmad. “The crystals are from my country. The salt contains impurities that magnify the pain.”

An ungodly wail of pain came from the arena.

“They must hurt horribly,” said Christine.

“I have seen women and even men go made with the pain. That would be you if you had lost,” said Ahmad.

They listened in silence as Muhammad placed handfuls of sea salt on Amanda’s back and slowly massaged it into her cuts. Amanda’s screams slowly trailed off to whimpers.

“Now, they are ready for you,” said Ahmad pushing the door open.

Ahmad guided the naked Christine to a position at Amanda’s rear. Christine’s limited vision permitted her to place both hands on Amanda’s bleeding back and buttocks. She smeared the blood onto her breasts bringing a cheer from the crowd.

She felt Ahmad positioning the two dildos in her entrances. Through the tiny holes, Christine could see the tip of the enormous dildo was just inside Amanda’s sphincter.

“Here, use these to pull yourself into her,” said Ahmad placing two leather reins in Christine’s hand and looping them around her wrists.

“Please, those feel huge, no more,” pleaded Amanda.

“I will help you start,” said Ahmad placing his hands on Christine’s buttocks. Quickly and requiring an almost superhuman effort, the two dildo penetrated a screaming Amanda to their fullest.

After a few strokes, Amanda’s orifices accepted their oversized intruders. Christine slowly increased the pace until she was slamming her body against a protesting Amanda.

For a few moments, the crowd seemed mesmerized by the sight of a woman wearing the head of bull thrusting into a screaming helpless female covered in her own blood. Then a sexual frenzy was unleashed. The other six trainees appeared in the audience each wearing the head of a bull and wearing a strapon cock. Men and women pulled up their toga and bent over the rail offering their sex to any takers. By the time an exhausted Christine finished, the orgy was underway.

Trials of an Obese Wife

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