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Stories... Male Domination/Female submission Return to Pink Flamingo Paperbacks Home Page Sold! To The Highest Bidder by Reese Gabriel I Had To Go To Them On My Knees by Reese Gabriel,
D/s, oral sex, paddling
Copyrighted © 2002, all rights reserved.
There were ten of the college kids.
In sweaters, jeans and khakis. They
were athletes to be sure, and as the door to the private room was closed behind
me, I saw that every one of them had a hard-on.
The room itself was decorated in red.
Red velvet wall covering, red rugs and lots of mirrors.
There was one bed, heart-shaped, along with a couple of armchairs and in
the corner some kind of rack device with chains hanging from it.
Next to it, on the wall hung a row of paddles and whips.
“Take your shoes off,” grinned the leader, a tall
blond with a buzz cut. “Make
yourself at home.”
The rug tickled my bare feet.
I felt ashamed, stinking of beer, nude, an object of pure lust and
contempt for these men ten years my junior.
I’d let them do so much already, I thought.
How could I set any limit now?
Jerry’s words came to mind now.
No limits, he’d said. No
mercy.
“We should introduce ourselves,” said a bulky
brunette to the redhead, his muscles rippling under a red sweater.
“Good idea,” the other nodded, opening his
trousers. “Don’t be rude,
little girly girl. Say hello to
it.”
“Hello,” I mouthed piteously to the throbbing
member.
“Mine, too,” the darker one added.
I acknowledged the second shaft, equally hard, equally
ready, I was quite sure to penetrate me.
“Lambda Chi forever!” the blond shouted, unzipping
his own fly. The others lined up to
his left and right, backs straight, like mock soldiers. Ten penises stood at attention, their single eyes glaring at
me.
“Give ‘em a kiss,” the blonde winked.
“Don’t be shy.”
I had to go to them on my knees, sliding from one to
another as I applied my lips to the bulbous helmets. Each cock throbbed beneath my touch, the lust and thrill of
the act greatly magnified by the knowledge that each would possess me, probably
multiple times before the night was done.
“Again,” the blonde ordered when I was done.
“Slower this time. Touch your tits for inspiration.”
I placed trembling hands over my own breasts.
How I wished they were a man’s hands.
Mauling, possessing. There
was pre-cum on the tip of the blonde’s penis as my moved my dry lips toward
him a second time.
“Lick it up,” he grinned.
I did so, utilizing the tip of my tongue.
“Jesus,” he muttered to one of his buddies.
“I wish I could get Ashley to do this.”
“Or Sabrina. That
bitch is so friggin’ stuck up, it’s not funny.
I’d like to grab her one day, with her little belly shirt and sarong
and drag her into the men’s room so she can do me.”
I moved to the penis of the current speaker, the one
plotting his revenge on poor Sabrina, whoever she was.
“Oh, yeah,” he hissed as I licked at his
underside. “I’m gonna do it to
her. If they can do it to all these
girls, why not her?”
“Absolutely, bro,” the blond bellowed.
“And I’m gonna make a few changes with Ashley, too.
No more headaches, and no more of her dissing my homies either.
The very next time she gets all high and mighty with you guys, I’m
gonna loan her to you for twenty four hours.
That’ll teach her a little respect.”
“Dude!” somebody else cried.
“Ashley’s hot, you can count me in!”
“I’m getting a crop for Monica!”
I moved to the next one, then another.
They all had ideas by now, ways to right the wrongs against a host of
cold fish girl friends and haughty dick teasing class mates.
These girls were in for a surprise, to be sure.
And who was to say it wasn’t what they really wanted, with their
blatant displays of their sex and their endless taunting of the boys, like red
flags in front of reluctant bulls.
The boys were salty, acridly delicious, though each
was unique. None, of course, were
like Rainier. I could confidently
pick him out from a line-up of a hundred. Was
this a sign, I thought with dismay mixed with pleasure, that the man was already
my true master, just as Krissy had predicted?
The answer was yes, although as I came closer and
closer to the prospect of what I secretly yearned for, I was terrified.
For in accepting one man, I would have to accept all.
Jerry, whom I’d already called by that name, and Randy, too.
And now, these boys. These
awakening men.
“Deep throat him,” said the blonde casually when I
came to a dark-skinned boy with a huge member, second to last in line.
“His girl just broke up with him, he needs the encouragement.”
Relaxing my throat muscles, I did as I was told.
Like a good slut, the perfect little owned she-bitch, I took him to the
hilt.
“Jesus,” someone muttered. “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of her.”
“Me, too,” said several others at once.
“No,” the blond spoke up. “First we paddle her arse, then we fuck her.”
Hands immediately clamped on my arms.
I was suctioned to the dark-skinned shaft.
Greedily I held on long as I could till they hauled me over to the rack,
securing me in place. There were
overhead straps for my wrists and two more for my ankles.
When they finished attaching them, I was spread eagle, unable to close my
legs or protect my breasts.
“Look at me,” the blond ordered.
I made eye contact, seeing in the pale blue of his
iris a foreshadowing of the misery to be inflicted on me.
Seeing my fear he grinned.
“Beg me to let you go,” he coached.
I repeated the formula only to be slapped in the face.
“Shut up,” he growled. “Whore.”
“How’s this for a paddle, bitch?” sneered a
short, stocky kid with a razor thin mustache as he waved what looked like a
canoe paddle in my face.
“Consider it your own personal pledge week!” the
blond laughed.
I cried out as the paddle impacted on my sore
buttocks. The wood was merciless,
delivering a hot sting that reverberated throughout my body.
They took turns beating me with it while others manipulated my helpless
body. I was made to keep count as
the device slammed over and over into my heated flesh.
With each fresh blow, I was thrust forward, into the hands of other boys
who were busy doing things to my tits and cunt.
I moaned openly as someone bit my nipple.
Another hand tweaked the hairs of my crotch.
“Sing, cunt,” laughed a boy.
“Sing it loud.”
Again and again the paddle struck home, the pain
mingling with the pleasure of what was being done to me sexually. I
could scarcely tell the difference now, nor would I know what to do without it.
If I were let go, I would crawl to them, to any man at all, to beg for
attention, of whatever kind. I’d
become the therapist’s worst nightmare. A
pain slut. A woman so low in
self-esteem, she lived through being tortured.
But it was more; I saw that now that I was free of my
psychological biases. There was
something spiritual here. A need;
natural, biological and profound. I
was finding my place in the order of things, through subjugation to the male
gender. Or what else could it mean
that any man or men, even this crude and callow assortment of boys could rouse
in me the most profound passions?
“Say ‘I’m a slut,’” teased a drooling
bespectacled boy as he returned the almost forgotten nipple clamps to their
rightful place on my body.
“I—I’m a slut,” I moaned, thrashing my head
against the agony, the swell of pleasure as the wood pinched and bit and claimed
me.
“Louder!” My
arse received the firmest blow yet, enough to make my soft, nude body quiver and
shake against the straps.
“I’m a slut!” I screamed, believing it, getting
off myself on the admission.
“Take the slut down,” the blonde chortled
victoriously. “It’s time to
play.” They had no need to bind me to the bed. There were hands enough to restrain me, molding and posing my body for maximum penetration. At first they took me one at a time, on my back, opting for one of the two more obvious holes. As the others grew impatient, they put me on all fours so one could plow my mouth while the other rutted my sex channel. My arse was not to be neglected either as they lathered themselves with my sex juice and took turns buggering me mercilessly. Even when my cunt was unoccupied, I was still prone to an endless succession of spasms. I could no longer tell where one orgasm left off and the other began. |
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