The stairs were creaky and narrow, only enough room for one person. Someone waited at the bottom, a man in a suit and half-hood, his lower face exposed. When I reached the bottom of the stairs he didn’t make any move to allow me inside.
“Your first time down here?” he rumbled.
Suddenly my mouth dried up and I couldn’t talk. I nodded.
He held up a blindfold, just a simple black cloth, more than wide enough to go well up my forehead and down my cheeks. “People down here need anonymity. They don’t want a one-timer blabbing about who they played with if things get too rough.”
I finally regained speech. “Is it that bad?”
“Only as bad as you make it,” he said. “Or as good.”
He held up the cloth. I centered it over my eyes and he tied it off in back, firmly but not sadistically. A hand on my arm and I was passed on to someone inside.
A woman’s hands, I think. Small, but definitely in control. “Look what I found!” she crowed. “Isn’t she just darling?”
Answering calls of agreement. Next thing I knew I was on hands and knees, doggy style, while several pairs of hands undid my jeans, bared my ass, pulled my snug light blue pullover over my head. The pants and top were flung away and the hands kneaded my bra-cupped breasts, dove down my panties, checked out my wet pussy, tested the tightness of my asshole. I bucked a little at the bold invasions, grunted here and there, gave a couple of fast yelps when fingers probed both openings, then cut off when even more searched my mouth.
“Hmmm. Not too bad,” said a male. He was near me, in fact, it was probably his hand in my mouth, forcing the jaw to remain open. “I’ve seen her upstairs. Always wondered when she couldn’t stand it any longer and would come down here.”
“You just want to rape her mouth,” another man said. “For you, any mouth will do.”
“Yes. But this one is especially luscious.” A leather ring gag anchored itself between my upper and lower teeth, expanding my mouth even wider. My jaw strained at the unfamiliar sensation. Yes, I had worn ring gags before, but never one so big, and with such an obvious intent. Then I was up on my knees, the woman’s hands wrapped around my crossed wrists in back. A hot, hot cock shoved itself down my throat.
A large hand on the back of my head prevented any pulling back. A pair of fingers on either side at the base of my ponytail found the center and distributed pressure evenly so that I couldn’t even attempt to turn away. The cock filled me, male musk invaded my nostrils and, with each coarse thrust, balls lightly slapped against my chin. I wanted to cough, hack, retch, but they wouldn’t allow it, and that’s when I knew any freedom of choice had been stolen.
Hot jets of cum flooded my mouth, spilled over my lower lip, dripped on my breasts, stained my bra. Taken away, the ring gag thudded to the floor. My hands were released and I fell forward onto my stomach. Now I did cough, tried to speak. This isn’t what I wanted. Not what I thought...
Another mouth covered mine, a woman’s. The same one that had pinned my hands behind me, it had to be her because I recognized her perfume; light, elegant, yet sickly sweet with a tang of smoke. Her lips crushed against mine, the tongue lapped up any male cum still in my mouth, then licked my chin clean, like a mother cat with her young. Distracted, I didn’t notice that my bra and panties went missing. Then I lay on the floor, arms stretched past my head, legs spread out. And my pussy brought high in the air with a group of soft pillows shoved underneath.
Mouth on my pussy. Male. He hadn’t shaved and the rough whiskers stimulated my pussy lips, threatened to rub them raw. I hissed through clenched teeth but the languid tongue, the teeth that nipped my pussy didn’t retreat. They only dived deeper; the teeth snatched at the inner labia, the dexterous tongue lifted the clit hood, flicked at the engorged, sensitive little dick.
“Responsive little cunt, isn’t she?” said the woman. “How does she taste?”
The man didn’t answer. He pulled away and I was strung up, arms tight overhead, head locked between them. Someone cranked a winch and soon my feet swung off the floor, toes pointed at the ground. My body heaved with petrified, shallow breaths.
“Stop that or you’ll pass out,” a man said. “Stop it or we’ll rip off your fucking lips!” A hand slapped against my pussy, male. Fingernails clipped short but still with a tight grip, they squeezed my pussy, squeezed, squeezed. “Slow down,” the man said. “Easy. Easy.”
I forced myself to obey, get it under control. Like when a kid has to stop under a discipline threat from an impatient parent. My breaths returned to normal, but my stomach still shook in repressed fear.
“I think she’s getting the hang of this,” the woman said.
My legs were leather cuffed, spread, then locked apart. The metal rings on the cuffs dully jingled as my ankles twisted, toes grazing what I assumed were thick wooden poles. I dangled helplessly; teeth gritted in fake defiance, then lips aquiver in genuine fearful submission, while the man and woman moved about the room, quietly discussing their plans for their latest victim. I might have understood them, if not for the heart thumping in my chest, the blood pounding in my ears. No, this wasn’t how I wanted it!
A thin, almost breathy whistle was my only warning.
The cat o’ nine tails flew through the air, pointed leather blades landed right on –