“Slut T” A tall blonde girl stepped forward. She also had a tray. Her label read ‘Slut T — Property of Master N’
“Slut S” A guy, probably a bit younger than me, stepped forward and nodded. He was as naked and as devoid of body hairs as were the girls, and he was sporting a fine erection. His label said ‘Slut S — Property of Mistress Abi”
“You sluts are to serve my guests with food and drink. Understand.” Dennis asked.
They all nodded. After all, they were unable to speak, due to the gags.
“Slut Em has hands free. She is to circulate, but be in other room much. You three.” He pointed to the remaining ‘Sluts’.”You go to her. She fill your trays. You walk around. You offer food. Drink. You take empty plates. Empty glasses back to Em. Also…” He said. “Stop and listen. Watch out for these the ‘sluts’. The guests may not all behave as we wish. They can look, they can touch. But no more. You understand?”
They all nodded again.
“All important doors are locked. Toilet facilities along the corridor. The stairs are roped. Nobody is to go upstairs. If you see or hear things that worry you. Seek out your owners or find me. But I ask. Please listen. Many things will be said. Many guests will think – ‘You cannot speak, you also cannot hear. You are but slaves and sluts. You do not matter.’ You know different. Listen well. You will all be reward.”
Why was I not surprised that things were not what they seemed.
What did they seem?
Buggered If I knew.
The remaining people in the room, all of whom were dressed in elegant apparel, lounged around, looking at the five of us, naked and standing in the middle of the room. I took these to be the ‘Owners’ or Masters and Mistress.
A bell sounded and ‘Em’ hurried off to open the door.
“Et maintenant, it is time.” Dennis said. “To your places.”
Dennis led me to the wooden frame that stood next to the door, halfway along the inside wall of the room.
There was a notice attached that showed:
Punishment price list — minimums.
Hand Spank-£1.00
Bat -£2.00
Tawse – £2.50
Riding Crop-£3.00
Below the sign was a collection bucket.
My bottom was to be sold to the guests?
“Yes. My little one. That is for you.” Dennis whispered.
Well I supposed that was all right then.
“Here. On your ears.” he handed me a couple of hearing-aid type things, from the bag he carried. He hooked them over my ears and let the small bit poke slightly into the ear canal.
Dennis spoke towards a badge on his shirt lapel. “Hear me, little one?”
I could hear him through the remote hearing-aids.
I nodded.
This he followed by pulling a leather hood over my head. This seemed to have padding over the ears and eyes. I was blind, deaf, as well as being dumb from the ball gag.
The buttons in my hands were my only means of communications. I truly did have to trust Dennis.
“Right hand” His voice said into my ears. I pressed the right button.
“Good. All is well.”
I felt my wrists pulled, one at a time, to the top corners of the frame and clipped in place. My hands were just above head height, holding my arms straight out from my body. The wall was inches from my face.
As he had done, many weeks ago now, in the room upstairs, Dennis cuffed my ankles, shoulder width apart.
I tried to relax into the pose.
I guess it was Dennis who started the proceedings, by giving my bottom a hearty slap. He was closest and it felt like his style. I hoped that he too, paid for that one.
For a while nothing happened. I guess people were arriving and being served their food and drink.
I drifted into my own little reverie.
I imagined myself like some sort of medieval serf, bent over in some stocks, or rather a pillory, in the middle of the village, by the pond in the park. Anyone passing by could spank me at their will.
Then finally, it started.
The first was a series of six hand spanks. Moderately hard. A small hand. It set my buttocks to a gentle warm glow.
This was followed some minutes later by ten really hard whacks that felt broader and flatter. I guessed these were from the bat. They really stung. By then my bottom was really on fire. When they were over, I felt that sting dissipate to a lovely hot background burn, that spread.
I could feel my pussy was already responding to the heat.
A paused followed. Several times I felt hands on my bum cheeks. Someone ran a finger-nail down my spine that set me shivering.
Many hands and bats and things struck me.
There was a freedom to being anonymous. I was a piece of furniture. Unable to move or speak. I was there to be used. I wondered why I felt this to be so exciting.
My bum was starting to cool, when I felt another hand gently stroking me. This was followed by a veritable volley of pain. If I could have screamed I would have done so.
It must have been about twenty whacks, sharp and hard. Probably the riding crop, I mused, when they were over. I very nearly pressed my panic button, but just as I was reaching my limit, they stopped. I was very surprised when the next thing I felt was ICE. Someone was rubbing an ice cube over my burning backside.
The sensation was amazing, arousing, despite the cold.
“Ok. My little one. Left hand for good, right hand for no.” I could hear Dennis in my ear-pieces.
I pressed the left button.
“Good.” This was followed by a hand on my wet pussy lips. I shivered to his touch. At least I hoped it was his touch. Then something less flesh-like and firmer insinuated itself between my labia and kept going, penetrating me.
Fuck!
He was pushing a dildo inside me. In public! In sight of his guests.
If my face had been visible, my blush would have been darker than a tomato. It was a huge humiliation, but gods alive, what a turn on.
“Left button.” came the voice in my ear.
I pressed it, then jerked to a stop when I felt the dildo move. It pulsed inside me and vibrated at the same time.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
It was literally fucking me. In public!
“You still have the right button.” Dennis’s voice said in my ear-pieces. “We move on to part two.”
Part two of what?
Could this scene get any weirder? Or humiliating? Or such a turn on?
A hand reached round to roughly grope my tits, pinching on my hard nipples.
I flooded.
Whether it was the same hand or another, I cannot say. But the next moment the spanking started again.
Spanking my butt moved my hips. Moved me. Up and down on that bloody dildo.
Christ alive. That was so hot.
I tensed, pressing on the left button. The dildo began its magic.
Everyone in the room could see me, literally fucking myself.
But could I stop?
Could I hell.
When I was being spanked or batted or flogged or cropped, I hardly needed to press the left button, as my body moving, to the blows, did a lot of the work.
I came and came again.
If the spanking slowed, I pressed the left button and rode wave after wave after wave of wonderful orgasms.
My thighs were drenched.
I think I must have pee’d the floor as well. I could not keep it in.
When that realisation hit me, my humiliation hit another new height.
Peeing the floor in public!
Another boundary well and truly broken.
I was drenched.
My bottom and thighs were on fire.