Sex Stories by Letter ] [ Sex Story of the Week ] [ Story Forums ] [ Adult Personals ]
Sex Toys & Videos ] [ More Sex Stories ] [ Submit Stories ] [ Links ] [ Webmasters ]
Archived Sex Stories

BLKMAIL thick and fast her mind


Keywords: M/F, reluc., exh., humil, bdsm, oral, anal
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Blackmail Boomerang

Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

Blackmail Boomerang
It was the perfect plan. It was indisputable evidence. Prim
little Francine was clearly recognizable through the lust-heavy expression as
she arched up underneath the strange man.
Natalie didn't know who he was and didn't care. It was enough to
have the dozen or so clear photographs of Frannie explicitly fucking
him. Kneeling with his cock in her mouth as he pulled on her hair, on
her hands and knees as he drilled her from behind, squirming under him
in obvious glee as he lay between her legs; it was the whole nine yards, the
entire magilla, proof positive of her infidelity.
Phillip certainly would not take kindly to her behavior. He was
a proper man, but given to fits of rage. Natalie was sure he would
both put on a frightening display of rage and then coldly exact cruel
retribution on Francine for her indiscretion.
It was a big club to put in the hands of Frannie's rival. How
many times had Francine done her best to thwart Natalie? There were
the rumors she had started every time Natalie had her eye on a man.
The stories she had told Phillip that made Natalie and he enemies
before they had ever met. The most dastardly tale of her promiscuous
behavior that she had told Seth on the eve of their wedding.
Seth had trusted her, bless his heart, and now believed her. He
had an active dislike of Frannie over that. It did not approach the
rage that Natalie felt.
But now Natalie had the weapon in her hand. The ideas were flying
thick and fast in her mind. So many plans and Francine had so few
orifices to carry them out. It was a joyful time.
"I'm sure Phillip will love these pictures, perhaps he could have
the one of you sucking cock made into a wallet size so he could show
his friends at the club," Natalie mocked Francine on the phone.
"I certainly don't believe you," Francine said icily. "I will not
listen to this any more. Leave me alone."
Frannie was trembling as she hung up the phone. Pictures or not,
it was bad enough that Natalie- Natalie of all people!- knew of her
affair. If she could prove it, Frannie feared what Phillip might do.
In a fit of rage he might even strike her!
When his rage subsided, he would certainly divorce her and she
would be left with nothing but the shame of the gossip about her sad
tale. But Frannie was smarter than that. Phillip already thought of
Natalie as a liar and a sneak. She would simply say that Natalie had
placed her in Natalie's own sick life. She was the slut, wasn't she?
It did little to calm Frannie. Her plan was shaken when the
first picture arrived. Natalie had proof. She would be hard pressed to
explain away this evidence. She had to concede something to her rival.
"Well, I must say, this is a mixed blessing," Phillip was
driveling as they rode to the Baxter's. "I will enjoy seeing Baxter, I
am certain, but that wife..."
"She has promised to be good, but you know..." Frannie fed the
Francine was trying to hide her nervousness. There was such an
evil tone in Natalie's voice as she invited them to dinner. She hadn't
given Frannie a clue as to her plan, but she had threatened her with
exposure if Frannie didn't, "do as she was told" that evening.
It was like sitting on a bed of nails through dinner. Frannie
couldn't get comfortable. She was frightened every time Natalie opened
her mouth. It would be just like the bitch to humiliate her at the
table with a full disclosure. Then, each time an innocent comment came
out, Frannie tensed wondering when the axe would finally fall.
"In here," Natalie hissed after they had excused themselves to
use the powder room.
It seemed to be the den. The furniture was covered in showy
leather and the furnishings were all in dark wood. Frannie sensed that
this was the moment of truth. Natalie was grinning at her with evil
"Kneel down, you oversexed slut," Natalie snarled at her.
It took all her strength to bend her knees. Frannie had never
hated Natalie more than at that moment and she had a life-long
animosity towards the slim, dark-haired woman. But there were dire
consequences hanging over her. She slowly bent to her knees on the
carpet in front of Natalie.
Frannie watched in horror as Natalie lifted her dress. The slut
wasn't wearing panties. She had a natural curiosity how Natalie looked
'down there', but a voice was screaming in her head that it was a trap.
Frannie's blood began to immediately boil when Natalie asked,
"Don't you want to kiss it?"
She certainly did not! Her fear was overmatched by her sudden
rage. If this slut expected her to debase herself in that way, she had
another think coming. Not Natalie. She would never give her the
"I don't kiss diseased things!" Frannie snapped.
"You want Phillip to throw you out on your fat ass?" Natalie
sneered. "You've let yourself go, honey, I don't think you can hook
another man. I think you better pucker up and kiss."
Frannie was incensed. She was not the anorexic stick that Natalie
was, but she was far from unattractive. Phillip, and her other lovers,
had told her the little bit of extra flesh only made her more
comfortable for fucking. She was only madder now.
"You can go straight to hell!" Frannie said, springing to her
The rest of the plan unraveled as Frannie ran smack into Seth
coming in the door. Phillip was a step behind. Natalie had intended
them to discover her in a lesbian embrace. Her flush of triumph made
her forget the consequences of her action.
That came the next day, by courier, to Phillip at his business.
Natalie had made good on her threat and had the pictures delivered to
her husband. There was no victory in besting Natalie this time. She
had preserved her dignity against her foe, but the cost was dear.
The pictures laid spread out on the coffee table where Phillip
had strewn them. He was standing guardedly motionless as he watched her
realize what he knew. She looked up at him like a mouse trapped in a
corner by the cat.
"I.. I... I..." she trailed off, seeing the dark, stormy look in
Phillip's eyes.
"Shut up!" Phillip shouted. "You have no defense. Even you can't
make me disbelieve what I see with my own eyes."
It was all gone. Frannie could feel her whole life drain away
from her. She would be an outcast, a penniless outcast. Her body
slumped in sympathy as she felt her precious society life fade away.
She wouldn't contest the divorce. She would go away as quietly
as she could. She knew Natalie would have a field day with the story,
but, perhaps, she could go somewhere far enough away that the story would not follow her.
She had no clue.
"I'll go away quietly," Francine said softly, "I'll leave now if
you wish. I won't be any more bother for you."
"Like hell you will!" Phillip shouted and stepped forward so he
was staring down at her from the distance of an inch. "You think I want
to be known as a fool? You will stay here, as my wife, and we will
pretend that nothing has ever happened."
Frannie hoped she didn't smile. The old fool was more protective
of his reputation than she was. She would have to be more careful, but
she was sure her life could go on just as before.
She tried to gather remorse and contrition into her features. He
still loomed just above her, but she felt in charge now. She would try
and soothe his ruffled masculinity. Later she would let him put it in
her mouth. He loved that when she permitted it. This had turned out
better than she had a right to expect.
Phillip was not quite the fool she thought. During his fury
throughout the ride home he had questioned everything she had ever told
him. He no longer believed her. Worse for her, he no longer cared. She
was a conniving bitch and not worthy of consideration as a person.
"That will be the lie we tell on the surface," he said, quieter.
The menace in his tone was quite plain to Francine. Again her
self-made plans evaporated in a blink. She was back to the edge of
"From now on we will have a different relationship," he said in
the same dangerous tone. "Life as you knew it is over. From now on you
are no more to me than that chair. Less, because I like that chair."
Francine had no quick dream to buoy her up at that remark. Her
previous guesses had been far off the mark. She had no idea what he
meant by that. His next order was more clear.
"Now I want that dress back. You don't deserve designer
originals," he told her.
"Now!" he thundered when she didn't move.
He hit her. She had assumed he meant to empty her closet of her
fine clothes. She had never considered he might want to her take off
the dress now, in front of him. She was unprepared when his fist dug
deep into the pit of her stomach. She folded up onto the floor.
"You look natural there," he chided her, "Stay there and give me
that dress."
She felt ridiculous kneeling on the floor in her underwear, but
that was the least of the problems seeking attention in her brain. He
had hit her. Not just a slap either. He had driven her to her knees.
He was a beast and there was no telling what he might do now.
"Now, good girl, stay!" he ordered like she was his pet spaniel.
He left the room with the dress. Frannie didn't think of moving.
He seemed too controlled to beat her again, but she wasn't going to
tempt fate. He had never acted remotely like this before. She had no
idea what he was thinking.
"Here's the right clothes for you," Phillip announced as he
entered the room again.
He had a light blue poplin smock in his hands. It closed with
four large buttons down the front and looked like a maid's cover up
with two large patch pockets on either side of the front. It was
positively frumpy.
"Take off the rest of those things and put it on," he commanded
as he threw the dress over her.
"Don't get up!" he ordered as she tried to rise.
She had to rock awkwardly from knee to knee to get her hose and
underwear down. Then she went through a struggle to get the garments
off over her feet. Phillip looked on in amusement. She had left her
brassiere to last on purpose. She finally had to unhook it and let her
full breasts sag free. The drop they had without support was her
private shame and she felt like crying as she was forced to let him
watch her reveal the ravage gravity had played with her large breasts.
"They're big enough no one will notice how floppy they are,"
Phillip jumped on the vulnerability he sensed.
No one? Who was going to see? There was something terrifying in
his turn of phrase. Frannie pulled on the smock and buttoned the
buttons. She was now draped in the ill-fitting rag like being covered
by a tent. The smock settled to the carpet around her leaving her
covered, but still uncomfortable with her situation.
"You can get up now," Phillip decreed.
Barefoot and wearing only the loose dress, Frannie was led to her
new quarters. Somehow the maid's closet had become a pauper's room
with a cot, one blanket and a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling
fixture. There was no rug, no furniture. It was bare and cramped.
"I had Jameson prepare this when I got home," he answered her
unasked question. "This is the luxury you deserve."
It was the only room in the house with the old-fashioned lock.
Phillip ushered her into the room and locked the door behind him when
he left. Frannie decided not to cry. She was trapped in a horror far
beyond crying.
"Hurry up! I want to be on time for once," Phillip slapped her
sharply on the rear as she struggled with her stockings.
He was tired of her transparent excuses to delay them into being
'fashionably late'. To him, late was late and had nothing to do with
fashion. For once he was able to enforce that belief.
Francine dreaded this dinner party. She didn't understand why she
had to wear a garter belt and stockings. She didn't want to be early.
She had preached and preached that people arrive by station and it
fell on Phillip's deaf ears. Now she was forced into arriving 'gasp'
on time and in a strange costume.
She knew better than to disobey. She hurried into the clothes he
had laid out for her. It was at least a welcome change from her single
frumpy dress. He had taught her that her future was fixed already.
The first night he had come to her with the demand that she kneel
in front of him and suck his dick. She thought she could talk him out
of that. She was wrong.
When she didn't snap to obey, he called to Jameson, who was only
a step outside the door. The butler grabbed her arms above the elbows
without instruction and pushed her to her knees in front of Phillip.
Trapped by Jameson's knees and forced in place by his hands
holding her head, Frannie had to submit to Phillip rubbing his cock
over her lips until she surrendered. It was better, she told herself,
to do what he wanted than to drag out the horrible scene.
It was not as demeaning to suck his thing as it was to be held
hostage by the butler as her husband humiliated her by rubbing his
genitals on her face. But it taught her there was no alternatives to
Phillip's desires.
Through the week she was subjected to Phillip's desires on his
whim and any resistance immediately brought Jameson from the shadows
to restrain her. She was somewhat numbed to the idea of a servant
seeing her nudity, but the idea that she was under his control, as well
as that of her husband grated on her social prejudices.
Now she was embarking on their first night out since Phillip's
discovery of her betrayal. She had only nebulous fears about what
he might do, but they were all the more terrifying for being unformed.
It had gone well for the first hour. They were the same old couple mixing with the same old crowd. Phillip obviously wanted to
maintain the illusion all was well.
Francine even found herself relaxing a little. Perhaps this would
be her safe haven in the horror that had become her life. Dinner
parties! Cocktail parties! Bring them on! Give me relief from the
secret shame I endure, Franny was thinking to herself.
Seth and Natalie were mercifully absent and it was the brightest
spot in the last week for Francine. Her mood lasted only that one hour.
"Honey, Allan has invited us to see his new Gauguin," Phillip
told her.
There was no painting in the den. There were only four balding,
heavy old men leering at her when she stepped inside and Phillip
closed the door behind her.
"Ooops," said Allan. "I guess there's no naked native women for
us to ogle."
"Will you settle for a fat old slut?" Phillip asked.
It was too pat. It had to have been planned in advance. Franny
felt betrayed.
"Do you have to be told again?" Phillip said in his dangerous
Frannie didn't want to add a beating to her certain humiliation.
She bowed her head and slowly began to undress.
The men seemed to appreciate her reluctance as much as the skin
she exposed as she poked through her forced disrobing. Even that was
turning them on.
"Show them your floppy tits first," Phillip instructed as she
again reached for her panties to leave the bra for last.
Yes, betrayal was the only word for it. Phillip had turned
against her. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached up to unhook her
bra and let her breasts sag free. She was overly aware of them swinging
out as she bent to pull off her panties.
"Now walk by the gentlemen so they can examine you closely,"
Phillip told her as she stood in the stockings and garter belt.
At least she understood the costume now. That was no consolation
as she walked into range of the probing hands of the old men. They too
were quick. Her breasts were the first targets. They flipped and shook
them like they were all high school boys and hers were the first tits they had ever seen.
Phillip was making sure to direct them to the most detestable
things to do to her. It made her question whether the brief few
moments of illusion at the party were better than her bare room if this
was the price of the illusion.
"Any one think of anything else she might be suitable for?"
Phillip asked the men.
It was a blood-freezing question for Frannie. There was no
mistaking the import of Phillip's remark. She had dropped to the level
of chattel in his eyes. His remark showed his feeling toward her was
nothing more than a wine collector sharing a bottle with friends.
Her emotions had been submerged in self-pity while she had been
a prisoner. The probing and misuse had awakened them from that slumber.
She didn't want to debase herself for these old men and she certainly
did not want to become their whore. She felt panic at the thought.
"Please, Phillip, you can't mean this," she begged her stoic
husband, "Can't you see how this reflects on both of us?"
His contempt was more severe than she had imagined. She was not
something of value like wine in his eyes. She was dog droppings to
be cleaned up and dispensed with.
"Would someone correct her for that outburst?" Phillip deferred
even her punishment to one of the others.
"With pleasure, old man," said the one closest to the desk,
picking up long, slender object laying there, "Shall I stripe her to my
taste or to yours?"
"Ten will be sufficient, Roderick," Phillip said. "Though I should
say they will seem like more to both of you if you hand them out
sparingly to preserve the suspense."
Phillip spoke so knowingly of these things. Frannie wondered in
terror if there was some part of her husband she had been blind to in
the years of their marriage. Could his bland acceptance of her
temperament have really been indifference?
Her squeal was most unbecoming as the lash fell across her broad
rear like the cut of a knife.
"You reflect only shame upon yourself, madam," Roderick lectured
her, shaking the switch for emphasis. "You have much to do to maintain
your husband's good humor. See that you redeem yourself, or I predict
you will suffer more than a bad report."
Tears blinded her eyes, but even the blurring of the world could
not relieve her of the terrible sight before her. She did not need clear
vision to know that the men were opening their trousers and bringing
out their organs.
She screamed at full volume as the next stripe blazed across her
"Even a lady of little practical learning like yourself should
know the position to assume when a man presents arms to you," Roderick
said sharply. "On your knees, wench, turn up your face to offer refuge
to those who would have it."
The first lash had been like a knife stabbed into her heart. It
was the perfidy, the infamy of such treatment at the hands of a
stranger. It was great in surprise and brief in pain. The second had
hurt greatly and now ached like the open cut it was.
She scrambled to obey out of cowardice of the pain. She went to
her knees in front of the remaining men still unbelieving that anything
like this could be happening.
"Choose one!"
Roderick's command thundered a millisecond before the third blow
struck down across her bottom. Frannie fancied she could feel the skin
split along the long diagonal where the whip landed. Though no less
sharp, she was not as impressed with the first burst of pain. It was
the waggle of her meaty buttocks left from the blow that made her feel
how deep his instrument had pushed the pain inside her.
She would be blood-covered and damaged before he completed the
ten her husband was allowing. She chose the closest cock while still
overwhelmed by this discovery. A rest- she needed at least a rest before
he struck again.
The fourth was centered on her right buttock. She would not have
fathomed how damaging the blows were without her one buttock burning
with its separate pain.
"Your hands are useless, use your mouth," Roderick explained the
She gobbled the hanging string to avoid another blow. How quickly
her high requirements fled before the threat of pain. She sucked, god
help her, she sucked to please them all and put off the next mark of
"You are the master Roderick," she heard Phillip compliment her
tormentor, "She put me off for years over a little cocksucking and you
have her sucking cock like a whore for only four strokes."
"They all love it, old man," Roderick was saying, "You just have
to give them a reason they can use as an alibi."
Francine was more angry at that moment than she had been at
Natalie when she sent the pictures to Phillip. She was more angry than
when Natalie had demanded her to perform a lesbian act. A common whore
indeed! She would like to beat them as see what they would do to make
her stop.
Frannie kept sucking. The pain in her rear kept the flood of rage
bottled up inside her. Her hate did give her something to fix her mind
on that let her partially ignore the staff of gagging meat she was
forcing into her own mouth.
"Deeper!" Roderick demanded with another blow, this time solely on
her left buttock to even the pain.
The shock of the lash accomplished his purpose without the
instruction. Frannie jerked forward as the whip cut her and lodged the
prick she had been sucking deep in her throat.
It was no use trying to think. Each idea slipped away in the wake
of another blow or the choking panic of this cock invading her gullet.
Frannie was slipping into an animal state of response. She abandoned
everything to the energy of sucking the cock that was tormenting her.
She could not appreciate that shock was turning down the
brightness on the world around her and narrowing her concern to the
tunnel of avoiding more pain. The dull fog did not mask her disgust as
the cock began spurting into her mouth, but it did dampen, at least
for the moment, the pain of the lash as Roderick ordered her to swallow the seed being ejaculated into her mouth.
The seventh blow was an imperative without the panic Frannie had
felt before. She knew it was as horrific as the rest, but she was
strangely casual about the pain. She was no less driven to obey
Roderick's command to move to the next man.
Even the exchanges she heard seemed to be echoing from another
room although she knew the speakers were next to her. The ghostly voice
instructing her how to suck was certainly that of the man attached to
the penis she was sucking. And she recognized Phillip's and Roderick's
voices as they discussed her. They were certainly still near and not
far off as they sounded in her ringing ears.
"The ones that think they're the highest crumble quickest under
the lash," Roderick was saying, "Haven't you noticed?"
"I agree," Phillip said, "but don't include her in that. Unless
the highest are all as empty and undeserving as she is."
"Ah, character, what is it made of and who does it fall on?
That's a topic for the discussion of gentlemen," said another voice.
"Particularly gentlemen whipping a naked slut," Roderick laughed.
"Whipping a cum-faced little whore to her proper station,"
Phillip honed Roderick's assessment.
If it was a dream, it was a horrible dream. Phillip had no love
for her. He joked at her expense with his friends. He was willing to
allow them unimaginable liberties with her. If only it was her fear
giving her a nightmare. She would rather wake anywhere, in any
condition than have this be real.
The next blow found its way to tender flesh between her cheeks
as she was choked again by an outpouring of cum. The wrapping of cotton
from her shock did nothing to dull that sharp pain. It burned as
brightly after the blow on her tenderest flesh, her anus and the skin
surrounding her womanhood.
Sadly, it was real. Frannie could not have dreamed such a dream.
It was beyond her imagination to conjure.
She was ready for the next, but the man pushed her back.
"I want to fuck her proper, so be careful with that whip,
Roderick," the man said.
"Then I suggest you let her ride a St. George so we may both have
the parts that interest us," Roderick suggested.
The man lay on the floor. Frannie knew what was expected and was
far too mindful of the lash to hesitate for pride's sake. She crawled
over him and allowed him to fish his erect member into her.
"Down now!" Roderick snapped with a crash of the lash that made
her obey by its very force.
Certainly he had split her wide and cut her deeply with that
"Now dance!" Roderick thundered as the whip found the tender
undercurve of her ass with deadly accuracy and wounding force.
Frannie feared more. She had no realization Roderick had come to
the end of the prescribed punishment. The two rapid blows made her
plunge up and down on the man frantically to avoid more abuse.
She did not object when Roderick stepped in front of her and
pushed his own erect cock into her mouth. She was beyond all pride.
She drove down on the cock inside her and then moved up to take
Roderick's cock deep in her mouth.
She did not want any more. She would do whatever it took to
avoid further whipping. She bounced from one cock to the other like
a machine as she tried to please her tormentors.
When they were finished with her, Phillip helped her to her feet
like a gracious husband.
"I think you should dress now," he said lightly, with no emotion.
His only other comment was to instruct her to put her underwear
in her purse. She would make the last round as they said their good-byes
without undergarments.
Her nakedness was nothing as she circulated the final time. The
raw ache each time she moved was too great for her to consider such
trivial things. The pain came as she removed the dress in her solitary
room and tore at the scabs that had stuck the dress to her cuts.
Her despair had time to ferment into anger again as she sat in her
lonely room with nothing to do but think. It was impossible to swallow what Phillip had subjected her to.
There was no way he could continue his outrageous behavior. You
couldn't just keep a woman prisoner and subject her to whatever you wanted.
It was illegal. Phillip wouldn't be able to stop her leaving him.
As soon as she escaped, she could leave this horror forever.
She didn't care about the divorce any more. Let him keep
everything! It was better to be a beggar in the street than be treated
as she was. She could likely bring charges against him for treating her
so shabbily. He would have to let her go.
Phillip laughed roundly at her premise. Her tirade about her
rights, the law, the police and prison only amused him.
"Why you're as free as the wind to go any time you choose," he
taunted her. "Just walk away and go elsewhere."
"You keep the door locked. I can't leave," she reminded him.
"Oh? Ah well, perhaps I was wrong about your freedom," he said
His breezy attitude rankled Frannie more than his subtle way of
derailing her fury. She was right, but he was in control. She had nothing
but threats and he had the locked doors and assistance to enforce
whatever he pleased.
Phillip was not going to listen to reason. He had no fear of her
threats. All was lost. He drove that home with his next revelation.
"Since after all you have decided to stay, I will expect your
help with entertaining," Phillip said. "I know you wish to be sociable."
He went on as if they were dressing for dinner and not in the
attitude of master and slave in her bare room. Frannie looked up at him
from her knees on the floor as he stood over her with his still closed
fly inches from her face.
"You know the members of the club are old chums of mine and I'm
sure you want to ingratiate yourself to them for my sake," he delivered
the ultimate sentence, "To aid your striving to entertain, I am going to
deliver you to them regularly and you will do what they wish. Consider
it important that you obey them as you obey me. It will save you much
regret- and pain."
Frannie was determined to escape this madness. All she needed was
a second and she would be gone. She would run to the nearest phone and
call the police. No one could do this to her.
She was running through possible escape plans as Phillip had her
dress for her first visit to his club. She was resolved not to let
modesty be an issue in the greater issue of escape. If he grabbed the
dress she was putting on, she would run naked into the street in the
stockings and suspenders that were her only other garment.
Her brave plans became dimmer as Phillip pulled the leather hood
over her head. She could not see and hardly could breathe through the
one narrow opening near her mouth. It would take her many dangerous
seconds to unbuckle the strap that held the hood tight around her
throat and struggle out of the tight leather.
She did not release her grip on faint hope even when her hands
were pulled behind her and snapped into handcuffs. It would be dangerous
to run blindly, but it was a risk worth taking.
She did not need her eyes to realize her resting place was not a
seat in the car. She could tell from the space and the carpet that she
was in trunk even before she heard the distinctive thunk of the lid
"Oh my god, Phillip, do nothing more. Do nothing more!" said the
next voice Frannie heard.
She had a brief flicker of hope that Phillip was being censured
for his treatment of her. That ended rudely as rough hands pushed her
forward until she was forced over a waist-high object. Her dress was
lifted and a hand groped between her naked thighs.
"She doesn't like this at all, does she? She's as dry as paper,"
the voice said.
"I'm sure she will make a most unseemly commotion if you wish to
have her now," Phillip assured the voice's owner.
"Oh no, oh no, the temptation is too great," the voice fairly
squealed, "I will wait with the others."
Frannie was moved and stopped, moved and stopped as they passed
into the building. Finally Phillip removed her handcuffs with a warning.
"Take off your dress and do not be foolish," he counseled her.
"You can be sure that the last punishment you received was like nothing
compared to what you will receive for disobedience from these
Frannie was not foolish enough to think she had an option. She
lifted the dress up and pulled it off over her hood. It was taken from
her quickly.
"Move your feet apart and keep them that way as you turn around
slowly," Phillip's voice instructed.
Frannie displayed herself to god knows who in compliance. On the
one hand it was comforting to have the truth hidden, but her own wild
imagination frightened her with the possibilities of who could be her
Her father was a member of the club, for christ's sake. All his
friends and, indeed, everyone in the social register belonged. The
humiliating possibilities were endless.
"Now turn to my voice and kneel with your knees quite far apart,"
Phillip instructed.
She carefully did as she was told.
"Back straight. Let your arms hang back. Grip your thighs just
below your buttocks and hold on," Phillip droned.
Frannie was aware how the position presented her to whoever was
gathered in the room. Her breasts were vulnerable. Her rear was
presented. She must look like some oriental concubine offered for the
amusement of her master.
Hands undid the strap that held the hood tight around her neck.
The hot leather was tugged up, grudgingly relinquishing its grip on
her face as it was pulled off.
Her father was not where she could see him at least. There was
that new doctor and Alfred Fultz, two of the men that had abused her
before and- her heart dropped- Seth Baxter. Certainly no vow of silence
would keep him from somehow communicating to Natalie her shame.
Roderick was there as well, quashing any thoughtless reaction she
might have made. Her bottom still had not completely healed from the
ten he had given her at their first meeting.
"Who shall begin, gentlemen?" Phillip asked.
"Do I see Roderick's handiwork?" a voice from behind her asked.
"Indeed, you have a keen eye, John," Phillip said. "I had her
at Allan's last party in hopes of gentling her to the saddle."
A jovial laugh went around the room at the thought of her sitting
on anything when Roderick was through with her. Frannie's mind was
zooming at the speed of sound. John? Judge John Brewster? What hope did
she have of justice if the judge was going to join in her abuse?
No one was hurrying forward to have her. Some small remnant of
pride made that hurt Frannie. Perhaps they were all waiting for some
pecking order to be agreed upon.
"Since no one seems to want to be first, I suggest we start the
festivities with entertainment," Judge John decided, "After that, perhaps
we will be less reticent at enjoying our new toy."
"It sounds like you have an idea what that entertainment should
be," Dr. Dunn prompted the judge.
"Of course," said the jurist. "It's only just that the ones most
responsible for our present be first on the stage with her."
Harrumphs and light applause all around signaled the delight of the
assembled members at the judgment.
Frannie could only assume that meant she would be 'performing'
with her husband. He brought her here. She had already been humiliated
by having sex in front of a few present. She decided she would survive
servicing her husband in public. It was better than enduring the pain
Roderick had meted out at her last such trial.
She waited for Phillip to step forward, but he maintained his
place. The only movement was Seth leaving his place in the circle
around her. She stared at her husband, but he did not acknowledge her.
She heard a faint tinkling behind her as she puzzled. Then the
floor began to spin. She had to check her balance. It was too much to
understand all at once.
Natalie was standing in front of her more naked than she was. The
sprig of a woman sported only a fine chain that passed around her back
and ended in front at the rings on Natalie's opposite nipple. The 'X'
of chain joined a pair of rings in Natalie's labia as her only covering.
Natalie had been led on a leash held by Seth to stand in front of
her. She only dimly sensed the import of Natalie's presence. Frannie
was still stricken by sudden appearance of this nude, pierced woman.
"Now you can get back to where you were before you botched the
plan the first time," Natalie sneered at Francine.
Natalie swung her knees apart and pushed her pubis at Frannie's
face. She shook her hips to make the rings, which Frannie saw were
interlocked like a gate, clink before her eyes.
"But since you didn't want to be a nice girl, you're going to have
to work a little harder this time," Natalie purred. "I want you to put
your tongue way up inside my cunt. To do that, I guess you'll have to
unlock the treasure box. I want you to do it without using your hands."
Frannie was still trying to realize what it all meant. Her task
was clear, but she didn't know how to start. And taking orders from
Natalie didn't seem right since she was obviously just as much of a
prisoner as she was herself.
Her mind was still working on how it was all part of the plan.
"Roderick, I see reticence," Phillip said sharply, "Do you think
she might need some leather urging to start the performance?"
That threat drove the musing from Francine's mind. She leaned
forward immediately to appease the men. She had to feel with her tongue
for a time before she discovered the latch. It was half a turn from the
joining of the rings.
Frannie had one glimmer of joy as she closed her teeth on the
ring and twisted the latch through Natalie's piercing. The grunt she
prompted was not enough, but it was a small revenge. She tongued the
ring into place and made several abortive attempts to hold it open
with her teeth and let the other ring jiggle through.
The men were enjoying her show. Her face was bobbing in Natalie's
crotch like the hottest cuntsucker in town. When the rings swung free,
Frannie started to lean back and Natalie caught her behind the head
and pushed her face back into her crotch.
"I said I want your tongue way up deep inside me," Natalie
reminded her, "If you won't perform for just your husband and mine,
perhaps a bigger audience will satisfy your exhibitionist streak."
There was the audience and there was the whip. The pain of the
whip made her ignore the rest. She pushed her tongue into Natalie.
"That's right, we knew you'd like to join the show," Phillip
said. "You just wouldn't let us convince you the proper way."
"You were right. She eats cunt like a natural," came the judge's
voice. "I think we should let them at each other."
Natalie was grinding on Frannie's face. It made her remember who
she was tongue-fucking. This chain-laden ring-wearing slut was her worst
enemy. In front of every important man in town.
"Make her get on top of you," the judge called out.
"You heard him," Natalie said as she tossed Frannie's head back.
Natalie was on the floor like a cat. She rolled on her back as
she slid forward until her face was between Frannie's knees.
"Now get back to sucking my cunt and get yours down here," Natalie
"Remember what part is up in the air," Phillip prompted.
Her rear still ached from just bending over Natalie. She dropped
it as low as she could and her pubis settled over Natalie's mouth. She
put her face down and licked.
"Love will keep us together," said one of the voices.
"Even when we hate each other," said another, merrily.
"See honey," Phillip was next to Frannie now, stroking her back,
"We just wanted you two girls to kiss and make up."
That brought gales of laughter. Frannie realized Phillip was not
the only one that had come closer. The circle of men was closing in
on the two women.
Frannie heard someone say, 'I see a volunteer', shortly before
she felt the cock pressing her open. The real fun had begun.
They did not all take her. Natalie bore her share of the load.
Frannie distinctly remembered seeing the look on Natalie's face as
Phillip entered her. Natalie had turned her face to Francine so she
could see the face of pleasure as she took Phillip's first thrust.
It was fixed amid the cocks that spurted in her face and the
rolling into position after position. There were glimpses of Natalie
kneeling, riding as she and Frannie serviced man after man. But that
look was cemented in her mind.
It was the real meaning of what her life had become. It was
symbolic that Natalie would be signaling her victory at the moment
Francine was being held down by the man with his cock in her cunt as
another forced his cock into her ass.
She was being boned up the butt in all those senses. And there was
nothing that she could do.

Epilogue: Francine never does warm up to Natalie. That brings
Natalie great joy since it means they are paired often to Frannie's
despair. Two other wives also belong in the pool to be used and
humiliated by the club and there is talk of Dr. Dunn's wife being
dragged into the fray. Oh yes, Francine is eventually allowed to sleep
at the foot of Phillip's bed- wearing a very short chain, of course.


Sex stories by alphabet: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z


© 2003 Sex Stories Archive. All rights reserved.