5 comments/ 47237 views/ 1 favorites Displayed By: TerribleTim First had come a kind of mental numbness. One blink, then two had cleared her eyes. She felt disoriented, perhaps made worse by waking up and not realizing where she was or what was going on. They must have put something in that drink they had given her last night to 'calm down'. After the confusion had come fear. Why was she standing up? Why couldn't she move? Understanding came to her slowly as she realized where she was standing and why she couldn't move. 'Herbal tea my ass!' she thought to herself. They must have knocked her out on purpose! As the full scope of her predicament had dawned on Lauren, all of the fear and confusion she had been feeling turned into a seething, boiling anger. Now Lauren was just plain furious! Spitting mad didn't even begin to describe how she felt. Nothing in her life had been more humiliating than this! Even last night's bath had been less demeaning. She was standing against a wall, forcibly held with some sort of metal shackles at her wrists, neck and ankles. It wasn't just that she was naked and bound to a wall, it was that she was in this predicament being displayed like some lewd perversion of art. Never had she felt so exposed, so open. Lauren couldn't see it, but she could feel the thick metal collar clasping tightly to her neck. It was several inches tall, keeping her head almost completely immobile. She couldn't pull her head away from the wall even a fraction of an inch so she figured that the collar must be directly bolted to the wall, she could feel the smooth wood pressing into her back. She didn't even have the ability to look down below a certain point, the collar was so high that it dug into her chin if she tried to lower it. Barely able to move her head more a few inches, she was unable strain her neck up enough to see what must have been similar metal manacles that bound her wrists straight above her head. They were held so high above her and so tight to the wall that it caused her breasts to thrust out in some sort of obscene display. Her legs must have been bound the same way as her wrists and neck from the feel of cold metal on her ankles. Of course, because of their location, the bindings forced her to spread her legs out wide, making her very conscious of just how open she was, increasing the humiliation of the situation and along with it her anger. Gritting her teeth with determination, Lauren pulled as hard as she could on whatever was holding her wrists. She could feel a sharp pain in her hands as the metal bit into her flesh. She kept straining and pulling until tears started to run down her face from the pain. Nothing. Resting for a moment she stood there breathing heavy from the exertion. Several more times she tried to pull or to push. Wrists, legs and neck. She even tried slamming her ass back against the wall behind her. All with the same result as the first time. It was no use! Nothing she could do would produce an ounce of movement in her bindings. Now she just stood there, panting in a frustrated and impotent fury. What made it worse is the fact that nobody was even in the room. They were ignoring her! She supposed she should be grateful that no one was there to leer at this display of her nudity but she couldn't help wondering why they would go thru all of the trouble to display her naked body like this and then not even look at her. Lauren didn't know what part of her predicament she found more insulting, the nudity itself or the fact that they seemed completely uninterested. Fuckers. Eventually forcing herself to calm down, Lauren began to analyze her situation. She seemed to be in some sort of a niche in the wall less than a foot deep. Almost like a place one would keep a statue. She was definitely up off the floor, that she could tell from looking out over the room. She was in some sort of a study or a small library. It was far too large and comfortable looking to be called an office. Well, comfortable for everyone else, that is. Massive exposed beams in the tall ceiling, a crackling fire in a large stone fireplace against the far wall and an overstuffed leather chair sitting behind a large wooden desk. A large bank of leaded glass windows loomed behind the desk. It's heavy drapes and arched tops made the windows look like a giant sneering face, mocking her for her weakness. Bookcases lined every other available wall inside of her vision, stacked high with one of the largest reading collections outside of a municipal library that Lauren had ever seen. An intricately woven rug laying on the floor looking like it was trying to inch closer to the warmth of the fireplace. The aged wood walls and floors reflecting the flickering light of the fire, shining as if they had been polished everyday. 'I wonder if they have been.' Lauren thought to herself. Almost giggling a little but not able to understand why that was funny. There must be some lingering effects of that 'tea' they had given her. She felt flushed and her heart rate was a little faster than normal. Whatever illicit drug these evil people had used on her, it was sure taking it's time leaving her system. Squirming in her bindings, Lauren tried to relieve a cramp that was starting in her back. Her shoulders and thighs were becoming sore from the position they were being forced into. She could deal with a little stiffness but unfortunately, that wasn't the worst thing that was happening to Lauren. Being unable to use her hands was starting to become a real problem for her. It felt like there was a small fire building between her legs. Forgetting her anger for a moment Lauren wished that she could just have one hand free if nothing else. Her pussy itched. Lauren had never done more than trim her pubic hair a little for a bikini line. Nathaniel had insisted that he didn't mind if she wanted to stay natural, saying that he thought women shouldn't demean themselves just to make a man happy. Plus she had never understood why a woman would want to make herself look like a little girl. Lauren had certainly never contemplated shaving the whole thing bare as these women had done to her. She had tried to resist of course, but there had been three of them to her one. That Spanish girl and the redhead were both a lot stronger than they looked. Bitches. They had forcibly stripped her clothes off despite her protests and then drug her into a giant tub filled with bubbles. The scrubbing had not exactly been gentle. Neither had the hair washing, but then one of them had pulled out a small pink razor and told her what they were going to do with it. Eventually they had been able to get her strapped down to a bench next to the tub. Now Lauren wished she had stopped struggling at that point. Perhaps there wouldn't have been so many nicks and cuts. As miserable as she was, Lauren started to wish that someone would come in just so that she could ask them.... No, she wouldn't do that. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her beg. 'Self righteous indignation is good and all, but it still can't give you a scratch.' Lauren mused. Without realizing it Lauren began to try and squeeze her thighs together, frustrated that her legs were held so far apart. Subconsciously moving her hips back and forth in what to someone else would have appeared as a lewd display of desire. Of course, this was the perfect moment for the door to decide to open, followed by the woman she had heard them call 'Tess'. The Spanish looking one with the slight accent. She was wearing a short red and gold silk house robe that barely reached the top of her long legs, showing off an indecent expanse of creamy brown skin. Her bare feet made no noise on the wood floor as she entered the room. The gold embroidery design in the robe reflected the firelight and made it seem as if the woman almost glowed. In her hand she carried a small striped bag, looking like something you would see at the counter in a small expensive boutique shop. Realizing that she was practically dry humping the air in search of release, Lauren quickly stopped, hoping that she hadn't been seen. Trying to cover the moment of embarrassment with anger, Lauren craned her head and eyes down enough to glare at the dark haired beauty. "What do you want? Not done torturing me?" Lauren spat. Brushing a ringlet of her shiny black hair out of her face she smiled. "Why? Do you desire to be tortured?" Her accent giving a slight lilt to her words. "You are all sick! Haven't you done enough to me?" Tess's musical laughter erupted. "You think being held down and having your pussy shaved is torture? Ha! Little do you know of this torture you speak of girl." The formality of her accented English contrasting with the softness of her voice. Lauren felt a ball of fear tightening in her stomach but was determined not to show it to this woman. "Yeah well, I noticed you didn't care how good of a job you did. You probably shaved it rough on purpose just so I'd go out of my mind with the itching!" Lauren hadn't intended on letting the woman know how much it bothered her but now that she had, she was determined to make this woman know just how unhappy she was. "I can just see you all in the other room having a good laugh about it." Pulling a small round container out of the bag, Tess asked: "Would I have brought this if I wanted to laugh at you?" "What is it? More itching powder?" "Of course not. It is a balm that will relieve the itching and get rid of any redness." Tess said with a sigh. "I do not hate you any more than I hate my other sisters, you know. Both of whom I love very much. I have no desire to see you miserable Lauren." Looking at this raven haired woman suspiciously Lauren gritted her teeth and decided to take a chance on trusting her. "Fine. Let me down and I will use it." "No, you do not get down that easy. I would not dare release you from something our Master has put you in without his permission." Irritated at the 'our master' comment, Lauren was thoroughly confused. "How am I supposed to use that lotion of yours if I can't move? See, you are just messing with me." With a sparkle in her eyes that was probably something more than reflected firelight, Tess said: " I brought this to use on you, silly girl. I will do it for you." "Oh no, I am not like that. I mean, I don't do girls. No way am I letting you paw my cooch just because you want to cop a feel. I saw the way you girls looked at each other last night." "Fine by me. I have other chores to do anyway. You would probably enjoy it too much anyway." Tess said turning her back on Lauren and walking away. Realizing how much she itched, Lauren began to war with herself over what to do. She had never really had another woman touch her down there. Before last night's soapy naked wrestling match with three other girls, Lauren hadn't even been naked with another woman since high school gym class. Unless you count that one time her and Pen had woken up in the same bed naked after a drunken night of complaining about ex boyfriends. But they had never spoken of it again and she was sure nothing had happened. She just wasn't into girls that way. She may not have been into girls touching her, but she was desperate to get some sort of relief. What finally made the snap decision for her was the implicit challenge in Tess's words. She would not enjoy it. "Wait!" Lauren said just as Tess was reaching for the door handle. Turning back around with a suppressed smirk, Tess looked at Lauren hanging there on the wall. "Yes? You have something to say?" "Ok. Fine. Do it." "Do what?" Tess asked with mock innocence. 'Now she was just playing with me.' Lauren thought to herself, but she still had to do something. "Put your lotion on me... Please." She finally managed to get out. And then before Tess could say anything: "Just... no funny stuff. No enjoying this or anything." "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it." Tess purred, almost keeping a straight face. As Tess came closer, Lauren realized that because of their difference in height, Tess would not have to reach down very far to spread the lotion on her. The woman's face would be barely above her waist. Embarrassed at the thought of this woman looking directly at her naked pussy, Lauren averted her eyes like a child about to get a shot. She heard the crinkle of the bag and then what sounded like Tess opening the small container of balm. "Now this may be a little cold at first..." Tess warned. The first touch of Tess's finger was a sharp jolt. It surprised Lauren so much that she reacted as if she had been shocked, jerking away from the contact, letting out an embarrassing squeak. "Sorry." Lauren muttered. "Don't worry about it. You are probably very sensitive right now. I'll start a little wide and go from there. You will get used to it. This is one of the reasons I have always kept myself smooth. It makes everything so much more sensitive to the touch. Besides, it is so much prettier without all that hair don't you think?" Lauren didn't respond. She was trying to deal with a sudden queasiness that had come to her stomach. Lauren felt a finger touch the very top of her right thigh and work it's way inward. She managed not to jump this time, barely, but damn she was sensitive! She felt the other woman's fingers slide across her skin like some sort of branding iron even though she knew that Tess was barely touching her. The coolness came just a second behind the blazing touch and Lauren sighed with relief. Moving agonizingly slow, Tess's finger traced a cool line on Lauren's burning flesh making her feel overly hot, almost fevered. Trying to get what was happening to her out of her mind, Lauren asked: "Mind if I ask you something?" "Hmmm?" Tess breathed in a distracted tone. "Why do you do this? Why do you obey him like this?" Not needing to say who she was speaking of. "Do you want the long answer, or the simple one?" "Simple first, then maybe the long one after." Lauren said biting her lip. She was trying not to think of what was happening below. It was surprising how many butterflies she had in her stomach and she didn't think she could concentrate on a complicated explanation. Tess's fingers were getting closer. "The simple answer is that we owe him our lives. So do you." "How in the world do you figure that." Lauren stated, trying to look down but only seeing the top of the other woman's head. "He saved your life." Tess stated simply. She must have had to dip her hands in the cream again because they left for a moment and when they reappeared they were on the other side. "He saved me from himself! He was the one threatening to kill me!" Tess stopped her rubbing for a moment and looked up at Lauren's face. "Why did you come here after your father?" "I came here because I was afraid of what that monster would do if he caught my dad!" "Exactly." Tess stated evenly. "You knew what our Master..." "He is not my master! Why do you keep saying that?" "...you knew what our Master would likely do if someone was caught trying to break into his house, trying to rob him, and yet you came anyway." Tess said, ignoring the interruption. " Whether it is right or wrong, it is a fact that you risked your life by coming here, and you knew it. You are responsible for endangering your own life. Our Master spared it. Thus you owe him your life. It is that simple." Lowering her eyes back to her task, she began rubbing more lotion on Lauren. "You're just saying that because he beats you. It's obvious you have some sort of battered woman syndrome and he has brainwashed you" There, that should put the crazy woman in her place. A light musical laughter rang out in the room. "Think so? Well, sorry to 'rain on your parade' as you Americans say, but you couldn't be more wrong foolish little girl." "I am 26! What are you, 30? Oh, that's so much older." Lauren said with a tad more petulance than she would have wished. "I call you a little girl because you act like one. You are a lost little girl that doesn't know what she wants. I am not a battered woman. In fact I love him precisely because he has the strength to treat me like the woman that I am. The woman that I need to be." "So now you're saying that men should beat their women? Nice." Sarcasm dripping from her voice. Lauren was starting to get angry again. At least it made her forget about what was going on below. "Madre de Dios, No." Tess stopped what she was doing and stood back so she could look at Lauren's face. "This is something else that makes you a little girl. You hear but you do not listen when someone is talking to you." "I said to you that our Master treats me like the woman that I am. Not someone else. It took me a long time to realize it but the woman that I am craves a strong man. Someone that can take me and make me his own." "Well, not all of us are so weak minded that we have to beg for a man's approval like some puppy!" Lauren shot back with a little more vehemence than she had intended. There was a long pause from Tess. She simply stared at Lauren making the bound girl wonder if she had gone too far. Fearing she was about to be hit, Lauren broke the eye contact and looked away. "Do you know what my real name is Lauren?" "Something other than 'Tess' I am guessing." "My real name is Contessa Isabella Madera Adame." Tess said in a strained voice, as if saying her full name was painful for her. "You wouldn't know this but I come from a very wealthy, very powerful, very OLD family in Spain." "What does that have to do with anything?" Lauren said, her reporters instincts recognizing a good story and not being able to resist the temptation of her curiosity. "I'll tell you, but you have to really listen to what I am saying. Do not just hear." "Fine." Lauren said shortly. She was using less sarcasm but Lauren still wasn't ready to just give in. She felt a little petulant about it but that was the best she could do. Ignoring the curtness of Lauren's answer, Tess looked toward the fireplace and began to explain in a voice tinged with a bit of sadness. "I grew up in a very privileged lifestyle. I had everything that I could possibly want. As a young girl I had legions of staff that served my every need. No one ever spoke the word 'no' to me." Tess's voice becoming slightly more aristocratic as she talked. Her words more clipped, less softness to her tone. As if somehow the memory was enough to transport her back to that time in her life. "As I became a young woman, hordes of men were vying for my attention. With my family connections, money and good looks, I could have had any man that I wanted." Tess said with a flash of pride. "As you might have guessed, I was a complete spoiled little puta. My servants were less than human, my suitors were mere sycophants. Even my parents were unable to control me. I would push and push and push. No one would ever push back." Tess's eyes were somewhere else, lost in another world. "In my late teens and early twenties I had a string of lovers. I found them all boring. Life was one long chase for entertainment. Dance, drinking and drugs. I would spend all night in the clubs, sleeping all day when I wasn't out shopping. So here I am, living in one of my parents villas, having dropped out of three different universities. 24 years old and on top of the world." Tess's voice was getting more and more distant, becoming almost a whisper. "Or so everyone thought. Everyone but me, that is. No one could understand." There was a long pause. Looking down once more, Lauren could barely see Tess. She had wandered over to the large bank of windows. "You know, I tried to kill myself twice." Lauren was shocked. It seemed so incongruous to think that this proud, elegant, beautiful woman could want to end her own life. Only then did she remember the faint scars on the other woman's wrists. Displayed They had drugged me again. It must have been the water ... but did it really matter? I evaluated my situation: the tongue clamp was back in place. I was bound with a rough textured rope. My legs were hiked up to my chest, my knees spread wide apart. My arms tied firmly to the sides of my body, my breasts protruded obscenely from their rope cage. Only my head, hands and feet were not constrained. I could only move my head, hands and feet, I could hear movements around me, but I couldn't see. There seemed to be a white film over my eyes. A veil ... I had a veil over my face, but why a veil and not a blindfold? After a minute or so, my eyes adjusted to the filmy covering and I was able to make out people in various stages of dress and undress walking or standing around the huge, totally white room. Everything was white --- the furniture, carpeting and, of course the people wearing white. I noted that some, but not all of these strangers wore white masks that effectively hid their identities, at least from me. "This isn't a triple-x theater, it's a gallery." a woman said. She sounded irritated. A gallery? I looked around me, but there were no art or sculptures. Then it hit me. I was being looked at as an object of erotic art! I felt the humiliation flood over me as I realized I was being exhibited to a room full of strangers. I heard an all too familiar sound and turned to my left. A man groaned as he thrust into a woman bent in front of him. Her skin tight, white dress had been shimmied up around her waist. Her blotchy red face was the first color disparity I'd seen since opening my eyes. Instinctively I knew she'd been slapped around before bending over. To my right was a full-figured woman, completely naked and uncovered save her masked face. A spotlight shone on the folds and ripples that spilled out of the ropes tying her to a steel frame. Her ample belly nearly covered her mound, and a tattoo of a gecko matched the green of the veins on one of her pendulous breasts. A fat Asian woman knelt and squeezed one of her massive thighs. "Bigger around than I am," she said to her companion, a woman very much like the woman tied to the steel frame. She kissed her companion and squeezed her voluminous hips. "That is how I want you to get for me." I grunted into my gag, thinking the statement rude. A long, muffled groan made me look a little beyond the fat woman and across the room to see a man on his hands and knees. His legs were splayed wide apart, and there was a white sheet draped over his upper back preventing me from seeing his face at all. An androgynous young woman in a porkpie hat and skinny jeans was handling his formidable testicles. She jiggled them in her hands as he fidgeted, and then squeezed them causing him to scream. Even though my vision wasn't the best, I could clearly see the man's thick, but stubby cock bobbing beyond his balls. What I could see of the woman's face was serious, but the color on her cheeks was high with arousal. It was bizarre to see a woman handling the man's nuts that viciously, but the man clearly wanted to be womanhandled that way. Beyond the odd couple, someone's feet dangled over the edge of a table with their ankles tied together. I couldn't tell whether it was a young man or a woman, since everything but their feet were covered. The soles flexed in their own spotlight, and the long, knobby toes wiggled as a chubby man pulled his stiff cock from his trousers and used it to tickle the soles of each foot. Then someone touched me. "You're sure she's okay with this?" a female voice asked with concern. "She is an object on display, Margo. She's waiting here ready to be used." "You aren't serious, Adrian, are you?" Ask her." "But...." "Yes, the tongue-clamp means she can't speak. See how wide and wet her tongue is? See how the saliva dripping from it makes her breasts glisten?" "Is it ... painful?" "Of course, to some degree at any rate. But the vital thing other than keeping her from speaking is that the pressure of the clamp keeps her attention on the soft sensitive tissue of her tongue over which she has surrendered all control." "But her tongue is sticking through it." "It's designed to do so; see the gag is a kind of bridle through which she has forced her tongue. The gag holds her tongue at full extension." "It looks painful and barbaric." "Perhaps it is. But it makes me want to stroke my thumb across the surface of her tongue. "EWE!" Margo gasped in disgust. "Squat down," Adrian said, "and look into her eyes. Get closer. Close enough to suck the tip of her tongue into your mouth. What do you see?" Margo crouched in front of me. She wore a short, form-fitting black dress. From my vantage point, if one would call it that, I can glimpse her thigh-highs and the tiniest of thongs. I can also smell her sweat and sense her excitement. She is younger than me, with perfect skin that I want to lick. She must know that by squatting thusly she's exposing herself to anyone caring to look her way. I file away the fact that Margo is an exhibitionist and then wait to see what else she has to tell me. Slowly, deliberately, she makes eye contact with me, and then whispers so that Adrian cannot hear. "I know you're a person ... like me. You're naked and drooling ... why let them do this to you?" I blink my eyes in response. She can take it to mean whatever she wants. I don't care what she thinks. Her boyfriend, or whatever, picked that moment to squat alongside Marge and makes contact with my shoulder. "See," he said, reaching out and taking the tip of my tongue between his finger and thumb and turned my face toward his. "She's responsive," he says releasing my tongue and flicking the saliva I'd drooled on his fingers toward the floor. Margo brushed some stray hair back from her forehead. "You do want to be used, don't you ..." he paused and read something out of my field of vision. "Emily?" he said. Nametag? I'm thinking and then realizing I've been spoken too, I look at Adrian and nod. Adrian stood up. Margo remained squatting, torn between her lust and conscience; seeming to wrestle with the latter before nodding as I had and saying: "She didn't say no. That's makes it okay, right?" "One can assume so, Margo." "And she, err... likes women?" Adrian laughed and said, "You told me over dinner that pretty young women get you off. Have you changed your mind, Margo?" "No, I haven't." I felt a twinge of heat between my legs and saw a pair of hands obviously belonging to two separate people; one male, one female both massaging my vaginal lips. I heard Margo whispering excitedly, but couldn't see because the veil impaired my vision when looking down. Margo's voice became more distinct: "How exquisite! Can you see how the inner labia have swelled and gone from pearly pink to almost red?" Someone, I guessed the Adrian, tugged. A more delicate fingertip circled my opening. "Her entrance is so narrow; but watch how easily it accepts ...." Her fingers stretched me open. I was tied so well I could barely fidget, but I tightened around the probing fingers. The sheet rippled against my soles. Another man entered my space and chuckled. "Why is it so much hotter now that she's being touched? My hard on just went from semi to raging." A fleeting memory flashed before me of being given an enema earlier, but only bits and pieces of the memory made any sense. The drugs, I told myself. I heard footsteps, and a different hand touched above my opening. "You're talking all this artsy shit, but I'd bet this is the reason she's here." He pinched the silky skin covering my clit and stroked me there several times until I was groaning into my gag. "It's a mouthful to say the least," he said. "Can I suck it?" he whispered to someone close by. "No, hands only, I'm afraid," Another male voice, this one with a foreign accent. He sounded older. To my surprise, he lifted the veil covering my face and I could see my surroundings clearly. Margo was fairly tall and slender. Like most of the others, she wore a white mask. Adrian turned out to be a very fashionably dressed man whose beauty made me gasp. An equally young and beautiful woman in a white backless gown was tugging her man toward the bottom half of a man whose upper torso was mostly hidden under another woman's gown. But his uniquely curved penis had apparently drawn the couple to him like moths to a flame. Sweat pooled on the hard surface underneath me. Adrian placed his index finger against my anus and shoved. "Must you be so crude, Adrian?" Margo said. "This is why I came here. Why the hell hide it?" he responded. Ignoring the finger up my ass, I looked over at the man with his penis being displayed. His cock curved sharply up, and his knob flashed purple underneath his companion's palm. Her painted lips were parted, her nipples hard. "If you'll allow me to interrupt," a third man with a Bostonian accent said, "erotica is meant to arouse. There's nothing wrong with his reaction to this young lady's ... unique endowments. You must realize these exhibits are meant to be interactive to a degree." "That is what I talk about," the foreign accent said hotly. A hot finger pressed into my clit. "With all due respect to the Association, this appears to be nothing more than a cheap excuse for a sex club," the Boston accent said. I was listening to every word being uttered around me. But after having a finger in my anus and another teasing my clitoris, I was in heat. Glancing across the room I spied a chubby woman and a tall blond man with thick black eyeglass frames, openly fondling her now glossy breasts, one of which was fully exposed; while three or four fingers pushed in and out of her hairy pussy. "Bullshit, Margo," Adrian said. "Bullshit? Are you really going to claim that this is art?" "Yes it is!" he insisted. "Do you usually finger the asses of the sculptures at the Guggenheim?" Almost defyingly, Margo plunged two fingers into my swampy cunt and I moaned. "Look at that. Her labia are getting even fatter." She pulled the hood of my clit back and squeezed. My toes curled and gripped the sheet. "It seems like she's responding favorably," the Bostonian said a bit unctuously. Adrian chirped, "I'd pay good money to have this woman sit on my face for an hour or two. Jesus!" "Would you really?" said the man with the foreign accent as he squeezed my ankle. He sounded very familiar, but I still couldn't remember when or whether we'd met. It could have been anybody. "She just looks so damn juicy." Margo curled her probing fingers inside me and began to thrust while I jerked. It was strange not to be able to lick my lips or arch my back at her touch. I focused on not reacting to their hands and fingers. Adrian to my right side and moving his finger in and out of my ass; Margo's long shadow leaned in from a distance. The Bostonian stood close beside me, his head bowed as he watched her fingering me. Suddenly I realized who the foreigner was! It was Raphael, of the long cock! He hadn't spoken but a few words all the time we were fucking and sucking one another the other night. (see - I Am Number Eight, chapter 2) I tried calling his name out, but the gag in my mouth prevented almost any sound. Margo's arm began to move rhythmically. She was really into masturbating me, and I was loving it. "Must you continue molesting her like that?" The Bostonian said caustically. "If you don't want to see it, leave. I'm sick of hearing you whine and complain about the obvious," Raphael snarled. "You chased him off," Margo said breathlessly. Her voice was huskier, exciting me even more. I felt myself dripping down the crack of my ass, in one sense humiliated and in another, glorying in the fact that I was the center of attention. "Would you look at that," Adrian said, and I realized he was referring to my wetness. "Can she all hear what we're saying?" There was something in Margo's voice that told me she wanted to ask me if I'd do more with her. "Every word," Raphael, replied. "There would be no point to if they couldn't." Adrian's hand fondled my breast hard, but knowingly. He'd obviously worked with women whose breasts were bound before and knew exactly how to torment and tantalize them. I moaned appreciatively. Then Margo's fingers stretched and curled inside me while her thumb rubbed my clit. I started to pant. I was very close and breathing hard when she pulled her fingers from me and told Raphael to give it a try. He didn't object, and Adrian moved aside to allow him room to operate. To my surprise, he slapped my rump sharply, but I managed not to show any sign of pain. He slapped me harder and I knew my cheeks were glowing red, but still made no sound. I could hear his breathing rate rising as he continued slapping my ass. Then he suddenly changed tactics and sent his middle finger into my anus. I moaned loudly and let my orgasm sweep over me. "She's cumming!" Margo shouted. "He made the bitch cum!" He yanked his finger out and moved to my clit, pinching and rubbing it until I started to squirt as a huge orgasm followed the first. Raphael whispered into my ear, "Do you remember me?" "YES!" I nodded feverishly. "We have some unfinished business, yes?" "YES!" I nodded vigorously. Margo's body language changed. She looked as if she were about to walk away from me. But she resumed fingering my cunt and massaging my clit. I realized she was shivering. She was getting off doing me! "Adrian ... "It was a soft whispered sound. "Yes, Margo?" "I think ... I think I'm ... going to cum!" It was the same soft sound, but filled with an emotion only another woman can recognize. She was cumming from doing me. I was elated and almost came again from thinking about the state my cunt had put her in. Raphael lifted her hand from my pubis and replaced it with his own. I moaned, for this was the man with the longest cock I'd ever seen. He proceeded to fuck me senseless and then began to fuck me again. The very thought of his cock reentering me had me straining against the rope causing even more of my body liquids to drip from between my legs and pool on the slab of whatever it was I was laid out on. "Astounding. I'd never seen...at least, not in pers ...." Margo stopped mid-word. "Seen what, madam?" Raphael inquired as he rubbed my belly and played with the pooled sweat. "Such an outward, physical display." "Of female ejaculation?" "I prefer to say squirting," Margo said curtly. She was clearly uncomfortable at having her actions and emotions exposed and wanted to end the conversation with him. Raphael's voice held me in thrall. Adrian cut in, "Ejaculation. Squirting. Whatever you want to call it. It's still amazing." Margo's voice trembled. "Is it because of the enlarged clit ... I mean, clitoris?" "No," Raphael replied knowingly as he sheathed his monstous penis. A woman either can or can't. It doesn't matter how big or small it is. It's more mental than anything else." "And you know this how?" Adrian said hotly, not liking Raphael's aloof manner. Raphael casually removed Margo's hand and flicked my still-swollen clit a couple of times. My pussy twitched with an aftershock. "I have an eleven inch cock. I have fucked over two thousand women in the last fifteen years." Adrian's eyes bulged out in shock. Margo took a step back, but her eyes were on Raphael's crotch, and there was a long tell-tale shape running along the thigh of his tight slacks. I was dizzy with exhaustion. The drugs and the orgasms had done me in, or so I thought, and I slid into a deep sleep. When I awoke, it seemed everyone was gone. Someone had undone the ropes. My legs tingled after being tied for the duration of the exhibition. I could barely lift my arms, but the numb spots were fading fast. "Raphael?" I was so thirsty my voice sounded baked. The corners of my lips ached because of the gag. "He's around here somewhere," a young woman said. She pulled off the last length of rope. "You can sit up now. Your clothes are on the chair in the corner." I tried to rub my eyes, but I still had the veil on. I swept it off with a brusque wave of my arm and watched as it flittered to the floor behind me. The young woman giggled. I recognized her as the woman who'd had her white dress up around her waist as she was fucked from behind. "Hi, I saw you ...." I began. "You're clothing is over there in the corner," she said off-handedly, repeating herself, and I realized that she was in some sort of shock at what had transpired to her. "Were you drugged?" I asked. "I think so, but I was drinking last night, so ...." We looked at each other for a long moment, and then she said, ""They said it's all right to take off whenever you want, it's up to you." I nodded and took my time getting to my feet; shrugged off the rope still clinging to my body and slowly made my way to the corner. My clothing lay there on the chair, neatly folded and waiting for me. I dressed, avoiding eye contact with those remaining in the room. Raphael was not among them, but I saw Margo loitering by the main entrance and walked up to her. "I think we have some unfinished business, Margo," I said in a surprisingly firm voice. "Yes, we do," she replied. "My apartment isn't far. We can cab it over there if you like." "That's fine with me," I said, looking her over from a different perspective now. "Um, how do I put this?" Margo said. "Put it anyway you like, I'm still going to your apartment. I have some things I want to do with you." "Um, yes, but ... um, Raphael may be joining us." I laughed and taking her arm in mine said, "Fine, the more the merrier, Margo. Let's get that cab, shall we?" Displayed at Hotel You receive a text message that is short, clear and precise. A time and location as well as what to wear. You are directed to a hotel, a boutique hotel with eclectic decor, but large enough to provide some anominity. As directed you are wearing a skirt and a shirt that buttons up the front. Under your skirt you are wearing garters and hose, as the instructions directed, but no panties. You are very aware, feeling naked, as you walk into the lobby, particularly since you have no purse or other bag. At the front desk you ask for the envelope and head for the bar to read the instructions as directed. You order the drink you were instructed to drink – a Cosmopolitan – and sit on the stool, again as directed. You hike your skirt up so you feel the cool leather of the bar stool on your bare ass. Inside the envelope is a piece of paper – the room number – and a long black silk scarf. You finish the drink, leave the cash from the envelope to pay for the drink and head for the elevators. You feel the burn of the alcohol in your belly and the excitement of the coming evening, uncertain of what to expect and excited by that – by not knowing. You reach the indicated room. As instructed you wrap the scarf around your eyes, blindfolding yourself and knock. There is no response – you don't know how long you have waited, it seems like forever, but you realize you expected an immediate response. You stand in the hallway, you feel intensely that you are not wearing any panties, feel the cool air on you, and wait, patiently. Well, not really patiently but as patiently as you can. Finally, the door opens. You feel hands reach out to yours, pulling you forward, but hear nothing. You hear the door close behind you and her the lock being turned. The click of the lock seem very loud. Still blindfolded you are lead forward into the room. The person leading you stops, and you stop too. You try to figure out who is there – is it a man or a woman? You can't tell from the hands because the contact is not enough. You breath deeply through your nose, trying to catch a scent, but smell nothing but the room. Your shirt is unbuttoned, slowly, carefully, so you feel each button as it is loosened. Whoever is unbuttoning your blouse is not rushed, but moving steadily –it's not dispassionate, you can sense the intensity of whoever is undressing you, but there is a sense that while there is plenty of time, there is also a desire to not waste and time. You feel the shirt being pulled off of your shoulders. Next, your bra is unhooked and removed. Finally, you feel your skirt being unzipped and slid down over your hips. You are now standing, naked except for your heels, blindfolded. And you do not know who is there. You feel something smooth on your skin and realize that you are being caressed with another silk scarf, it is being dragged first over your shoulders, then down to your breasts. You feel the soft smoothness of the scarf as it lightly caresses your body. You feel it rise up to your shoulders and then slide down one arm. The scarf is wrapped around one wrist and then the other, pulling your wrists together behind you. You feel another scarf around your forearms, just below your elbows, pulling your arms together, straining your shoulders. You imagine what this position does to your breasts, making the stand out still more. You feel the scarf being tied pulling your elbows together, securing your arms behind you. Blindfolded and bound, you feel hands slide down your shoulders, tight from your arms being bound behind your back, over your chest, down between your breasts, between your legs. You feel a finger spread you open and slide just inside you, collecting your wetness before moving to your clit. You feel the finger start to circle your clit, slowly, gently. Your knees wobble a bit and the hand is removed. You consider your situation: you have left your home without any identification or means to communication, no money no phone. You are in a strange hotel, blindfolded, naked and bound being stroked by an unknown person or persons. The thoughts increase your excite and you feel your juices start to flow down your thighs. You feel the hand move back to your ass and gently press you forward. You walk forward haltingly, your knees week from the stroking, blindfolded, arms bound. You are led over something and realize that you have stepped out onto a balcony. Your mind races – what floor am I on again you wonder. Am I high enough that no one can see me? Before you can fashion any further thoughts, you feel the fingers, again, spreading you open, stroking you, feel lips on the back of your neck, teeth biting your neck, as the fingers inside of you move faster, more insistently, stroking you. You are bent forward – forward! Your mind reels, on a balcony? You feel the cold metal of the railing just below your breasts and you lean forward. On your face you feel the wind – you are bent forward hanging over the railing, your arms bound at the elbows behind you. You feel your legs spread and your ankles bound to the lower portion of the railing. You feel yourself being spread from behind, and feel a cock slide into you, pressing you against the railing. You hope it's strong enough to support what is coming next. You feel his hands grip your hips as he starts to fuck you, slamming in and out of you, driving you against the railing. You feel your hips press against the railing as he drives into you, and then pull back as he slides almost out of you before driving into you again. He pulls out of you – you feel the tip of his cock press against your ass and, as he presses inside of your ass, he pulls of the blindfold. He keep pushing, forcing his cock into your ass as you take in the sight – you are high up in the hotel, but not that high. You can see people below and, on the neighboring buildings, can see apartments with people coming and going. No one appears to have noticed you yet as he starts to fuck your ass harder and harder, his hips slapping against your as he drives in and out of your ass. You try to be quiet to avoid drawing attention to your self but notice someone pointing from across the street, binoculars being pointed in your direction as the man in your ass cums, shooting his cum into your ass. You feel him pull out of your ass, feel his cum dripping out of your ass and down the back of your thighs, and your juices dripping down your inner thighs. You hear the sliding glass door close behind you as you are left, bound, on the balcony.