Cindy

She leaned over and had me curl my hands inside over my chest, and pulled my legs closer to my now curled hands before moving past me and seating herself on the sofa behind me, right in the center, behind my naked, defenseless ass. In this position, I knew the entire length of my puffy slit was plainly visible, so I didn't know what she had in mind. She waited a few agonizing moments for my tension to build, then placed on cool hand on my still glowing buttocks.

"Hold still, BethAnne. I'm going to inspect your anus."

Her words fell like a tiny bomb in my mind. I turned a thousand shades of red as I felt her prying me apart with her fingers. I imagined what I must have looked like to her, my cheeks spread, my crinkled rosebud so crudely displayed. My opening there is sensitive, and I enjoy being touched or even entered there with a finger, or, most enjoyably, with a tongue, but I have never liked someone, even Darlene, looking closely at this most private area. I cringed as Cindy used her fingertips to surround the tiny button and spread it open, literally, so she could almost see inside me.

I could not stifle the gasp of pleasure that I felt as she lightly scratched her fingernail over the fully stretched anal aperture. In a instant I had given away my dignity as well as my innermost secret, and I could almost feel her mind begin to whir with the endless possibilities that existed once she realized that I was anal-erotic.

"You like that, don't you?" she whispered as she pressed the tip of her index finger into the very center of the diminutive rosebud.

I still couldn't control myself, hissing loudly at the exquisite touch. Despite the cruelly extreme embarrassment of being naked and alone, in the fetal position on a table in front of Cindy, my ass spread so wide I thought she might split it apart, the sensations she was giving me were wildly exotic. "Yes!" I blurted, then inhaled deeply and loudly as the fingertip invaded the opening without warning.

She needed no lubrication to penetrate me. The elasticity of the sphincteral wall was no match for the hard digit, and it passed through the opening with consummate ease. Once inside my rectum, she relaxed her hold on my ass, letting my anus reflexively seek and grip the invader as she teased me. Only the fingertip was inside me, but it was enough to send shock waves through my loins.

All of a sudden, I wanted my ass to be taken and I didn't care how. I couldn't convey my desires directly to Cindy, but I knew she sensed my pleasures as I gently churned my ass around the sweet invader. Before long, she was journeying further into the warm, dark abyss, seeking new territory with each passing second, her free hand resting languidly on my hip. There was no higher ecstasy than this, no thrill that could surpass, deep inside me, the sweet pleasure of anal penetration. By the time she was ensconced to the second knuckle, I was using my anus to grip her tightly, relaxing and contracting it along with her steady, almost circular rhythm.

"Squeeze harder!" she demanded, and I did, trying to draw her whole finger deep inside my ass.

I could feel the beads of sweat on my brow. When Cindy increased the pistoning motion, I went berserk. I knew I did not have permission, but I couldn't help it--I came, almost violently, my whole body feeling like it was spasming around that one finger sweet finger now fully sheathed inside my rectum, gently teasing the soft surrounding walls as the shock waves of pleasure literally consumed me.

She kept her finger inside me, almost unmoving, as I slowly came down from my exquisite high. She had learned a mystical secret about me that heretofore only Darlene had known, and I had no doubt that having, discerned my hidden desires, she would find cruel ways to explore it before the weekend ended.

Satisfied that I had come all the down, though my body every once in a while compulsively spasmed, Cindy withdrew her finger from my rectal orifice. Her words shocked me back to reality. "So the little girl came without permission. So naughty!" she taunted.

"Please, Mistress," I whimpered, letting out a final breath of pleasure. "It felt so good; I couldn't help it."

"You could have asked," she said.

"I was afraid you would deny me," I pleaded.

"That's irrelevant. You know that coming without permission is a punishable offense."

"Yes, ma'am. I know that," I admitted, my voice almost choking on the words.

"Turn around, BethAnne. Face me."

I turned awkwardly on the hard surface of the table, but in a few seconds I was now reclined on the opposite hip, still fetally positioned, my knees close to my chest. Cindy moved to the near end of the sofa, near my head, and, too my pleasant surprise, made no effort to close off the enticingly beautiful view straight up her jet-black skirt. The crisp whiteness of her panty crotch, snug against her sex, contrasted beautifully with the dark skirt. She was not wearing a s lip. Her garter belt held the stockings up. I stared at the offering, as she knew I would, and reveled in the obvious round, wet spot in the middle of her panty crotch that surrounded her vaginal opening.

She looked down at my fixated eyes. I glanced furtively at her, then realized my mistake and shut my eyelids to the exquisitely pretty sight. "It's okay, BethAnne," she whispered hoarsely, "if I didn't want you to look, I wouldn't have asked you turn around, and I wouldn't have left my legs open for you like this."

Smiling inwardly, I opened my eyes once more, just in time to see her legs part even more, stretching the pure white panty crotch across her moistened pussy. The broad, dark circle at the top of her stockings highlighted the soft delicate whiteness of her upper thighs above the stockings. Tiny, dark curls peeked shyly from either side of her splayed crotch.

"Do I get a turn?" she whispered softly, moving her hands under her raised skirt, pushing it even higher in the process. She pressed her hands against the soft flesh of each thigh, above the dark circles of her stockings, in order to emphasize the moist spot that was now the center of her desire.

I wanted her now more than anything. I slid off the table, pushing it back slightly, as I knelt between her opened legs. She grasped my head between her hands and drew me toward her steaming sex. To accommodate me even more, she raised her feet off the floor and placed them on the edge of the sofa cushion, as my lips came to rest, pursed and ready, right over the clitoral area. She smelled of cuntiness, of womanly lust, of pure sex, and she hissed loudly as she felt my lips surround her clitoris.

I found the hidden hood beneath the panty crotch with the tip of my tongue, and teased it lightly. Cindy gasped and threw her head back in pleasure as she increased the pressure of her hands upon my head, trying to draw me even more tightly into her. I was in heat as much as she was, and needed no coaxing to tease her sweet love button into full erection. She churned her pussy into my face, moaning and purring, and I shook my head back and forth between her tightly squeezing legs, tasting on my tongue, for the first time, the pungent, tangy flavor of her juices which were now mixing with my saliva.

All of a sudden I felt her hand move past my forehead, and before I knew it, she had drawn the crotch of her undies all the way to the side, exposing the crisp, dark hairs of her sex. I looked at the display of thick curls long enough to see the thin, pink line of her slightly opened slit. As I stared in wonder, she used her fore and middle fingers positioned in an upside-down "V" to spread the puffy lips at the upper part of her pussy. Between the spread lips was a huge, pink clitoris, maybe as large as the tip of my pinkie.

It didn't take me long to figure out what to do with the lovely morsel. I pursed my lips over the engorged nubbin and began sucking it, like a baby at a bottle. She gasped loudly, then opened her legs wide and thrust her cunt into my face. When I nibbled lightly on the clit with my teeth, she went wild, bucking up and down, pulling my face into her crotch, moaning and babbling. When I used the tip of my tongue to play some soulful music on the protuberance, she screamed out, as if in pain. My own clitoris was extremely sensitive to such stimuli, but it was nothing in comparison to Cindy's wild reaction.

The more she undulated her pussy in front of my mouth, the more avid my tongue and lips became. When I went for the vaginal entrance, spreading it open first with my fingers, then delving quickly into the steaming tunnel, Cindy was breathing so hard and so fast I thought she was having a heart attack. She took to my tongue like iron to a magnet. He legs shook violently and her moans soon became cries of ecstasy. It was the quickest I had ever made a member of my own sex come, and I enjoyed every last drop of her copiously flowing juices.

I rested my head along the inside of Cindy's thigh, listening to her come down from her high, staring at the still swollen nubbin that peeked out shyly from between her dark curls. When I finally looked up to see her, I was surprised to see her blouse undone and her tits bared. The bra she was wearing unhooked from the front, and the cups lay off to the side. Without being asked, I slithered up her warm body and buried my head between her creamy-white, ultra-smooth breasts. I lay there, curled up like a kitten in Cindy's arms.

Cindy sighed. "You've got a beautiful tongue! That was really nice. I needed that more than you realize."

I smiled and whispered, "I wanted to be good for you."

"You were," she said softly.

It was an affectionate moment, one that I hadn't expected. Every once in a while her body would spasm slightly, a reflexive action of her recent orgasm. She brushed my hair away from my brow and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Her breast was soft as a pillow against my ear. I could sleep and dream there forever if she would only let me. She brought her hand to my left breast and cupped it before kissing me once more.

"I promise you more chances to be good the rest of the weekend. If you're lucky, I might even do you!"

Her thumb brushed lightly against my turgid nipple and I shivered uncontrollably. I raised my head and looked deep into her steel-gray eyes. I opened my mouth slightly, in silent offer of my lips, and she bent her head down and drank the residual honeydew of her own sex from my mouth. Our tongues fought for territory in each other's mouths. My loins were on fire; I needed release, badly, but being a true submissive, I knew I could not ask.

I could only accept what was offered, in whatever way it was offered. Pain or pleasure. It was Cindy's choice, not mine. Maybe that is what I love so much about my inner submissiveness, and why it is hard for someone who is not like me to understand. I had let Darlene, and now Cindy, take complete control of my mind and body. They could do anything they wanted to, and I would always be happy. Pleasure in pain? How can I explain it?

Cindy broke the kiss. Her body spasms had long ceased. I was on borrowed time and we both knew it. "Don't get too comfortable, young lady. I made Darlene a promise."

"I know," I said nervously, the look of fear returning quickly to me eyes.

"I have a little surprise in the Playroom. Stand up."

Without a word I stood, then watched Cindy reach between her still opened legs and pull the panty crotch back in place. She then stood up and filled the white, lacy cups of her bra with her voluptuous breasts before hooking the garment in front. She left her blouse open as she took my elbow. In silence, she led me downstairs, naked and scared, to her infamous "Playroom."

She opened the door and turned on the light. I followed closely behind and stood in awe at the unbelievable variety of paraphernalia scattered about the large, well-lit room. There was a velvet-cushioned saw horse; an "X" frame on one wall; a wide variety of whips along another wall; ropes hanging down from a pulley; "D" rings implanted in the furthest wall; a specially made spanking ottoman; dildos of all shapes and sizes; several enema and douche bags; a thickly cushioned arm-chair; a few full-length mirrors, one of which was on wheels for mobility. She must have spent thousands of dollars for all the equipment.

"Stand here, BethAnne," she ordered, then went to wall of whips and brought back leather- covered, velvet-lined ankle and wrist cuffs which she immediately attached to their appropriate places on my body. Next came a black two inch collar with chrome studs and an eight inch chain which she placed around my neck, letting the cold chain hang limply between my breasts.

"The room is sound-proofed," she said, "so don't be afraid to scream. It sometimes helps. And if it gets too loud for my delicate senses I have a few different types of gags to muffle the sounds."

My heart was pounding so loudly inside my chest I would have thought she could hear it. My chest heaved with each breath, thrusting my naked breasts further out. I stood silently as Cindy walked to a long, red curtain just to my left and pulled it to the side, revealing a strange looking chair, made of dark solid wood. It looked much like an electric chair one might see in prison, with two-inch wide metal bands, opened and waiting, for ankle and wrist restraint. My view of the chair was from the side. Its high, solid, wooden arms prevented me from seeing its seat.

Cindy moved to the side and wheeled the full-length mirror directly in front of the contraption, then smiled. "It's brand new!" she said excitedly, like a kid with new toy. "I had it specially made for occasions like this."

I wondered why she had put wrist and ankle cuffs on me when the chair was so equipped, but soon found out. She returned to me side and led me to the back of the chair. My movements were not steady as we neared it, and I sure she sensed my trepidation. She moved me directly behind it, facing the mirror which reflected my nudity. The back of the chair came up to about my belly button.

When I looked down, my mouth gaped open and a startled gasp escaped my lips. In the middle of the wooden seat was a thin, glistening, chrome dildo, perhaps six inches long, sticking ominously straight up. It appeared to be seated in a well that would permit changing the dildo, if necessary, to accommodate the desires of the user.

Cindy witnessed my surprise and laughed derisively. "I'd be scared, too, I guess. It's set now for anal penetration, which we'll try first, but the sides fold down and the dildo is changeable, so when I want vaginal entry the girl can straddle the chair, facing front or back, and lower herself on it. The neatest thing is that the dildo is wired for electric, so I can heat things up, so to speak, providing mild shocks, heat, or vibration. Or if necessary," she laughed, "all three!"

I had never seen anything like it. It was as scary a device as I had ever encountered. "You're kidding, of course," I said nervously.

"Not at all, my dear. I think it's just perfect to unwind in after a long, trying day! First, though, I need to warm you up a bit. We don't want to rush into anything this delightful!" Her sarcasm did not escape me.

Without a word, she knelt at my feet and used the chains from my ankle cuffs to chain me to the chair legs. She then had me bend over the back of the chair, its hard wood digging painfully into my tummy, and stretch my arms all the way to the front of the chair. In moments my wrists were chained tightly as well, prevent little if any movement of my body. To complete my immobility, she pulled my neck chain down and fastened it to a removable screw-in ring located in the back of the chair. This last action brought my head down so I was staring directly at the top of the chrome phallus that I knew for certain would soon invade my body.

She left me for a few moments, chained and helpless, while she fetched, I would soon find out, several different types of whips and paddles. My position was awkward as well as painful, and movement was all but impossible. My breasts hung limply from my chest, swaying back and forth with each slight body movement. I could only wait for whatever she had in mind. She returned and I complained, mildly, about the tension of the chains and the wood cruelly pressing into my stomach, but she explained it was too late to place a cushion along the top of the chair back.

"Besides," she said thickly, "the pain in your tummy will feel good in comparison to other parts of your body by the time we're through. This is the first part of your correction, BethAnne. You would not be here now, in this position, had you not disobeyed Darlene."

I felt her run her fingernails from the bottom of my left buttock to the top, scraping lightly, waking nerve endings beneath the taut skin. She then did the same thing to the other cheek, preparing me for the first instrument she would use on my defenseless behind--a two-inch wide leather paddle.

I braced myself, and sure enough, I heard the tell-tale sound of the wind whistling through the holes in the quarter inch thick, semi-hard leather, and the loud crack broke the stillness of the room. The blow landed right smack in the middle of my proffered ass, directly on the crack dividing the globes. It was followed immediately by blistering heat and a sharp, stinging pain that radiated in all directions from the epicenter.

"AHHHHHHH!" I cried.

She didn't wait for the burning pain to subside before striking again, this time in an upward pattern that caught my lower ass, right where the rounded cheeks meet my upper thighs, and I screamed once more in pain. I would come to learn that Cindy was an expert in wielding her instruments of suffering. She knew just how to deliver the right blow at the right time, in just the right place, calculated to generate distress to any part of the body she deigned eligible for her sadistic pleasures.

In less than five minutes, my entire ass, my hips, and the backs of my thighs felt like they were on fire. She ignored my pleas for clemency and delivered several more strokes which fell unmercifully on areas already stinging sharply.

>When she finished, she ran the cool palm of her hand over my burning buns. "Mmm," she said softly, "they're getting nice and warm!"

"It hurts!" I cried.

"Yes, of course, BethAnne," she said as she continued to soothe the radiating heat. "Can you count to ten?"

I was afraid to answer, but had to. "Yes," I whimpered.

"If you lose count, we start all over again. And when we reach ten, you thank me helping you learn to be a more disciplined young lady."

"Please," I begged.

"I can't hear you, BethAnne." Her voice was a soft as the morning, belying her intentions.

I calculated my answer to assuage her. "Please whip me," I replied, listening to my words echo in my mind like a bee in a bottle.

"Because you've been a bad girl," she said.

"Yes," I whimpered. "I've been a bad girl."

"So very, very bad..." she whispered.

I didn't know she was holding a short, multi-stranded whip in her free hand at the time she was rubbing my ass so gently. I didn't even hear it make any sound before it bit into my left cheek with a sharp crack. This was ten times worse than the paddle, and how I remembered to shout "ONE!" despite the unbelievable pain I'll never know. She was not holding back at all. My cuffed and chained ankles and wrists were no match for the solid chair, though I strained at my imprisonment for freedom. My scream filled the room.

"Oh, that was a good one! I think we have the nerve endings right where we want them. The paddle really prepared your buns for this."

Hardly had she finished her sentence when she flicked her wrist and delivered the next stinging blow, this one across the right ass cheek that caused me to shriek loudly before yelling "TWO!"