Tammy's Gangbang Weekend Ch. 05

Note to readers: thanks for all the feedback and ideas! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Once again, the limousine moved through the brightly lit streets of Las Vegas. My heart raced as the butt plug continued to warm deep in my ass, and as Derek and his friends took turns kissing me, sucking on my nipples or teasing my pussy.

Jeff unzipped his pants, and Derek placed a hand on my back, pushing me towards his friend's cock. As I knelt in front of Jeff, sucking and licking his erection, another man knelt behind me, lifted my slip above my ass and started squeezing and caressing my ass cheeks, the movement causing the deeply embedded butt plug to shift pleasurably inside me.

As my head bobbed up and down on Jeff's cock, I felt the limo speed up, as if we were going on a highway. A few minutes later, Jeff gripped my head in his hands as he flooded my mouth with his come. I eagerly swallowed, and licked the last few drops off the tip of his cock. I turned in the direction of a tap on my bare shoulder, to see another cock waiting for the attentions of my lips and tongue.

As I lowered my mouth to the head, I noticed that the road we were traveling on was dark – no more neon, not even streetlights. I closed my eyes, and pushed the cock into my mouth, hungry for another salty spray across my tongue and tonsils.

After I finished two more blowjobs, I felt the car slow, then stop. I looked out the window, and we were in a circular drive, in front of what appeared to be a nightclub. Looking towards the door, I saw a steady stream of people walking into the building, many of them wearing what appeared to be costumes of some sort.

"We're here," Derek said as he reached for the duffle bag and unzipped it. He reached inside, and pulled out my leather collar. "This club is having a 'fetish night' tonight, Tammy, and you're going to go as a sex slave," he said as he clicked the collar around my neck. I instantly felt the heightened sensitivity of every nerve ending in my body – especially the nerve endings being stimulated by the hot phallus in my ass.

"Fet..fetish night?" I gasped out as I watched Derek retrieve matching leather wrist and ankle cuffs from the duffle bag. He gently placed the cuffs around my ankles, then moved to my wrists while his friends watched, silently.

"Surely you don't have any objection to my wanting to show off my beautiful white slave?" he asked with a smile as he secured both wrists in the cuffs.

"No, I..not...not at all, Derek," I said breathlessly, aroused at his description of me as his "slave." "It's just that...that it will undoubtedly prompt another one of those incoherent, poorly-spelled public comments from that goofy dork who doesn't want these stories posted in 'Loving Wives,'" I said quietly.

Derek brought my wrists together behind my back, and clipped the two cuffs together. "Oh, you mean that moron who doesn't know how to spell 'humongous' or 'sordid?' Just ignore him, he's so pathetic his Fleshlight turns him down half the time."

Derek pulled a long, shiny metal chain from the duffle bag and clipped it to the ring on my collar, then kissed me gently on the lips. "For the rest of the night, you are to address me as 'Master Derek,' understood?"

"Y..yes, Master Derek," I replied in a whisper, the very phrase seeming to bring me to the brink of orgasm. Derek again reached into the duffle bag, and brought out a pair of nipple clamps, connected by a long, silvery chain. He pulled down my slip, clamped both my nipples, then connected the chain to the ring on my collar. He pulled my slip back over my breasts, admired the appearance of his slave, and opened the door to the limo.

The seven of us walked into the crowded nightclub, and I was astonished at the variety of fetishes represented – doctors, nurses, cheerleaders. One woman had a saddle on her back, a leather harness and leather blinders by her eyes.

The Sapphic moment with Penny at the restaurant sharpened my admiration for the women I saw – some, like me, clearly slaves, others were leading male or female submissives through the huge club.

"Would you like a drink, Tammy?" Derek whispered in my ear. "Yes...yes, Master Derek," I replied as I admired a woman a few feet away, wearing a tightly laced corset, stockings and very little else.

"I'll go get you a glass of wine," Derek said as he handed the metal chain to Billy.

Billy held my chain with one hand, and with the other squeezed one of my ass cheeks. I groaned as I felt the butt plug shift inside me in response. "I have to say," Billy whispered in my ear, "I originally wanted to just go back to the hotel and spend the rest of the night fucking you," he said, moving his hand from my ass to my breast. He squeezed the flesh under my slip, making the nipple clamp seem to bite harder.

"But Derek told me that this club has some very unique entertainment in a little while, and I think it'll make you all the hotter when we do get back."

Billy briefly drove his tongue into my mouth, while someone else – one of Derek's friends? Or a random club-goer? – ran a finger down one of my ass cheeks. My mind reeled at what 'entertainment' a club like this might offer, as Derek returned to my side, taking the chain from Billy.

Derek lifted the wine glass to my lips, my hands bound helplessly behind me, and smiled as I took a sip. I swallowed the cool liquid, and looked into Derek's eyes. "Th..thank you," I said quietly. "Thank you what?" Derek asked.

"Thank you, Master Derek," I replied, the phrase once again causing little bolts of lightning to course through my body from my pussy, my filled ass and my clamped nipples.

For perhaps half an hour, we milled around the club, Derek leading me with the chain, my eyes wide at the activities of the other club-goers. At one point, when he left to go get me another glass of wine, he wrapped my collar's chain around a thick, cement pillar and I stood there facing it, bound and helpless, while he went to get me another drink.

As I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, the butt plug reemphasized its heavy, heated presence deep in my ass. I tried to control my breathing, and my growing hunger for an orgasm, as I waited for Derek to return and retrieve his slave.

After what seemed like an hour, Derek returned, holding another glass of wine, and unchained me from the pillar. He lifted the glass to my lips, and I gulped the wine into my parched mouth.

"Time to move to our table to watch the entertainment," Derek said, giving a little tug on my chain. The seven of us moved through the club to a large booth, with a low table in front of it. The seats faced what appeared to be a small stage, with a curtain pulled around it.

The men sat down, and Derek gestured to me to sit on his lap. I sat down, and shifted my position until the butt plug was only minimally uncomfortable. I looked around the stage, and saw other booths and seats filling with other club guests.

A tall, handsome man stepped from behind the curtain, and walked to a microphone. Instantly, the audience became silent.

"Good evening," he said pleasantly, "and welcome to our first performance of the evening. We still can take volunteers for later tonight, if anyone is interested."

Derek's hand stroked my back through the slip, and I wondered what would happen to a "volunteer."

"Our first exhibition of the evening will be a newlywed couple," the host continued. "Married only a week, and honeymooning here in Vegas. We will all share with them Heather's first whipping."

A lump instantly formed in my throat as I heard the words, and I watched as the curtain slowly rose. At the back of the stage stood a young, casually dressed man. Standing next to him was a beautiful, tanned, young woman, a white blindfold covering her eyes, and wearing a white gown that looked something like a toga. Long, white gloves covered her arms up to her elbows.

I licked my lips as I watched the two of them walk slowly to a place on the stage where a pair of manacles hung from the ceiling. Derek slowly stroked my back as the husband reached behind his wife, and slowly stripped off the toga. She stood there, motionless in the spotlights, wearing only white – shoes, stockings, a lacy garter belt and silk panties and a lacy white, strapless bra.

I eyed her firm, young body hungrily as her husband raised her wrists to the manacles, and the host slowly and carefully secured her wrists, high above her head. They then turned her body slightly, so her right side was to the front of the stage, and my mind raced, wondering if the lingerie she was wearing for her first whipping was the same lingerie she had worn under her bridal gown last week.

I wondered if she had known when she married her husband that she would be whipped on her honeymoon.Had her submission been a whispered wedding night gift to him? Or a condition he had placed on their engagement? My pussy dripped as I imagined this young woman's story, and what she was feeling, up there on the stage, being prepared to be whipped.

The host spread her legs, and began securing her ankles, using ropes looped through hooks on the floor of the stage.

I watched as her husband kissed her deeply while the other man finished binding her ankles. The husband squeezed his bride's breasts, gave her another kiss on the lips, then slowly walked to one side of the stage. From the shadows, another man appeared – his muscular body clothed in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt. He picked up a long, black riding crop from the floor, and took up a position to the side of, and slightly behind, the bound woman.

Did she realize that her husband wasn't going to be the one whipping her? He might be expected to show mercy, to make the whipping a more sensuous experience. But the man now eyeing the shapely ass beneath her white silk panties would not – his only interest would undoubtedly be inflicting the most painful red welts across the ass now being presented for his expert chastisement.

From the shadows, the master of ceremonies slowly pushed something that resembled a vaulting horse out onto the stage, until the heavy equipment pushed against the young woman's hips, presenting her rear even more attractively, and limiting her ability to shift forward to soften the blow of the whip.

The master of ceremonies retreated again into the shadows, while the black-clad man holding the riding crop gazed at his bound, blindfolded victim. I licked my lips, my mind filled at once with both fear and admiration for the depth of this young woman's submission, and intense curiosity as to what she might be thinking and feeling.

I saw another movement near the stage, and watched as the husband walked slowly to his new wife. He whispered something in her ear, and touched her back gently. Kneeling behind her, he pulled her white silk panties down her legs as far as he could, ensuring that her pale skin would not be afforded even that slight protection from the stinging kiss of the riding crop.

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath as the man holding the whip took another step towards Heather. He eyed the naked ass one last time, then slowly raised his arm. With a black, blurry flash and a sharp whistle, he brought the crop down hard across Heather's ass. I jumped in Derek's lap at the sound of the crop striking her, and the woman gasped and squealed at the blow. The room seemed electrified as dozens and dozens of guests watched as a red welt slowly formed on the white skin of her ass.

I stared at the woman's chest, the delicate white bra moving with the woman's every labored breath. The man on the stage paused briefly to admire his handiwork, then raised the crop again, and with another whistle and anothercrack!another welt was raised, almost perfectly parallel to the first. The woman gasped and moaned, shifting her body as much as her bonds would allow.

My pussy ached as I watched the woman's whipping – Derek's gentle stroking of my back such an incongruously arousing addition to the scene on the stage and the butt plug in my ass. After what must have been a dozen strokes, the man with the crop retreated into the shadows, and the husband reemerged onto the stage.

He placed a hand on one of his wife's reddened ass cheeks, and she startled at the touch. He moved his lips to hers, and she kissed him deeply, desperately. I wondered if her kiss was a sign of relief that the whipping was over?Or a sign that it had aroused her uncontrollably?

The husband whispered something in her ear, and after a moment, she nodded her head slightly in agreement. The husband smiled, and nodded to someone offstage. The husband slowly walked behind his wife, pausing to run his fingers down her freshly-whipped ass, and slowly unfastened her bra, pulling it away from her body.

From the shadows, the man who had whipped Heather reemerged, this time holding something that looked like a braided leather belt whose braids had become undone on one end. He took up a position perhaps a yard in front of her, and I felt my heart pound as I realized he was going to whip her breasts for an encore.

My clamped nipples seemed to spark as the belt's first blow fell sharply across one of the woman's nipples. She wailed –in agony? in pleasure? – as another blow fell across the other breast. I watched in morbid fascination as her breasts reddened under the expertly-handled leather belt.

Finally, the sadistic task completed, he retreated offstage again. The husband returned to his bride, and was once again welcomed with a deep, frantic kiss. He lowered his mouth to her nipples as I watched and wondered what a tongue would feel like on flesh made so sensitive...

I watched the stage as if hypnotized as the curtain was slowly lowered. My mind continued to race, imagining the husband seizing the opportunity to sodomize his bound, whipped bride. Or releasing her from her bonds, only to have her fall to her knees and hungrily fellate him.

"Tammy?" Derek said loudly, shaking me back to the present. "I...I'm sorry, Derek, um, Master Derek," I stuttered, trying to get my brain and body back to the here and now.

"You certainly seemed to enjoy that," he said, squeezing one of my ass cheeks. "I..I've never seen anything like that," I replied honestly. I was unable to deny that I had enjoyed it, but was equally unable to admit it, either.

His hand stroked my spine. "They said they'll have room for another volunteer later in the evening, if you're interested," he said, looking at me. I froze, torn between an intense, curious envy for the woman's experience and a paralyzing fear of that same experience.

"I...I think I'd, um, rather go back to the hotel early," I gasped finally. Derek continued to stroke my back. "OK," he said, "but if you change your mind..."

"Yes, Master Derek," I replied quietly, the phrase once again making my pussy twitch in arousal.

"Why don't we go get you another drink, Tammy?" Derek said. "You guys hold the table," he told his friends as he took my chain and we turned to walk to the bar.

I looked around the club and watched, amazed, as women slowly moved from their seats to between their partner's legs, their mouths beginning to suck and stroke cocks made hard by Heather's whipping onstage.

As we jostled through the crowd, part of me wished Derek or one of the other men had asked me to suck them off – performing fellatio would, perhaps, take my mind off the uncomfortable arousal I continued to feel from witnessing such a display of sexual masochism.

Derek and I stood in what we thought was a line for the bar. Derek held my chain with one hand, while he would squeeze my ass or pull on my nipple clamps with the other. My desire for an orgasm was becoming almost uncontrollable.

"Enjoying the evening so far?"

I heard a dimly familiar voice behind me, and both Derek and I turned to see the man who had been the master of ceremonies onstage.

"Very much," Derek replied smoothly. "My slave here found the whipping very stimulating."

I gulped, as the man eyed my body up and down. "Excellent," he said with a slight smile. "Then you're in for a real thrill in about twenty minutes. Our next exhibition is my personal favorite."

Derek's hand squeezed my ass. "Really?" he replied. "Can you tell us what it is?"

The man cast a final glance at my breasts, and turned his attention to Derek. "We call ittres gotas, Spanish for 'three drops.' It's based on an old Shoshone fertility ritual. A woman is tightly strapped down, spread-eagled, on heavy wooden beams. A single drop of an extract from a specially bred variety of habanero plant is placed on each of her nipples, and near her clit."

I felt dizzy, listening to the man's description of what we would be seeing next on stage. He cast another glance at me.

"She's left for five minutes, and then her lover brings her to orgasm. The woman we're doing tonight has never had it done before. I'm told it burns worse than being branded, but the women who have gone through it say the orgasm is absolutely mind-blowing."

Derek squeezed my ass again. "Any interest in trying it, Tammy?" he asked casually. The master of ceremonies looked at me again, his eyes sharp, his mind no doubt already imagining how I would look as the fiery liquid was dripped onto my immobilized body.

"Five of my friends and I are trying to breed her," Derek explained, "so if it's a fertility ritual, maybe it would help."

I gulped. "I...I can't imagine that for five minutes," I gasped finally. The master of ceremonies smiled. "The Shoshone used to leave the woman like that for hours, until her husband found her and fucked her to relieve the burning."

The man cast a final look at me, then extended his hand to Derek. "Well, I have to go check on things backstage. Enjoy the show."

He disappeared into the crowd.

"Sounds like it will be even more intense than the whipping," Derek whispered as he ordered two glasses of wine from the bartender. "Yes, Master Derek," I replied quietly, my mind reeling from the description of the ceremony, from the nipple clamps, from the butt plug and from the feeling of being bound in public.

Derek fed me a sip of wine, and we proceeded back to our table. As we passed one table, I looked down to see Heather, the woman who had been whipped, slowly and sensuously fellating her husband.

We rejoined our party, and Derek sat down, gesturing for me to sit on his lap once again. After another sip of wine, the host again emerged from behind the stage curtain.

"Good evening again," he said. "Our next exhibition is always a hit. We will witness atres gotas, with a woman who has never experienced it before."

An appreciative murmur swept through the audience, and slowly the curtain was raised to reveal what appeared to be a large 'X,' with another wooden extension to support the head and torso, made from wood that appeared to be about the size of railroad ties.

A young couple walked onto the stage – a casually dressed man, and a blonde woman wearing only a long, white tunic. The woman looked warily at the timbers where she would be bound.

Her partner stripped off her tunic, and she stood nude on stage. She was beautiful – large, firm breasts, a flat stomach and perfectly proportioned hips. The man placed a hand on her back, and pushed her to the wooden platform.

She lifted herself onto the center, then paused to give her lover a long, deep kiss. Pulling away, I watched her blink, and then she slowly lay down on the 'X,' stretching her arms and legs along the wooden limbs, opening her delicate, pink pussy for the audience to see.

Two men moved from the shadows offstage, and began tightly securing her with leather straps – one under her arms and across the tops of her breasts, another across her stomach. Her arms were secured with a strap at the wrists, and another strap near the elbow.