Beth Likes It Ch. 05

Then, with the camera still following me, I signed the papers. With the first signature, I signed my freedom over to my ex-husband, so from now on I would have no more rights than a child or a pet. And with the second signature, I signed away any chance of claiming, ever, that I was not a fully willing participant in any sexual abuse, rape, torture, or injury he may ever, for the rest of my natural life, want to put me through. Even changing my body surgically was entirely his choice, or injecting me with strange drugs to increase my libidinal drive or my sensitivity to the pain or sexual stimulation. Or even giving me to someone else, or to a group of perverted men! Or just selling me!

I could not breathe, but I lifted my pen, and as I did it I knew I was falling into a trap. I was stepping deliberately into a trap! And I knew I would suffer, continuously, forever. But I signed it, and I smiled viciously as I did it, as I raised my pen and did that horrible thing to myself. I wanted my disgusting, needy, leaky vagina and the rest of my insane, sex-addicted body, along with my stupid, idiotic, depraved mind, to suffer as much as humanly possible. Even more than humanly possible, I wanted my humanity stripped away from me, to be reduced to nothing, lower than an animal, lower than a whore. I would be nothing more than Ben's ultimate fantasy pussy-slave, his willing victim, his rape-slut, his torture-slut, his sickening, perverted fuck-doll that he could brutalize and destroy every night, just to patch me up and start all over the next morning. And at the end, he could pass me along to the next guy, or group of guys.

"Oh my god," I thought and I gulped air and squeezed my eyes shut. "Am I really doing this?" But the answer came with an excruciating, crazy tingle, like electricity shooting down my spine. My nipples and my dirty, still pissy twat were on fire, and the shit-eating grin returned to my face, an evil grin, a sadistic grin. I was thrilled to sign this, to lock myself, irrevocably, into the ultimate horror story. I lowered my pen to the page, and although a tiny voice in the back of my mind was still pleading with me not to do it, I signed my full name to the document, my full name, which as Lawyer Jarvis pointed out had recently changed. Ben didn't want me to continue to use his surname now that we were divorced, so I lifted Jarvis's fancy fountain pen once again to sign "Bethany Jane Cranston." Then I handed the pen, gingerly, back to the strange lawyer with the southern drawl.

Both men were wearing evil grins similar to my own. "How do you feel?" Asked Mr. Jarvis. Ben was still pointing his phone cameral at me. I felt a strange bond with both of them: we were all demonically pleased that we had a slut to punish. Even though I was the slut, I was just as anxious to get started as they were. I had to think for a moment what to say, how to answer the question.

It was my little girl's voice that came out. "I feel like a very naughty, nasty little girl, who is finally going to get what she deserves." I was pleased that it was so easy for me to be honest, because even though I was more articulate and sophisticated on the inside, when the little girl voice came out, she always told the truth, and told it in a very direct way. I realized I wanted to speak like that always, from now on, but I knew I didn't really have any control over it.

"Well Bethany, what do you suppose it is that you deserve?" Asked the lawyer.

"I am going to be punithed," I said, lisping a bit on the word "punished." Ben just stared at me, grinning. I grinned back.

"Why do you need to be punished?"

"For... touching myself." I admitted.

"With the corncob?"

"Yeth," I lisped.

"Hmm," said Mr. Jarvis, rubbing his chin. "You are not supposed to shove vegetables inside your vagina, are you, Bethany?"

"No. No Mister, I am not."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I'm a very bad girl, Sir. I can't control it."

"Can't control what?"

"I can't control my pussy, Sir. I needed to put something into it. I needed to fuck mythelf with something, something rough and hard..." I broke into a little moan, and I lifted my ass off the back of my chair and started humping the air, shoving my uncontrollable twat right at the two men, as if to demonstrate.

"You need something in there now, don't you, Beth?"

"Yeth," I said, and continued grinding.

"I think your naughty pussy is what deserves punishment most of all. The needy inside of your nasty little pussy. Isn't that right, Beth?"

"Yeth," I admitted sheepishly.

"Show us how big it is. Spread your legs and pry your pussy apart, as wide as you can."

With Ben continuing to point his camera, I did as I was told.

"You are very wet," said Mr. Jarvis. 'You are a very disgusting, sick little girl to be aroused by this. I think your little pussy needs to be hurt very badly, deep inside, as a punishment for being such a nasty, perverted little girl. Am I right, Beth? Should we punish the naughty, wet, inside of your pussy? Do you need to be hurt way deep inside, right now?"

"Yes Sir," I lisped. My voice was high and squeaky, I had no control over it at all. "Yes Sir, please hurt my very naughty pussy deep inside." I thrust my twat right up at them in a grinding motion, an absurd grin on my face. My craving for punishment, right in the core of my aching need, right where it would hurt the most, was insane. I grinned at them like a clown, and started to cry again, tears streaming out of my eyes. "Pleathe... Pleathe... no mercy. I am a very very bad girl. I need it, I need it so bad..." I started sobbing and laughing at the same time.

The men each took an ankle and pulled my legs up behind my shoulders as I slouched down in my chair, pushing my sopping, wet, red vulva up at them. I could smell my own odor, mixed with the piss. Somehow there was rope handy, and my ankles were tied to the top of the chair, above my shoulders on either side of my head.

Ben started heating something up on the stove. Jarvis the lawyer started gently, teasingly rubbing my tender clitoris between his spit-lubed thumb and forefinger. I was already wildly aroused, but Jarvis wanted me teetering on the brink of orgasm, and he knew just how to touch me, just how stiffly and just how gently, and just exactly when to pause for a few seconds to keep me from toppling over the edge. He built me up again and again, getting me closer and closer each time, until I was in near hysterics.

"Are you ready, Bethany?" Asked Ben.

"Oh yeth, yeth please Daddy, I am ready." I couldn't seem to speak like a normal person anymore.

"I am not your fucking Daddy, you little twat." Ben walked over from the stove, carefully holding a tablespoon full of some liquid. "Hold her open."

Jarvis spread my pussy lips as wide as they would go, which was pretty wide after my session with the corncob. "Just a sec," Jarvis said, reaching with his other thumb to ever-so-gently rub my clit, once again. In about eighteen agonizing seconds, he had me again on the absolute brink, teetering over the abyss, gasping and thrusting upwards. Ben held the spoon over my wide open hole.

"Oh...kay..." said Jarvis. I thrust up at them, starting to uncontrollably squeal through clenched teeth. Jarvis squeezed my clit firmly between thumb and forefinger, sending me into spastic, breathless convulsions, and shouted "Now!", and right at that very moment, as I toppled into blinding orgasm, Ben delicately emptied his tablespoon of boiling vegetable oil into my upturned vaginal opening.

Nothing touched my clit, or my outer labia, but my inner lips, along with my vaginal canal, my puffy little cervix, and right back past my cervix to the depths of my cunt, were instantly fried. I could feel the blisters forming, I could feel the viscosity spreading to every recess and charring every nerve, I could feel my screams catch in my spasming throat, and I could feel the orgasm reach my fingertips and nipples and make the hair stand up on my head. The pain was beyond measure, it was intense beyond anyone's power to comprehend. But it did not quash the orgasm, it ignited it!

And oh, it was a terrible sensation! This was hellfire! I was immersed in flame, in incomprehensible burning explosions of demonically sinful pleasure-pain!

Suddenly every nerve in my body is erupting, my throat clenching, my screams bursting through my nose, spurts of vomit reaching my mouth and lips, diarrhea and piss soaking the chair I am propped up on. My whole brain goes cross-eyed as my chest heaves with choking, churning sobs. I can't see, I have no idea where I am, or what I am: for minutes on end I am nothing, I am non-human, consumed by brutal, ecstatic sensation, so exquisite as to be unbearable, so excruciating as to be indistinguishable from orgasmic convulsion!

Except that it is too much, too intense: as my nerve-endings frizzle out and my fingers and toes droop, I realize this was indeed a punishment. This was murderous punishment, and as Ben and Jarvis pack my cunt with ice, I realized that this was the kind of punishment, the level of severe punishment, that could only be appropriate for a girl like me, for a BAD GIRL who REALLY DESERVES IT. My whole vaginal cavity is aflame with continuous burning sensation, and my head spins with the implications of everything I have experienced, everything I have committed to, everything I have signed. There is truly no way out.

And yet, that very thought, that there is no way out of this, that from now on the deepest and most degrading of humiliations will define my place in the world, the most disturbing and agonizing physical sensations will define my experience of being alive, that this very reality, and the utter inescapability of it, ignites a strange itch within me, that grows as the two men stand me up, walk me over to the bathtub and flush out my vagina with cold water. I am no longer crying, and while the burning is still there, and still incredibly unpleasant, I strangely enjoy being manhandled by these two mean-spirited men. I feel a strange delight in knowing that they get off on torturing me, and that before long other men will have the same opportunity. And as the icy water shoots up my damaged pussy-pipe, splashing the blistery surfaces of my vaginal canal and cervix, my itch becomes more powerful, indeed welling up uncontrollably from within and becoming an intense, irrepressible craving.

And when Jarvis sits me up in the bathtub so he can more easily reach my mouth with his cock, just so he can urinate into my mouth as if it were a toilet, expecting me to swallow every drop, I actually smile up at him, and at Ben, the same uncontrollable shit-eating grin spreading across my face that had been there when I signed the papers, signed my life away, committing permanently to this new, sub-human life of torture and degradation. There are actually three misogynists, three sadists in this room, I realize; I am just the one blessed with the female body. I too need a pair of titties and a pussy to punish mercilessly. My pleasure too is sadistic, and requires a victim.

Sure, it will be difficult to sleep with my twat full of blisters, but I could not be more deserving. Oh yes, that is the final truth of it. And as I open my mouth, grinning like a toilet, to receive Ben's pee pee as well as Jarvis's, I realize that I am lucky to be in this position, lucky to be on the receiving end of all this, because I am the only one who can truly know the effect of our mercilessness, who can experience first hand the impact of our cruel and sadistic acts!

I choke on my final gulps of tart and salty man-pee as they pull me out of the bathtub and dress me in a silver miniskirt so short it barely covers my shaven, red vulva. You can see the scars from my whipping earlier, all over my ass, legs, and inner thighs, the most severe welts disappearing under my skirt. But the real damage, the blistering oil-burns, are hidden inside me, and although I am stumbling in an exhausted stupor and barely able to walk at all due to the pain between my legs, Ben and Jarvis somehow stretch a matching silver bikini top over my melon-sized breasts and throw me into the car, matching silver heels somehow buckled onto my feet. No panties. We are on our way to Tito's bar!

The bar, full of rough men! Where people know me, or at least know me as "the bar slut"!

And although I am in so much pain between my legs I can barely breathe, somehow the thought of people seeing me like this makes me blush anew. And makes me want to be touched "down there", even though I know it's gonna hurt!