Candice in Suburbia Ch. 05

Not too long ago, Anna had told Mrs. Patron that I was a lesbian sex slave and invited her to come over to the house and use me for sex if she wanted.

I had always assumed that Mrs. Patron was straight. She was married and had two daughters. To me, that sort of stuff strongly suggested heterosexuality.

Yeah, I guess I assumed too much.

My story begins one Saturday morning. My mother and I were on our hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. Of course, we were both naked. Anna believes that nudity is important for slaves. It helps to keep us humbled and reminds us of our status.

While my mother and I labored, Anna divided her attention between supervising my mother and me and chatting with our friends, Lauren, Sam, and Barbara. There was a knock at the door, and I continued to apply the scrub brush to a stubborn stain. I presumed that Anna would get the door.

"Answer the door, Candice," Anna said to me, and she eyed me very intently, as if daring me to disobey.

A multitude of my friends and neighbors had already seen me naked, but I still got butterflies in my stomach at the prospect of exposing my naked body. The fact that I had no idea who was at the door just made my feelings of unease even more intense. Until I opened the door, I had to deal with the torment of imagining the worst possible scenarios for what sort of people might end up ogling my naked body.

My heart pounded madly against my ribcage, the sound becoming louder and louder in my ears. I tensed, sweat breaking out all over my body as I opened the door. I felt faint, and my eyes clouded over for a second or two. When I regained my vision, I was staring at an elegant, dapper woman in her late thirties or early forties. She was dressed in stylish black boots, black slacks, a custom-tailored black blazer, and a black dress shirt. With her intense, blue eyes scrutinizing my body, I felt even more naked than before.

"Mrs. Patron?"

"Candice," she said, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.

"Hot, uninhibited, kinky sex with an adorable woman half my age is the sort of welcome diversion I need in my life right now. I've come to take you up on your offer."

Okay, it was demeaning to be sexually objectified by my neighbors and forced to have sex with them, but it could have been far worse. Despite the fact that Claire Patron was old enough to be my mother, she was quite attractive.

Suddenly, Anna was standing by my side. She placed one arm around my waist, greeted Mrs. Patron warmly and said, "Claire, I am so glad to see you! I was worried that you might not be interested!"

"Not interested?" she asked, her eyes widening. "Candice is a beauty queen! She's one of the most tempting morsels I've ever met! I would have dropped by to take advantage of your offer sooner, but I've had such a busy schedule, I haven't had a free moment to myself...up until today."

Mrs. Patron gave me a wicked, seductive grin. Fear and excitement churned inside me, each potent emotion fighting for dominance. My mind blanked for a second as my head reeled and I felt a soft, wet pulse in my sex. Somebody invited Mrs. Patron inside, either it was me or Anna. My head was a chaotic mess, I wasn't sure which one of us had made the invitation. Of course, Mrs. Patron accepted and gracefully made her way inside.

Anna ordered me to close the door and the three of us stood in the foyer. Mrs. Patron looked me up and down. She smiled brightly and made a happy noise that was sort of a mix between a giggle and a squeal.

"So, where should we do it?" she asked. "The bedroom is traditional, but slave/mistress is sort of outside conventional norms. Is there perhaps a sex dungeon or something like that in the house?"

Anna raised her eyebrows at the question and stifled a laugh. "Not yet, but I'm liking the way you think. We do have a whipping frame in the back yard. Would you like to see it?"

"Oh. My. God. Yes."

Mrs. Patron was like a little kid on her first trip to Disneyland. She was eager to see the whipping frame and she insisted that Anna demonstrate how to properly secure a slave girl to it. I felt a surge of fear as Anna and Claire Patron escorted me to the back yard, but it was a delicious sort of fear.

My mother was told to remain in the kitchen and continue her work, scrubbing the floor, but Lauren, Sam and Barbara followed as Anna escorted Mrs. Patron to the backyard to show her the ominous looking whipping frame.

The merciless whipping frame was constructed of sturdy wood, with leather straps and buckles. When a girl was bound to it, she was bound spread eagle. This was one of the unkindest ways to bind a girl. With her arms above her head and her legs far apart, it was a posture that left her feeling indecently exposed and vulnerable. Anna and Barbara demonstrated the apparatus, securing me to the frame while Mrs. Patron watched.

My ankles were bound far apart, leaving my bald pussy lewdly on display; indeed, all of my naughty bits were pornographically exposed.

"Touch her all over," Anna suggested. "There's no need to be shy. If she complains, just smack her bottom."

I stood there, helplessly bound with my legs open wide, my breasts and pubic lips as completely displayed as possible as my middle-aged neighbor ran her hands all over my naked body.

Occasionally I would flinch as Mrs. Patron roughly squeezed my breasts, or cruelly pinched my nipples.

It wasn't the first time I'd been groped or roughly handled by a dominant woman, but to be treated this way by one of my neighbors...one of the 'normal' people that I'd grown up around, felt wrong somehow.

I felt flustered and mortified, but also very much like a slave. The way I was being so casually abused and objectified by one of my longtime acquaintances made me feel as if my slavery was authentic, not just part of some game where I pretended to be Anna's property.

"Ohhhhhh!"

While I stood there, naked and helpless in spread-eagle bondage, Mrs. Patron stroked the moist folds of my sex, causing my shameful levels of arousal to go even higher.

"Mrs. Patron," I said hoarsely, my vocal cords barely capable of functioning. My body responded automatically to her touch. I felt frightened and humiliated, but a powerful orgasm began to build up inside almost immediately.

And as one agonizing wave of desire after another passed through me, Claire Patron stared into my face with intense eyes, watching the emotional reactions on my face as I was helplessly fingered toward a potent, humiliating orgasm.

"Huhh, aaahhh, aaahhh, Oh God, AAAHHHH," I panted and gasped. She thrust two fingers deep inside of my wet, throbbing sex. The shame and humiliation I felt was delicious, bound naked in the back yard, my legs spread indecently far apart, my friends watching intently as Mrs. Patron impaled my pussy on her fingers and relentlessly probed my moist interior.

I squirmed and struggled against the leather straps as I was raped. Wave after agonizing wave passed through me, heating my skin to fever pitch, and making my nipples painfully hard. I moaned and whimpered as my sex throbbed in hungry spasms around Mrs. Patron's fingers.

I felt a sense of utter surrender to my middle-aged neighbor as she manipulated my defenseless pussy and brought me to the edge of an overwhelming, devastating orgasm, only to remove her fingers from my sex and leave me trembling with sexual torment.

My pubic lips closed vainly around nothing. My hips writhed uncontrollably, my sex throbbed vigorously, and I whimpered and moaned at the unjustness of the way Mrs. Patron was violating me with cruel frustration. I desperately longed for her to thrust her fingers back inside of me and relieve my sexual distress; however, Mrs. Patron just stood there looking smug and demanded that I lick my juices off her fingers.

"Do it," Anna insisted.

"It's what a proper sex slave would do, Candice," Barbara added. "Lick your juices off her fingers."

Mrs. Patron held her glistening fingers up near my face while Anna, Barb, Lauren, and Sam insisted that I needed to do as I was told. It was an affront to my dignity, but that was sort of the point of being a sex slave in the first place, right? We were supposed to be abused, objectified, and stripped of our status.

I trembled and felt I was descending even deeper into shameless submissiveness, but I obeyed, opening my mouth, allowing Mrs. Patron to stick her fingers in my mouth so I could lick my juices off her fingers. I felt mortified, but at least my lesbian mistresses and my friends seemed to approve of my actions.

It went on like that for some time. Mrs. Patron would finger my pussy and then I would be forced to suck my juices off her fingers. Being bound, naked and sexually abused by my neighbor dramatically amped up my feelings of helplessness, especially since we were outdoors. A number of neighbors' back yards abutted mine. If they wanted to witness my bound and naked humiliation, all they would have to do is look over the tops of their fences.

And after I'd licked my juices off Mrs. Patron's fingers a half dozen times, she molded her lips to mine and kissed me. Her tongue probed my mouth and we both moaned as her tongue rolled across mine.

She was a passionate kisser. She held onto me, and her tongue felt so wonderful inside my mouth. My heart raced and I could just imagine what I must have looked like, a young, naked woman, bound spread eagle to a whipping frame while an older woman pressed her clothed body up into the body of this bound, naked girl.

It was wicked and indecent, and I imagined that some of the neighbors must have seen us. There were waves of fear and embarrassment spreading through me, but the waves of sexual excitement were far more potent, and I rode those waves as I moaned into Mrs. Patron's mouth.

I felt blissfully submissive as my body was used and exploited, and I waited to see what Mrs. Patron would do to me next, but I was soon disappointed when she announced that that was all she was willing to do on her 'first date.'

"Seriously?" Anna asked. "Wouldn't you at least like to give her the belt? Or put her over your knee for a hand spanking?"

My neighbor looked apologetic and replied. "Next time, I promise. My husband is going out of town next month for some sort of team building exercise and I'll have the whole house to myself. Bring her over and I'll do all that stuff."

I bit my lower lip and groaned in sexual frustration. Mrs. Patron had driven my level of sexual arousal up into the thermosphere and then she just left me there. At least she made plans with Anna to bring me over to her house next month. I desperately hoped that when that occurred, I would be allowed to have the sort of sexual satisfaction I was denied that morning.

* * *

Rudolph Acosta owned a theater in Campo Rojo where most of the performance-artists performed in the nude. Ann mentioned to him that I had twelve years of ballet training, and he immediately became intrigued with the idea of having me dance naked on stage for his customers.

I was somewhat rusty, but he didn't care. The idea of a naked ballerina seemed to fascinate him. Of course, there was more involved with the performance than he initially told me. I learned about that later.

Anna got the wicked idea of using my naked body to advertise my upcoming nude ballet performance and for seven days in a row, I was bound naked in the front yard, with a sign that advertised the dates and location of my performance.

"This isn't the way advertising normally works," I dared to inform my mistress as she pulled out ropes and prepared to tie me up in the yard to use my body as some sort of bizarre marketing gimmick.

"Hush," Anna admonished me. "I don't care how it's normally done! I'm thinking outside the box!"

She certainly was. First, she had me kneel while she and Barbara wove a leather thong into my ponytail. There was about three or four feet of thong left when she was finished, and then she had me stand up.

Once I was standing, Barbara tied off the other end of the leather thong to a thick branch that hung down from the elm tree in my front yard, and while Barbara was doing that, Anna tied my elbows and wrists together behind my back.

Then Anna and Barbara worked together, using ropes to tie my ankles far apart. They'd embedded thick metal rings into the ground and the ropes around my ankles were soon secured to those rings. The way I was bound, my hard nipples and the plump, glistening wet lips of my pussy were indecently on display. Of course, that was Anna's plan all along. She wanted the most intimate parts of my anatomy to be shamefully exposed for all of my neighbors to see.

My heart beat too fast and I felt a new and delicious fear as I imagined who might walk by and see me in this erotically charged and humiliating position, and then Barb shoved a ball gag in my mouth and buckled the straps behind my head.

"Mmmff!"

"Oh, don't complain, you look adorable," Anna insisted as I blushed three different shades of red and squirmed in my bondage.

"Oh, I almost forgot this," she said. She reached into her bag and took out a flat piece of plastic. On the top were two small chains with clips on the end. Anna and Barbara worked together, each woman clamping metal jaws to my defenseless nipples.

"Mmmff!"

I couldn't remember a single time in my life when I felt more helpless or exposed. Anna explained that the sign hanging from my poor, abused nipples had the dates of my nude performances listed as well as the address of the Acosta Theatre for the Performing Arts. My naked body would be used to draw people in and then hopefully they would read the sign.

I moaned into my gag. It was shameful the way my naked body was displayed for everyone in the neighborhood to see and my clamped nipples were already hurting after just a few seconds of those metal jaws biting into them.

Bound, gagged and indecently exposed, I stood there and felt my heart pounding madly in my chest as I heard people approaching.

I was shocked by how many people were out and saw me like that: men, women, couples, joggers, dog walkers and at least one UPS delivery person.

Almost all of them were intrigued enough to come and get a closer look at me. They examined my naked body first, but eventually they got around to the sign. Many of them expressed an interest in watching me dance and took photos of the sign.

An elderly couple stopped to look at me. I blushed feverishly hot as both man and wife scrutinized my body as if I was some sort of delicious snack. I was so intent on my feelings of helplessness and humiliation that I failed to notice two joggers approaching.

They were both female, lithe, and athletic. They slowed down as they approached and then came to a complete stop.

The taller of the two women was raven haired and she held my sign up closer to her face and took in the written information.

"Nude ballet? I've heard that they have that sort of thing in Paris, but here in Fairhaven?"

"It's something new," Anna conceded.

"I think it's going to become popular," Barbara added. "I mean, just look at that face and that body. Who wouldn't want to see her do a naked arabesque?"

"Or a ballet dancer's split?"

"I always thought it was a crime the way tutus obscured the beauty of a dancer's body," the brunette jogger replied.

Both joggers whipped out their phones and photographed the sign that dangled from my nipples. They couldn't wait to watch me dance and planned to buy tickets online as soon as they got home.

Of course, the sign was hanging from my naked body, so when people took photos of the sign, my boobs and shaved loins made it into every one.

Then one woman approached me without a phone. She also didn't have any paper or pen to write down the information about my upcoming performance and she asked if she could just take the sign with her.

Anna took a few seconds to mull it over and replied, "Okay, take it with you. I can get another one made."

"Thanks, I wouldn't want to miss this. She has a great body. I want to see how well she knows how to move it with style and grace."

Then she grabbed the sign and yanked it off my boobs. My poor nipples exploded in red hot agony. I let out an inarticulate scream, but it was muffled by my gag, allowing only a pained whimpering sound to be heard.

Eventually the suffering in my nipples was reduced to a dull ache, but by then, dozens more people had come over to ask about my bound nudity. Anna explained that it was a form of advertising for my upcoming performance, and she gave out information on when and where I would be performing.

* * *

Martine and Sigrid choreographed a routine for me. I had two weeks of rehearsals before I performed it live on stage. I felt that two weeks wasn't enough time to perfect my technique. It turns out that they didn't want my technique to be perfected.

On opening night, Martine and Sigrid were both on stage with me. Of course, while I was naked, they both wore black bodysuits.

Another difference between them and me was they both held leather straps in their hands, and if my leaps were not graceful enough, my leg extensions not high enough, my transitions not smooth enough, one of them would whip me across my bare buttocks, thighs, breasts, or some other part of my naked body. The crowd loved it. The crack of leather across my smooth skin and my pitiful yelps of pain were the true entertainment of the evening. My dancing skills were never the point. The cruel sting of leather across my young naked body was what the customers were paying to see.

The system was designed to be unfair. I could rehearse, improve my flexibility, my core strength, my dance moves etc. until my dancing became flawless, but even if I did, they would find some other reason to punish me. Cruelty was the point. If Mr. Acosta's slaves weren't made to suffer, his audience wouldn't be entertained, and they'd stop buying tickets to his shows.

"Ow!"

The strap cracked across the back of my thigh as Martine corrected my posture. It didn't take long before a fine sheen of sweat was coating my torso. Ballet is physically demanding, forcing a dancer to push his or her body to its limits. Ballet choreographers are typically cruel and push their dancers to the point of physical exhaustion, but Martine and Sigrid were the most sadistic choreographers I'd ever encountered.

"Ow! Ow! Aaaaahhhhh!"

A pirouette is an incredibly demanding dance maneuver that requires a dancer to balance on one leg and support the entire weight of her body on her toes while doing a graceful spin.

After endless hours of rehearsals, I thought my pirouettes were masterful. Martine and Sigrid disagreed.

After the performance was over, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I just wanted to collapse onto a couch, a chair or even the floor. I didn't want to do anything other than sleep for about five or six hours, but my wicked overlords had other ideas.

For an exorbitant fee, members of the audience could come up onto the stage and have their pictures taken with the naked ballerina. I was made to stand straight, with my chin up, shoulders back and my boobs thrust out and allow strangers to wrap their arms around my waist or shoulders while a photographer took our photo.

I squirmed when one person's arm slid down from my waist to grab my butt. My buttocks were marked and tender and the grip of fingers as they squeezed my buttocks was excruciating. It's typical for ballet dancers to have to deal with sprains and torn cartilage. Not often whip marks.