Candice in Wickedland Ch. 10

I couldn't believe that so many members of my family were treating me like some sort of naked plaything. Even my sixty-two-year-old grandmother slapped me on my ass whenever I walked past her. And my Aunt Emma would grab one of my nipples and roll it between her fingers whenever I leaned over to refill her drink.

My family peppered Anna with questions about our relationship. They wanted to know if Anna ever got to spank me or if that was the sole privilege of Princess Bedrohlich. Anna explained that the Princess shared that honor with a few other women. Anna was then pressed for details about who was allowed to punish me and how brutal were my punishments.

"Candice had always seemed so wholesome to me," Claudia commented as I went around the table. "She was a real girl next door type. It's hard to believe that she gets turned on by demeaning stuff like forced nudity and humiliation."

"It's not so hard to believe," Princess Bedrohlich replied. "Just place your hand between her legs and feel how wet she is."

I was taken completely off guard when Claudia worked her hand between my legs and roughly took hold of my pink slit. I was so shocked by the sudden pawing at my sensitive pubic lips that I dropped the platter I had been holding and it crashed to the floor.

Claudia's hand was still clutching at my wet sex when Princess Bedrohlich admonished me for my clumsiness and announced that I would have to be punished for failing to perform up to her exacting standards.

I apologized and retrieved the platter from the floor. Then I begged Princess Bedrohlich for forgiveness.

"You know better than that, Candice," Princess Bedrohlich replied. "Sloppiness in a slave cannot be forgiven. Slaves must learn to serve properly, and the penalties for failure must always be painful."

Then, to add to my humiliation, Princess Bedrohlich proclaimed that it would be one of my friends or relatives who would punish me.

"After we have all finished with this sumptuous meal, one of you will have the pleasure of whipping our naked slave girl," Princess Bedrohlich declared. "The person who has that honor will be decided by a game of Capture the Queen."

It turned out that Capture the Queen was a remarkably simple game. Princess Bedrohlich would hold open a large leather pouch containing twenty-four chess pieces. Most of the pieces in the bag were pawns, however, there was one queen. People would reach into the bag without looking into it and pull one piece out. Whoever pulled the queen out of the bag would be the lucky woman to whip my naked flesh.

It was my Aunt Emma who ended up with the queen; she held it up, her face lit up with a wicked smile. It seemed to me that she was enjoying this too much. No woman should be so visibly delighted to whip the naked body of their niece. The sadistic joy on her face made me flinch.

"Candice, clear away the dirty dishes," Princess Bedrohlich ordered. "When you're finished, come kneel on the table so your aunt can whip you."

The eyes of more than two dozen women stared fixedly at my nudity as I cleared the dishes away and deposited them into the kitchen sink so they could be washed later. My friends, neighbors, aunts, cousins and even my grandmother openly eyeballed my naked breasts and bald pubes as I made multiple trips from the dining room to the kitchen and back to the dining room again. I'd bet good money they were also checking out my ass as I walked away.

When I was done clearing everything away, I was trembling. My body thrummed with anxiety and crushing humiliation as I knew I was to kneel in front of my Aunt Emma to be sadistically punished while my friends and family watched.

Chairs were pulled away from the large dining room table so I could climb up upon it. Then I was ordered to turn and face my aunt.

"Kneel," Princess Bedrohlich commanded me, "and place your hands behind your neck. Interlink your fingers. Spread your legs wide, arch your spine and pull your elbows back. Stick your breasts out and make them inviting targets for your aunt to whip."

I whimpered and felt my face heat up with shame as I obeyed. I thrust my chest up and out as my Aunt Emma was handed a leather flog with long, thin strips. I'd been whipped with whips remarkably similar to the one my Aunt Emma had just been given. It wasn't the worst whip in the world, but I knew that it would sting.

"You're not going to whip her breasts, are you?" Aimee asked. "A woman is so sensitive there!"

"Her breasts are so perfect and inviting," my Aunt Emma replied to Aimee. "And her pink nipples are so hard and deliciously erect. It's like they've been begging for my attention all night."

"She needs this," Princess Bedrohlich opined. "Slaves need to be punished often. It fulfills an emotional need. A slave who isn't punished feels neglected."

In a weird way, Princess Bedrohlich was correct. I feared punishments, however, I also needed them. They were a huge part of my sexual identity. If I were not punished, I would feel as if my overseers no longer valued me or found me sexually desirable. Truth be told, stinging handprints and whip marks on my naked skin made me feel somehow proud. The more I suffered, the more I felt as if I had achieved some impressive accomplishment.

My aunt proved to be a competent sadist. Her whip sliced across my vulnerable, young breasts with a frenzy of sharp, biting impacts. She whipped me sideways across my vulnerable chest, followed by a succession of lashes downward, leaving very faint traces of whip marks all along my upper and lower abdominal muscles, hips, and thighs. I was ordered to remain still as my aunt whipped me and I flinched only a little, although every one of her lashes stung.

When she was whipping my breasts, she seemed to be aiming for my nipples, scorching the thin, leather strips of her whip across my hard, sensitive nipples each time.

"Aaahhh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaaahhhhhhh!" I screamed as my breasts were cruelly abused. My cousins, my aunts and even my grandmother seemed to enjoy my screams of pain. And then my Aunt Emma utterly surprised me by aiming her next stroke between my legs.

"Gaaawwwwd noooooooo!" I screamed as the sizzling cut of my aunt's whip sizzled directly across my plump, pink labia.

I trembled in fear and agonizing pain as I struggled to remain in position with my legs spread wide and my breasts thrust forward. I gasped and moaned and looked into my aunt's vibrant, eager eyes. It was scary how happy she looked as she wielded the whip across my open, naked body.

Aimee gasped and protested, saying that a woman's pubic lips were far too delicate to be abused the way my aunt had just abused them, however, Princess Bedrohlich overruled her objections and told my aunt to continue whipping me.

My aunt next swung her whip and brought it across both my taut breasts with a scalding sting. I wasn't certain how long I could take a whipping like this and remain in position. Already my arms and legs were trembling, and I had to keep overriding my body's natural instinct to protect itself.

My aunt continued to whip my breasts and the pain became worse as my breasts were decorated with stinging reddish-pink marks. My eyes welled up with tears and I cried out with pain as the whip cracked across my innocent breasts again and again. I shuddered, and clenched my teeth together, but somehow managed to keep my back arched and my breasts thrust pornographically forward.

My cousin Faren opined that my aunt was having too much fun and asked if she might be allowed to have a chance to whip my breasts.

"Not this evening, dear one," Princess Bedrohlich ruled. "Emma is the one who captured the queen, and thus she has won the right to whip your cousin. Perhaps some other night."

The blows kept coming and my breasts felt scalded. When I dared to look down, I was alarmed at how the areas of pink were turning to amaranth. It felt as if my breasts had been pressed down onto a hot stove. I cried out in pain again and again. There was a smattering of applause from the women witnessing my humiliating punishment.

My breasts were still throbbing with pain even after the whipping stopped. However, when my screams of pain had died down to mere gulping sobs, Princess Bedrohlich ordered me not just to stay on the table, but to assume the humble pose.

The humble pose is a position all slaves learn. It involves the slave placing her head down on the floor (or in this case the table), with her ass up and her knees far apart. It leaves the slave's buttocks, anus, and vagina extremely exposed and vulnerable. Quite often it precedes a punishment.

"I've been told that there is a tradition among humans," Princess Bedrohlich announced dramatically, "of something called the Birthday Spanking. Are you all familiar with it?"

Of course, everyone in the room had heard of it. It was a somewhat archaic tradition, but it involved the birthday girl (or birthday boy) being given a number of swats across their ass equal to the number of years they'd been alive. I don't know how that tradition got started, but now that Princess Bedrohlich had heard of it, I had a sinking feeling that she intended that I get nineteen swats across my bare bottom to commemorate my nineteenth birthday.

"I feel that it is an important tradition for us to observe," Princess Bedrohlich announced, and then turned to my mother and said, "Ingrid, would you do the honors?"

I groaned. My breasts were already agonizingly sore. It seemed unfair to me that my ass should be punished as well. I held out a small sliver of hope that my mother might refuse to spank me. After all, she'd never spanked me when I was a child. How bizarre would it be if the first time she spanked me was after I'd reached adulthood?

The crowd of women parted and allowed my mother through. She stood right next to me and placed one hand on the small of my back and agreed to deliver my birthday spanking.

"Nineteen," the faerie princess reminded her, "and each swat has to be hard, or they don't count."

It felt surreal. This was going to be the first time my mother had actually spanked me, and it was going to be while I was naked, my legs spread wide, my anus and pubic lips pornographically exposed and about a dozen members of my family watching. I was bottom-up, face-down on the dining room table and about to be spanked by my mother.

It was a humiliating fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, although, if I were being completely honest, I felt a dark, erotic thrill at the thought of being so exposed and publicly humiliated.

My mother didn't bother building up to the hard painful swats across my bottom, but rather swatted my ass with harsh, stinging swats from the very beginning. It took only four or five swats before I was certain that my girlish bottom was turning red, and I had to bite my lips down on cries of pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" I finally cried out as my mother began to spank the tops of my thighs.

My cries of pain did nothing to slow down my mother's stinging assault on my poor bottom. Her hand worked at a maddening pace--laying on heavy slaps quickly. After the ninth swat on my defenseless bottom, my eyes welled up with tears.

My poor bottom was a riot of pain, and yet my neighbors, cousins, aunts, and other women in the room called upon my mother to spank me even harder. It seemed impossible that she could swat my poor buttocks and thighs any harder than she was already swatting them, but suddenly she did exactly that.

"Aaaaaaghhhhhhhh!" I screamed as the pain became too much and I squirmed and writhed so intensely that several women grabbed me, apparently fearing that I might roll off the table otherwise.

After my birthday spanking was over, I was a mess of tears and sweat, and my bottom felt scalded and tender. I was allowed a few moments to sob and adapt to the red-hot pain radiating from my reddened buttocks and thighs before I was ordered to kneel with my knees ridiculously wide in front of Princess Bedrohlich and her invited guests.

"I have one last game to play before I declare the festivities to be over," Princess Bedrohlich announced as my breasts heaved up and down and tears rolled down my face.

"This last game is called Capture the Tower," she explained. "Three of you shall be able to experience the pleasures of having sex with my naked slave. Everyone here needs to reach into this pouch and pull out a chess piece. There are three towers. Whosoever grabs a tower may have sex with Candice."

It took me a few moments to realize that the piece Princess Bedrohlich referred to as a tower was the piece most humans referred to as a rook. It took me a few more moments to realize that every woman in that room was being given an opportunity to have sex with me, including my mother and my grandmother!

I silently prayed to whatever deities were out there that neither my mother nor my grandmother pull a rook out of the bag. The endless shame I would have to endure from having sex with either of them would leave me traumatized.

If I had to have sex with one of my cousins, I could handle that. Even one of my aunts was something I could get over, but my mother, or my grandmother? No way! I'd be traumatized for life!

Luckily, I dodged a bullet. When the game was over, Aimee, Anna and Barbara all held up rooks, so everyone could see that they were the ones who could have sex with me. I breathed a sigh of relief. All of the women who I was fated to have sex with would be far less creepy than having sex with my mother or grandmother.

All three women were about the same age as me. I was ordered to pleasure Aimee first. My mother said that we could use the guestroom and I led Aimee up there. My bedroom was on the same floor as the guestroom, and I wondered why we couldn't use that. It had been a long time since I'd seen my bedroom and I would have liked to visit it again.

Of course, being a slave, I didn't question orders. I just did as I was told.

I took a good look at Aimee after we were alone in the guestroom. Aimee was a remarkably good-looking woman, and I took a moment or two to appreciate her aesthetic beauty. She had a slender waist, long, lean muscles, a beautifully toned body, firm, high buttocks, and smallish firm breasts. She had a sweet face with kind eyes.

Her toned, slender physique shouldn't have been a surprise. She and I both took ballet lessons from the same ballet instructor, who was a demanding taskmistress. She put us through grueling ballet stretches, dance positions and demanding choreography, shaping our bodies along the way.

Her sweet face and kind eyes made her somewhat unique in my life. While my neighbors and family enjoyed watching me suffer, Aimee was compassionate and wanted only to be kind to me. And shortly after Aimee was certain we were alone, she pulled a plastic squeeze bottle out of her purse and showed it to me.

"This is therapy lotion," Aimee explained. "It's got vitamin-E and aloe. It's used mainly to treat sunburn, but it should help ease the pain and speed up the healing process for those whip marks on your breasts."

Aimee poured a generous amount of lotion into her hands and began to gently rub it into the reddened skin on my abused breasts and nipples. My skin was red and sensitive everywhere the whip had kissed it, and I gasped when Aimee gently rubbed the lotion in yet stood perfectly still.

Aimee placed her oily hands on my naked breasts. She massaged the red marks and abrasions that my Aunt Emma had left behind.

"Oooh!" I gasped. Even with her deliberate attempts to be gentle, my flesh was still too sore to be touched without sharp, stinging pain.

"Sorry," Aimee said apologetically. "Should I stop?"

"No, keep going," I said. "Over the long term this will be good for me."

Aimee continued to massage the lotion into my sore skin, one breast at a time. Even though my breasts were sore to the touch, before long Aimee's hands rubbing the lotion in felt good. I let out an audible sigh as she smoothed lotion into my naked breasts and exposed nipples, easing the stinging pain.

Then Aimee worked the soothing lotion into the reddened flesh of my abdomen, hips, and thighs. My aunt had also whipped the delicate folds of my pubic lips, but Aimee bypassed my wounded labia and instead began to massage large amounts of the cool lotion into my punished bottom. She rubbed it in one buttock at a time, and even working a generous amount of lotion into the deep cleft between my buttocks. I gasped and whimpered when Aimee's fingers came across the spots that were the most tender.

"Your mother spanked you really hard," Aimee observed. "Has your mother always been this cruel?"

"She's not cruel," I told her. "She's just doing what Princess Bedrohlich tells her to do. Left to her own devices, my mother would never spank me."

Aimee saved my poor, swollen pussy lips for last. My pubic lips were red, throbbing and engorged and I whimpered in pain as Aimee's fingers applied soothing lotion all up and down my pink slit from back to front and then back again. My poor nether lips were probably the most sensitive part of my whipped body, however, I kept my hands at my side and my thighs open as Aimee slowly and gently worked the lotion in and tried to heal the damage to my tortured flesh.

Despite the pain my poor, whipped vulva was in, Aimee's fingers were stimulating my sex in such a way that I was soon panting more in lust than in pain. My clit was swollen and throbbing, and Aimee's fingers rubbed over it several times as she applied lotion to my poor, abused pubic lips.

It had been seven or eight or possibly even nine days since I'd been allowed any sexual relief. Princess Bedrohlich was a big believer in orgasm denial. She felt that it was important to keep slaves extremely aroused at all times. She'd kept me in sexual frustration sometimes for as long as two weeks. Of course, while she forbids me to have orgasms, Princess Bedrohlich simultaneously makes certain that I'm constantly stimulated, being purposely and repeatedly brought to the edge of orgasm, but almost never allowed to reach climax.

Seven days or possibly more of orgasm denial had turned my body into a boiling hot kettle of sexual frustration and my legs trembled and felt wobbly as Aimee's fingers rubbed across my wounded pubic lips and stirred up delicious sensations in my lower extremities.

My nether lips were soaking wet with more than just lotion. As Aimee rubbed more lotion up and down my already-wet slit, she accidentally rubbed her fingers across my clit again, bringing me to the threshold of a powerful orgasm. I held my breath and stiffened and spread my legs apart even wider.

Aimee looked deeply into my eyes for a few moments and suddenly I felt that it had been no accident that Aimee had brushed her fingertips across my swollen clit. I parted my lips and felt her fingertips glide across my throbbing clitoris again. After seven or eight days of sexual torment, my clit was hard and swollen and aching to be touched. My breath came in ragged pants as Aimee squeezed it and rubbed it. There was a look of adoration on Aimee's face as she witnessed my orgasm begin to bloom.

"Oh god," I loudly exclaimed and then started making loud inarticulate noises as Aimee's fingers worked magic and brought me not to just one orgasm: but to one powerful orgasm after another. I squirmed and writhed and wriggled my hips and screamed and gasped and made an absolute spectacle of myself as one orgasm after another ripped through me and took total control over my body. I shook and shuddered and trembled and enjoyed one of the most intense sexual experiences of my life.

"Oh, wow," Aimee said, with a look of awe on her face and the sound of reverence in her voice. I'm guessing she'd never seen a naked woman have an orgasm that intense before.