Cheryl's Passion Ch. 18

Cara wanted her boss's acceptance, so she sat he ass down on an armless chair and looked over to where I was standing.

"Cheryl, get your naked body over here," Cara commanded, "I'm going to spank you. I want you bottom raised up and your hands touching the floor."

I found myself liking Cara. She was a sweet girl, but she was trying to be wicked to please her boss. I felt an excited throbbing in my loins as I hurried over and draped my naked body across Cara's lap. Obediently, I lowered my hands to touch the floor and I raised my ass up as high as I could, making it an inviting target.

Ms. Nielsen stood to the side of her assistant so she could watch my face as I was spanked. I was already sore from what those biker women had done to me and I reflexively trembled in fear at the knowledge that I was about to be hurt some more. But mixed in with my fear was a potent feeling of sexual arousal. The two feelings were mixed so harmoniously it was difficult to separate one from the other.

Cara's right hand cupped one of my buttocks and then she stroked the curve where the thighs and buttocks merge. She spent a good deal of time fondling my buttocks before spanking them. I began to pant, somewhat impatient for my punishment to begin and then I felt her fingers working their way into the furrow between my buttocks. I gasped when I felt fingertips stroke the soft, pink flesh of my anus and Ms. Nielsen laughed.

"She's very tight back there," Ms. Nielsen informed her assistant, "If you want to probe her tight, little asshole, I suggest you use plenty of lubricant."

I'd been fucked in the ass before, but for some reason the idea of being anally violated by Cara seemed wrong. She was too innocent. Getting fucked in my ass by Cara would be like getting anally raped by a Disney Princess. It was just too unsettling for words.

Before we could go there, the first stinging slap of my spanking cracked across my bottom. My whole body stiffened at the pain and Cara proceeded to bring her hand down on the innocent curves of my ass again and again.

"You're doing well," Ms. Nielsen assured her assistant, "Keep spanking her just like that. Don't stop until her whole backside is red."

Wishing to make a good impression on her boss, Cara spanked my ass furiously until my poor, naked hindquarters were a riot of scalding pain.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ooooow!" I cried out as Ms. Nielsen's assistant brutally assaulted my buttocks. Reflexively, I squirmed across Cara's lap and kicked my legs. Tears welled up in my eyes and droplets of sweat began to bead on my torso as she inflected red-hot torment on my innocent buttocks.

I felt utterly without composure or dignity as I sobbed and writhed across Cara's lap. I was squirming so much that there was danger of me falling onto the floor. Several times Cara had to grab me around the waist and pull me tightly towards her to keep me from falling. And then she began to spank the backs of my thighs, which hurt even worse than when she spanked my buttocks.

"Aaaaahhhhhhh," I cried out and continued to bounce and writhe across her thighs. For an amateur, Cara was inflicting a great deal of pain. I think she was trying hard to impress her boss and my backside was paying the price.

My ass felt cooked by the time she was finished, and I was sobbing uncontrollably. Then Ms. Nielsen ordered me to get up off Cara's lap. My breathing was coming in small chest-heaving gulps and my arms and legs were wobbly at that point, but I obediently stood up and attempted to sooth my tender ass by gently rubbing it with my hands.

"Don't touch yourself," Ms. Nielsen admonished me sharply and I took my hands away from my poor, abused bottom.

While I was still sobbing, Ms. Nielsen ordered her assistant to get a tissue and dry my eyes. Dutifully, Cara got a Kleenex, brushed hair out of my face and wiped my tears away. Without thinking, I kissed Cara on the mouth. I'm not certain why I did it. Slaves aren't supposed to kiss free women without direct orders, but my emotions overtook me, and I felt so drawn to Cara I couldn't seem to control my own actions. At that particular moment I felt so drawn to Cara, I got swept up and I had to touch her, to be connected to her somehow, so I allowed myself to get swept up in a tidal wave of emotions and I kissed the woman who had just assaulted my bare bottom.

And then, much to my surprise, Cara kissed me back.

"Well, don't you two make a cute couple?" Ms. Nielsen asked.

"Um," Cara said awkwardly. I replied with something equally unhelpful.

"Affection between slaves and slave-owners is to be rationed out sparingly," Ms. Nielsen admonished, "A mistress should make their slave work hard and struggle to earn the smallest amounts of approval or affection. You cannot just give it away. It sends the wrong message."

Both Cara and I looked at Ms. Nielsen sheepishly and then I was ordered to get down on my knees. Cara was ordered to unzip her skirt and strip from the waist down.

Once Cara's skirt and panties were on the floor, I was ordered to place my mouth between Cara's legs and lick her to orgasm.

"I expect you to do a good job," Ms. Nielsen warned me, "If there is the slightest doubt in my mind that you've given my assistant an earth-shattering orgasm, I'll make certain that you're punished for your poor performance."

My heart hammered urgently in my chest at I knelt before Cara. I'd licked a lot of women to orgasm and I was quite skilled at it, but every woman was different. Some women responded well to direct clitoral stimulation, other women didn't like their clit to be touched at all. Some women loved vaginal penetration, other women hated it. Some women liked to be bit on their labia or inner thighs during cunnilingus, other women hated it.

I nuzzled my face into Cara's crotch and hoped that I could figure out what Cara liked quickly. She squirmed and rubbed her vulva in my face but offered no suggestions. Her labia were already swollen and unfurled but licking at them didn't elicit the sort of moaning or panting that I had been hoping for.

When lapping at the folds of her labia didn't get the result I was looking for, I worked my tongue into her vagina and probed her interior until I found her G-spot. Cara was much more responsive to my internal probing, so I kept my tongue inside her and worked it vigorously, making Cara squirm, gasp, and giggle.

I'd never associated giggling with orgasm, so I wasn't at all sure the giggling was a good thing. Then I took Cara's labia in my hands, spread them wide apart and worked my tongue in deeper. I was obviously doing something right as Cara then began to pant and make the sorts of noises I'd come to associate with an impending orgasm. Within seconds the panting became louder and Cara's whole body went stiff as she screamed like a red-tailed hawk.

"Oh God," Cara moaned, and she pushed me away. I looked up at her and her body was going through a series of post-orgasmic spasms. Her eyes were closed, her thighs trembled, and her hands were hovering right about where my head had been.

"Was she good?" Ms. Nielsen asked her assistant.

"Oh yes," Cara confirmed, "She was good."

Ms. Nielsen made a sound that lacked the same sort of enthusiasm I had heard in Cara's voice. And then Ms. Nielsen looked at me and added, "I've seen better. I think perhaps you'll need to be punished after all."

* * *

I thought it was unfair, but you don't voluntarily sentence yourself to slavery because you're looking for justice and fair-play. You do it because, on a certain level, being abused, exploited and objectified arouses you.

Of course, I was still naked, but instead of being in Ms. Nielsen's office, I'd been moved to a much more public venue. There was an athletic field out. It was about the right size to be used for soccer or track and field competitions, although I was guessing it was used for something kinkier. There were about a dozen people gathered around the field wearing tank tops, running shorts, and running shoes. There were also two naked slave-girls and a naked slave-boy with their arms bound behind their backs.

All eyes focused on me as I was escorted onto the field and Ms. Nielsen and her assistant used nylon ropes to bind my arms tightly behind my back in a very competent box-tie.

Ms. Nielsen hadn't told me what to expect, but I had assumed the worst. It was a fairly wise assumption on my part.

With everyone watching, Ms. Nielsen took another length of nylon rope and snaked it between my legs, pulling it tightly between my butt-cheeks and then yanking it painfully between the sensitive, tender swollen folds of my pubic lips. While Ms. Nielsen was doing that, Cara took a different length of rope and tied it tightly around my waist. In the end, the rope that was yanked up between my pubic lips was tied off in the back around my waist and in the front around my waist as well. Then another rope was added with great difficulty to the crotch rope to act as a leash, so that Cara could lead me around the athletic field by tugging on it.

Merely walking with the nylon rope biting deep into my labia hurt bad enough, but every time Cara pulled on the rope, the rope buried itself even deeper inside of me and the biting sting of the rope hurt even worse. "Cara, please! I can't walk like this," I protested, "The rope is cutting my pussy in two!"

"She can do it," Ms. Nielsen calmly assured her assistant.

Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to cry. Cara seemed uncertain about what was being done to me, but Ms. Nielsen assured her that slaves have endured far worse fates and survived with little more than bruises and chafed skin to show for it.

I was forced to walk around the athletic field like that, being led by my sore, tortured pussy with Cara pulling on that loathsome rope. I was forced to walk past both naked slaves and respectably clothed club members. Every now and then somebody would smack my defenseless ass as I was made to walk past them.

Walking around the athletic field with a piece of rope pulled tightly in between my poor, sensitive pubic lips was agony, but eventually Cara led me to a row of vertical poles. By the time we arrived at that destination I had a crowd of about fifty people gawking at me. And then I was told to stand with my legs far apart and the painful crotch-rope was removed from between my poor, abused pubic lips.

"Oh God," I exclaimed as the rope was pulled out. My pussy lips were raw from having that rope biting deep into my tender flesh. I wondered if I would ever walk normal again.

With dozens of onlookers watching intensely, I was told to stand between two of the vertical poles and to raise my arms. With efficiency and teamwork my wrists were bound far apart and above my head. Next, I was ordered to spread my legs wide and my ankles were quickly bound far apart. Once I was bound spread-eagle, Ms. Nielsen turned to the crowd of attentive spectators and made an announcement.

"This slave is named Cheryl," she called out, "She's been raped, spanked and whipped with riding crops. And no doubt she's chafing from where that rope was pulled up tight between the swollen folds of her labia."

Ms. Nielsen allowed this information to sink and the crowd eyed my naked body with interest, noting the reddened skin where I'd been whipped. Then Ms. Nielsen continued.

"For those of you who are interested, you can ease her suffering by rubbing palpito gel into the abused parts of her anatomy."

Suddenly two large, plastic tubes of palpito gel were produced and handed over to interested bystanders. I had never heard of palpito gel before and assumed it was some sort of medicinal lotion. My assumption was only partially right, as Ms. Nielsen explained.

"Palpito gel was developed by one of the medical personnel at the Vineyard. When rubbed into the skin, it helps to soothe the pain from minor injuries like abrasions, welts, and chafing. It also causes a tingling sensation and produces sexual arousal when rubbed into a woman's nipples, a man's cock, a woman's clitoris or her pubic lips."

My eyebrows went up as she explained and I could easily guess what was going to happen next.

Ms. Nielsen had volunteers line up to rub the medicinal gel into my breasts, my vulva and anywhere else that I'd been spanked, whipped or otherwise abused. I was helpless to stop them and they took full advantage of my vulnerability.

Young, athletic people in exercise apparel surrounded me and placed their hands all over my body, rubbing the gel into my buttocks, my thighs, my nipples and of course both men and women took copious amounts of the gel and rubbed it into the inflamed folds of my pubic lips.

"Aaaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhh," I gasped. At first, even the gentlest brush of fingertips on my abused flesh caused me to flinch and cry out in pain. Palpito gel is healing medicine, but it isn't magic. It had to be rubbed deeply into my skin before it began to reduce the pain. The initial physical contact from people rubbing my abused flesh just caused me more torment.

I gasped, panted and even screamed as I was tormented by multiple hands rubbing all across the tender flesh of my body, but at some point the soothing aspects of the gel kicked in and the pain faded.

"Aaahhh," I gasped as a tingling sensation danced across my skin. A woman with an oval face and a manic smile was rubbing lotion into the swollen folds of my abused labia and I began to enjoy the sensation of her touch. A wave of desire passed through me as she looked me in the eye and massaged my pubic lips.

Other hands were busy fondling my breasts, kneading my buttocks and sliding up and down my legs, but as my sex throbbed with hungry spasms, all of my attention was focused on the lady in the royal blue tank top with her hand between my legs.

"You like that, don't you?" the athletic female asked as she played with my pussy, "You want me to keep going? Tell me if you want me to keep this up."

I nodded my head vigorously and encouraged her to continue.

"Please, mistress," I implored, "I want you to keep going."

My clitoris was so hard and swollen that it ached. My whole body was tingling with erotic desire and I desperately wanted to reach climax. I squirmed and moaned and begged her to continue. I guess she liked the way I begged as she began to rub my pink slit with even greater enthusiasm than before. And while she played with my pussy, someone standing behind me handled my slick, slippery breasts, rubbing them and pulling on my nipples.

I gasped and felt my legs tremble. My whole body was feverish, and my blood raced as an earth-shattering orgasm built in intensity deep within my loins. I was so soaking wet that juices leaked from my pussy and onto my inner thighs. I whimpered and bit my lower lip. The woman with her hand between my legs asked me a question, but I couldn't understand her as there was a pounding in my ears that made it impossible to make out the words emanating from her beautiful mouth.

The pounding in my ears continued to grow and my heart pounded madly in my chest as hands played with my hypersensitive my clit and nipples. Then another hand worked its way between my buttocks and played with my asshole, rubbing lotion into my pink anus. This was another form of rape, and even as I squirmed in my bonds, grunted, and moaned, I was secretly enjoying myself. Over the years I'd had plenty of fantasies about being helpless and raped by strangers. I know that's abnormal, but something about being helpless and having my orgasms forced is just so much more delicious for me than plain vanilla sex.

My body trembled uncontrollably as strangers fondled the most intimate parts of my naked body. Then I felt fingers slide between my swollen labia and push into my vagina. And as her fingers probed me, I saw the woman's exquisite mouth moving again and I struggled to understand her words.

"...a slave auction next month...you be...auction block? I would...bid on you...so fetching to have you...at my...please say yes."

My body was only marginally under my control at this point, and I squirmed, trembled and gasped reflexively. I would have agreed to anything this woman asked if she would only bring me to the orgasm that I so desperately needed. My vocal cords felt thick and swollen and at that point I couldn't seem to form words. The people playing with my vagina, nipples and asshole had more control over by body than I did, and then just as I reached the point of no return, Ms. Nielsen grabbed that beautiful woman's wrist and pulled her hand away from my loins.

"No more," Ms. Nielsen called out imperiously, "For slaves, orgasms aren't a right. They're a privilege, and they have to be earned."

I trembled in my bonds and my thighs shook uncontrollably. My need for sexual relief was overwhelming and Ms. Nielsen was cruelly tormenting me by making certain these strangers could not supply me with that relief. I sobbed like a little girl, hot, wet tears leaked out of my eyes and my breasts heaved. My shame and dignity were long gone, and I stood there naked and cried in front of a crowd of strangers, desperate for a hand to provide me sexual relief.

* * *

Ms. Nielsen had declared me to be off-limits. No one was to touch me until April arrived to take me home. The crowd watched as I sobbed in sexual misery, but nobody touched me.

Eventually the crowd disbursed, and I was left there alone on the athletic field. Eventually my sobbing stopped, however, the throbbing need in my loins never completely left me.

I'm not certain how long I was left there feeling sorry for myself, but after what seemed like hours, Cara showed up and held a bottle of Evian water up to my lips.

"I thought you might be thirsty," the companionable girl commented.

I accepted Cara's kind offer and drank the cold water down in big, thirsty gulps. My hands were still bound so Cara had to hold the bottle up to my mouth as I drank. It was an awkward way to drink and some of the liquid spilled out of my mouth, dribbled down my chin and cascaded down onto my bare breasts. The water felt freezing cold on my feverishly hot skin, but I held back my complaints. After all, Cara was doing her best to be kind to me.

"I also thought you might appreciate this," Cara said. She set the plastic bottle down on the ground and placed a hand between my legs. Of course, I was still tied spread-eagled between the two poles. I was stretched wide open with my feet so wide apart that my pubic lips were lewdly on display, as if begging for attention. Cara looked me in the eyes as she placed her hand on my sex

Soon Cara's fingers found their way inside my wet sex and they probed my interior, seeking out the most responsive areas. I moaned and rolled my head from side to side as Cara took my already heated libido and rapidly brought it to a boil.

Cara played with one of my nipples while she fingered my pussy and I pulled against the ropes that bound me. I gasped and then surrendered to spasms as the sexual tension in my body built and I heaved and panted until Cara's fingers brought me to climax.

When the orgasm came, it was an erotic explosion that caused me to writhe and twitch in my bonds and pull mindlessly against the ropes on my wrists and ankles. My hips and pelvis gyrated in a lewd and shameless way until the powerful orgasm finally subsided.

"Did you enjoy that, Cheryl?" the girl asked as she slowly withdrew her fingers from my wet sex, and I slowly attempted to formulate a verbal response, although I was riding high on post-orgasmic bliss and my brain wasn't well-suited yet to formulating words.

I smiled at Cara, nodded and smiled. I was naked and helpless, but Cara had just manipulated my body to a delectable orgasm. At that moment she was my favorite person on the entire planet. If my wrists weren't bound, I would have hugged her.