Cheryl's Passion Ch. 19

Cara and I had sentenced ourselves to ten days of slave training, to be exhibited as naked slaves to potential buyers, then sold at auction to spend fifteen days as purchased sex slave.

Cara was understandably overwhelmed and panicky about the whole ordeal, but as long as I was there by her side, she was willing to go through with it. Despite the fact that she and I had only just met, she had developed some sort of powerful emotional bond with me and she felt safer knowing that I'd be by her side.

When we arrived at the Vineyard, two smartly-dressed security guards escorted us to the office of Ashley Witter. The security guards were female; however, they were all tall, imposing, and athletic looking. I got a good look at them after we were in Ms. Witter's office. They were both angular, had high cheekbones and oval faces. One might even had called them attractive if not for the grim and steely-eyed looks on their faces.

Ms. Witter had an assistant who told Cara and I to sit. And then she gave us more documents to sign. I didn't read mine thoroughly, however in essence, the documents said that of my own free will, I agreed to be locked up at the Vineyard for ten days. The legal documents I signed proclaimed that I was being voluntarily incarcerated. And after the auction I agreed to be sexually objectified, abused and punished by my purchaser, whomever they might be.

I'm not sure if it was legally enforceable, but it said that I volunteered to be incarcerated and abused by whomever bought me at auction. Ms. Witter gathered up the signed documents and placed them in the top drawer of her desk. Having gotten the legal necessities out of the way, she said, "And now your clothes, dears. Please take everything off."

Perhaps Cara noticed my flash of anxiety when we were ordered to strip. Yes, there was a problem, it suddenly occurred to me that I saw nothing in writing about us being sold together. Ten days from now Cara might well be on her own; I would not be able to comfort her, but it was too late to do anything about it. I put the thought aside and continued to strip myself naked without a pause.

The security guards flanked Cara; their body language unmistakable. Either Cara stripped voluntarily, or the tall, imposing women would rip Cara's clothes off anyway. So, under the steely gaze of Ms. Witter, her assistant and two security guards Cara and I stripped naked together.

Cara's hands trembled as she bared her body. She tried to cover herself with her hands, an understandable impulse, and was admonished in no uncertain terms to keep her hands at her sides.

"Slaves do not attempt to conceal their nudity," Ms. Witter explained, "Do that again and I'll have the guards lock your wrists behind your back."

Cara was struggling to obey the order, so I took her hands in mine to show that I sympathized. Her face was a mask of frustration and embarrassment, but by squeezing my hands she managed to keep her own hands away from her breasts and her crotch.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Cara stark naked; I was awed by her physical beauty. She had an impressively slender waist and a lithe, athletic figure. Her skin was flawless, and her blush of embarrassment was complemented by her soft pouting lips and long eyelashes as she refused to meet the gazes of the other women in the room.

She had the graceful body of a dancer, slender yet firm with lean muscle. Her breasts weren't impressively large, but they were high, firm and nicely rounded, with nipples and areolae showing pleasing shades of pink. All her pubic hair had been shaved off, or possibly waxed, I couldn't tell which. At any rate, her vulva was completely smooth, her adorable pubic lips utterly exposed.

"I see," Ms. Witter said, smiling, then frowning as she looked over at Cara and me holding hands.

Ms. Witter got up from her desk, stood in front of Cara, gently lifted her chin and proclaimed, "The way you blush is adorable, dear, however, I'm afraid slaves aren't allowed to be modest. You'll have to be conditioned to accept your exposure." She nodded to the security guards still flanking Cara.

"You must accustom yourself to being naked," one of the guards confirmed. "Nudity is so much more suitable for being bound or punished. Young lady prisoners have no need of clothes."

Ms. Witter and her assistant looked at each other and the assistant asked, "The display room?"

"Yes, dear," Ms. Witter replied, "that's exactly what I was thinking."

* * *

Cara and I ended up in a room with wooden posts, pedestals and benches that were equipped with leather straps, buckles and chains for binding naked females and making them helpless. There were also a series of whips and riding crops hanging upon one of the walls. It was a conspicuous reminder of what slaves could expect if they failed to behave.

Cara and I were led over to two of the pedestals and ordered to straddle them, feet on each side. I was bound first, in the most pornographic way possible; leather straps buckled tightly around my ankles and my legs spread far apart.

"According to your files, both of you have taken years of ballet lessons, so you should both be quite flexible," Ms. Witter said, and then she proceeded to put our flexibility to the test.

I had approximately twelve years of ballet training, which I suppose was fortunate. Otherwise the extreme split that I had been forced into would likely have caused me to pull a groin muscle or even dislocate something. As it was, I was left sitting on the pedestal with my legs spread so wide I was almost doing a dancer's split.

Ms. Witter and her assistant proceeded to bind Cara in the same way. Her wrists were bound behind her to some sort of metal ring embedded in the back of the pedestal. Our bonds were then adjusted to force our legs even further apart. Cara and I cried out in genuine distress as our inner thigh muscles were strained to the limit.

When Ms. Witter was done with her devious work, both Cara and I had our wrists bound behind out backs, our thighs were spread wide and our vulvas were obscene exposed. Only our naked buttocks rested on the pedestal as our legs were pulled wickedly up and apart. It was something like the splits a ballerina would do. My pink slit was left blatantly on display for anyone who happened to walk into the room.

As a BDSM model, I'd been exposed naked in front of strangers before. Cara had no such experience to prepare for such blatant exposure, and she looked at Ms. Witter with pleading eyes and a deep blush of embarrassment on her face.

"This will help you to adjust, dear," Ms. Witter assured Cara, "The way you're bound will prevent you covering yourself or easing your position on the pedestal. I'll leave you like this for six or seven hours. I'll visit you from time to time, of course.

"And if I find you've managed to work out a bit of slack, I'll tighten it right back up," she added, chuckling happily. "I'll pass the word around to ensure more people pass by. Maybe they'll even stop to chat."

The look on Cara's face vacillated between helplessness and outrage, especially after Ms. Witter and her assistant departed, since they left the doors swung wide, an open invitation for gawkers to come by to ogle our strenuously enforced nudity.

Six or seven hours?

My legs were so stretched to either side as to generate substantial pain within my adductor muscles. Having my hands fastened behind me forced my shoulders back and thrust my breasts forward. I looked over at Cara; she looked even more distressed. While I was somewhat inured to being ogled by strangers, this was all new and upsetting for Cara. She looked down at her exposed loins and flushed deep red.

"I hope we don't get too many visitors," she whimpered, though I could tell she was doing her best to be brave. "I felt violated just having Ms. Witter look at me like this. Having complete strangers look at me while I'm naked and spread wide open feels almost like sexual assault."

But there wasn't anything Cara and I could do to diminish the humiliation of our predicament, so we just sat there, occasionally making panting or gasping noises as we dealt with the harsh strain on the muscles and ligaments in our thighs. Sweat beaded on our naked skin as we endured the constant distress of our adductors pulled taut.

As far as the rest of the Vineyard was concerned, we had ceased to be human beings. We'd become bound packages of female flesh. It was a deliberate tactic to make us more submissive and suitable for life as sex slaves. I understood the logic behind it, but to Cara such hardship seemed unfair and traumatizing.

As Ashley Witter promised, visitors came in from time to time to gawk at our wide-spread nudity. Some of them were blatantly open about their interest in staring at our indecently exposed pubic lips. Others made an effort to fabricate a flimsy excuse to be in the room where they could ogle our helpless nudity. Most of our examiners were employees of the Vineyard: security guards, kitchen staff, maids and the like, who wandered in to scrutinize the folds of our pubic lips. One left, soon replaced by another, interspersed with a few naked slaves sporting handcuffs or some other type of bondage device that hindered their ability to use their hands.

One of the naked slaves stayed to chat. Her name was Victoria and she was maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Her wrists were bound securely behind her back and she was bursting with youthful enthusiasm.

"Oh, the two of you look scrumptious," the naked girl enthused, "I'm here to get my bottom whipped, but my handler told me to come down and talk to you first. I'm not entirely certain why, but it's a pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Cheryl," I explained to the bubbly youth, "This is Cara."

"As you can see, our handler wants us to be exposed and humiliated," Cara chimed in, sounding seriously irritated. "She's encouraging people to come visit me so every inch of my sex can be clearly seen by as many people as possible. If I wasn't tied so tightly, I'd be running away rather than just squirming in embarrassment."

"Seriously?" the bound girl asked, "I love being bound naked and spread wide open like that. The only bad part is if I'm left alone too long. After a few hours I just long and long for someone to come and do something to me."

"Oh God," Cara exclaimed weakly. She was having a hard time accepting Victoria as genuine. The girl was just too enthusiastically embracing the joys of being a helpless, naked slave.

"Cara is very new to all this," I explained, "She's not naturally submissive. She lost her job, and the only way for her to get it back was to be stripped naked and sentence herself to slavery for twenty-five days."

"Oh, she's one of those," Victoria said with a touch of sympathy in her voice, "Well then, I suppose you're not going to like the things they're going to do to you."

Victoria was remarkably cheerful for a girl that was scheduled to have her ass beat with a riding crop, but her sunny disposition shocked Cara so much I think she forgot to be embarrassed about the shameful exposure of her pubic lips for a few minutes. However, shortly after Victoria left, another woman came in and the look of mortification returned to Cara's face. This woman was a little older, perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven, slender and dressed in medical scrubs. She wasn't bouncy and cheerful like Victoria; she had an air of seriousness and professionalism about her.

"Ashley told me to come down and examine her new captives," she said as she set her medical bag down on a bench. "I had a busy day planned, and I almost ignored her, but I'm glad I'm here. The two of you look quite fetching."

"Doctor Paltrow," her scrubs informed us, but she introduced herself anyway, snapping on a latex glove to examine my pink slit. She brushed one graceful finger deftly across my swollen labia several times - I panted, feeling a soft, wet pulse in my sex - and then a strong finger entered my wet vagina and began to probe and explore.

"Aaaahhhh," I gasped as I was speared by the inquisitive finger. She was an expert on how to stimulate my genitals; my sex throbbed with hungry spasms and my nipples became agonizingly hard. I was so close to orgasm I could taste it. I whimpered shamelessly as the finger was withdrawn.

Cara was subjected to the same sort of torment. Although, it took more work to get her to my level of sexual arousal.

"You're not even wet," Doctor Paltrow declared as she worked her finger into Cara's sex, "Most of the new slaves are sexually aroused the moment we get them out of their clothes."

Cara gasped as the woman in medical scrubs fingered her sex and gradually brought about her sexual arousal. Cara panted, gasped, and begged her to stop, but Doctor Paltrow just ignored her pleas.

"Slaves are supposed to be in a state of constant sexual arousal," the doctor explained. "You should be so desperate for sexual relief that you're willing to have sex with anyone in hopes of getting an orgasm. I'll be checking on you every day to make certain you're in the proper state of desperation."

Cara whimpered and begged, but the doctor didn't stop until Cara was gasping and trembling with sexual need. Tears welled up in her eyes when the doctor finally removed her fingers from Cara's sex, glistening with poor Cara's juices.

"You bitch," Cara blurted out, "You're just being cruel for no reason!"

As soon as I heard Cara's outburst, I stopped breathing. Slaves do not speak like that to free women. Insolence in slaves always results in harsh punishment. I wasn't sure what would happen to Cara next, but I was certain it wouldn't be pretty.

"That expression of disrespect cannot go unpunished, young lady," Doctor Paltrow shouted. "Ashley wanted to take it easy on you, but I outrank her. I'll see that you suffer for your insubordination. Do you know what 'Libidol' is?"

Cara didn't, of course, but I did. Oh Cara, poor Cara, I thought.

"I'm sorry," Cara apologized, terrified, but it was too late. Cara was a naked, defenseless slave who had just offended a woman with copious authority. She was going to be punished, severely I knew, and it was my fault.

Libidol is a wicked drug. It stimulates the libido and in sufficient dosage simultaneously makes it impossible to achieve orgasm. Cara was going to be injected with Libidol, right there on the pedestal - we could do nothing to prevent it

"This is the ideal way to keep slaves at a high level of sexual tension," Doctor Paltrow explained as she squeezed the hypodermic. "I'll talk to Ashley and make certain that your food is drugged with Libidol every day. I want you to be in a state of constant sexual arousal the entire time you're here."

Much to Cara's dismay, that was not the end of Doctor Paltrow's plans to make Cara suffer. Drugging her with Libidol was barely scratching the surface of the punishments the young doctor had in store for my luckless friend.

* * *

Much to Cara's dismay, that was not the end of Doctor Paltrow's plans to make Cara suffer. Drugging her with libidol was barely even scratching the surface of the punishments the young doctor had in store for my luckless friend.

Later that night, Cara and I were led into a dimly-lit room with concrete floors and a security door that was slammed shut and locked once we were safely inside. There was a whipping post in the ominous room. I also noticed there were numerous whips along the walls and ropes of different sizes and lengths hanging from pegs.

But what caught my attention was in the middle of the room, sticking straight up from the floor. It was a stainless-steel shaft on top of which was a replica of a male phallus, extra-large size and apparently made of plastic or silicone. Cara visibly trembled at the sight of that, no doubt guessing that the purpose of that upright phallus was to hold a girl in place, her innocent womanhood impaled upon it.

"It's called a one bar prison," Ms. Witter explained to Cara, "Now be a good girl, stand over the shaft and spread your legs wide."

While Cara stood over the one bar prison and spread her legs, I was led over to a whipping post and my wrists were tied securely to an iron ring embedded into the wood.

"Just watch the show and don't try to interfere," Doctor Paltrow whispered into my ear after I'd been bound, "Your friend is here to be punished, but as long as you behave yourself, there's no reason for you to be hurt."

With her legs spread wide, the top of the massive dildo was just at the level of the entrance to her vagina. I held my breath, anticipating that this would go very badly for my friend.

Cara was ordered to stand so that the head of the phallic device was positioned directly under her pink slit. It was just touching her ever so slightly, and that's when Doctor Paltrow crouched down and adjusted metal shaft. She turned some sort of key or screw and the shaft started to rise slowly.

Cara was warned to stay where she was and allow herself to become impaled on the fake cock. She had already offended Doctor Paltrow once, and disobedience now would get her into even more trouble. Cara blushed scarlet, and her brow furrowed with misery, but she remained in place as Doctor Ponder used one hand to play with Cara's labia and force her sex open, making it easier for the massive cock to enter her.

As it slowly entered her, Cara raised herself up on the balls of her feet. This was a mistake as she couldn't stay raised up like that forever and when she came down, she was impaled even deeper on the massive phallic device. She whimpered as it went in uncomfortably deep, but Cara's whimpers meant nothing to Doctor Paltrow or Ms. Witter.

"Alright! Enough! I can't take any more!" Cara cried in genuine distress. She was opened wide and filled with a massive fake cock. If Doctor Paltrow had any sympathy whatsoever, she would have lowered the shaft somewhat, but instead Doctor Ponder turned the metal key or screw or whatever, and the phallus was pushed even harder into my friend. She squealed, gasped, and panted and finally the upward progress of that massive cock stopped

"You look so nice, standing there, dear, wide-eyed and panting. It must feel wonderful to be so filled like that," Doctor Paltrow commented enthusiastically.

"Oh God! Please, lower it a little bit! I'm being split in two," Cara exclaimed as she was impaled on the massive phallus. Her hands were free, but she was helpless to escape. She couldn't reach the thing that lowered the shaft, and she couldn't walk away until the shaft was lowered.

"One more word of complaint and you'll stand there impaled on that thing all night long," Doctor Paltrow admonished, "Do you understand me, young lady?"

Cara nodded in acquiescence and then crossed her arms over her breasts. That triggered Doctor Paltrow into her next tangent.

"Slaves are not allowed to cover up their nudity," Doctor Paltrow warned, "Their naked bodies should constantly be on display for their betters."

Cara attempted an apology, but once again, Doctor Paltrow declared that apologies weren't good enough. Cara was ordered to place her hands behind her back, so that they could be bound there, thus preventing her from covering up her nudity a second time.

Cara was learning to be obedient and she complied with Doctor Paltrow's orders. She placed her hands behind her and allowed the doctor to tie her up. Cara's arms were bound at the wrists and elbows in a type of bondage that I'd learned is called a box tie. The way she was bound forced her shoulders to be pulled back and her breasts to be thrust forward. Cara was sweating and breathing heavily, and my attention was drawn to her breasts as they rose and fell noticeably. As I continued to stare at her heaving breasts, I noticed that her nipples were hard.