Sarah's Party

In fact, as the spanking continued, and Sarah's cheeks became more and more red, Mary noticed that the two men holding her legs wide apart weren't having to exert too much effort to do so. Sarah seemed to have stopped struggling against them but still kicked out every time a particularly heavy hand landed on her bottom. Mary wasn't complaining, however, as the more her friend tried to kick and the more the men allowed to her to do so, the more of a view Mary got of Sarah's tightest hole. That sight alone was enough to spur her on to greater heights and she continued to urge her guests to continue the spanking even though some of them seemed to be tiring of the spectacle before them. Mary knew she had to introduce something new to the proceedings and she had just the thing.

Sarah didn't know what was going on as she felt Mary's hand rise from the small of her back but if she had any thoughts that her punishment was over they were very quickly dispelled. Another hand, a strong hand, a big hand, a man's hand replaced her flatmate's. The spanking, which seemed to have slowed down, picked up speed again and Sarah wept as her poor cheeks were punished even more and her pussy leaked as much as it had ever done.

She heard gasps from around the room and wondered what was happening now. She had no way of knowing that Mary had re-entered the kitchen, nor that she carried a thin cane in her right hand. The men holding her down seemed to take a tighter grip on her ankles and wrists and she trembled with dread at the idea of anything worse happening to her. Once again she twisted her head round as if that would help her to discover what was going on but her blindfold was still firmly in place and she could see nothing.

She suddenly felt the soft hand that she now knew to be Mary's sliding across her punished cheeks, cupping them and feeling the heat in them. Sarah knew there was no point in pleading with her flatmate; her friend's obsession with Sandy's instruction was all too clear to her now and she rested her head on the table to await her fate. Even this slight acceptance made her feel like a whore, accepting her punishment, accepting her spanking in front of a crowd of people. What was wrong with her? Why was her body betraying her so much that the longer the torment continued, the more her pussy leaked.

But that was the last thought she had before she heard a rush of air and felt a sudden stinging pain across both cheeks as Mary used her cane for the very first time. Sarah screamed but she hardly had time to recover from that first blow before her flatmate drew back the cane and struck her four times in quick succession.

Sarah was crying real tears beneath her blindfold now. Her bottom hurt with an intensity she had never known before and, at the same time, her pussy leaked as if the pain was turning her on even more. But, worst of all, she knew that it was no longer the pain that was arousing her; it was no longer the shame of being spanked and caned, naked, in her own kitchen that was causing her juices to flow so freely.

Mary had not missed her using the toilet before her shower. She had been so tired when she arrived home earlier that she had simply forgotten to "go" and now she realised the urge to do just that was building. She knew she was so incredibly turned on that nothing seemed impossible but the humiliation of pissing in front of all the guests on the kitchen floor was almost more than she could bear.

Mary continued with her canning, seeming to enjoy herself once more, encouraged in her efforts by the guests. The strokes kept falling, sometimes alternating cheeks, sometimes landing a few on one and then a few on the other but all Sarah could do was concentrate on not peeing in front of everyone. The more she squirmed, however, the more that Mary and her friends seemed to think she was enjoying it. She'd never pissed herself since she was little, and certainly never whilst bending over the kitchen table, surrounded by friends while her flatmate spanked her.

Painful as it was, she tried to ignore the cane and what it was doing to her bottom; instead she focused all her attention on her bladder. She'd not been to the toilet at all in hours and she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Sweat was forming across her forehead and along her upper lip. She began dancing on her toes, within the confines of the men holding her legs apart, and Mary would have sworn she was raising her bottom to meet the cane. Practically dancing on her toes now, she tried to convince her bladder that now would be the very worst time to relieve itself. She would have begged Mary to let her go but something told her that her predicament would only have spurred her friend on to even greater cruelty. But the thought of being naked, the thought of being spanked, the thought of being caned in front of all these people suddenly became too much and, with a final sob, she let go.

She threw back her head, in ecstasy and torment at the much needed release and a low moan of pleasure and shame escaped her trembling lips. After what seemed like an hour to the poor woman but was no more than a few minutes, the stream finally slowed and subsided. Her bladder automatically squeezed out the remaining few drops in short spurts and Sarah's cheeks blushed just as red as her bottom did.

Mary had stopped immediately when the hot, yellow piss had poured from between her friend's lips, streaming down her legs, soaking the hands of the men holding her legs and pooling on the kitchen floor.

"Sarah, you are so bad, so dirty," Mary squeaked, in disgust, in delight, and made sure her designated camera man had captured her friend's ultimate humiliation. Many of the other guests had produced cameras and phones to record the whole incident but Sarah was unaware of that right now. All she could do was try to hide her face behind her hair, too ashamed to face anyone, even if she had been able to see them.

If she thought her ordeal was over with this latest humiliation, she was badly mistaken. If she thought her shame would have dismissed her desire, she didn't know her own body. If she thought Mary had had enough, she was about to learn differently. When her friend started to cane her poor cheeks again, Sarah couldn't believe that her flatmate could be so cruel but, even more, she couldn't believe that her body wanted even more satisfaction. She tried to get up once more but was held down more tightly than before. She realised that she wanted to touch her pussy. She realised that she wanted to rub her pussy. She realised that she could never ask the men to allow her to be able to do so. But she knew that the canning was driving her against the hard kitchen table.

She began to unconsciously change her position, just slightly, feeling the wood rubbing her clit, even as Mary continued to punish her, even as the final drops of her pee dripped from her lips. Suddenly, unbelievably, her orgasm hit her, and she collapsed, shuddering across the table, crying out in ecstasy, her whole body trembling. Mary could only stop and stare at her friend once again.

After she finally came back down to earth, Sarah realised the whole room had gone quiet, her punishment had stopped and her orgasm had stopped. The men had released of her limbs, the ones holding her legs taking the brief respite to wash their hands, and she felt Mary untying her blindfold.

"You're nearly finished, Sarah."

She almost didn't care what else they did to her. She was exhausted. She was totally humiliated. She never wanted to see any of these people ever again. But Mary had one final thing for the guests to do. Delving into one of the kitchen drawers, she produced a packet of multi-coloured, indelible ink markers and distributed them among her guests.

"Choose your colour then sign Sarah's ass where you spanked her. Sandy will have the video as permanent proof of her spanking but I want Sarah to have a reminder too."

Sarah didn't need any other sort of reminder. She knew she would never forget this day; the day she was stripped naked in front of her guests; the day she was spanked in front of her guests; the day she pissed herself in front of her guests; and now, the day her guests signed their names on her upturned red cheeks.

She had no fight left. She simply lay there, not saying a word, the felt-tipped pens squeaking across her poor bottom, leaving a souvenir that she would never be able to explain to anyone who saw her naked in the near future.

When the guests had all left their mark, they simply returned to their food and drink as if nothing had happened to interrupt the party. Thinking that they were finally finished with her, she started to push herself off the table. That was when her flatmate delivered her final instruction.

"Sandy wanted me to record you standing in the corner, facing the wall, your hands behind your back, showing off your red bottom like the naughty girl you are. I guess you'd better do as he said."