Valentine's Torture Party - Part Three

Part Three

            Usually at these shindigs I’m the only girl who is getting abused.  I’m used to it, though I have to admit that Society of the Golden Rose meetings are more general and then I’m one of a dozen girls getting spanked, whipped, clamped, and caned.  But private little parties like this?  I’m usually the only one; which is why I was so surprised to see Kelly, in the buff, glistening with enough oil to lubricate a Twister game pad and four couples playing, kneeling on a towel which had been laid across the top of the coffee table.

            Her eyes were closed, her hands were cuffed behind her back, with real metal handcuffs no less, and my mistress, Kari Anders herself, was standing directly behind the petite and cute brunette, with her hand between Kelly’s legs and one arm wrapped around the brunette’s body, playing with one nipple.  Kelly was clearly turned on, her face flushed, her chest heaving and if the soaked spot on the towel beneath her was any indication, she was enjoying having Kari’s finger dipped repeatedly in her well.

            I felt a surge of jealousy, which in hindsight is totally ridiculous.  I’ve shared Kari before, but this… this was… I’m just not sure.  I had no idea WHY I was feeling that way.  Maybe it was because I wanted to be the well oiled girl getting finger fucked on the coffee table. I shook my head to clear it, but then Julie appeared and pulled me forward. 

            “Another oil model, Kari?” she asked.

            I glanced around the room.  A number of cocks were out and were gently being stroked.  Expectant faces seemed to appreciate the sudden increase in naked girl bodies and Kari grinned. 

            “There’s room up here for another one,” Kari said with a wicked laugh.

            Julie gave me a little push and my shins bumped up against the wooden coffee table.  I was still wearing my high heels, the ankle and wrist cuffs, not to mention the collar, and I crawled up to join Kelly, eyes wide.

            She looked at me and I saw the lust in my friend’s eyes, her soul already sold to the sexual devil that tormented us both. I know Kelly isn’t a pain slut by any definition of the word, but she was clearly aroused enough to accept certain things.

    

This tale is no longer available on Michael Alexander's BDSM Blog, but can be found in Breanne Erickson's book "Tales of a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut Vol. 7"  Click here to check out our sample page and take a look at the amazing work of Breanne Erickson!