The Post - Part One

The knocking sound was insistent and I contemplated getting up from the couch to answer the door. As with everything in my life, there are pros and cons, each which needed to be carefully considered to prevent rash action. For example, I was quite comfortable after a grueling and intense day at work, and considering the fact that I was extremely sore in some delicate places, remaining where I was seemed totally reasonable.

Of course, not answering the door could be trouble too. What if it was my mother, looking for help? What if my neighbor was dropping by to borrow a cup of sugar? What if…

While still lost in the mental cogitation of indecision, an eleven year old pixie ran through the house at mach ten and slammed into the door. I slumped back into the cushions with a sigh of satisfaction. Sometimes the universe solves its own problems.

"Aunt Julie!" I heard my daughter say. "Kylie! Did you bring it?"

I sighed. My daughter's cryptic greeting told me that two women were at the doorway and I didn't even need to lift my head to look. Julie, a bony, almost anorexic looking woman in her mid-twenties would be standing there in hip, but respectable clothes, her long, dark chocolate colored hair framing her rounded face. Kylie, on the other hand, with her short pixie cut, would be in a tee shirt and shorts, looking relaxed and comfortable.

I looked up as I saw movement above me, on the other side of the couch, and Kylie looked down at me with a rueful grin. She was holding a video game box that said "Overwatch" and was being dragged through the apartment by my daughter.

"Bye Bre," Kylie said as she was pulled away. I laid there, waiting for the other shoe to fall. It did, just a moment later as Julie leaned over the back of the couch and looked down at me.

"How ya' doin'?" She asked, her eyes studying me from head to toe. I was wearing loose gym shorts and tee shirt and I still felt as if she was looking through my clothes, examining my naked body with a visceral hunger. Despite the entirety of my day and the abuses inflicted upon me, I felt my pussy tighten.

Of course, that hurt. Just a bit.

"I'm fine," I replied quietly. Maybe Julie was just checking on me. And had brought Kylie for some, as of yet, unexplained purpose. Julie's eyes narrowed and the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Really?" She asked with a knowing smirk. "Show me."

I sighed. And maybe rolled my eyes a bit. "Julie, really? Don't you think that's a little too.." My words cut off as she reached down and grabbed my nipple, right through the tee shirt. I wasn't wearing a bra, so her fingers got a good grip on my teat and twisted.

"Oohh okay!" I yelped softly. "Okay! Sheesh!" I snarled as she let go. I glared at her, but the expression on her face made it clear she expected compliance. I put one hand down to the shorts, and then carefully pulled the front lower, exposing my sore, swollen, bright red clit.

Julie's eyes widened and her smile grew. "Wow. That's impressive." She reached down to touch it but I curled away.

"Don't!" I pleaded. "It's super tender," I said apologetically. Julie pulled her hand back and instead stared at the engorged nub. Finally she nodded and I let my shorts cover my ruby colored slit back up.

"No panties?" She teased. I'm pretty predictable, and for me not to be wearing them when I hadn't specifically been told to go commando was probably more telling than anything. I shook my head.

"They were rubbing my clit," I said wryly. Julie nodded sympathetically.

"Are you stuffed?" She asked, probably more hopefully than decent. Afterall, if I wasn't she'd have de facto right to punish me.

I nodded, frowning. "Of course I am," I retorted. "Ben wa balls." I wasn't lying either. Deep inside my tenderized, overused gash were two, golf ball sized spheres, connected with a simple, rubber coated wire. No motors of course, but had I been ambulatory, the off set weights inside would have rolled and rung, juicing me into arousal. Which is why I was laying on the couch, trying not to move.

Julie nodded. Then she braced herself. "Okay," she said matter of factly. "Let's go." She jerked her head toward the hallway.

I blinked, the utter shock of her order freezing me in place. "What?"

She gave me an expectant look. "Get up. Come with me."

I sat up. "Where?" I asked worriedly.

"You'll find out. Now get up."

I still didn't rise. "Julie," I whispered. "I'm spent. Do you have any idea what Kari did to me today?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Eleven clitoral orgasms, four different kinds of clamps attached to your clit, a forty minute TENS unit session where your nub was fried all the way up to level.seven, which is incredibly impressive by the way, a reportedly very intense painting of your clit with that heating cream you're using now."

I gulped, eyes widening. She did know. "On4Her," I replied weakly. "It's called On4Her."

Julie nodded. “And last but not least, three pussy sappings for being a naughty little slut.” She leaned over the couch menacingly. "Get up. Now."

Slowly I stood up. My shorts rubbed across my crotch and I whimpered as the cotton seam grazed my clit and labia. I swung my legs down. I did not want to stand up. But I did. The alternative didn't bear thinking about. And me going with Julie explained why Kylie was here. She was babysitting.

Overwatch my ass.

Julie waited as I shuffled around the couch. "Let me grab my shoes," I said, but she shook her head.

"You don't need them. Besides, I parked close." Instead she took my elbow and pushed me toward the door.

I resisted, but only a little. "This isn't going to be anything serious, right? I'm not sure I could take much more. I'm not even aroused right now." I said defensively.

"Really?" Julie asked, clearly skeptical. She pushed me against the wall and jammed her hand down the front of my shorts. I squealed a bit as her fingers touched my enlarged, sensitive, tender clit, but then they slid into me, squishing wetly against my folds. I groaned as she jammed two fingers in up to her knuckles. I felt her twiddle with the ben wa balls. That felt… really good. But wrong.

"That's funny," she said, wiggling her fingers, making me tremble and twitch. "You seem aroused to me." I gasped and she drew her hand out, dragging my own wetness across my clit. That was also overly intense and I froze, a high pitched whine escaping from my lips. Then she wiped her fingers on my shirt. "Come on."

Neither my daughter or Kylie came to say goodbye as I padded out barefoot to Julie's car. The little red Mini Cooper opened up to a nice, beige leather interior, and as I slid into the seat, Julie stepped up to my door, as if worried I might try to escape.

"I'm not going anywhere," I grumbled, tucking my toes up under the dash.

"Oh, I know. Now strip."

I looked up at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Strip."

"Here?" I demanded. "What if Kylie and Rachel see?"

Julie leaned closer. "Then I suggest you hurry," she said darkly. "But if you aren't out of those shorts and that tee in ten seconds your ass is going to be the same color as your clit."

I hesitated. Then she laid a finger on my nose. "Blue."

I blinked. "Uh… my clit is red right now. Dark red."

She put a finger under my chin, lifting just enough for it to be disconcerting. "It will be blue after I beat your fucking cunt with my sap for giving me flack. And then I'll spank you."

My hands moved even before my brain truly registered fear, hooking the gym shorts and yanking them down my legs until I pulled them off over my bare feet. The I snagged the tee shirt and pulled it up over my head, baring my pierced breasts. The late afternoon sun glittered on the gold hoops and the padlock dangling from my right nipple. I wrapped my arms across my chest as Julie bundled up my now cast off outfit. She shut my door and I expected her to round the front of the tiny car and climb in. Instead she went back into the hallway by my apartment door and threw my clothes at the threshold.

Irritation suffused me and when she got in behind the wheel I snapped. "Hey what the hell am I supposed to do if you have car trouble, or get pulled over for speeding? I demanded angrily. I didn't even wait for her to respond. "Or God forbid, an accident?"

"Then you will be admired for your body and willingness to accept sexual abuse without complaint," retorted Julie, jamming her key in the cars ignition. The engine purred like a vibrator and the wheels spun as I struggled to buckle up without flashing the entire apartment complex. The little coupe turned and down the road we went.

The psychological effect of having no clothes, not even a spare outfit in the car, was pretty damn harsh. Sitting naked in her car, all I felt was the utter humiliation of being stripped and exposed. And that made me wet.

Okay… wetter.

The drive through Houston was awful. For the first mile or so we were on side roads as Julie navigated her way to the inner loop and the Mini Cooper’s windows aren’t exactly dark enough to keep people from seeing in without trouble. I kept my arm pressed to my breasts, but I couldn’t help but look out the window, trembling as other driver’s would glance toward me. Stop lights were bad, and I’d stare straight ahead. But while I felt this surge of humiliation, my pussy kept tightening around the ben wa balls, squeezing them to the point where I didn’t need to be walking to have them ring lightly. And when Julie kept pace with that semi… well, the honk scared the living shit out of me.

All of that was enough to keep me from realizing just how much trouble I was in until we practically pulled up into the warehouse parking lot. One end was busy, with about a dozen pickup trucks parked in the lot to panic me, not to mention a semi trailer. About ten empty loading bays were spaced between us and where Julie pulled in next to a big, silver Toyota Tundra. A massive tool box was mounted behind the cabin, and rather than being a relief, seeing Mike the Hardware Guy's truck actually worried me more. Parked behind it was a silver Lexus. Great. Fucking great.

"We're here!" Julie said happily. She parked and climbed out, looking at me expectantly. I blushed crimson as she came around and opened the door. My arm was already covering my breasts, but the other went across my loins. "Let's go," Julie ordered. She stood far enough away to give me room to climb out, but not enough to shield me from view. I swiveled, bare soles on the asphalt and gravel, and stepped out into glorious public nudity.

And I ran.

Well, it was more of a dash, or a humiliating jog. Regardless of the little stones digging into my bare little feet, I hurried across to the concrete steps and flung myself up them, grabbing at the door handle. The combined effect of the nude drive with the dash was just more than I could cope with. My fingers pulled and my entire hand slipped off the handle.

Locked.

I stood there, cringing and whimpering, trying to shield myself from no one in particular, and more on general principle, as Julie casually mounted the steps behind me, clearly.in no hurry. She typed in the numeric code to unlock the door, then stepped back as I yanked it open and darted in.

It never occured to me that I was eagerly seeking torment so much worse than being exposed.

The meeting rooms of the Society of the Golden rose were housed in an industrial warehouse just southwest of downtown, and had been converted from the harsh, concrete and fluorescent lit storage bin it had been designed to be, into a posh, mostly sound proofed, open floor, orgy hall.

And I'm being gracious.

The small lobby I'd entered opened up to a hallway that boxed off a decent sized kitchen, bathroom, and dining bar. After that, the place opened up onto a sparse lot, almost cozy feeling space, that was massive in its size.The thick shag rug was so soft and deep that walking barefoot on it was a pleasure, and even kneeling was pretty nice. It was hell on heels though. Air conditioned, but only enough to keep it from cooking us, the ceiling was padded and insulated, lost in darkness, and two sets of accordion walls were positioned to break up the space. One was totally open, and with most of the lights off, left a bevy of shadows. The other was mostly closed, since the back section of the place was used to store the increasingly disturbing collection of sexual torture devices owned by the Society.

On meeting nights, these room would be packed with women in various states of dress, mental states, and arousal. The Society, an upscale BDSM club for Houston elites, was a by-invitation-only lesbian social club, where sharing was half the fun. Membership was costly, and not only did you need to be able to afford the excessive dues, but you needed to supply one willing, nubile submissive, who could be shared, tormented, and properly abused for the entertainment of your fellow dominatrixes.

But this wasn't a meeting night.

Mike the Hardware Guy, who was standing in the center of a pool of light, fiddling with a dildo on a stick, would never been allowed in the meeting rooms had the Society been in session. As a man, he was persona non grata. Still most members were aware that Mike had personally designed, tested, perfected, and then set up their collection of restraints, so on off nights getting access wasn't a problem. The fact that a current member of their society was living with him didn't hurt either.

Near his foot was a metal bracket that looked like it might have started life off as a flagpole stand. You know, the kind you see in meeting halls. I’m not stupid either. I knew that the dildo on a stick was destined for two holes, and that the stand was one of them. Off to the side was a full sized mattress - just the mattress mind you - covered in a white fitted sheet. Stitched to the mattress and slipped through holes in the sheet were six restraining straps.

Julie stepped past the mattress and hurried right up to Mike, hugging him tightly. He bent down, his broad shoulders and full beard exuding a masculine aura of supreme confidence. I watched him kiss my mistress with a passion that made me feel a spark of jealousy, then sadness. There had been a time when Mike had been interested in me, and I’d done what I usually do.

Fuck things up.

Behind Mike, relaxing in a comfortable looking chair, was a blonde woman. She was wearing a very nice looking pink business suit, and made it look stunning. Her plaited hair ran down her right shoulder and she looked at me with the same sort of hungry look I’d seen on Julie’s face. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see my other mistress, Kari Anders, sitting in that chair. But that’s not who this was.

“Good evening, Bre.”

I bowed my head slightly. “Hello Mistress Savannah.” This explained what Kylie was doing with my daughter. No doubt Julie had bartered the opportunity to be here, for whatever she was planning, in exchange for using Savannah’s submissive to watch my kid.

“You look beautiful,” she said. “But your clit appears to be somewhat swollen. Come stand here, in front of me, and spread your legs so I can examine you.”

I tried not to frown, or look at Julie. One of the rules of the Society was that you didn’t refuse orders from any of the mistresses. Any of them were allowed to punish you. And since Mistress Savannah had a known love affair with crops, and frequently used them on any available clit she could find, I stepped smartly up to her, spread my legs obscenely wide, and brought my hands up behind my head.

All she did was look, but that was disturbing enough. Her hands came up and I flinched, but she merely touched my thigh, pushing slightly. Then she nodded. “Go lie down on the mattress and spread your legs wide apart,” she instructed.

I bit my lip but did as I was told. By this time Mike and Julie were done with their french kissing and Julie watched as I gingerly laid down and opened up. The light spilling down from overhead illuminated me completely and I’d have closed my eyes, except I was worried about what was coming. Savannah rose from her chair, crossed over to me and knelt down. I checked her hands, looking for a crop, but there wasn’t one. Instead she looked at me from between my outstretched legs.

“Please stay open,” she said to me, then bent her face down, extended her tongue, and licked my clit.

It was gentle. I’ll give her that. But I went rigid instantly. My toes curled and I gasped. I almost wished I’d been bound open because my legs began trembling as Savannah’s tongue lapped at my clitoris with wet strokes. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. She didn’t even suck my clit into her mouth. She just licked, but seriously, as if she were trying to work me into a froth.

Okay. Admittedly, she was working me into a froth.

My clit tingled, and in a way that wasn’t unpleasant, but certainly didn’t feel good either. My nub was raw from the repeated abuse it had sustained during the day’s torment and my nerves were hypersensitive. Everything felt twice as intense as normal, even Savannah’s tongue. So while I began to pant, thrusting my hips up for more, I was also struggling to control my involuntary responses; specifically the one that wanted me to screech, roll away, and jam my hands down between my legs.

But I am a Nympho Humiliation Pain Slut. That makes me different. It makes me a bit of a masochist and sexualized pain is like candy to me. It excites me. It arouses me. It intensifies every orgasm. So in the end, arousal won out. I whimpered and pushed back against her. Savannah sat up, a wet smile on her face. She lifted a hand, slid it into my pussy, and pulled the ben wa balls out of me. They rang a bit as she set them aside. Then she looked at Julie and Mike.

“She is ready,” Savannah said simply. She rose, smoothing out her suit. Then Mike and Julie grabbed me, pulling me up from the mattress. I was manhandled over to the flagpole stand where Mike had done exactly what I’d suspected. The dildo stick was embedded in it, sticking straight up. I took a moment to examine the dildo before they positioned me over it. It was thick rubber. In fact, it was one of the thicker dildos I’d seen. At least three inches in diameter, the taper wasn’t impressive. It widened fast and thickened near the base.

Now I’m not exactly an expert but…

Wait. I am a fucking expert on dildos. Credit where credit is due, right? I mean, I own like twenty five of the damn things. I’ve taken them in a variety of ways. I can discuss materials, rigidity, texture, seating, grip and lubrication responses. And I’ve tested a number of them to destruction, which is both impressive and scary. So let me say, for the record, that this particular dildo on a stick wasn’t exactly comfortable going in. It was just a tad too thick, too rigid, and the circular ridges made it look more conical than dick like.

It was, however, nicely oiled.

Mike knelt down and grabbed the stick, lifting it in the extended flag pole holder, until the tip of the dildo touched my slit. I bit my lip, making sure to position myself so that the dildo didn’t touch my sore clitoris.

“Try to get your feet as close to the post as possible,” Mike told me, even as the first inch of the dildo went into my sex. I nodded, but my pussy was already fluttering, tightening up in rhythmic pulses. Part of me couldn’t believe that I was already wet and ready, especially since I knew that my clit was so sore. Had Mike been torturing that part of me, he would have needed the restraints on the mattress! Another inch or two slid into my pussy and I let out a needy groan as my labia parted, opening up to accept the thickening girth of the dildo. I stepped a bit, repositioning myself, until my feet were literally standing on the flag pole stand base. I rose up on tiptoe and Mike shook his head.

“No. Stay flat footed. Let me know when the dildo is deep.”

I whimpered as he lifted the stick up another two inches. I had to bounce slightly as the enormous phallus dug into me. Finally I knew that I must have had at least nine or ten inches of the rubber cock inside my hole, and since it was as thick as Julie’s wrist, I felt I’d done my duty. I nodded and groaned.

“It’s deep,” I said, putting a hand down on Mike’s head. That’s when Julie returned. She held a pair of oversized handcuffs, connected not with a chain, but with a set of metal clips. I blinked as she went down on her knees next to Mike, and felt the cold steel wrap around each ankle. She clipped each cuff to a pair of small eye hooks welded to the stand itself, and I realized that I now had no options. I couldn’t spread my legs (not that I’d want to, since that would have jammed the dildo even deeper), but I wasn’t getting off the dildo stick without help either. I was stuck. Literally. I could go up a few inches on tiptoe, or stand flat footed with ten or so inches of thick rubbed jammed up inside me.

Savannah produced a piece of rope. “Wrists,” she ordered. I held out my wrists and she began tying them together, a fine piece of shibari. All the mistresses had been taking lessons. Multiple strands were wrapped around my hands until they were bound together. That’s when I heard the electric winch. I looked up. A hook was lowering from above my head. I knew what came next. I lifted my hands and Savannah threaded the hook with a loop of hemp. Then the winch reversed and my arms went up, up, over my head until I was stretched taut.

Except… they didn’t pull me up on tiptoe. I remained flat footed. Which was suspicious as hell. I looked on in growing concern as the three of them moved around me. It was too much too watch, but then Julie and Savannah knelt down in front of me. Savannah had a roll of black duct tape. Julie had a…

“Wait! Wait!” I squealed. “Fuck! No! You can’t!” I blurted.

Julie ignored me and positioned the Hitachi massager against the dildo stick so that the head of it was pressed right up to my clitoris. She’d oiled the bulb too, but that didn’t matter. I still felt the touch. It might have passed for Savannah’s tongue, but I knew what would come next, and it wouldn’t be me! I rose up on tiptoe, trying to get away from the massager, even though it was off, and shook my head as Savannah taped the damn thing in place.

“Julie! I’m too sore! Please! Don't do this to me!”

Savannah looked up first and smiled. “No you’re not. I tested you. And besides, this is you we’re talking about.” She wrapped the tape around it some more. Obviously they didn’t want it slipping. Even a little. In fact, they raised it up a bit more, tightening the distance. I grit my teeth. This was bad. Bad. Bad.

They pulled back, studying their work. Julie nodded at Savannah, then looked back up at me. “Go down flat footed, Bre. We want to make sure that it’s tightly pressed to your clit.”

I shook my head. “No way,” I told them. Fear tingled through me. I knew it would hurt. This was going to hurt. The massager would vibrate against my sensitive clit and it would feel like fucking a steel file.

Then strong hands grabbed my breasts, as arms wrapped around me from behind. Fingers pinched my nipples and forced me downward. The four inches of dildo that I’d managed to clear was suddenly jammed back deep into my cunt, and my clit was mashed quite effectively against the soft rubber head of the massager. I squealed, but then trembled. Mike let go of my nipples and just held me. Julie studied my clit, now pressed upward by the massager. She looked up at Mike. “Perfect,” she affirmed.

Mike let me go and I rose back up on tiptoe as Savannah and Julie both stood. He moved to the easy chair Savannah had been sitting in before, which was positioned to observe me perfectly, and Savannah disappeared behind me as Julie stood in front. I let my arms hang as I stood, toes already aching, calves starting to burn, as my mistress eyed me.

“Breanne, your torture tonight is going to be very simple. In a moment, I am going to turn the Hitachi to full power. Your breasts and bottom will then be subjected to a whipping.”

My mouth went dry, especially as Savannah stepped back into the light and handed a thick leather flogger to Julie. I wasn’t too out of it either, to notice that Mistress Savannah was also holding a crop. I stood there, panicking without any hope of escape, my chest already heaving. No one said anything else as I thrashed and even managed to hurt my ankles as I tried to pull myself off the stick. I went back down accidently, pressing the still silent massager against my clit, and knew I was fucked.

Totally fucked....

Julie reached down to flip the switch. “Wait!” I screamed. “Wait!” She hesitated and looked up.

“How many?” I blurted out, begging. Julie blinked, seemingly confused.

"How many what?"

“How many strokes?” I pleaded, struggling to stay up, to keep my clit away from the massager. I had to know. How long was I going to be mounted? How long was the massager going to be rubbing my clit? How many welts were going to be left on my ass and breasts? How many orgasms were they going to force out of me?

Julie laughed. “Oh princess,” she said. “We aren’t counting strokes.” She turned on the massager and I heard it buzz beneath me, waiting for me to come down and feed it, to press my swollen, sore, tender, red, sweet clit against it. Julie kissed me. “We’re going to whip you till you cum.” And then she stepped back, raised the flogger, and slashed it across my breasts.

To be continued... 

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