Alpha Annie 5
(F/FFff, F/Fgg, fdom, cons, bdsm, gag, tit tort, ws, viol, pain, blood, scat)
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This story is a work of fiction and does not purport to depict any real people, places, or situations. It is entirely fantasy and should be treated as such. This story describes explicit sexual acts between girls, teen girls, and women. If this type of content offends you or if you are not of legal age to view adult content, then do not read it.
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Copyright 2016 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved.
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My redneck bitch instantly fell forward onto her forearms, arching her back, her round perfect ass in the air. My old soccer sock still hung from her anus, damp with piss and squirt. Three fat knots in the sock kept it in place. I wondered how hard she'd have to push to even move one of them out.
From my position on the cross, several feet beyond and above her, I had a perfect view. Siobhan continued flicking, poking, and pulling at the needles, and I kept bleeding little by little. We both enjoyed the sight of my slave's gorgeous fat ass wiggling as she strained to shit out my old sock. Siobhan's breathing was nearly as shallow and ragged as mine. I was almost sure her free hand was down between her legs. Every now and then there was a wet squishy sound from her direction, a sound I knew very well.
I wondered what would happen to Siobhan if Tina noticed. I really hoped I'd find out!
"That's it, sweetheart," Tina purred, stepping directly in front of my bitch's face, which was an inch above the floor. "Push it all out. All of it. Empty yourself, my dear."
My redneck bitch groaned and strained. Siobhan began twirling those fucking needles. Twirling! So I was groaning too. Tina glanced up to see Siobhan at work, noticed her fingering herself in the process, and frowned.
"Now dear," our mistress sighed, "you'll be paying for that pleasure, and very soon. You do understand that, don't you?"
Siobhan nodded, panting a little, as she replied. "Yes, mistress. Can I please continue?"
Tina rolled her eyes and smiled. Shrugged. "I suppose. You've always been such a willful child."
"Yes, mistress," Siobhan agreed, working her free hand even more enthusiastically against her labia. "Thank you, mistress."
Tina looked at me then, winking. "Daughters are such trouble to train," she chuckled. "It's not like you can just get rid of them, is it? Karen Massingale and I used to talk about that all the time."
In my haze I could only nod. The full message wasn't getting in. I was caught inside a fog of pain and hot need. I stared at my slave's asshole, flexing around the sock. It relaxed, pushed, rested, repeated. The sock didn't budge.
Tina chuckled some more, sipped at her wine.
"My sweet girl," she murmured down at my redneck bitch, "you are drooling on my foot."
My slave moaned, then loudly sucked at the saliva that was obviously filling her mouth and running out. Tina wiggled her toes beneath my bitch's mouth. "You may kiss it if you'd like. Lick. Suck. Would you like that?"
My redneck bitch moaned even louder, nodding, and crammed her face against our mistress's fancy shoe. Her mouth was open and hungry, her tongue tasting between and under and all around Tina's perfectly pedicured toes. She slurped and slobbered and groaned, snorting and snuffling like a horny little pig.
I was fucking jealous. I'll admit it.
"Keep pushing..." Tina encouraged, and my bitch strained more than ever. She had her whole mouth around all five of our mistress's toes, her nostrils flared and sucked hard at the sweet-stink of foot sweat and fine leather just beneath her face.
Suddenly one-two-three knots of the sock were out and the whole long mess of fabric fell slowly toward the floor. Connected to the deep end of it was a turd, crackling, fat, and medium-brown. It stretched to the floor between her knees and began to coil on top of the sock. Finally it broke off and the fat end of it still in mid-air fell forward toward my bitch's hovering, round little belly with a splat upon the slick tiles.
"That's it!" Tina cheered. "Now let's have the rest. Let's have all of it."
My bitch groaned and pushed even harder, and another log soon emerged, nearly as big around as the first. It was also firm and long, not breaking off once again until the bottom end had begun to coil atop the first turd. After that one, though, a quick series of messy, splattery soft turds shot from the deep, sweet crack in her large round ass. Fart after wet fart announced each new arrival. One flew several feet and smacked wetly against the side of the base of the cross, just below my left foot. By the time she was finished a series of five or six just like that one lay between the cross and my bitch's sweaty, dirty feet.
It stank. Bad. My head spun from the rich, filthy odor. Siobhan moaned quietly and kept working on my needles and her pussy. Sal, coming back over from the cabinets, grunted and sniffed long and deep as she bent to retrieve my wet panties and the bungee cord.
I stared at my bitch's messy asshole. Her last shits, being softer and more eruptive, had painted the inside of her cheeks in mushy streaks of brown. A slow drip of shit sludge ran down from her slightly-gaped anus and piled up between her chubby, delicious cuntlips, mixing with the milky-white syrup of her arousal. I'd never eaten her ass when it was that messy, that wonderful. I strained at my bonds. I groaned and humped my crotch against the air.
Tina glanced over at me and grinned. Winked. Then she ignored me.
"Excellent, my dear!" our mistress gushed, bending down to smooth her hand over my redneck bitch's soft, beautiful curls. "That's certainly everything you had, I'm sure. You should save your urine, though, if you can. I'll have a use for it later. All right?"
My bitch nodded silently, her mouth still working on Tina's foot. But our mistress stepped back and gave a new command.
"Now, of course," she directed, moving back to the low couch and once again sitting with her legs crossed, "you will take Annabelle's panties and have them laid open and ready for her little treat. Just take them from Sal and wait a moment, if you please."
Sal dropped the panties and bungee cord to the floor just beyond my bitch's nose, and she reached out and laid them open as she'd been old. I could see the wet stained crotch of my panties, the back of them streaked a little brown halfway up, the way I liked to keep them. What was she going to have my bitch do with them?
Tina was already getting to that. "Sal. Siobhan. Come over here next to our sweetheart's little mess and make one of your own, please."
Sal stepped back to stand next to my bitch's foot. She unzipped her jeans and pulled them, with her black thong panties, down to her ankles. Then she squatted. The muscles in her legs were harder and even more well-defined than I'd first imagined. Her ass was a rock. A fucking little boulder. With no grunt, no change in breathing, nothing, I watch a long, slow, light-brown snake of poop slide out of her small hard butt and pile up impressively beneath her. When she was finally finished the top was nearly touching her anus. I couldn't tell if it smelled at all. The only stink in the room was still my bitch's massive shit.
"Thank you, dear," Tina said, sipping once again at her wine. "You may decide if you want cleaning or not."
Sal shrugged, glancing at Siobhan, who mouthed the word "later" and winked with a little smile. "OK, yeah. Later. I don't care," she rumbled, standing up quickly and pulling her thong and her jeans back into place over what was surely a very pudding-like mess of soft shit in her crack. She stepped over to retrieve Tina's wine glass once again and wandered back to the bar.
Siobhan wiped her pussy-wet fingers across my cheeks and forehead, then slipped them quickly into my panting mouth. I desperately sucked at her flavor for maybe a second before she leaped down lightly from the platform and squatted beside my bitch's other foot. She pulled her t-shirt up and off, tossing it several feet away. For several minutes she squatted there silently, her face bent down between her knees, her eyes closed, concentrating on moving her bowels. Every now and then a new drip of arousal fell free from her fat, shaved cuntlips. I could see three gold rings down there now. One on each inner lip, plus one huge ring just above her clit.
The woman was every bit as tiny and perfect as I'd imagined! Her jet-black hair fell about her face and shoulders in soft mussy perfection, the scarlet tips looking sexier than ever. Her waist seemed impossibly narrow and her hips flared out deliciously full and firm. Her breasts were almost completely hidden from my sight, but in the instant before she squatted I could see them swaying heavily, round and firm and high, with a fat gold ring in each nipple. Hers might have been the hottest, most amazing female body I'd ever seen in my life. I stared and barely even breathed. From her perfectly arched little feet, long toes, and firm calves all the way up to her slender neck, deep collarbones, and cute little ears, the Sprite seemed almost too gorgeous to even be real.
Across her shoulder blades were tattooed two highly-ornate words, done in deep black, old English style, with red roses and green thorny vines wound around the letters: MOTHER FUCKER. Most of the rest of her creamy, freckle-dusted back contained the slender black outlines of a new tattoo project of some kind. I couldn't quite figure it out, but then I remembered what was inked upon her chest. I found myself sincerely hoping I could see her naked again once her back was done. Her tattoos, like her body, were amazing.
Finally, Siobhan grunted, then exhaled, "Ughhh!" loud and hard. The grunting and heavy breathing continued for another few moments as she peppered the air with short pfft-ing little farts. She pushed a single hard, dry, huge log of shit out of her small but wonderful curvy ass. Every few inches or so several chunks would fall free from the main turd and thud heavily on the tiles. It was clear the Sprite was dehydrated. Her shit pieces almost looked like glossy chocolate candies where they lay on the floor. They were dark, almost black, and I couldn't help but wonder how they might feel stuffed up inside my pussy. It was the perfect kind of turd for that.
Tina knew it, too.
"Oh my, Siobhan," our mistress teased. "It looks like you need more water! What a hard job that must have been." She chuckled and reached for her new glass of wine as Sal bent forward from behind her. I wondered when the woman would be drunk. I wondered if she could be drunk. She didn't seem to be phased by anything whatsoever.
"But those will be wonderful for later on, don't you think?" Tina mused. Siobhan nodded, still panting a little, then rose and walked over to Sal. Tina sipped, smiled. "I suspect you want some cleaning?"
Siobhan still didn't have enough breath to speak, but she nodded again and turned her back to the giant Amazon standing behind Tina on the couch. The Sprite spread her feet apart a little and bent her head down between her knees. She reached back and spread her ass apart. Sal knelt behind her and feasted.
Soon both were moaning. Tina reached out and caressed her daughter's hanging, heavy tits while her asshole and pussy were being cleaned. Siobhan's legs trembled. She moaned even louder. Sal had her faced buried, her mouth munching, her nose grinding. I watched from up on the cross and felt my pussy seep even more. The needles in my tits were still burning, but I'd almost forgotten about them.
What a fucking bunch of wild bitches! Me, on a real fucking cross, tits all bloody and hot, my bitch on her hands and knees surrounded by three piles of shit, a woman lewdly stroking her own daughter's needy tits, and a bald muscle-bound dyke eating shitty ass and sloppy pussy with all the grunting and groaning of a top shelf porn queen in heat.
But then the rest of them all seemed to remember at once. Yeah. Annie was a nasty, uppity cunt who needed to be punished some more. Back to biz.
Siobhan pushed Sal away, then turned to lick her juices off the giant woman's face. After a few moments Sal stood and walked over to retrieve Siobhan's t-shirt from where it had been thrown. Siobhan, sliding back into her loose shirt, then knelt behind my redneck bitch and gathered up a small bit of shit from each of the three piles.
"That's it, my dear," Tina encouraged. Then, speaking to my bitch, she said, "Turn around, child, and show me the filth still stuck to your wonderful bottom. While I watch that, I want you to watch what my daughter does with those three offerings."
My bitch worked her way around as ordered, still on her hands and knees, and soon her face hovered only a few inches above her own large coil of turd. Her eyes watered almost instantly. Her mouth hung slack. There was the unmistakeable pre-puke drool building up, the saliva she couldn't stop, as she obviously fought an urge to vomit. The odor was still massive, rich, and terrible. She broke out in a sweat. She shook a little. But she didn't puke. And she kept her eyes on Siobhan.
The Sprite was working all three pieces of shit together, molding them into a ball. The different colors and textures merged and melted against one another until she'd made an almost perfect sphere of shit-snack. It was just like Tina had said, a ball that was just the right size to fit into and fill a mouth.
"Now dear, please urinate freely," Tina purred at my bitch. "Annabelle's panties should be in just the right spot to soak it all up."
Without hesitation, my bitch's pussy erupted with piss. Since she had turned around, the panties were now between her feet, and her pee saturated them almost immediately. My bitch's bladder must have hurt so badly, holding all that in! She pissed and pissed and pissed, her face not even an inch above her own pile of shit as she closed her eyes and moaned in relief. Her hair fell all around her face, the soft beautiful curls resting on her reeking turds.
Tina's feet and lower legs were quickly soaked as well. She gulped her remaining wine and held the empty glass in my slave's still thundering spray of piss. Soon Tina's glass was overflowing and she sat back, playing one exquisite Italian leather shoe back and forth through the last strong spurts of hot teen urine. She sipped at her glass. She closed her eyes and savored it.
I continued humping the air, caught, bound, helpless. All I could do was watch. I guess Tina knew how to torture me after all.
"Beautiful," Tina praised my bitch, continuing to sip on the warm pale yellow elixir in her glass. "You make a delicious cocktail, my dear."
She thrust her jaw at Siobhan, who reached out with one shit-smeared hand to gently grasp my bitch's chin and raise her face from where it hovered just an eyelash above her own turds. In her other hand was the ball of combined shit. Tina pointed at my piss-soaked panties on the floor.
"Now, child," she commanded, "make your own little ball of filth, using a bit from each of the three piles, and wrap it up inside Annabelle's messy panties."
While my bitch crawled to each pile and took a small piece and began working them together, Siobhan delivered her own shit ball to Tina, who held out her now half-empty glass of urine. Her daughter carefully lowered the sphere of turd into the glass, causing the liquid to nearly rise too high and spill out. However, Tina expertly raised it to her lips and sipped away the dangerous excess just in time.
Our mistress sat back and admired the slowly disintegrating nugget of mess in her glass. After a few more sips, with the level lowered again until the very tip of the turd ball was just bobbing up out of the piss-slurry, Sal reappeared with a tall bottle of Grey Goose. She topped Tina off.
Bitch had a piss-and-shit cocktail for real. The fuck! She stirred the mixture a little with her long, perfectly manicured finger, then sucked it dry. I was mesmerized by the smile on her face as she went back to her sipping – it was clear The Goddess was every bit the sick bitch I'd hoped she'd be. She loved what she was doing. She loved what she was not doing, too.
Not. Fucking. Me.
Because that's what I fucking wanted, of course.
Instead, I got a ball made out of the combined mashing of three turds together, wrapped inside my drippy, pissy panties, which were then shoved inside my mouth. Siobhan took the shit-filled panties from my redneck bitch and gently worked the whole squishy, semi-firm wad between my teeth, atop my watering, quivering tongue, and pressed it in hard against the protesting back of my throat. She took care with her slender fingers to stuff every fiber of urine-soaked cotton panty inside my mouth so that my teeth held it all in. My mouth, however, could not fully close. Then she stepped aside and let Sal stretch the little bungee cord behind my head, clasping its hooks together against the dripping panties, securing them tightly between and slightly behind my teeth.
Piss-and-shit juice at first ran freely down my throat. I spluttered and choked and tried to keep swallowing as fast as I could. Tears sprang into my eyes. My tits were on fire once again as I strained and shook to adjust to the feeling of being semi-drowned in the pee and poop syrup sliding thickly down into my belly, blocking my airway if I wasn't careful, making me cough and clench against my bonds. Making my breasts burn. Making my throat raw.
After a few moments the urgency faded, though, and what remained was a steady, slow movement of the sewage slurry as the shit gradually melted and merged with the urine in the cotton panties. I found myself reflexively swallowing, breathing in ragged gulps through my nose, and ignoring the tears that would not stop.
Being gagged, for me, was always such a slobbery, tearful, humiliating mess. One of the things I hated the most as a kid. And Kylie's mom knew that all too well. So she'd gagged me all the time, and with all sorts of things – ripe panties, sweaty bras, smelly socks, used tampons, soiled toilet paper. There was such an overwhelming focus on the act of tasting, of mouthing on something, of chewing at a flavor and a texture. It was what I loved and craved, of course, but not when I was forced to do it. Not when a hard strap or rope or cord was holding something inside my mouth for hours and hours. Not when I had to constantly control the urge to vomit – because that, of course, would truly choke me. Being gagged and bound is a bad time to puke, in case you didn't know.
Meanwhile, Siobhan had pulled out all the needles.
Once my breathing and swallowing were under control, I looked down and my breasts were so abundantly blotchy, pulsing, and hot. Bloody and bare, free of the stainless steel protrusions and their light green plastic tips, they felt like they were lit from within. Trails of thin crimson were running down my boobs, down my ribs, down my belly and thighs. Some of it was captured in my blonde pubes, turning them a lewd patchy pink.
More than anything, though, my tits itched. My skin tickled at me where the blood and the sweat gently flowed. My nose could barely handle breathing. I blew snot. I blew again. I made a sad, mucousy mess of myself, trying to clear my nostrils and get enough air.
It had been a long time since I was gagged. Tina knew it, too. Still sipping at her piss-and-shit cocktail, she rose and strolled over to stand in front of me, gazing up to admire my torment. My bitch was back to being upright on her knees, her hands clasped behind her back, staring at the floor.
"You may look up, my dear," Tina told my slave. "I want you to see what you've helped us do for naughty Annabelle."
For the first time ever, my redneck bitch and me, we held each other's stare. Her deep hazel-green eyes searched mine. I was weeping from the torture of the gag. There was snot all over my nose and lips and chin. She was a mess of flushed cheeks, slobbery mouth, and wild gorgeous hair. Her soft curls now were a little streaked with her own shit here and there. Some had transferred from her hair to her shoulders. She was breathing hard through her nose, too. Her jaw was set, her lips pursed. It was like she was holding something back. Or like she'd made some decision.
For the first time since the first time... since that first day we'd met – that day she'd picked the fight with me, when I'd sent her to the emergency room and we'd begun our crazy "thing" together – my bitch didn't look like my bitch. She looked like a strong, gorgeous, slightly plump redneck girl up to no good, ready for anything, totally sure of herself.
She stared up at me with her own eyes. She devoured me. I knew what that was. She was imagining our roles reversed. She was seeing me as her bitch.
Yet she didn't like it. I could tell. She was excited. Yeah. No doubt. She was horny and hot to fuck almost totally beyond all self control, but it wasn't because I was being transformed. It wasn't because I was bound, gagged, bleeding, and helpless. She was distracted. She was seeing me but seeing through me, too.
In a flash I figured it out: she was thinking about Tina's offer. She had made up her mind. My bitch was going to live in this fucking mansion and get on with her fucking life.
My heart beat a hammerstroke behind my heaving ribs. I fought to keep good air flowing through my snot-clogged nose. Was her new life going to include me? Was that what was behind her eyes? Was that what was setting her jaw, making her pretty little mouth hard, causing her whole body to glow? She was rejecting me? She was ready to get rid of me? My hazy, pain-stricken brain struggled to deal with it.
What was she really thinking now? What was that face?
"Fuck off, bitch! Nice knowing you, Anniecunt. My ass is now hers. HERS. I got a new job. Got a new boss." My imagination heard it plain as day. I was done. Gone. She. Rejecting me.
...Really? Had Tina truly claimed her? Had this Goddess totally won? Had my horny ass taken things too far? Had I fucked up and really sabotaged myself, after all?
Important to know: I did not – and do not – handle losing very well. It rarely happens, and it is almost never repeated. Yet there I was, my mind already dealing with it, making me face it. I might have lost my bitch. Fuck.
Suddenly I was pissed. Anger flashed through me, head to toe, making my hair stand on end like it hadn't all night so far. I could feel myself going red all over, flushing. I strained against the cuffs that held me tight. I growled behind the gag.
Then I sobbed. I stopped struggling. I couldn't stop staring at my bitch.
The head does funny things to the heart, especially when small wounds, shit gags, and black leather crosses are involved. There I was, strapped to that big black X with nothing to do but suffer and serve. There I was, in my place. There I was, angry, anxious, crying. Blinking through hot, huge tears of rage and regret. I felt so stupid and so helpless and so worthless.
I knew there were other bitches. But that was My Bitch. I wanted to keep her, dammit!
Tina, who had of course studied me closely through all of that, stepped up carefully onto the platform. Sneering. She fucking had me.
The mistress leaned in close to my cheek. She licked my face here and there. Tasted my snot. Tasted the blood still clogged around my nose and upper lip. Her tongue went over my eyeball, slurping at my tears, stinging me. I tried to squeeze my eye shut, but her fingers pried my eyelids back open. She licked my eyeball slowly, gently. Then she licked the other one. When she finally let me go my eyes were so gunked up I couldn't help but close them. I had no choice but to let them water and sting and get slowly back to normal. A relief, really. I could stop staring at my bitch. I could avoid her eyes and whatever new power they held.
Tina's mouth was on my right nipple, then my left. Then each of my puncture wounds. She sucked hard. Sharp. She drew more blood. She went round and round and round. Soon my pussy was aching all over again, flooding with juice, and I was humping the air despite myself. Every time she came back to my nipples there were harder sucks, stronger bites, longer moments of hard tongue dragging across my sensitive stiff nubs.
Then she was gone. My eyes stayed closed. They felt covered in goo. Tina stepped off the platform and went back to the couch.
"Now, dear," she proclaimed, pausing to sip once again at her shit-pissy cocktail, "You will help Siobhan finish this little job. Get up. Get on the platform."
After a moment I felt my bitch beside me. There was a heat and a scent I knew so well. She was panting. She didn't touch me.
"Put on the gloves," Siobhan commanded, from a little below and beside me. I struggled to open my eyes. Through the blur I could make out my redneck bitch pulling white latex gloves onto her pretty little hands. Siobhan was already re-gloved and holding out antiseptic pads.
My bitch swabbed my breasts endlessly, brutally. They stung from the chemical cleaning the wounds. They hurt so fucking bad! I mewled into the gag. I thrashed. Piss and shit sludge ran heavily down my throat as I unconsciously chewed at the mass in my mouth.
Finally, after five or six pads for each screaming tit, Siobhan stepped up beside my bitch. And I went stiff.
She was holding a skewer, showing it to my bitch.
Yeah. Lucky me. Stainless steel skewers. Not a thing I knew much about before that night. But fuck. I know all about them now.
"Don't worry, child," Tina purred over at us, at my bitch. "Annabelle's pretty little boobies will love them. We've put them through the autoclave, too, and kept them shrink-wrapped for special occasions just like this."
Siobhan held it up in front of my face, let me take a long look. There was a loop on one end, then a twist as the steel flattened out and tapered briefly until it maintained a uniform width all the way to the tip, over a foot away. It was not even a quarter inch wide, maybe an eighth of an inch thick. Looked like a fucking saber! I desperately tried to tell if the edges were beveled and sharp like the tip, but they looked squared off and not so terrifying. At least there was that.
But fuck. Fuck! That was going in me. That was going to hurt me.
"Remember to breathe," Siobhan whispered to me again, searching my eyes for understanding. She was so beautiful. So cruel. She turned to give my bitch instructions.
"Now, I want you hold onto this lightly, here," she placed my redneck bitch's gloved hand just below her own where she'd taken a firm grip on the looped end. "I want you to feel the amount of pressure this takes. Feel how steady and straight it needs to be, going in. Coming out the other end, it's just as important to keep the pressure steady, to break through the skin from inside."
The skewer's sharp tip was at the top of my left breast, a few inches above my nipple. Siobhan's free hand clenched the end of my breast strongly, gathering the entire nipple, aureola, and surrounding flesh in her small firm fist. She pulled outward, stretching my tit.
Fuck it hurt!
"Now, you have to keep this tight," she instructed, as my redneck bitch lay her own free hand softly around Siobhan's pulling fist. "And before you push it in, you have to make sure you have the right angle, OK?"
My redneck bitch just stared at the skewer. Fuck. Oh fuck. I stared at it, too.
"Are you ready?"
She nodded. I groaned. I watched Siobhan steady her grip on the slender metal torture stick.
Then the Sprite pushed down.
A rush of fear pounded through me, concentrated in my head. My ears roared. My vision tunneled. There was a huge stab of pressure against my tit. And then I was pierced. My skin split around the steel. My titflesh was cut, ignored, and pushed aside as the skewer passed through me. I felt a ripping, popping series of painful bursts, as one after another my tissues were pushed against, pierced through, and rapidly punctured. At the bottom, the underside of my tit felt more and more and more heavy as Siobhan kept pushing, until finally with a fresh explosion of agony, the tip of the skewer erupted through my skin.
Siobhan pushed a little more, then stopped. I looked down as the two of them removed their hands. There was an inch of skewer sticking up out of me below the loop. There was a small welling of blood around the steel. I could feel more blood dripping below my boob, onto my belly.
"Oh my God," my redneck bitch murmured. "Oh my God."
"See?" Siobhan said reassuringly. "It's easy."
She flicked the looped end of the fucking torture stick. Pain lanced through my breast. I screamed behind the gag. My back arched. My body stiffened, then shook, then lost control. I pissed all over myself. All over the two of them.
Siobhan was quickly on her knees, her face against my mound, gulping at the urine bursting out of me. As I rattled through the end of my short, hard piss, trying to regain control, she moved her mouth up to my clit and slurped at my sensitive flesh. Two of her fingers slipped into me, crooked and rubbing against that special little spot inside my hole. I came. I howled into the gag. I squirted against her hand, splattering her chin and throat and chest.
"Ah, that's my little beast," Tina cheered. "Annabelle the animal, making a mess."
Siobhan stood back up and changed to a new pair of gloves, returning after a moment with another skewer. She handed it to my redneck bitch.
"Your turn, pretty thing," Siobhan encouraged. "We'll go in from the top again, on her other one."
After a moment there was a new pain, a fresh wound, as the second skewer bit into my left tit. I kept my eyes on my bitch's face. She was worried. She was excited. Siobhan's hands were on top of hers this time, guiding, steadying. When the sharp end burst through the bottom of my boob I once again lost control of my bladder. Piss rained down on all six of our feet. I screamed into the shit gag.
I hurt.
Siobhan got the next skewer. She helped my bitch again. Then again. From the middle, pushing out to the side, first my right, then my left tit was pierced horizontally. By the time that fourth skewer was in, I almost didn't feel it. I was lost in a fog.
How to describe it? I could feel every inch of every bit of every part of the steel inside me. If I breathed too hard, it hurt worse. If I held too still, my pounding heart made my chest shake, and that hurt inside my tits, too. But it was a feeling that wasn't a feeling. It was so much pain, so much shock of pain, so much overwhelming me in my disbelief that it was even happening – it soon felt like I was floating within myself.
So, yeah. Feeling but not feeling. Hurt but not hurting.
And I might have been melting. It felt like I was one million degrees and climbing. My whole body was pure heat. Pure fire. Sweat poured out of me, from every inch of my skin. I was soaked. I was shaking, no matter how hard I tried to control it. I was sore. I was scared.
I was. I admit it. Who fucking does that to a high school kid? I was still a minor!
What the fuck kind of world had I dragged my bitch into?
For the first time, truly, I wondered if we were in real trouble.
But then Siobhan was licking my nipples. Back and forth. They were painfully engorged and sensitive. My redneck bitch was still there on the platform with me, too. She watched Siobhan's fingers once again enter my pussy as her mouth worked my boobs.
Yeah. We were probably in trouble. But I was also, once again, about to come. And so was my bitch.
So you do the math, fuckers. Can a prisoner enjoy her sentence? Can the penitent revel in her pain?
"If you like the sight, my dear," Tina called out from the couch, "then please feel free to touch yourself. You have my permission to come, right along with Annabelle."
My bitch quickly sent a hand down to her pussy, spreading her lips, hunching her crotch forward. Her other hand went to work instantly, flying her fingers back and forth over her exposed, engorged clit. She moaned. She came, shaking hard.
Soon as I saw that I came again, too, squirting big as ever, crying out against the shit-filled panties clogging my mouth.
Her eyes were on mine. My eyes were on hers. Between us was Siobhan, still working my nipples and my pussy. But really there was just the two of us.
I felt heavy against the straps. I fell, but I didn't collapse. I hung from the cross and blinked. Blinked.
Blinked out.
The tunnel closed. Time stopped. All was black.
The pain disappeared.
The last thing I heard was my redneck bitch, crying my name, her perfect little latex-covered hands cupping my cheeks.
"Annie! Oh God, Annie!"
But I was too far gone. Gone and done.
Hope you liked it!
Please email the author with comments or questions (or story suggestions!): olivia.octavia.palmer@gmail.com
Copyright 2016 by Olivia Palmer, all rights reserved. Do not repost or redistribute without prior written permission of the author. One copy may be saved for private use, insofar as that use does not extend to personal or financial gain by use of the author's work without consent.