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I wrote this story in 1999. It was one of my first attempts at erotic literature. It is purely fictional, unlike my later stories.

Sweet Caroline. I will never forget the girl as long as I live. My Caroline. Just the mention of her name brings back such vivid, sweet memories. Yes, she was cruel, harsh, wicked; as bad as she wanted to be. But for every hour she spent strapping my ass, as I bent over and accepted every stroke, there were threefold times spent loving me until I came over and over again under her soft caresses.

There was no punishment she did not know. I obeyed her without question. That Caroline would hurt me beyond repair was never a concern. The welts would disappear, the stripes fade away, but never my undying love for her.

One evening she invited one of her friends over, a twenty-year old extremely pretty blonde named Julie. I was quite used to Caroline’s painful sessions with me, to the point that I even looked forward to them, but I could never get used her habit of once every so often inviting some stranger over to observe my humiliating punishments. It was obvious that this was going to be one of those evenings, but I was not prepared for some of the bizarre twists the events took that summer evening.

In the living room, the three of us chatted amiably for the better part of an hour, small talk and drinks punctuated by laughter. I was intrigued by Caroline’s guest, whom I had never before met. She wore a bright red dress that contrasted nicely with her strikingly pretty natural blonde hair that flowed to her shoulders. When the conversation went on and on, I began to wonder what my lover had in mind. Was she just plying the pretty girl with drinks so the three of us could have a mini-orgy?

Julie sat across from me. From what I could see of her stockinged legs and how she filled out the bright red dress, she appeared to have quite a nice body. Her laughter was sometimes a bit nervous, especially if Caroline made one of her gross sexual comments, and she seemed a bit shy, perhaps because she was just getting to know me. Whatever Caroline wanted, I wanted it to happen soon. The drinks were slowly raising my libido. At last something did happen.

“BethAnne is very special,” said Caroline to the pretty blonde. “She likes to please everyone, don’t you dear?”

“I guess so,” I replied, smiling nervously.

“She’s one of the prettier fashion models in the area. I want you to see the real BethAnne for yourself,” she continued, looking over at the seated girl who shifted nervously in the chair, understanding what Caroline had just implied, but unprepared for the suddenness of the remark. Surely Caroline had told her why she had been invited for the evening.

“Stand up, BethAnne,” she ordered. My summer dress, of dainty yellow-checkered cotton, clung to my legs as I rose from the chair and stood, my heart beginning to pound beneath the thin material. She moved towards me, like fog in the night, surrounding me, enveloping me. She smelled of rich perfume, like flowers in bloom. She took my hand in hers, lightly.

“Have we been good today?” she asked, almost whispering. Surely she felt my nervousness, my trembling. Could she hear my rapidly beating heart also?

“Yes, ma’am,” I softly replied, not knowing how to answer. Julie sat to my left, watching. Waiting. Like a cat ready to pounce.

Caroline squeezed my hand more tightly, pulling me towards her. As she kissed me full, on the lips, she whispered something unintelligible into my mouth, then followed the words with her warm, wet tongue. I greedily accepted it, grinding my lips against hers. The kiss lasted several moments. I felt a tingling in my loins, so familiar to me. Surely she knew I wanted her to attend to me, anyway she desired. She broke the kiss and looked through my eyes into my mind.

“Are you mine,” she asked, smiling sexily.

“Yes,” I replied, lowering my head. “You know I am.”

“Julie likes you, too.” she said. “I have told her about you. About your ass, your breasts, even your sweet little pussy. She would like to know you as I know you, BethAnne. Would you like to be naked for her?”

I was somewhat startled by her suggestion. I didn’t know how to respond. I thought for a while, wondering how I would react in front of a perfect stranger. But I knew that my punishment would be a hundred times more severe if I did not comply with her desires.

“If you wish,” I finally replied, my head still bowed.

“And accept her strap on your nakedness?” she continued.

This stranger punishing me? I detested the thought, but knew that there was only one correct answer to her question. “I….I will do whatever you want me to do, mistress.” My words fell on the floor like a soft handkerchief.

“The long, thin dildo, Julie, on the mantel piece, would you please take it down and sit behind BethAnne.”

I shuddered, noticeably. I heard the rustling of Julie’s tight red dress, her footsteps of stockinged softness moving across istanbul escort the floor. I dared not to look at her. She returned and sat behind me. Ready to pounce once more.

“Do you want some Vaseline or K-Y first? You may be a bit dry back there,” said Caroline. I knew, of course, which of my body openings they had in mind for a likely repository for the dildo.

I replied, “If it pleases you, mistress.” My eyes stayed fastened to Caroline’s black leather belt around the waist of her dark blue dress. How much I wanted the belt to be used on my ass! I longed to be whipped by her.

“No, I think not,” she said sternly. “The dildo is thin enough. It will not hurt. Lift your dress up, BethAnne, over your hips.”

I did as I was told, unhesitatingly, offering my silky-white, bikini-styled panties to Julie’s view as she sat behind me. I felt Caroline’s foot move next to mine, pushing it to the side, forcing me to open my legs just a little wider, almost forcing me to lose my balance.

“Be still, slave,” ordered Caroline, using the term “slave” for the first time that evening. Looking back at the seated Julie, she smiled. “She’s got a gorgeous ass, doesn’t she, Miss Julie?”

“Beautiful!” she replied. “Perfect. Such delicate curves. The panties cling so nicely to the buttocks. I like her legs very much also. She is even nicer than how you described her to me.”

“She loves to be whipped on her backside, don’t you, slave?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, in truth.

“Why don’t you pull the panties down, Julie? Don’t be shy. My little pet loves to show off her lovely hiney.”

I felt the stranger’s hands at the side of my hips, her fingers digging into the tops of my delicately laced undies. She pulled them down slowly, exposing the curvature of my ass little by little, until the white rayon encircled my slightly opened thighs.

“Absolutely beautiful!” she whispered from behind me. I could feel her eyes on my nakedness back there. I did not mind. I enjoyed showing off my backside. “But where are the whip marks?”

“Faded,” replied Caroline. “We prefer the Frenching method here. Wide straps, which hurt and redden, but seldom leave signs of abuse the next day. BethAnne has a high threshold of pain, and loves to have her ass played upon with a variety of whips.”

Caroline moved closer to me, pulling me into her. Her breasts squeezed into mine. I could feel her rigid nipples beneath the blue cotton of her dress. She kissed me again and moved her warm hands to the nakedness of my ass, kneading the firm globes. Her touch felt good. She spread the cheeks apart several times during the caress, purposely revealing my puckered “O” to the seated Julie who remained behind me, waiting….the dildo in her hand. I felt terribly exposed and humiliated. Here was my lover showing off my most private of areas to someone I had never met before this evening.

“Shall we have her kneel on her knees when I insert the dildo?” asked Julie.

“I prefer to have her impaled while she is standing up,” replied Caroline, pulling my ass cheeks apart as far as she could, stretching me back there in preparation for the cold, lifeless instrument to follow.

“Very well,” said Julie, moving forward on her seat and placing her left hand on my ass.

Caroline continued to spread my lower ass cheeks apart, providing an easy target area for the dildo. I gasped into Caroline’s mouth as I felt the hardness of the instrument touch my anus. Caroline’s nails dug into my skin as she exposed my ‘O’.

“Mmm, she’s tight,” said Julie, moving her hand over my lower ass. Suddenly, without warning, she gave the long, thin, plastic phallus an upward thrust. I gasped, then cried out loud as I felt the hardness of the cruel device break the plane of my sphincter.

Caroline decided to make the torture even more difficult for me. “Raise up on your tip-toes!” ordered Caroline.

I obeyed. The position was difficult to maintain, especially with Julie shoving the dildo up my ass.

Caroline kissed me again as Julie eased the thing further into me. “Give me your tongue,” she said thickly.

“OH! Caroline!” I gasped into her mouth as the plastic dildo surged to the very top of my rectal canal. Julie had split my pumpkin with the long, thin tube and was beginning to work it up and down.

“Do you like it?” asked Caroline. “Does my little pet like things shoved up her sweet little ass?”

“It hurts!” I cried.

“It’s supposed to, my dear. It’s what you really want, isn’t it?” she chided.

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Tell Julie how much you like what she is doing to you!”

“I…I like what you are doing to me, Julie.”

“If it was a man’s prick you’d be in ecstasy now. You like to suck them off after they’ve had you there, don’t you?”

Caroline was embarrassing me now. Julie began pistoning the dildo faster as my sphincter became accustomed to it. My legs were getting weak from maintaining a stance on my tip-toes. My calves were beylikdüzü escort straining. I felt Caroline’s hand move deftly beneath my raised skirt and onto my pubic mound. Her middle finger sought and quickly found my hardened clitoral nubbin, then journeyed to my vaginal entrance.

“She’s as wet as a lake,” she said to Julie. “Just the thought of getting punished turns her on!”

Julie was lightly scratching my buttocks with her fingernails as she twisted the dildo cruelly inside my ass. “Her ass was made to be beaten,” she said.

“And eaten!” laughed Caroline. “It’s the sweetest-tasting rosehole I’ve ever known. But when you get her going like this, she loves to go to the punish room, don’t you, my little chickadee?”

She held my chin beneath her fingers. “Yes,” I sobbed, head lowered.

I had only met Julie moments before, and here she was shoving something inside my ass and about to go to the Punish Room and watch me being humiliated by one of Caroline’s wicked pain sessions. Caroline had never let anyone observe or take part in the cruelties she inflicted on me. She knew that inviting Julie would serve to heighten my humility.

“Let’s take her to the punish room,” suggested Caroline.

“Great!” exclaimed Julie. “Shall I pull the dildo out?”

“No,” replied Caroline. “She loves to have something up there all the time. Yesterday I made her walk around all day just like she is now, with that thing poking out of her. And you know what? The little whore admitted that she came a dozen times. She deserves to be punished just for enjoying these little indignities a bit too much. Let’s bring her to the Punish Room!”

The Punish Room. I hated even its name. It was there that Caroline would take me and have her way with my body. She had a kind of power over me when we went there. But it was something I just couldn’t resist. Her wildest fantasies were realized in that room where I was, most often, the helpless victim. In truth, I must admit that I, too, found untold pleasures in the Punish Room. That is the masochistic side of me.

I cannot explain why I enjoyed being humiliated and tortured, any more than Caroline could explain why she enjoyed inflicting pain upon the person she loved. Yet there was always the ominous fear of the Punish Room, for I never knew what to expect there. Sometimes I would be blindfolded for hours while she tamed my body with whips and straps. No part of me was untouchable. My screams bit into the stillness of the room’s stagnant air, only to fall like rose petals on the hard linoleum floor. Caroline was about to show Julie some new ways of inflicting pleasure and pain.

“Come with us,” ordered Caroline.

I followed them from the living room and down the cellar stairs, awkwardly, my panties bunched around my thighs and the dildo sticking obscenely out of my asshole as I held my yellow cotton skirt above my waist, exposing the thick, brown curls of my pubis. Caroline unlocked the Punish Room door. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the rounded curves of her firm ass, encased in a light blue cotton skirt, with a wide, black leather belt around her waist. She wore no stockings. I wondered what kind of panties she was wearing beneath. How I wanted her!

Julie, in her bright red rayon skirt and white blouse, followed her into the room. Caroline invited me in with a gesture of her arm. Red-faced, I entered, skirt still raised, heart pounding, tears beginning to well in my eyes. Julie smiled at me, looking into my eyes, then purposely stared at my hairy pubis.

“Her pussy is gorgeous!” exclaimed this stranger to our room. I furtively glanced at her silky, white blouse. Her breasts strained against the thin material, nipples protruding, longing for freedom. Her blond hair was cut short. She was beautiful. As I lowered my head, I noticed her legs were hose- covered, perhaps pantyhose, for I saw no sign of garter belt beneath the tight red skirt.

Caroline and the stranger stood in front of me, knowing but not feeling my embarrassment. “Turn around,” ordered Caroline. “Face the back wall.”

I turned, obediently, exposing my backside with the protruding dildo to them. They traded comments concerning my ass, my thighs, my waist, and other parts of my body. Julie mentioned that the dildo looked befitting. Caroline laughed. I was bade to turn around once more, after they were finished their verbal humiliations.

“Strip!” ordered Caroline.

In front of a stranger! Already exposed from the waist down. I was being ordered to be naked for them–to invite even more degrading comments about my body. My face flushed a deep crimson. I closed my eyes, then released the grip on my upraised dress. It fell in a whisper into its normal position. The dildo, still ensconced in my backside, poked obscenely out of the back of the skirt.

I moved my hands to the back of the yellow summer dress and unzipped it all the way down, then unhooked my belt, freeing the confinement around my waist. I slipped the straps esenyurt escort of the dress off my shoulders, then hesitated, my forearms across my breasts, knowing that my next movement would expose my bra-less chest. I looked into Caroline’s eyes, searching, pleading. Julie stood next to her…smiling…waiting. I bit my lower lip.

“Let’s see what you’ve got up there, honey,” said Caroline, somewhat huskily. “Don’t be shy.”

I lowered my head again, not wanting to look at the two of them, then let the straps fall on their own down my arms. My breasts sprang into view. The coral nipples, encircled by dark areola, were turgid despite my nervousness. Julie, quite audibly, drew her breath between her teeth. My dress, in shambles, remained around my waist.

“Gorgeous!” exclaimed the stranger in my house.

“They are perfect, indeed,” said Caroline. “Look at the firmness. Large, but no sag. The nipples are hard already. She’s excited, the little bitch. Make them harder, BethAnne!”

She had done this before, to heighten the humiliation. The ritual was always the same–rub the nubbins with the palms of my hands, or, if she desired, squeeze them between my thumb and forefinger. They always became larger, more sensitive to slightest touch. When she was in a loving mood, she would suck them for hours, sometimes making me come just like that. When she was in her sadistic mood, she would pull the nipples grossly out and away from my breasts, whip them with a small pussy whip or the flattened tip of a riding crop, or drop candle wax on them. Tonight I rubbed them with my palms, feeling them harden, then gracefully dropped my hands to my sides without having to be ordered to do so. With lowered head, I looked down at my own semi-nakedness. My nipples were turgid and thick.

“O. K., honey, push the dress down your legs. Let’s see those cute little curls!” Embarrassed beyond words, I obeyed, pushing the dress over my hips. It fell at my feet, silently. My panties still encircled my thighs. The two women in front of me stared at my triangular forest of light brown curls.

“Do you let her trim the bush sometimes?” asked Julie.

“I prefer it to remain natural,” replied my lover. “I shaved her clean once, but when the curls grew back I let them grow out and stay nice and full. The bush is thicker now, after shaving her. But you can still see the crack of her cunny through the thickness of the hairs!”

“I like the look of her darker-colored curls next to her white skin,” said Julie. “Mine are so much lighter than hers.”

Caroline smiled. She knew we would both be viewing her friend’s pussy before long. I also wanted to see what she looked like beneath her clothes. First, they had to take care of me. Caroline asked me to remove my panties, which I did. Completely naked now, I felt so defenseless.

Without saying a word, my lover motioned her hand toward the horizontal bars. I turned and moved slowly to the bars at the side of the room, the dildo still in my ass bobbing lightly back and forth as I moved. The two women followed me. I had been this route many times; I knew I was in for a strapping of some kind.

The horizontal bars were custom-made, each about four feet wide between two supporting pillars. Each was made of shiny mahogany. The top-most bar, about waist high, had a two foot wide red velvet cushion, well padded, in the very middle. Hanging down from the upper bar was a two inch brown leather strap with a buckle at the opposite side of the cushion, to be brought around the waist of anyone so unfortunate to be bent over the ominous-looking bar.

The second bar, perhaps two feet lower and one foot further back, was used to hold the victim’s hands in place. There were two wrist straps, each half again as thin as the waist strap above, affixed to the second bar one foot apart. Along the floor were several more straps bolted to the floor at various intervals to provide a method to secure the victim’s ankles, dependent only on how far it was decided to spread the victim’s legs.

Caroline often utilized yet another device at the horizontal bar which she called the ‘kneeling cushion’. She often bade me to kneel on the foot-high pillow, then pulled a leather strap over my calves, securing my legs to the device. This latter method she would employ if she desired to use the more painful cat-o-nine tails on me or for administering the hated punishment enema if I had been particularly bad that day. The kneeling cushion prevented movement of the lower half of my body.

I faced the horizontal bar, naked…waiting. I smelled Caroline’s presence behind me. Her perfume filled my nostrils. She touched me lightly on the shoulder and had me turn once more, facing her and Julie. She looked through me with her dark brown eyes. I gulped. She reached out and took my hands, leading them to the two inch black leather belt around her waist. She smiled.

“Undo the buckle,” she whispered.

I was confused. Was she going to make me take her clothes off, which I wanted so badly to do, or was she forcing me to get the instrument to be used upon my buttocks? With trembling hands I undid the metal buckle. It loosened and I held it in my right hand, hanging downward towards the floor.

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