Stories From Comwyn I free porn video

Table of Contents *** 1. To the Races Even sissy maids like to compete, but winning isn't always what it's cracked up to be. TAGS: Crossdressing/TV, Lingerie, Shemales, Uniforms, Chastity Belts, Maids, Petticoats, Use of Sex Toys 2. Beg us for It There's nothing a Red Ribbon enjoys more than making a man into a maid, and there's nothing a maid loves more than being used by a powerful woman. TAGS: Crossdressing/TV, Lingerie, Sexual Punishment, Shemales, Uniforms, Chastity Belts, Maids, Petticoats, Use of Sex Toys 3. La Vierge Voyeur Despite how often the girls at Comwyn have at each other, not everyone there has had a chance to enjoy its delights. TAGS: Crossdressing/TV, Lingerie, Sexual Punishment, Shemales, Uniforms, Bondage, Chastity Belts, Maids, Petticoats, Use of Sex Toys 4. Marissa There's nothing I like more than a beautiful dress dripping with ruffles and bows -- except if I get to wear it for Marissa! TAGS: Crossdressing/TV, Lingerie, Shemales, Uniforms, Bondage, Chastity Belts, Maids, Petticoats 5. Spills and Thrills Tea service can be quite challenging, but the aftermath is anything but. TAGS: Crossdressing/TV, Humor, Sexual Punishment, Shemales, Uniforms, Bondage, Chastity Belts, Maids, Petticoats *** AUTHOR'S NOTE I hope you enjoy these selections. After I wrote Comwyn Manor, I thought I ran out of ideas -- but it turns out there's a lot of fun still to be had. These are just quick looks inside the house, little vignettes of what a bunch of horny, chastized maids do when the women above them want to play. I really like this short story format -- sometimes you just want something fast and you don't need all the connections :) Thank you to Heather for the idea for Spills and Thrills. I hope I did you justice. As always, I love to hear your feedback and your ideas. Please reach out to me at [email protected] to share your thoughts. Yours always, in lace and denial, TV, 2019 *** 1. To the Races "The rules are simple. If you cum first, you are locked up for every week your opponent was plus however long you were before. And if you don't, you're locked up for as long as your opponent was -- and you get spanked for every month of theirs! Doesn't that sound like fun?" she clapped her hands together in delight. "Ready, girls?" It's not like they really had a choice. Ginny gulped and nodded, locking eyes with the girl across from her. If she won, she lost -- and if she lost, she lost even more. Twenty-two, she thought. The other girl's eyes narrowed, her face flushing. Both were extremely hard in their ornate chastity cages, straining against the metal. This was one of their few opportunities for release, for a proper orgasm. The woman in a short maid's dress with the red satin choker raised Ginny's pink panties in the air. After twenty-two weeks in chastity, constantly being teased and touched by the girls around her, Ginny was in a state of constant arousal. Her caged shaft dripped a steady stream of pre-cum and she often had to change her panties once or twice a day. It didn't help that she had a heavy, thick plug in her rear at all times, its tip pressing up against her prostate when she bent over just the right way. This particular pair was bikini-style, mesh in the back with a satin front panel, trimmed out in ruffles and lace. Two silk peonies sat above her hips, ribbons trailing down to mid-thigh. Or at least they had been -- now the large wet spot on the front was exposed for everyone to see. Twenty-two weeks. Twenty-two spanks. Ginny eyed the paddle held by a woman with a yellow satin choker and a matching maid's dress. She spun it absent-mindedly in her hand like it was a tennis racket, occasionally taking practice swings with it. It whistled through the air, holes punched through it arranged in a line of three hearts. As if that made it hurt any less -- Ginny was pretty sure it was supposed to hurt more. Like all low-ranking maids in the Comwyn staff, Ginny was nearly- perpetually locked in chastity, only allowed free to be tormented by a high-ranked girl or -- extremely rarely -- for a special event. It wasn't unheard of for a girl to go more than a year without release, especially if she was seen to be particularly fun to play with. Ginny didn't know her opponent, but she had seen her around the Manor on several occasions. She would be locked up too, but Ginny had no idea for how long. Certainly several weeks. Months? What if Ginny won? Could she really add three months on to this girl's sentence? Even if she hadn't been locked up, Ginny would have been furiously aroused. Her panties were carefully cut to expose both her caged member and provide access to her rear, piles of lace and frills running up several inches above her belly button. Above each hole was a large satin bow, making her seem like a gift, an offering to the other girl. Garter straps extended from the leg holes and attached to opaque white stockings, trimmed with two rows of lace at the top and running down her legs to towering, transparent platform heels. She wore no bra or dress -- instead, she had a large, full-body apron that ran from her chest down to her knees, her cage poking through her panties and gently tenting the satin of her apron. Its trim consisted of several layers of alternating netting and lace, a small bow and peony rosette stitched every few inches. The straps were trimmed in ruffled lace and crossed in an X at her back, tied in place. Two pulls, one on each strap, and she would be completely exposed. The other girl wore a crotchless, backless teddy, low cut to reveal her small, pert breasts, and tight enough to show her hard nipples through the fabric. At her waist was a short tutu, its several layers of tulle causing it to stand straight out. Her openings were trimmed in eyelash lace, her cage standing straight out. The spaghetti straps had long lace trim, draping down her shoulders. Her narrow waist and perky breasts made Ginny twitch her in cage. Around them, an audience of girls in maids outfits and nightwear stood watching. One with a green choker leaned over to another and whispered "four on the one in the apron." "I'll take that bet!" the other replied, and the girls sealed the deal with two kisses, one on each cheek. The betting on chastity was common for a Race. Some of the high-ranking Red and Yellow Ribbons used them as opportunities to extend the time some of their girls were locked, but others let their girls bet to get closer to freedom. A bad bet paid for itself, after all. "Cages, off!" the Red Ribbon holding Ginny's soiled panties said, and handed a silver key to a girl in a green nightgown who scurried over to the pair. Ginny's shaft was freed and it instantly sprang to attention, the tent in her apron growing precipitously into a small mountain. The smooth satin stroked her tip and she shuddered from the sensation and for being free for the first time in almost six months. She could feel herself leaking, a wet spot rapdily forming the tip of her tent. She heard laughter from the crowd and saw girls pointing at it, covering their mouths and giggling, and Ginny flushed bright red. The other girl -- her opponent -- was also unlocked, her penis petite even when fully erect, a continuous stream of precum pouring from its tip. It was already bright red and shaking. Ginny realized the girl was shivering with anticipation and realized that she must have been locked even longer than Ginny had. She felt bad for the poor girl, but her sympathy vanished when she saw the fire in the girl's eyes. This was a race, she remembered, and she had to win. "On your marks," shouted the Red Ribbon, hoisting Ginny's soiled panties into the air. The room quieted, then fell silence, and electric tension in the air. Skirts and petticoats rustled as girls adjusted their weight with bated breath, watching the stained scrap of pink lace in the woman's hand. Ginny stared deeply into the eyes of the other girl, her muscles tensing. "Go!" she shouted, dropping the panties the floor in a sad crumpled. Ginny instantly fell to her knees, leaning forwards until her face was pressed to the velvet rug on the floor. She reached underneath and behind herself, finding the phallus inside of her and beginning to slide it in and out, probing against her prostate as she did. All around her, girls cheered and shouted, clapping their hands and hooting as she begin to shamefully thrust the enormous black dildo in and out of herself. As she worked herself, moaning into the floor, she felt a hand wrap around her turgid shaft and begin to stroke her slowly, teasingly. It wasn't enough to bring her to climax, just enough to turn her on even more and make it even harder to masturbate with the toy. She looked up, rear wiggling in the air, and saw the other girl on her back, a pink, sparkly vibrator being thrust in and out of her by a girl in a green dress while one in a yellow one teasingly licked the head of her shaft. Her head was thrown back in obvious, delicious agony, her moans practically screams. The hand was removed and a warm, wet mouth replaced it. Ginny gasped and groaned, letting the feelings of pleasure wash over her. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had put their mouth around her uncaged shaft, and she almost came right there. But whoever was working her knew how sensitive she was, pulling her mouth off before she came, and Ginny screamed in frustration, her dildo bumping against her prostate. She wasn't even sure she wanted to cum -- she knew if she did, she'd be locked up even longer. That other girl must have been caged even longer than she was -- could she take more than a year of continuous chastity? It's not like it ever faded into the background here. The constant teasing and sex meant she was always cruelly aware of how aroused she was and how little she could do about it. Still, there wasn't any guarantee that she'd get to cum in the near future. This was a guarantee that she would! As she grew closer to climax, her thinking became hazier. She wanted to cum. She had to cum. Why weren't they letting her cum? The mouths and hands on her shaft were doing little more than lightly stroking her now. She was so close to the edge, furiously thrusting the dildo in and out, grinding it against her prostate, and yet she still didn't cum. It was a desperate fever in her now -- she wanted to, she HAD to! Then she heard a scream from across her, a piercing sound that faded into a moan and a groan, and finally she felt a hard spank across her rear. She yelped, forced forwards from the force of it. "And it's over!" cried the Red Ribbon. Ginny was lifted from the floor under her arms, her furious shaft quivering as she stood, its tip drooling long streams of precum. She had lost, she realized, her mind beginning to clear. The other girl had come, and now Ginny wasn't going to get to. She hung her head, staring at her erection. She had been so close... The other girl lay on the floor across from her, breathing heavily, her tiny penis flaccid and pointing up towards her belly button. She was covered in her own cum, which ran from her forehead, across her face, and down to her belly. Long, thick lines of it had sprayed everwhere with such force that some were several feet away from her. Already, girls were returning with their cages. Ginny saw two bags she knew were filled with ice, and they pressed against her. The contrast between the heat of her shaft and the cold of the bags made her scream and shake, but the other girls held her tightly as her erection rapidly vanished. Numb to any sensation, she was fitted back into her cage, the clicking of the lock reminding her of her torment -- and how much longer it would be. But there was one more thing she had to handle first. She heard the whistling of the paddle and felt the second spank explode across her cheeks. She gasped and tensed her muscles, waiting for the third. It came with an enormous smack, but already she was beginning to be numb to it. By the time she received her last, her knees were weak and her rear was on fire. She fell to all fours, groaning, her member already stiff in her cage. "Well, girls, that seemed like a lot of fun, didn't it?" the Red Ribbon asked with a grin. "You--" she pointed to Ginny "--you can join me in my room tonight. I think I'd like to use that little tongue of yours." She winked and blew Ginny a kiss. "Now, let's tally up our scores! Remember, the loser will restart their locked time and stay in their cage for as long as their opponent had. Anna, how long was that?" The girl lying on the floor moaned and said weakly, "Eighty weeks, ma'am." Ginny felt her heart sink. More than a year in chastity -- more than 18 months. It was going to be almost unbearable as it was deeply thrilling. "And you?" asked the Red Ribbon, turning towards her. "Twenty-two," she said quietly, realizing what that meant for poor Anna. The room gasped as the Red Ribbon called out the final score. "Eighty weeks for our friend in blue," she said, gesturing towards Ginny. "One hundred and two for our other friend in blue!" she cried in obvious delight, gesturing towards Anna. She lay on the floor, motionless, her face white, as she did the math in her head. Two years in continuous chastity. If she was going to get an orgasm, it was only in that cage. That night, as Ginny's face was buried in the Red Ribbon's head, a vibrator held against her caged shaft, she reflected. If it meant she could be dressed, plugged, and used, perhaps it wouldn't be all that bad. After all, maybe she an Anna could have some playdates together to relieve some of their newfound tension. *** 2. Beg us for It "Yes, I want to be your dirty little slut! I want you to fuck me whenever you want!" I cried. "Good girl!" the girl behind me said, smacking my tender rear. I squealed, the sound cut short by the manicured hand pressing down on the back of my head, my mouth sliding back over the stiff, salty shaft in front of me. The girl smelled musky and sweet, her tiny lace panties pulled to the side to expose her erection. "What do you think, Harriet?" she asked, my tongue running over and around her. She looked down at me and I looked up, our eyes locking. She shivered as we did, her shaft twitching in my mouth. I sucked harder in response and she moaned. "I'm not satisfied," Harriet said. My rear was spanked again, harder this time. My eyes watered and I groaned around the member in my mouth, but I kept sucking. "Do you think she cares what she wears?" "I didn't hear her say anything about that," Jennifer said, pushing her massive strap-on deep inside of me. "She probably just wants to be naked. No more lacy lingerie, right?" She pulled out completely, pressing the tip against my entrance, emphasizing her point. My member was rock hard and I felt her grab it and squeeze as Harriet thrust in and out of my mouth. "Maybe if she does a good job being our little plaything, she can keep wearing those pretty dresses," Harriet said, grabbing a fistfull of my hair and pulling me deep onto her. I supressed my reflexes and slid my tongue up and down her as best I could. My mind wandered to the short, froufrou dress they had let me see earlier, promising me I could wear it. If you had asked me even a week ago, I would have sworn up and down that I'd never put on a dress and heels, but now I was doing everything I could to get back into it. The feeling of silk and satin against my skin was divine, the weight of the ruffled skirts and the feeling of them swishing around me was intoxicating. I would do anything to wear one again. If a week ago I wouldn't have worn a dress, then I never could have dreamed I would find myself in this situation. Gleefully sucking one woman's massive erection while another filled my rear with her strap-on? It would have been impossible to even imagine such a state for me. It wouldn't have even been denial to say I didn't want it -- I couldn't even conceive of such a thing happening to me. And yet my own drooling, stiff member provded that it was exactly what I wanted. I leaned back into Jennifer, aching for her to be inside of me again. I sucked on Harriet, shifting my weight to one elbow so I could simultaneously stroke her with my hand. She groaned as I bobbed up and down on her, running a finger along the length of the underside of her shaft, my tongue tickling that sensitive spot just below the head. I saw her tense, could feel her shaft rising in my mouth, and knew she was resisting, trying to avoid climax for as long as she could. Finally, before it was too late, she popped out of my mouth, sitting back on her ankles and panting, hard, her shaft dribbling down its length. Jennifer spanked me again, the vibrations from her strap-on tickling as she teased it around my entrance. I groaned and laid my head down, stretching my arms out in front of me, my hips thrust into the air. I heard Jennifer laugh -- not cruelly, more like was stasified. Like her prediction had come true. "Look at how much she wants it, Harriet!" she cried, grabbing my hips and pulling them towards her, forcing her shaft inside of me. My fists clenched, silk sheets curling into them, and I let out a low, involuntary groan. Harriet grinned and leaned forwads, scooping my head up in her hand and stroking my hair. "What do you think, sweetheart?" she said quietly, kissing me playfully on my nose. "I want it so much," I managed, my voice thick. "Do you want to be dressed up in little lacy things for us?" Harriet asked, kissing me, this time on my mouth. "Yes!" I gasped when she pulled away. More than anything. "And do you want to wear silky stockings on your legs? And sexy high heels?" I groaned. "Yes, yes! I want to be all dressed up in sexy lace!" Harriet giggled, kissing me again. "What else do you want, sweet girl?" she asked. "Take a minute to think about it." She rose to her knees again and slipped her shaft back inside of my mouth. I eagerly wrapped my lips around it, furiously bouncing up and down on her. She shuddered and moaned, grabbing it by the base and pulling it back out after a moment. She was panting, the tip streaming now. Behind me, Jennifer pushed in deeply, the vibrating head of her shaft pushing hard into my prostate. I made a quiet gurgling sound as I felt my insides rearrange themselves, my shaft somehow getting even harder. I thought I might climax right there, but before I had a chance to give in, Jennifer pulled back. "Tsk tsk," she chided, spanking me twice, once on each tender cheek. I gasped and leaned away from her, accidentally going very deep onto Harriet's shaft. I almost gagged but managed to suppress it -- and Harriet seemed to love the sudden change in sensation, grabbing the back of my head and holding me there, my face and nose pressed against her mount and its thin layer of soft hair. Her smell was delicious, and I breathed it in with pleasure as Jennifer began thrusting hard and fast against my rear, her voice rising and turning into moans of her own. Harriet rocked her hips back and forth, her shaft sliding across my tongue and in my throat, and then I felt it begin to buck, Harriet crying out. She came hard and fast, exploding inside of me, falling backwards and out of my mouth when she had finished. She lay on her back, her erection already beginning to soften, a look of immense calm and satisfaction on her face. I swallowed what she had given me, the taste surprising but not altogether bad. Add that to the list of things I'd never thought I'd do. "Harriet asked you a question, slut!" Jennifer said between moans, slowing her attack. "I want to wear pretty dresses!" I moaned. "I want to be dressed up in lace and frills and have sex and suck pretty girls dry!" "Good girl!" said Jennifer, pressing in and holding her vibrating member against my prostate. "How badly do you want it?" "Please, please!" I moaned, my whole body shaking. "Please, dress me up like a pretty maid and let me satisfy you! All I want to do is be used by you! I want the skirts and the stockings and the clothes, and I want you inside of me! Please, please!" That was enough for me. My moan turned into a scream of pleasure as I exploded into the bed, my rear tightening around the vibrating shaft that stroked my prostate. The orgasm was so intense it was almost a high, my body bucking against the shaft inside of me, spraying rope after rope into the bed. All I could think about while I did was wearing that pretty dress and its petticoats, my stocking-clad legs rubbing against each other as I walked, the skirt swishing around my hips. Jennifer giggled and grabbed my shaft, stroking it hard and fast. I screamed again, louder this time, the pleasure so intense that it was borderline painful. She didn't let up as I writhed and moaned, somehow exploding again into her hand, the fluid lubricating her actions and making them even more intense. It was pure, blissful agony. "Welcome to the Manor," she whispered in my ear when I had finally finished, my body broken, my limbs aching. I laid naked in the sticky pool I made, my cheeks on fire. "I can't wait to get you dressed." *** 3. La Vierge Voyeur Their skirts rustled and shook as they pressed up against each other, the girl in red up against the wall, passionately kissing the one in yellow. She held the red girls' hands in hers, leaning into them and holding them at shoulder height, her stocking-clad leg wrapping around the other girl's. The red-dressed girl's back arched and she let out a small moan, freeing a hand and pulling the other girl closer to her. They kissed, tenderly and lovingly, their bodies mingling. Tabitha breathed heavily as she watched, one gloved hand absent-mindedly playing with her nipple through her satin dress, the other still on the doorknob she had just turned, the door open a fraction. She was supposed to clean and ready this room for a recently-announced guest, and it wasn't on the official rotation. That's when she'd stumbled on these two, going at each other where they thought no-one could see. The girl in yellow fell to her knees, her organza skirts flaring around her. Her dress had a high neckline, rising tightly to her chin, but at her clavicle the material changed from satin to trasparent silk, the transition trimmed in a line of white lace. The translucent material ran out to her shoulders and fell low, exposing the curve of her breasts as they met. She was well-endowed, the dress careful cut to her figure, emphasizing her bosom. The dress was sleeveless, the armholes trimmed out in an eruption of lace and ruffles, a large bow with long tails at the apex of each shoulder. At her waist was a tall, lacy ribbon, tied in another bow behind her, before her skirt flared out, its yellow satin laid flat across the organza cloud of her petticoat. The skirt itself was simple satin, trimmed out like the armholes, and she wore a transparent silk apron on top. At the corners of the rectangular apron were large bows, each set with a peony, and scalloped lace ran around the edges. She wore white sheer stockings, a thin seam ending in a small bow running up the back of each leg, held up my garter straps. Tabitha adored the dresses -- who wouldn't? -- but she found the stockings almost unbearably sexy. She wondered what the garter belt looked like, if the yellow-dressed maid wore her panties above or below it. She slowly released the doorknob, silently letting it return to the neutral position, her hand slipping down into her own white satin panties. She felt the cool metal of her cage, but taking hold of it, she began to vibrate it. It wasn't much, but it was something. The yellow maid kissed a line down the other girl's leg, then kneeled, slipping her head inside the bell-shaped skirt she wore. The red dress was demure as well, a large, lace-trimmed peter pan collar that extended out to the tops of her shoulders, a line of bows running down her front, flanked on either side by two vertical lines of ruffles. She had cap sleeves, each trimmed in matching ruffles, a whisper of lace runnig alongside them. The skirt flared out and ran -- by Comwyn standards -- quite low, ending a few inches above her knee. The hem of the skirt was trimmed with three thick rows of ruffles, lace, and ribbons, but was otherwise unadorned. The girl in yellow almost disappeared inside of it. The girl in red spread her legs, her knees bending as she leaned against the wall, hands grabbing at her skirt and breast as she gasped and moaned. Tabitha worked herself, her breathing getting faster as she watched the yellow girl lick her partner. She saw a pair of sweet, red bikini panties fall away, their side-ties undone, and the girl in red moaned louder. Tabitha closed her eyes, gathering her own skirts about her as she played with her caged member. She lost herself, desperately trying to get more feeling than just the gentle vibrations she could give herself. "What do we have here?" She was suddenly snapped out of her reverie, her eyes widening as she looked up into the face of the yellow-dressed girl. She looked down -- her legs were bent, white satin panties at her knees, one hand clutching her skirt and pink petticoat to her chest, the other on her cage. It was not the kind of position one wanted to be found in. The girl in yellow grabbed her by the ear and painfully dragged her into hte room, throwing her onto the bed. Tabitha scurried to the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chest and trying to tug her panties back into place. "Ah!" said the girl in red, holding up one finger. "Don't you dare move, Missy. You are in big trouble." Tabitha gulped, freezing in place, eyes the size of saucers. Her dress provided her no modesty, and she felt completely exposed and vulnerable to whatever these girls wanted to do to her. It had a square neckline, trimmed in satin ribbons and several layers of extreme ruffles, the curving undulations of them creating so much volume that the top layer stood at a steep angle away from the dress. Peeking out from behind them was the iridescent blue material of her dress, but so much was covered by the white silk ruffles that it was almost impossible to tell. Her cap sleeves were similarly trimmed in ruffles, her arms emerging from an explosion of silk. Her petticoat was enormous to match the volume of her dress, with so much material that her skirts actually stood up, forming a shallow V where they met her body. The hem, too, was trimmed in a pile of silk ruffles -- Tabitha was a walking blue and white cloud, her dress heavy from fabric and rustling loudly with every step she took. On her arms she wore long white gloves that extended past her elbow, the ends trimmed in five small bows. Her stockings were opaque and white at the top, transitioning into light blue at her half and ending in tall, light pink pumps. Despite the 5" heel, Tabitha was a natural in them. "You were born to be in beautiful clothes," her Red Ribbon had told her. It was true; Tabitha had always been jealous of the materials and dresses that girls got to wore. It didn't take much convincing for her to become a maid at Comwyn -- that first night, when the maid with the red choker had begun playing with her member, she had simply asked if she could put on a dress like hers. The rest was history. "What were you doing out there?" asked the girl in yellow, hands on her hips. "I was meant to clean the room," Tabitha said quietly, unable to make eye contact. "And then I saw you two, and, I, well..." "You got distracted," finished the girl in red. "And thought you'd see if you could play with something that didn't belong to you." Tabitha turned bright red, her head hanging. She was nervous -- she had only been at Comwyn a few months and didn't want to be kicked out. She was desperate -- in more ways than one. Then she had an idea, and as risky as it was, she figured it was her only chance to stay. "Is there anything I can do to make up for it?" she said, her voice low. She tried to sound seductive, lowering her eyelids and smiling demurely. She tried to look innocent and sexy, like a little toy that didn't know what it was getting into. Which, she would realize later, was exactly what she was. Both women looked at her for a moment, surprised at this change. Then they burst out laughing, the one in red doubled over. "Of course you're going to make up for it," gasped the one in yellow, dabbing at her eyes after she managed to calm down. "What did you think was going to happen? We would give you a little demerit and you would be on your way?" She giggled, shaking her head. "What's your name, you precious little thing?" asked the girl in red. "T-Tabitha," she answered, more confused now than she was anxious. She furrowed her brow. "I'm.. I'm not going to be kicked out?" The girl in red shook her head, a pitying smile on her face. "Oh honey, that's not how we handle things at Comwyn Manor. No, you have to make up for what you did." The girl in yellow stepped next to her, one hand on the other girl's shoulder. "You haven't been here long, have you?" she asked, cocking her head, her long brown hair falling across her shoulder. Tabitha relaxed, curling her legs underneath her, her panties still around her knees. She smoothed out her skirt and tried to brush her hair back. "About four months." But the girls didn't seem like they were listening to her anymore -- instead, they were staring at her white satin panties, long lines of white lace running across the back, leg holes trimmed in ruffles, an embroidered white peony on the front. The girl in red leaned into her partner and whispered a question in her ear, not taking her eyes off the white panties. The girl in yellow nodded, her mouth agape. "Are you a virgin?" she suddenly asked. Tabitha froze, her face paling and then flushing hot red. "Am I a -- well, no, but actually, I mean -- what?" she stammered. She paused, then looked down. "How could you tell?" she asked. "Only virgins get those white panties," the girl in red said. "Have you ever even used that before?" she asked, nodding towards the spot between Tabitha's legs. She stiffened and frowned. "Of course!" she said, then after a moment's thought added, "Well, not recently. And only by myself..." As she spoke, the girls had sat down on either side of her. The girl in red shook her head. "I can't believe you chose this --" she waved an open palm at Tabitha in a circular motion "-- without ever knowing anything else. What do you think, Sophie?" "I'm as shocked as you, Georgina," Sophie -- the girl in yellow -- said. "But I think we're all in for a treat today." Sophie pushed Tabitha back while Georgina straightened her legs, slipping the panties down and off her. Sophie pushed back, resting Tabitha against the headboard, then begin to kiss her deeply, her hands held tightly at her side, while Georgina began kissing Tabitha's legs, starting from her ankles and working, slowly and tenderly, up to the soft inner thigh. Georgina grabbed Sophie's garter strap with her teeth and snapped it against the maid's skin, evoking a startled gasp. "I thought I was in trouble?" Tabitha asked when Sophie pulled away, kissing down her neck, following the dress' neckline. "Oh sweetie, you are," Sophie said between kisses. "But punishmnet can take many forms," said Georgina from beneath Tabitha's skirt. As if to emphasize this point, Tabitha felt her cage slipping off of her, her shaft instantly springing to attention. Then, to her loud, moaning shock, she felt a mouth wrap around her and begin to suck on her small erection. Instinctively, she tried to move and twitch, but Sophie held her tightly to the bed, and she could only curl her toes and bend her legs, wrapping them around the petticoated girl between her legs. Sophie had managed to expose one of Tabith'as nipples and was flicking it with her tongue. Tabitha had never had anyone do this to her before, and she shuddered and gasped in delight. Tabitha knew it wouldn't be long before she would cum, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't going to be doing that any time soon. She had seen how the other girls got teased -- once, one was given the key to her cage and told that every hour she had to stroke herself twenty times, and if she came, her time would be extended by how many strokes she had done that day. And the maid had done it, willingly! By mid-afternoon her panties were soaked through and she could barely walk straight, and the Red Ribbon who had given her the instruction took a twisted kind of pity on her. The maid was brought to the edge of orgasm and then allowed to cool off, over and over for hours, all the while her tormenter telling her that she was such a good girl and she deserved to cum. Finally, she brought the poor, overstimulated maid to the point of no return -- when she prompty removed her hand, denying the girl the orgasm she had desperately hoped for. A sad spattering of cum dribbled down her furiously-erect shaft, and the unsatisfied, torturously aroused maid was locked back in her cage. So it came as no surprise to her that she soon felt Georgina release her and climb out from under her mountain of skirts. Sophie pushed down on her shoulders, bringing her into a laying position on her back, and Georgina squatted above her, her naked slit already wet. After a pause with no activity, Sophie reached under Tabitha's skirt and roughly grabbed her shaft, squeezing it hard. "Satisfy her!" she growled, and Tabitha squealed, diving into the sweet muskiness of Georgina, eagerly licking. She ran her tongue up and down her length, swirling it at the apex and sliding in deep when she reached the bottom. Georgina moaned and began to grind her hips down onto Tabitha's face, riding the girl's tongue and nose. Sophie leaned in and kissed her deeply, holding her head between her perfectly-manicured nails. Georgina came, hard, squirting into Tabitha's open mouth and all over her face. Her moans had long-since turned into screams, and she pressed the full weight of herself into Tabitha's face, grinding against her hard as she came. She clenched the headboard, knuckles turning white, the bed shaking with her legs. Sophie was gently squeezing her nipples through dress as Georgina came. Finally, the Red Ribbon fell back into the rustling mass of Tabitha's petticoats, panting heavily. "My turn," Sophie said with a grin. She laid back, her head at the footboard of the bed, and curled a finger, gesturing for Tabitha to come. The girl obliged, crawling around Georgina and over to Sophie. "You look so hot on all fours," Georgina said, grabbing Tabitha's face and kissing her. She tasted sweet and delicious, and Tabitha felt cheated when she pulled away. She didn't have long to be disappointed, however -- Sophie's hand was on the top of her head, pushing her down into the cloud of crinolines between her legs. Tabitha didn't resist and found her way into the pile of skirts. There she found the sheer yellow panties, two red peonies on each hip, a lace- trimed slit in the front -- and sticking out was a delightful little erection. The shaft wasn't much bigger than Tabitha's own, and she dove onto it, slurping it into her mouth and teasing it with her tongue. She took the entire thing, sliding her lips slowly from the tip down to the to the base, probing at Sophie's soft pink package with her tongue. The yellow-clad girl groaned with delight, thrusting deep into Tabitha's mouth. "For a virgin, you're pretty good at this," she said, her voice husky. Tabitha kept at it for a while, giving the girl a taste of her own medicine -- teasing her to the edge, then pulling back, not letting her cum. Sophie clearly enjoyed this, but Tabitha was sure she couldn't keep that up for long. Unlike herself, Sophie was allowed to cum whenever she chose -- Sophie had no such privilege, and was simply a tool to help girls like Sophie and Georgina get what they wanted. As expected, she soon felt hands on her cheeks gently lifting her out from under the layers of lacy skirts. Sophie kissed her, turning the girl around and wrapping her arms around her, hugging her close to her body. Sophie kissed up and down Tabitha's neck, nibbling on her earlobes. Then she leaned backwards, pulling her skirts up and exposing her pink shaft. Tabitha began to turn to take it into her mouth, but Sophie stopped her. "No," she said quietly, looking at Tabitha expectantly. Tabitha was confused, staring first at Sophie, then at her shaft, realization slowly dawning on her. Her stomach curled up into itself and she felt electricity in her body. She was vibrating, a ringing in her ears growing until she couldn't do anything else, and her caged shaft was dripping, straining against its restraints. She was going to lose her virginity. Sophie helped her climb on, the soft head pressing against her. She tensed, her legs shaking, but the shaft was still slippery from her mouth. Sophie guided her down -- there was pain at first, but it quickly gave way to pleasure as she opened and slid down, Sophie's warmth fully inside of her. She gasped as the head popped inside, and moaned the entire way down to her base. She had never felt anything like this -- the pleasant feeling of fullness, the intense heat, the sensation of her muscles tensing and loosening around her. It was wonderful, especially as Sophie pulled her hair to the side and held her tightly in her arms. Then, with a parting kiss on the neck, she leaned back and pushed Tabitha gently forwards. It was like being struck by lightning -- her whole body lit up as Sophie's member pressed into her prostate. She yelped and moaned, her body quaking from the intense new sensations. She suddenly realized she was flexing her muscles and consciously relaxing, slipping a little further down Sophie's shaft. It was incredible, she thought, her cage bouncing with as her heart thumped in her throat. She couldn't imagine it would feel any better, and then Sophie pulled back. Everything in Tabitha's mind realigned to handle the new feelings, and just as she thought she understood them, Sophie slowly pushed back into her. Her world turned upside down again, and as Sophie began to gently thrust in and out, she lost her ability to focus on anything else. That was until she felt warmth and wetness on her shaft. She gasped and looked down, Sophie's pace beginning to pick up, and saw Georgina's mouth on an uncaged erection -- hers, she realized, her head light. Here she was, dressed in beautiful, frilly clothes, as a gorgeous woman in a similarly stunning outfit filled her with her member, and another, final, beautiful woman sucked on her own. Tabitha thought she might faint from it all. But Georgina worked her masterfully, keeping her right at the edge but never allowing her to climax. Tabitha's shaft was dripping, a wet spot forming on the bed below her, and Sophie had increased her pace so much that Tabitha's member was bouncing wildly, drops spraying around the room. Sophie's moans had progressed into grunts, and she came with explosive force inside Tabitha. The thrusting stopped and she was filled with a new feeling. As Sophie slipped out of her, she felt sad and empty -- almost lonely. "You're not a virgin anymore," Sophie said weakly, leaning back as Tabitha straddled her. Georgina had climbed off the bed to pull something out of the closet. She returned holding leather straps with velvet loops at the end, which she tied around Tabitha's ankles and wrists. "On your back," she said softly, and Tabitha obeyed. She would have done anything to have Georgina's mouth back around her or Sophie's shaft back inside of her. The straps were tied to the bedposts, her legs spread apart. Her arms had more freedom, but she didn't have a chance to test their limits as Georgina squatted above her turgid shaft, dipping her own wet valley onto it. She slipped Tabitha barely inside of her, then pulled back out, then back in deeper, then shallower, teasing the restrained girl. All the while, she rubbed herself, and soon she dropped completely onto Tabitha, who moaned as she was suddenly surrounded by tightness and warmth. Her eyes closed, Georgina rubbed the apex of her vagina furiously, moaning and leaning back into Sophie's waiting arms. Then she came, hard, waves of tightness rolling up and down Tabitha's shaft. She ground down into the restrained girl, getting every inch she could -- and when she finally finshed, she leaned forwards and kissed Tabitha deeply before finally climbing off. Sophie's mouth replaced her, and she bounced on Tabitha for a beats before joining Georgina by the side of the bed. The two straightened each other's outfits and hair, attempting to look somewhat put together after their tryst. Tabitha was left on the bed, struggling against her restraints, her unlocked shaft pointing straight into the air. She was so close to cumming, and her cage was off -- all she needed was a few seconds to stroke herself and she would finally have release! She tried to reach down, but only her fingertips reached it, and only with the strongest of effort. Try as she might, she simply could not stroke herself -- the restraints were just too short. She groaned in frustration after a few failed attempts, much to the delight of the women standing over her. "Well, Tabitha," said Georgina, smiling sweetly. "This is a punishment, after all..." *** 4. Marissa Marissa held onto my hips, my head pressed down into the bed. My skirts flared around me, framing my naked rear in lace and tulle. My panties were around my knees, and I had to work to keep my balance. Marissa demanded that I was constantly dressed in the swishiest dresses for her. "I like my girls to be clean, pretty, and tempting," she had said. "I've expanded your wardrobe considerably, and I expect you to be constantly ready for me. I don't want to see the same outfit twice in a month, and are required to wear all your lingerie ? from a bra to stockings. Do you understand?" I had understood. Just the idea of being dressed in such sweet, pretty clothes so that Marissa could have her way with me was enough to make me stiffen in my cage. Today I wore what I thought of as one of my more modest dresses. Baby blue with pink trim, its neckline ran up to my jaw, finished in a line of fluffy lace with a large pink bow just below my chin. Long sleeves ran down to my elbows, again trimmed in a wide line of pink lace, small peony rosettes tucked in amongst the frills. I wore a large apron that ran from by breastbone down to the hem of my skirt, tied around my waist and nape in two pink satin bows. To make up for its long hemlines, the skirt itself was short, the petticoat overflowing from underneath it. Not even reaching the tops of my thighs, the bottoms of my panties were exposed, the lace trim and ruffled rear peeking out from under the cloud of lace and taffetta. I had decided that if Marissa was going to keep me locked up, I was at least going to have a little pride in it ? the panties had a hole in the front, my cage hanging fully exposed through it. I had tied a pink ribbon around it, a large bow draping over the very tip. "Do you want me?" Marissa asked, her voice pouting. She loved doing this to me ? giving me just a taste of what I wanted and making me beg for the rest. She was only barely inside of me, the head of her erection gently pushing in and almost out of me, teasing me with her full, thick girth and length. She slid in a little deeper then pulled back as I moaned. "Do you want all of it?" "Yes, Marissa!" I cried, silk sheets clenching in my hands as I curled them into fists. I felt a tapping against my cage, my shaft drooling pre-cum into a glass set in my panties. We were working on a little "project" of hers ? she wanted to see if she could regularly make me cum without taking my cage off. "Then you'll never have to be free again!" she had said with a genuinely pleased smile. "You'll just be my little plaything, trapped and frustrated until I decide you get used. And if ? IF! ? I let you have an orgasm... well, it's just not quite the same in that thing, is it?" I had shuddered, sick with how much that idea turned me on. My pleasure really wouldn't be relevant to anyone, then ? caged forever, only cumming if someone bothered to put in the work to get me there. And who would? Only Marissa, and only because she knew how unsatisfying it was to cum like that, locked away, erection furiously straining against its restraints. It felt good, but distant, like I wasn't having the orgasm myself, only hearing an echo of it from far away. And I never really felt satisfied afterwards. In fact, after all of our "practice," I felt like I was just as horny afterwards as I had been before. And if I was being honest, every time it happened I felt so deliciously used that I just got even more turned on. "'Yes, Marissa,' what?" she purred, squeezing my cage before gently tapping on my package. I twitched and moaned ? I was so sensitive that any touch there was electricity through my body and made my stomach turn upside down. "A pretty little girl like you should know how to ask for what you want." "Yes, Marissa," I begged, my arms collapsing under me. "I want you to fill me up! I want to be your pretty little toy!" I felt her twitch inside of me and knew I had said the right thing. "Please, make me yours!" I moaned, wiggling my hips and leaning back into her. She relented, pushing her full length inside of me as she leaned forward. I gasped and groaned as I felt her. She was thick and long and I felt completely, pleasingly full. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't uncomfortable ? it just felt satisfying and good, feeling her hard, hot shaft inside of me ? until her tip hit my prostate. My groans turned into a scream as she rubbed and bumped against it, my legs turning to jelly, my stomach knotting around itself. I clenched around her, hard, and I she moaned too, pulling back and thrusting in as I held tight around her. "You're already mine," she whispered into my ear as she used me. She leaned back up, one hand on my rear and the other grabbing my dripping cage. It twitched in her hand. "This belongs to me!" I shuddered and sighed. She always knew just what to say to turn me on. Soon, Marissa slipped out of me ? much to my chagrin ? and gave me hips a shove to the side. I rolled over onto my back, slipping my panties completely off and bringing my knees up to my ears. I pulled up my skirt and petticoat, holding the burst of lace and satin in my arms, the edges of the petticoat tickling at my chin. Marissa snapped my garter strap, then grabbed my legs and slid back into me. As she thrust in and out, my cage bounced, the vibrations making me even harder within it. Precum drooled out all over my chest and groin, Marissa smiling devilishly at the sight. She let go of one leg and I draped it over her shoulder, wrapping my calf around her back. With her free hand, she dragged a finger through the precum and slipped it into my mouth. "How do you taste?" she asked as I sucked her finger clean. It was salty and a little sweet with a faint muskiness. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but I knew what Marissa wanted to hear. "Delicious, Marissa!" I moaned, grinding my hips against her. Marissa laughed. "Good girl! Well since you like it so much, that's how you'll be cleaning up all our cum from now on." I shivered ? this was maybe the first thing she required me to do that I wasn't sure I wanted to. Being locked up was hard but I loved the torment, coupled with the sheer delight of being used by anyone at any time. But this was something new. I must have looked apprehensive because Marissa spanked me, hard, her face instantly turning to steel. "It's your job, Blue Ribbon," she said, her thrusts becoming harder and faster. Blue Ribbon? She must be mad if she was talking to me like that... "I want it all, please, Marissa!" I moaned, giving her my best puppy-eye look. "I want to clean all the cum you make." That seemed to satisfy her. "And you," she said in a sing-song voice, leaning down to me and kissing me deeply. "I like watching you cum with that cage on!" She grabbed my hands and held them up over my head, my legs resting on her shoulders. I felt so vulnerable and sexy, exposed to the beautiful woman who thrilled in my denial and wanted nothing more than to use me for her own needs. She loved to tease me because it turned her on ? just seeing me dressed in my mountain of ruffles and lace, my little cage peeking out from below my frilly petticoat, was enough to remind her how desperately aroused and unsatisfied I was. Just that mere thought got her going ? more than once, she had seen me in the hallway, grabbed me and bent over a chair, and had her way with me, pulling my hair while I screamed and moaned with delight. It wasn't much longer before she exploded into me, pushing deep inside as her low groans turned into growls of pleasure. She came hard, over and over, filling me, every blast coupled with a deep thrust directly into my prostate. I could feel myself reaching the edge, and Marissa could tell, our cries mingling together as she pinched my nipples. The little twinge of pain was enough to push me over that edge, and I felt myself cum through my cage, spraying my belly as my cage bounced and bucked, my little member straining hard against its containment, trying so hard to free itself. I clenched around Marissa's shaft, and came hard. And yet when I finished, my erection stayed as hard as it had been before, and I felt just as turned on as I had before. Marissa pulled out, wiping up the cum on my belly with her hand. "Lick," she commanded, holding her cupped hand in front of my face. I did my job, though I did not enjoy the taste or texture. I did it for her, and I did it because it was my job to obey. In that light, I realized, I did enjoy it ? to do something simply because Marissa ordered it. I couldn't wait to see what she wanted me to do next. *** 5. Spills and Thrills Here it was, almost three in the afternoon, and despite the tables set up for her and her traveling party, she still hadn't been served. It wasn't like Vivienne to make anyone wait ? well, she thought to herself with a smirk, it was exactly like Lady Comwyn to make people wait ? but here she sat, at three in the afternoon, an empty table and a rumbling stomach. Not treating her guests with the utmost of respect and hospitality? Now that was unlike Vivienne Comwyn. Countess Margaret Autumn Rosamund MacClare IV ? that would be just Maggie to her friends ? frowned and folded her arms. Certainly the peony garden was beautiful, the dappled sunlight over the lake striking and reminding her of her fond memories of being children with Viv, running around the lake before pushing each other in. Absolutely, Vivienne had done an excellent job turning around a struggling House and turning it into something thriving and well-respected within the Community. And certainly, the service had been excellent from the second she walked in the door to, well, right about now. But where were her damn sandwich fingers? Margaret sighed and leaned back in her chair, rolling her head around to her right-hand-woman, a striking girl with red hair and a thick Scottish accent. "Ailsa," she called to her, and saw a mountain of orange curls spring to life as the girl whipped her head around. She was smattered with freckles and had bright blue eyes ? so bright they were almost unsettling to look at. Not that much unsettled Countess Margaret Autumn Rosamund MacClare IV ? Maggie to her friends ? though the lack of sandwiches was beginning to. "Ailsa," she repeated. "Have you seen anyone come around yet? Maybe even a dog in a footman uniform? A letter, indicating why tea is late, perhaps? Vivienne herself, prostrating herself before us in apology?" Margaret snorted at herself. "As if that would ever happen." "I'm afraid not, ma'am", Ailsa said, the syllables rolling off her tongue wrapped in an unintelligble accent. Talking to Ailsa was like looking at a Monet painting ? you had to take it in all at once, from a distance. If you started looking too closely the whole thing began to turn into unintelligble mush. Reasonably certain that Ailsa had said no, Margaret sighed again and pouted, staring out across the lake. Would tea ever be served? *** The responsibility for serving tea fell on the shoulders of a new maid ? me, as it happened ? who had recently joined the household. Why exactly I was put in charge of the first afternoon tea for one of Lady Comwyn's oldest, dearest friends was beyond me, and the pressure had gotten to me the moment I'd heard I was in charge. I had to change my dress for the most unladylike of reasons: I was so nervous that I had simply sweated through it. Afternoon Tea at Comwyn Manor wasn't like going to a friend's place and having a cuppa with a few sandwich fingers and biscuits. No, at Comwyn it was ? like everything Lady Comwyn did ? a production, an event. No less than eight courses were being served for tea, and I had been selected to be in charge of it. Secretly, I suspected it was because Lady Comwyn expected me to struggle at it so she could tease Countess Margaret Autumn Rosamund MacClare IV ? Maggie to her friends ? about her newly acquired, incredibly baroque title. And because Lady Comwyn, underneath that cool, collected exterior, had always loved teasing people. All you had to do was peak under the skirt of most of the maids in her house to see just how far she took THAT particular quirk. But it wans't my job to wonder about the whys, it was my job to worry about the hows, and to make sure everything was delivered correctly and on time. We'd already failed at that last bit, but I hoped that even if we made Lady Comwyn's guests wait, we could at least get it right. I walked over to the tables, piled high with biscuits slathered in frosting or dunked in chocolate, to the tiny princesstorte cupcakes, to the elegant sandwich fingers finished in gold leaf and featuring some elaborate ingredient from Norway or Japan or somewhere across an ocean somewhere. I didn't really care right now. "We're already behind schedule, girls!" I cried, consulting the clock on the wall. I didn't see the time so much as I saw giant red letters screaming "YOU ARE LATE," right below a flashing neon sign that said "YOU ARE LETTING LADY COMWYN DOWN." I may only have a green choker around my neck, but today I was in charge. It wasn't about pleasure, damn it, it was about catering! "You four, take these trays out right now!" I waved my hand at a cluster of maids in short blue dresses. We all had our special uniforms on today ? somehow short and yet equally poofy as our more standard, day-to-day clothes. It was one of the rare times that our panties were an essential part of the fashion equation, that what we wore underneath was just as important as the dress we wore on top of them. For modesty's sake, our dresses were cut high on the neck, our puff sleeves inflated until they reached nearly to our elbows, the openings for our arms ruffled and lacy. The waist fell to just below my nipples, and the skirt ? held aloft by a tidal wave of silky petticoats as always ? stood straight out from my body, itself one giant ruffle that circled around me. Atop it all we wore aprons that served more of a ceremonial role than a practical one ? curved to match the shapes of our body, trimmed out in several inches of lace and tied in the back in a giant X. We were allowed to choose our own panties, with the requirement that nothing be exposed in front. Some girls had taken this to mean they should pick something with no rear, and I saw more than one maid strolling casually around, her naked rear framed in lace but otherwise naked. I had gone slightly more demure: panties so thick with lines of ruffled lace that they were almost as thick as my waist. In front, five giant silk peonies hung, framing the small bulge my cage made in them. From the waist down, I looked like an explosion of curves and ruffles. It was too much ? it was just right. "C'mon, girls, get it together!" I shouted, and to my extreme relief, they organized, grabbing their assigned platters and trays and streaming out into the gardens. I had the last, most important part ? the service for Margaret herself. Not content with offering her friends the same as what their staff got, Lady Comwyn had specifically request an elaborate meal (call it what it was) for Margaret to have, complete with tea brewed "just the way she liked it" ? which as far as I could tell, was by putting tea leaves in hot water. But who was I to judge? (Someone who drank a lot of tea is who.) *** I didn't think it was entirely my fault ? but I suppose I didn't have a whole lot of say in the matter. The fact was that I was not only new to the Manor, but new to the lifestyle. I'd never walked in heels before, much less four inch stilettos ? I felt like I deserved an award just for getting the damn things on my feet! And despite their towering height and my lack of practice, I had managed to leave my room, walk through the house, down to the kitchens, and all the way down a gravel path to the peony gardens by the lake. You try it sometime! The tray I had was heavy. Overloaded with sweets, scones, and sandwiches, not to mention the steaming teapot and all the flatware one could possibly need to eat with ? well, you stick this on the hand of a clumsy girl in high heels on gravel, and it's no wonder something went wrong. I think I deserve a lot of credit for what I did right. You make one mistake and everyone focuses on that, ignoring all the excellent stuff you did right beforehand. It's not like I meant to dump the tea on her. Thank god it wasn't a teapot full of hot water ? the fact is, my arms were already shaking from the sheer effort of it all before I set the tray down, and I didn't spill anything then. It wasn't until the Countess asked me to pour the tea for her that things went awry. And in the grand scheme of things, how much is one little teacup's worth? It was pretty unfair, I thought. I was new, I was unsteady, and all things considered, I did a pretty good job! It was just that one little mistake at the end that was the issue. And tea doesn't stain ? that would wash right out! Anyone would stumble in heels this tall. I mean, most of the girls around the house didn't. But surely they must have when the first started, right? And to load me down with a tray like that so soon... it was almost as if Lady Comwyn wanted me to fail. Almost... *** So that's how I found myself in this position, those damn heels still on my feet even though nothing else was. Except for the cage, of course ? it's not like that was ever going to come off now. You don't dump tea onto a House Head's oldest, dearest friend and expect her to suddenly decide to make you cum right then and there. It was going to be a long time ? I half expected some grinning Red Ribbon to stroll up and pour superglue in the lock and keep me in there forever. Frankly, that sounded kind of hot, but it's not like I never wanted to cum again. Right? My everything was starting to ache, but despite it all I was still surprisingly erect in my little cage. Apparently I had been given the small size, and I was feeling every deliciously limiting inch of it right now. I was also feeling the velvet wrist straps dig into my skin above my head as I slowly rotated, dangling from the hook in the ceiling. If I strained and stretched as tall as I could, I could rest my heels on the floor ? but mostly I was on my very tip-toes, naked and aching and hard. God, this was turning me on. The room was dim enough that I couldn't see to the walls, but I was pretty sure someone was out there at the perimeter, watching me struggle. I was all tied up and vulnerable ? I couldn't even stand, much less resist anyone. The girls who had left me here even had the sense of humor to tie a little blue ribbon around my neck in a bow, a fun little gift for whoever found me. "Is anyone there?" I asked to the darkness, slowly turning from my hook. "Can anyone let me down?" "Now where would be the fun in that?" replied a sweet, accented voice. "You're such a little treat up there, why would anyone want to spoil that?" "Well, my arms are pretty tired, and my legs, and ? well, just about everything," I said, attempting and failing to shrug. My cage caught the light and cast sparkles over the wall. It was very pretty, except it was keeping me from doing the one thing I really, REALLY wanted to do. And didn't want to do ? it was a confusing set of feelings. Fortunately for me, the good Lady Comwyn had forseen this conundrum and made a decision for me. I was very pleased/upset with her that she had the foresight/gall to do give me exactly what I wanted/despised. "You poor, poor thing," the voice said teasingly. I believed she that she actually did not feel bad for me. "You certainly don't look comfortable, not in shoes like those." My heels were light pink patent, and as challenging as they were to do anything except sit while wearing them, they did look good. And if I managed to stand for long enough that someone could see me before I fell over, I did think they made my ass look pretty good. "Funny you mention those," I said, beginning another slow rotation. "They're kind of the reason I'm here." "Oh? Trip over the wrong carpet?" "More like spilled on the wrong person," I replied. "Well, to be fair," the voice said from directly in front of me. "There's really not a right person to spill on, is there?" And from the shadows came the person the voice belonged to. I was suddenly at a loss for words, my face paling as I saw who it was ? the Countess herself strode forwards, her long, black hair thrown over one shoulder, a mocking pout on her face. She looked beautiful, divinely sexy ? and like she was out for blood. She had on a tight leather pencil skirt that wrapped around her swaying hips, hitting a few inches above her stocking-covered knee. She wore black patent T-strap heels, and I noted that the stiletto on hers was somehow even longer in mine, but she walked in them without a care in the world. Her top was a transparent white blouse with long sleeves, two long layers of ruffles running down its front. Just below her chin was a large bow with long, trailing ribbons, a golden fox broach in the middle. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, aggressive bun, and she carried a riding crop in one hand. Oh, shit. Oh, shit, shit, shit! But also: oh my, yes. "Countess MacClare!" I managed weakly, my throat deciding that moment was the right time to close up. "What, no curtsey?" she asked, her eyes glinted. "You don't think I deserve that kind of respect?" "Of course you do, Countess! But, well, I'm a bit limited at the moment." Margaret began walking in a slow circle around me, gently tapping the crop in her hand. "You know, before Vivienne inherited the estate, House Comwyn had almost no respect in the Community?" She paused to examine ? and I hoped to admire ? my naked rear. "The Comwyn name was synonymous with sloppy service and poor discipline. Vivienne was so deeply embarassed by this that when she took the reigns, her changes were swift, and?" she placed a soft hand on my rear, leaning into my ear from behind. I shiverd delightedly. "?severe." I moaned. "Now, of course, the House is known for its excellent staff and incredible attention to detail. Vivienne spent years restoring the honor of her family name, and I don't think she has a lot of tolerance for people who might remind the other Houses of what it used to be like." I gasped and poorly attempted to cover my mouth. "Don't worry, sweet little thing, I haven't told her yet. And she doesn't have to know if you make up for your little mistake in the garden." "Of course, Countess, thank you for your mercy!" I cried. "I'll do anything!" "Oh, I know," she said from behind me. I heard a whistling sound, then my rear exploded in sharp, bright pain. I yelped, attempting to move away and protect myself, but I merely succeeded in straining my calves. The second crack hurt more than the first ? but for some reason, my cage remained as tight as ever. Even tighter than before, I thought. Curious. "Lady Comwyn assured me that her girls didn't make mistakes!" Margaret said, hititng me again. It hurt, a lot. "And if they did, they were excellent at making things right. Now, how will you make things right?" Another smack of the crop. The Countess did not hold back ? despite all the playful turns of phrase, she seemed genuinely angry with me. My mind scrambled for an answer and failed to find one. "I'll do anything you want. Anything!" Margaret stepped in front of me, rolling her eyes. "Of course you will, maid," she spat. "That's your fucking job! How will you make things right?" I wasn't entirely sure. "You can do anything you want to me," I said. "Hurt me, tease me, do anything!" The Countess cocked an eyebrow. "Anything?" I was suddenly very aware of my nakedness. I couldn't move, couldn't resist anyone ? all I could do was let them have their way with me. My cage surged at the thought. I was surprised to realize that as much as I didn't want the Countess to do anything she wanted to me, I also wanted her to do so. Very much. So you can imagine my surprise when I simply replied, "Yes, please, Countess." "As you command, Maid," she replied, and began her assault. She made me count the remaining eleven whips, moving from my rear to my thighs. The pain blurred together, like my vision did from the tears in my eyes. I was beginning to think I had made a mistake. Fucking high heels and pea gravel. Whoever invented the latter was an asshole, and whoever invented the former was a horny asshole. I yelped as I felt a hand stroke my burning skin, the tenderness of the motion contrasting so sharply with the pain that it made my cage twitch. The fingers traced the long lines of welts, soothing them with sweet, cooling strokes. Then I felt warm, full lips kiss them and I gasped, twitching even more. I was desperate for it to be off. So I was quite surprised when I felt it being removed, a muted clang as it fell to the thickly carpeted floor. I instantly sprang to full mast, ready to set sail on whatever ocean of torment the Countess wanted. My shaft was so stiff that it was almost painful, the sensations from behind mixing with the freshly unlocked feelings. I had forgotten what it was like to feel the sheer weight and bounce of it in front of me, and swung my hips experimentally, enjoying the sensation that I had been denied for so long. Shit, I almost came right there on the spot. I gasped, the tips of my feels clattering on the floor. I hurt ? like, a lot ? but it felt really, really good to be out of there. But the pleasure was short-lived, and soon I felt the fire on my rear come roaring back into focus. A girl can only think about sex for a little bit before they remember their ass is covered in six-inch-long welts, after all. I sucked air in between my teeth, closing my eyes tightly against the pain. "Does it hurt, honey?" the Countess asked, pouting full, bright red lips. I wanted those lips to do things to me. "More than some," I replied, grimacing as I felt a wave of pain roll over me. "Well, if you don't want it to happen again, you better not cum," the Countess said, smiling wickedly. Cum? Why would I cum? And how? I was so shocked to feel a warm mouth slip over the tip of my shaft that I screamed, my eyes flying open. I made eye contact with a pair of bright blue eyes, the owner's glossy pink lips pumping up and down on me. Here was a girl who knew her way around, well, a girl, and was deadset on doing her job as well as she could. I tensed every muscle in my body and thought about anything besides what she was doing to me, but my mind kept returning to her cleavage in its shimmering, gossamer babydoll ? and the streaks of gloss she left on me. So it was a nice distraction when I felt pressure at my rear, perfectly manicured hands sliding around my naked belly and finding their way up to my nipples. A playful bite at my neck led to a whisper in my ear: "Don't you just want someone beautiful to be inside of you?" Her voice was like a moan, and it sent shivers up my spine. Before I even had a chance to consider what she had asked me, she entered me. I gasped, thrusting into the other girl's mouth, the overwhelming sensations flipping the "off" switch in my brain. Unfortunately for me and my tender cheeks, my brain's off setting apparently didn't prevent me from feeling anything. As the girl behind me thrust deep inside of me, her stiff little shaft grazing my prostate as the girl in front of me did her utmost to pleasure me, it took every ounce of concentration I had to avoid climaxing. I was so tense I was shaking, my muscles flexed to the point of pain. It didn't take long for the girl behind me to fill me as she came, gentle strokes at my nipples turning into deep, clawing scratches. She slipped out of me, tapping the other girl on the shoulder. Mercifully, I felt her pull off my shaft, but not without a strong, parting suck. Three more teams of girls came and had their way with me as Margaret watched from the shadowy edges of the room, the light catching her eyes as she stared. I was teased and tortured, used and abused. One girl spanked me, hard, while her partner used me from behind. Another slid a tight, wet slit onto me and rode me hard, her partner ? locked in a cage, I noticed ? licking me and her at the same time. She came powerfully, muscles tensing around me and threatening to make me the sore winner of the Countess' minstrations. After what felt like hours ? and could have been, for all my brain was able to tell ? it ended. My shaft was drooling, my cheeks on fire, my rear aching. I was exhausted, dangling from the restraints above me in slow circles, my body glistening with sweat. And yet I had won ? hadn't I?