Donna Takes Charge free porn video

Donna Takes Charge

By The Qmoq, inspired and dedicated to TH.

Now

"She's a woman?" asked Amy.

"Yeah," I replied.

"You invited a woman here?" Portia sniffed, raising an eyebrow.

"I guess I did."

"But we're not lesbians."

Amy was right. We weren't lesbians, though we occasionally gave a good impressionof them.

Ah, I'm getting ahead of myself, I should start a bit further back.

A Bit Further Back

My name's Charlotte Adams, and I'm a singer-songwriter, mainly acoustic stuff.Observant stuff, satire, vitriolic barbs in sweet major chords, that sort ofthing. Yes, the Charlotte Adams, the 28 year-old girlwho's been at it ten years and has got herself a three bedroomed detached houseas reward for her toils. A house she has to share with two others because she'sskint all the damn time.

Ah, that's a bit unfair, to be honest. It was true at first, but now, havinglived with Amy and Portia for a few years, there's no way I'd kick them outif I could afford to.

Portia is a 'simple office clerk', and it was her toys that really startedus off down our road. For some reason – and you'd have to ask her aboutthis – she has three identical vibrators, possibly in case two of themsuddenly break. She must have been a fantastic girl scout.

It was Portia, dear sweet blonde Portia, who collared us one drunken nightand confessed about a naughty dream she's had, based on a game she'd seen inan amusement arcade. I'd never seen it, but it involves holding onto some sortof joystick as it gradually becomes more painful – a strange way to wastea pound coin, but there you go. She wanted to do the opposite, and told ushow in graphic detail.

Well, you agree to anything when you're drunk, don't you? That was our protestwhen she gathered Amy and me together the next afternoon, with the three vibrators.

"The idea, right," she began, "is to see who can hold off the longest."

"Hold off what?" asked Amy, before adding. "Oh."

I won't bore you with all our giddy protestations, we didn't take much convincing,Amy and me. However, I will admit that it wasn't a complete success. I won,fair and square, but the others accused me of cheating, the silly bitches.

"There's no way that you could have held off longer than me," scoffed Portiaover a celebratory glass of brandy. "I fuck myself with these every damn night,I'm accustomed to them, I am."

"She must have hit the wrong spot," added Amy.

"Et tu, Amy?" I sneered. "I assure you, it was definitely the right spot." Mymemory prompted me to a little shudder, and I jiggled happily for a few seconds.

"We've got to change the rules for next time," Portia declared. "We've gotto make sure that you're not using the damn vibrator wrong."

"And how do we do that? Watch even more closely than you were doing before?" Iadmit that I felt uncomfortable watching Portia watching me get myself off,frowning at me as I circled myself with the vibe, dipping a pinky finger inand out of myself to test if I was dampening.

See, that's one of my problems. I play guitar and have a good ear, so ifI play a dud note or sing a flat line, I'll know instantly. It's a gift. Butwhen I was frigging myself in Portia's game, I wasn't totally sure that I wasphysically turning myself on, or just mentally hitting the right buttons. Ialways want to be physical – Amy once said that when I do an anguishedyell in my songs, she gets goosebumps and a chill down her spine. That's aphysical reaction, that's much better than Portia's declaration that it sounds'nice'.

Being an honest and pure person, I had to admit all this to Amy and Portia.Naturally they took the wrong opinion.

"See, she admits that she cheated!" Portia beamed at Amy. "Right, new rule.You can't be trusted to do it yourself, so we've got to do it for you."

"Do it for me? You're going to use the vibrators on me? We're not lesbians."

"I know, but a vibrator is a vibrator, isn't it? I reckon I could use itbetter than you could, any day. And Amy could do it too, couldn't you A?"

"Yeah. Course, you'd both have to do me then. And me and Charlotte wouldhave to do you, Portia."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"Are you sure we're not lesbians?" I asked.

"Not at all. We're just having a game," Portia said, a gleam starting toappear in her eye. "Tell you what, let's make it interesting. The person wholoses has to do all the chores for a week."

"What chores?"

"I'll have a double brandy please. The household chores, taking out therubbish, doing all the washing up and the ironing and shit. By the way, I likemy sheets cleaned daily."

"I'm not surprised if you're fucking yourself every night," mumbled Amy.

I laughed. And remember the fact that I laughed, Ok? Because it's important,yeah?

"Yeah," I finally said after I'd stifled the giggles, "I'll gladly takethat bet."

So, absurd as it sounded, our 'wannabe frigid bitch' contest was on. Thewinner would be the dourest damn whore in the house. The loser would be thepoor gal who was the horniest of the three of us.

Who'd have thought it was me? See, I reckon they cheated. They used theirfingers, I've always been a sucker for fingers. I was only wearing a dressinggown, which Amy ripped apart and off in seconds. I felt ashamed before them,because I'm a little larger than they are. I'm a (UK) size 14, they're both12s – I think Amy's a 10, in fact. I'm healthy enough, sure, and the14 is for my bust and bum, so that's not too bad either, but when I'm nakedbefore them, it makes me blush.

"Aw look, she's gone red," I remember Amy saying.

"Where?" asked Portia, already trying to prise my knees apart.

You know what embarrassed me more? It was what they were wearing. If they'dbeen dressed in skimpy undies, I'd have been more relaxed. If they'd have comein decked out in PVC or something, I'd just have laughed.

It was Amy I noticed first – she was dressed in her work uniform.Amy works hard for a – hang on, I'll remember if you give me a minute – fora firm of corporate lawyers in the city, as one of those legal secretary things.I reckon that means that she's quite smart and well paid, and she sometimeswears those sleek business suits, but occasionally wears a tidy skirt and astarchy blouse.

And that was what she was wearing here.

Coincidentally, Portia, the self-titled dumb office clerk, was wearing aprim, almost austere outfit herself.

The damn bitches.

They'd heard me before, they must have. I always had this fantasy of fuckinga guy when I was dressed in a secretary's outfit, y'know? I'd be wearing glasses,and he'd be all fingers and thumbs. Particularly thumbs. They had rememberedthis and dressed accordingly.

Be fair, though, they both stuck to the rules. At first, Amy kept an eyeon my face while Portia worked at my clit with the vibrator. It was when Amystarted to finger me, the combination that I wasn't expecting, that it reallyhit me. I think I suddenly realised – oh my, I'm being molested by twowomen, and I'm loving it. I started to give them encouragement,I thrust my pelvis up and out, moving myself to a position where the vibe wouldcause more damage. But Portia kept it down, and smacked the inside of my thighwhen I moved.

"Stay," she snapped.

"B-but," I stuttered.

Slap!

"I said stay where you are. Trust me."

Slap!

"What was that for?" I asked.

"Sorry, I thought you'd moved."

Slap! Slap! This time from Amy. "Why should I missout of the fun?" she beamed at me.

Slap! "Yeah, why should Amy miss out of the fun, y'bitch?"

I looked down at my reddening thighs, blotchy pink splashes on my pale skin,felt the vibe, looked more closely at myself and saw some goosebumps. It wasworking. It was physical. Amy teased a finger across my sweaty, panting face,over the cheeks and down the nose, and I caught a distinct scent of myselfover her perfume. My eyes followed her fingertips as they returned to my pussy,past Portia's concentrated expression, and slipped three full fingers effortlesslyinside me. Then out, then in, clear viscous liquid glooping over them.

I snorted loudly. What was that? I thought.

And I realised.

Portia was right. I had been using the vibe wrongly all along. I was wrongwhen I thrust myself up at her, and she knew it all along.

"Fuck yes, stop, no, no, yiieeee eeEEE !"

Slap! Slap!

At this point, I couldn't have stopped myself from moving, it was beyondthe point where Portia could stop me. I twisted over with Amy's hand stillinside me, right up to the knuckle, her long fingers trying and failing tofist.

At this point, things got a little intense. Portia must have dropped thevibe, because she started slapping my bottom with one hand, while grabbingmy hair with the other.

"Don't – slap – you – slap – fucking – slap – move!" sheyelled.

"It's all right," said Amy, quietly, "She's done."

With those two words, they removed their hands from me. Still completelyfully clothed, they got to their feet, leaving me whimpering and crying andshaking. They didn't say a word, they just shuffled quietly upstairs. I heardtwo different bedroom doors shut – they hadn't gone to the same room,they'd finished me off like I was a household chore.

"Please, please ," I called to them, not knowing whatI wanted.

When it was Amy's turn, I screwed it up. It took ages, and Portia blamedme completely for it. I'd asked to hold the vibe, but held it in the wrongplace for so long, that Amy herself told me where to put it.

Portia tried her spanking trick again, but it seemed to have no effect onAmy. She must have had a much higher pain threshold than me, poor bitch. Ilike my nerve endings, I loved the new-found sensitivity that Portia had awokenin me.

Portia was, as she predicted, sensitive yet semi-immune to our charms. Shewas responsive and sympathetic, and it certainly didn't take as long as Amy,but it was clear, as Amy and Portia had both predicted, that it was me whowas the slutty one.

On reflection, a month's washing-up was a fair exchange for what happened.

We couldn't stop there, but as we kept reminding ourselves, we weren't lesbians,and didn't particularly enjoy licking pussy unless we had to. The sensualityand touch was what we wanted, that was what gave us the power-orgasms we couldn'tget alone.

We also had fun too. Amy wandered onto a catfighting website one day, sowe were down in my studio that night, wrestling away.

Have I told you about my studio? Although Amy and Portia are both willingsamplers of my music, there's usually a complicated chord routine that willkeep me strumming for hours, sometimes days on end. Even though they neverreally complained, I felt that it was unfair to have the other two listen tothis.

After my last album went tin, I spent a few grand doing up the basement intoa soundproofed, padded room with a four-track in there for demos. It's allwhite, to remind me of the Beatles, but Portia calls it The Asylum, claimingit looks like something out of Cuckoo's Nest. Sarcy cow.

When I suggested we go down there, the other two yelped with joy.

"What a fucking idea!" Amy laughed. "We'll do it, we should do it."

I dug out a bikini, a sturdy one that fully supported my boobs and wouldn'tsnap easily. It was an old one, one that I wouldn't worry about too much ifit got wrecked.

And you know what those bitches came as? Fucking secretaries again, goddamnit!Needless to say, this uniform of theirs made them gang up on me, and they hadme stripped and armlocked within minutes. They'd release me, then catch meagain, giving me a good workout. I was sweaty and slippery and foul-mouthedand phenomenally excited. I'm sure they plan these things, they catch me everytime. I was giving them lifts to and from work for a fortnight after that one.

After that, we took turns being the struggler, and discovered that eachof us enjoyed it most when we were dominated, struggling, sweating, being gropedand hugged in all sorts of ways. I had a move that I made on Amy once, whenshe was being held down by Portia. I ran my hand up her thigh, up the insideof her skirt, poked some rough fingers around up there, not even trying tobe accurate or arousing, before grabbing hold of her panties and ripping themoff.

Portia took them from me, and stuffed them deep into Amy's mouth. Her eyeslit up, she was thrilled!

More drunken discussions followed this development, and we each declaredour love of being dominated, at least in theory. Here's where things sloweddown for a while - there was no way we'd bring a man into our games – fora start our tastes in men were so different. Personally I was scared of men,or rather what a man could do if I invited him round. I had visions of himtying us up, turning us over, and then fucking us up the arse before makingoff with the stereo.

Our wrestling continued during all of this, Portia called it our Fight Club,because the first rule was that we didn't talk about it to anyone. We had occasionalorgasm contests, but I always lost, Portia's spanking was so arousing to me.

"I have no idea what I'm doing when I spank you," she confessed. "I'm guessingat how hard to hit you, it's just luck that it's at the right level."

"But you're so good at it!"

"I don't even like doing it personally, y'know? Being spanked is much morefun I think."

"You know what I found on the internet?" began Amy rhetorically. "There'sads all over there for professional people to come in and dominate. I know,I know your worries, Charlotte, but we can't do it ourselves, can we?"

"Why go to the internet?" asked Portia. "Charlotte's in the music business,she's bound to know someone who knows someone who's into that shit. Any ofthose blokes you see on the smutty channels at night will do."

"Can I book him? I'm the most nervous about this, after all," I said.

"Sure. After all, it's your stereo he'd pinch."

Now Again

"I know we're not lesbians, but this woman is kosher – we can trusther. We just want to be dominated, don't we? Surely it doesn't matter whatsex she is."

"I suppose," tutted Amy. Portia merely pouted, silently demanding furtherconvincing.

"And," I continued, "remember the time that Portia taught me how to usea vibrator? Could a man have done that?"

That did it. Portia's visible thought process finished, and she smiled. "Allright. I wouldn't have wanted to have been fucked anyway, so I guess you'reright."

"Right," I said. "Now then, why the fuck are you wearing secretaries' outfitsagain?"

In our games, they had consistently worn these outfits, though they'd excelledthemselves this time. Amy wore a tight, fitted blouse that stretched acrossthe chest, dark blue that matched her deep brown hair. Her black skirt wasshort, somewhere delicately between micro and mini, but it was the stockingsthat really caught the eye. They were those elasticated ones that hold themselvesup, I can never wear them with my thighs. I could tell what type they were,because their tops were below the hemline of her skirt, leaving a good threeinches of bare, tanned, taut flesh. It was an open invite, it was all I coulddo to stop myself from going over to her and stroking her thighs myself.

Portia wore a slightly looser blouse, but it was shorter, tied up like aDaisy Duke shirt, leaving her sumptuous midriff exposed. The blouse was white,as it should be with her blonde hair. She wore a low-topped skirt, held upby a studded black belt, and like the belt, made of firm leather. She woreno stockings or socks, just her long bare legs. She looks fantastic in boots,but the short skirt demanded heeled shoes and heeled shoes alone.

I was wearing a tight sleeveless jumper, brown. My boobs are my best featureby far, and I know that covering them up in this way makes them more noticeable,ironically. Despite my size, my arms are firm, so I had no problem baring them.I too wore a skirt, though a rather dull knee-length brown skirt. I was wearingcalf-length boots, with my own little flash of skin showing at the knee. Weall do what we can.

"I'm starving," observed Portia.

I had had several telephone conversations with our new 'mistress', even thoughshe was only being hired for the night. She was had a quiet, almost delicateyoung voice, and was interested about the three of us. Most of all, however,she was curious about the house, coyly asking if there were any rooms whereshe could hang things from the wall. There weren't, unfortunately, but in describingthe basement she declared that the studio's soundproofing was 'useful'.

She had three requests for us. I passed two of them onto the others. Firstly,she wanted us to be clean, inside and out. All three of us had been on thebottled water for a few days, and we all felt healthy and strong.

"Me too. Hope she gets here soon."

The second request was that we should dine with her. None of us had lunchthat day.

The third request – the one I didn't pass on – was that one,and only one of us should fast for forty-eight hoursbefore that Friday night. I suspected that if I'd told Portia, she'd have calledit off there and then. I was more philosophical. This night was meant to bea new experience, so why not do it? If nothing else, it'd be a good start tomy diet.

"I'd kill for a burger," I said, trying hard not to drool.

"Sh!" barked Amy.

I was about to indignantly respond, when I realised what she was listeningfor: a car was pulling into the drive.

"She's here," said Portia flatly, with a trace of apprehension seeping through.

"Wait for the bell. We should wait for the bell, shouldn't we?"

"I dunno," I said to Amy.

We were all so nervous, I spotted Portia's toes tapping as she stood by thedoor to the hallway.

The bell rang. Portia was away into the hall before anyone could stop her,before anyone could even stand up. Amy and I stepped into the hallway as sheopened the front door. We could not see through her as she welcomed the stranger.

"Oh, she said. Hello. I'm Portia," we heard her say.

The newcomer did not say a word, but stepped quietly into the hallway. Portiaclosed the door behind her, and took her coat, which was draped over her shoulders.

"Oh my god," Amy cried. The coat revealed a small, slim woman, slightly biggerthan the petite Amy, in an elegant dark green cocktail dress. I saw what madeAmy jump, and gasped. The girl's arms were strapped together behind her back,her elbows were cinched together, as were the wrists.

"Is this her? It can't be her, can it?" I asked.

"If it is, how did she drive here? She's only just pulled up in the car,remember," Portia replied.

Amy was still looking at the girl's back, touching the straps like it washot metal, dabbing her fingertips. She was the only one who would have spottedthat the girl's hands were free.

"She's holding something – an envelope."

The girl has still not said anything, just smiling at some of our comments.At this latest one, she nodded vigorously.

"She wants us to read it," I mused.

"No shit, Sherlock," scoffed Portia. "Amy, will you do the honours, please?"

"Oh, ok. Ahem."

My name is Elouise. I am here because of Donna, I am not a prisoner.

I am a test.

Donna only consorts with those who are suitably intelligent, innovativeand open-minded, so she has sent me here with a puzzle. If you are wonderingwhy I have not said anything, it is because I am holding a raw egg in mymouth. Donna has told me not to give you the egg, she has told me thatshe will be most displeased if this happens. She would be equally displeasedif I break the egg within my mouth. She will not enter this house untilshe sees the egg.

You have twenty minutes.

"Fuck me," said Portia. Amy had already handed her the note, realising thatwe all would want to know exactly what was said.

"What should we do?" I asked.

Portia decided on the first course of action. "Elouise? Please give us theegg. Please."

Elouise blinked.

Amy had a more realistic plan. She had scuttled upstairs just after she hadread the note, and returned with a leather strap, her last birthday presentfrom me.

"Right, you bitch," she sniffed. "Give us the damn egg or we'll thrash yourarse."

It convinced me, it really did. The sight of Amy, little sweet Amy, brandishingher strap like an expert, I was turned on myself, and I ain't no lesbian.

Another blink from Elouise.

"Very well," hissed Amy. She lifted the hem of the back Elouise's dress andtucked behind her wrist straps. Elouise wore no underwear, a fact that passedwithout comment. Amy tilted the girl forward a smidgen, and drew back her rightarm.

"No!" shouted Portia, grabbing Amy's wrist. "If you hit her, she'll bitedown, you understand? She'll break the egg. We can't hit her."

Elouise nodded, and smiled.

"All right, what can we do?" Amy asked.

"Get another egg," I suggested. "She can do whatever the fuck she wants withthat one in her mouth then."

"No," Portia frowned. "That egg in her mouth is probably marked somehow.What if it's brown and we show Donna a white one? I think we should attackher from the other side."

With that, she skipped upstairs enigmatically. She returned a second laterwith one of her vibrators. "Spread 'em."

Elouise did so, and within a moment or two, Portia had her bucking with pleasure.A few moans, the first sound we'd heard from her, made all three of us smile.

Suddenly, I realised the flaw.

"Stop!" I told Portia. "Who knows what she'll do when she orgasms? If I washer, I'd be concentrating so damn hard keeping my mouth shut, I'd probablybite down."

The buzzing stopped. The moans stopped a moment later. Portia dropped thevibrator to the floor, and held her head in her hands.

"We can't win. We can't get it by pain or pleasure. We'll have to give up."

"Give me a second. I'm thinking," I said.

"Another first."

"Sh."

I let my mind wander, I knew I was close to the answer. I went to Elouiseand stood before her. "Elouise," I said calmly. "I understand that you arekeeping the egg because you've been told to, right? [She nodded.] You believeDonna when she says she'll be disappointed, yes? [Nod.] But this is just agame, isn't it? [No reaction.] I don't know where Donna lives, but I imagineit's been a long drive up here tonight, hasn't it? What was it, one hour, twohours? Three? [Shake.] Two? [Nod.] Two hours of her time to get here. Two moreto get back, right? [Nod.] Won't she be awfully disappointed if it's a wastedjourney? [Nod.] Now, I need you to think carefully. Will she be more disappointedwith the wasted journey on the one hand, or the egg thing on the other?"

I turned from her at this point, letting her think about her options.

And then, eleven minutes after she had entered the house, I heard her grunt.I turned back, and saw the crown of the egg protruding from her mouth. I placedmy hands under her chin, and the egg dropped safely into it. It was markedwith one word. 'Congratulations'.

Amy kissed me, Portia hugged me, Elouise merely bowed her head.

I strode to the door, and opened it to head to Donna's car.

As soon as I opened the door, Donna walked in.

Donna

She was about five-six or so, dressed all in black. She was a definite mistress,there was no ambiguity here. She wore no coat, had no handbag or suitcase.She came dressed to impress.

"Wow," I sighed.

Donna was a redhead.

Long, straight red hair showered from her head, down to her shoulderblades.The shoulders themselves, like her neck, were bare, and her skin was as paleas Portia's. It was hard to determine whether her skin had ever seen the sunat all. She was clearly a night person.

Her upper body was dressed in a jet-black PVC corset, laced tightly at thefront. She was clearly a slim, flexible girl, but the moulded corset was tightlysecured yet still barely decent. A steep V of bare flesh went from her chestto her waist, topped beautifully as her breasts half-mooned out over the topof the shiny corset.

Around her waist, actually nearer to her hips as it was worn so low, waswrapped an ominous-looking utility belt. It was black, of course, but the liningof the pocket appeared to be a similar shade of red to her hair. Like Portia,she wore a PVC skirt, but Donna's was a little longer, a little more discreet,a little less slutty.

The boots were sensational. Like the corset, they seemed to have a thousandlaceholes, and went right to the knee. She was clearly a fan of Amy's ideato have a bold splash of leg-skin showing, and it seemed even more attractiveon her than it did on Amy. It was the contrast, I believe, it was the factthat her clothes were so dark and her skin was so white, it was like she wasdrawn in two-tone, black and white. Only when you looked back at her hair,her face, did you see any colour.

Her face was the last thing I looked at, and I was again stunned.

She could not have been more than twenty-one. I'd put her down at nineteenpersonally, though she may have been a year or even two younger. She was certainlythe youngest person present. Her nose was cute, small, a little rounded atthe end but not misshaped or remoulded.

The eyes, the beautiful eyes, so big and full of life. Green, sweet green,with strong, false eyelashes, one of the only two elements of make-up thatshe wore.

The other was on her lips.

The mouth, her mouth, it was the most attractive part of her whole body.Her slimline waist? No. Her curvaceous bosom? No. Her waterfall hair? No. Itwas the lips. I spotted it change shape three times, and it took my breathaway each time. When she pouted, it was the width of her nose. In normal positionit was oval, symmetrical, both vertical and horizontal.

Without lipstick, if it was a pale pink, it would have been a showstopper.But she was wearing a shade of lipstick I'd never seen before. In fact, shewas wearing a shade of red that I'd never seen before.It was absurd, it looked red and black at the same time, it was hypnotic.

And then she smiled, the third expression I'd seen.

And the smile filled the lower half of her face, clear white teeth burstingthrough.

I took a step back, it was like she'd slapped my face.

All of the above went through my head in the time it took her to take threesteps. She strode past me, onto the hall, where I heard gasps from Portia andAmy.

"Which one of you is Charlotte?" she asked. Portia pointed to me. "Well done," Donnasaid. Her voice had the same tone as the voice on the phone. Quiet, curious,confident.

I smiled at her.

"She knows, Charlotte knows what I demand. Obedience? No, not really. Blinddevotion? Nope. I want to be pleased. That's all I want."

She lead us through to our own living room, which I didn't realise till later.She seem so comfortable being in control, right from the start. An authority,a natural presence that overpowered us.

She gave each of us a piece of paper, and I notice her gloves for the firsttime. Leather, studded, only wrist length, and with the fingers free. She couldcause some serious damage with that sort of glove.

"Here's our contract for tonight. Read it, sign it if you want. For the moment,I'm not in control, I'm your guest. You can talk freely, ask me anything youwant."

I looked to Amy, the legal gal. It wasn't in legalese, but if there was atrick in there, she'd be able to spot it.

"What's this?" she duly asked. "The safe word will be agreed beforehand,but it will cost you a thousand pounds?"

"Yeah," sniffed Donna, scratching her head. "I do want it to be semi-consensualat least, so we have to have a safe word, or safe signal if you happen to beincapable of speech. But I don't want you to use it every damn time, I reallywant it to be a last resort."

I noticed that she didn't say 'gagged', which made me curious. She continued.

"I used to have it where the money would go to me, but then I got accusedof deliberately going over the top to get the extra cash. You'll notice thatall the money goes to the charity of your choice. But remember, it's a legaldocument, so if you do give me the signal, you have an obligation to give themthe money."

"Why do we need a contract? Can't we trust you?"

"No, you can't, Portia. I'm a stranger, you can't trust me. I don't knowif you're oversensitive to the toils I'll give you, y'know? I can't have yousuing me, it'd ruin me. Hence the contract. Isn't one of you a legal secretary?Charlotte? No, Amy. What do you make of it?"

"Seems okey dokey to me. Eight hours, yes?" asked Amy.

"Yeah."

"Can we sign it then?" Portia asked.

"You can sign it now," giggled Amy, handing her own contract back to Donna.

Portia and I looked at each other, shrugged, and signed. We handed them toDonna, who tore out a carbon copy and handed them to us.

A strange thing then happened. Donna handed the contracts to Elouise, wholooked at them herself, smiled, and handed them back.

"I love it when this happens. Look at your copies, ladies. Have you seenthe box at the bottom? The one you all ticked?"

I looked. It read:

I agree that Donna will be in complete control of me for a periodlasting not less than 4 5 6 7 hours.

"You didn't delete as applicable. None of you did."

"What about it? Doesn't matter if it's 4, 5, 6 or 7 to us," sniffed Amy. "We'llbe happy with any of those."

"The thing is," mumbled Elouise after a nod from Donna, "you didn't deleteanything. None of you did. As it stands, you're in Donna's service for thenext four thousand, five hundred and sixty seven hours."

"How long is that?" I gasped in instant reaction.

"Just over a hundred and ninety days," replied Elouise. "Guess how I know."

"Oh," sighed Donna, getting to her feet and standing in front of the fireplace, "Iwon't make you my slaves for the next six months, that would get boring aftera while. But I may well call on you if I need an assistant to carry an egginto an unfamiliar house, y'know?"

"But," began Amy.

"But nothing, McBeal. The thousand pound penalty applies each day, and Iam cruel. If you try to weasel out early today, I will call you tomorrow, andwe shall begin again. Your chosen charities will do well if you try to trickme."

Despite vowing to destroy our lives, she still hadn't raised her voice atall.

"Any last questions before we begin?"

"Can I ask Elouise how many times she's used the safe word?" Portia asked,no trace of confidence in her voice. I'd never heard her sound so fragile andscared.

"Elouise has never used the safe word. She's a real trooper."

It was a terrible question, but it set my mind at ease. Elouise had remainedcalm throughout, she was almost serene. I had wondered if she'd had all thelife thrashed out of her, so when I heard she had never been overly stretched,I began to relax.

Donna spoke next.

"Elouise, will you get me the chocolate sauce, please?"

The slave turned her back to Donna, who removed the straps quickly and efficiently.Elouise snuck off through to the hall, and presumably out to the car. Noneof the three of us spoke. We were all looking at Donna, yet careful not tocatch her eye.

"While we're waiting for that slut," said Donna in a whisper, "Which of thethree of you has gone on the fast?"

"That's me, mistress," I said, looking at the puzzled expressions of Portiaand Amy.

"Don't call me mistress, my name is Donna. Call me Donna. Tell me how I look,Charlotte."

I paused for a very brief second. "You look absolutely stunning, Donna. Iwish I had your body, your lips, I wish I had your outfit. I'm not a lesbian,but I think you're the most goddamn gorg-"

"That's enough. Portia, Amy, did you see what she did there? She calledme Donna. That's what I want. I'll be most displeased if you call me mistress."

Elouise returned at this atypical moment, holding a large jar of chocolatespread in her hand. Waiting only for a nod from Donna, she coated Donna's leftboot with the spread. The right boot remained untouched.

"Right," said Donna. "Portia, Amy, lick my left boot. Elouise, Charlotte,do the right. And Portia, Amy? I want my left boot to be as clean as the rightwhen you've finished. And Charlotte? I want you to keep half an eye on themto see how they're doing. Begin."

We had discussed this sort of stuff, and half expected it. The sauce wasa surprise, but the bootlicking and the prostrating wasn't, not to me, anyway.

I knelt down, bending forwards, steadying myself with my hands so I couldget a decent tongue on the boot, on top of the instep. I looked up, and noticedAmy starting on Donna's high heel. The only bit of Portia I could see was themidriff – she'd presumably started on the top of the boots.

"Stop. Please stop," Donna sighed after five seconds. "I should have beenmore specific – it's Elouise's fault for not reminding me. You can'tuse your hands, not even to steady yourself. Put them behind your back andcontinue. Elouise? Go to the car and get the cuffs, please."

It was all so polite, that was what freaked me out!

Elouise got to her feet and scuttled off, so I had the whole boot to myself.I should have had an advantage, but it was very tricky trying to bend forwardslike that – I kept losing my balance and squashing my nose against Donna'sankle. I saw Amy lie flat on her front, but she had big trouble getting ontoher knees without using her hands.

It was slow, demeaning work. Elouise returned soon enough with the cuffs,and duly fastened our wrists behind her back. After a 'your wrists too, Elouise'from Donna, she cuffed herself and rejoined me.

I'd been told to, so I kept looking up at Amy and Portia. Portia was sensational.She concentrated on the long ankle-to-knee areas, where she could lick it likeit was a giant ice lolly. When she was at the ankle, she'd be leaning forwardsso much that her bosom would almost leak out of the blouse, then she'd moveupwards and I'd see every muscle in her abdomen try to keep control.

Amy was more subtle. She worked so hard at the heel, which was very trickyas Elouise had coated the sole of the boot - or at least, the part of the solethat didn't touch the carpet – and Amy was guessing that this was thearea that Donna would look to first. She seemed to have her back to me a lot,possibly trying to block my view of Portia, but it did give me a chance tosee her skirt ride up each time she leaned forwards, revealing generous expansesof thigh and underwear. Amy wore a skimpy pair of white panties, possibly tryingto act the innocent, maybe it was what she thought suited the white blouse.

After a few minutes, I noticed Portia shuffle nervously in her licking.I wondered what the problem was.

Slap! Slap!

"Ow! Ow!" cried Portia. I didn't dare look up, but clearly Donna had tuggedPortia's short skirt up enough to get a good shot at her bottom.

Slap! Slap!

The slaps were much, much louder than I'd ever heard before, clearly causingPortia some severe discomfort.

They didn't stop.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Slap! Slap!

Slap! Whoomp!

I wasn't aware what would cause a whoomp, but I realised that it was froma nervous girl putting a pair of handcuffed hands in the way of an attemptedslap.

"Never do that again, Portia," said Donna, casually.

The slaps began anew. Portia seemed to jump at every other slap, and yelpedat every other jump. All the slaps sounded consistent and true, and I wasn'tsure why she had such a reaction. I believed I'd be yelping at each one ofthem.

Then there was a short delay. Portia, blushing red, returned to her productivelicking. It was Amy's turn.

Slap-slap-slap!

Donna began with a rapid salvo on Amy's behind, I could actually see theblows rain in on her. Even though Amy had no fat on her, I saw the jiggle offlesh as the palm struck the cheek.

Amy made no sound.

The spanking continued, as loud and consistent as the one inflicted on Portia.

No obvious reaction. I could see Amy's eyes blink at each blow, but thatwas all she showed.

SMACK!

"Fuckow!" screamed Amy, spitting out a juicy bit of sauce onto the carpet.

"I borrowed your tawse," explained Donna. "It's very good, a bit new, butwe'll break it in, won't we?"

SMACK!

I felt that one myself, right on the top of the thigh, where there was noflesh at all, no cushioning. Another two on the left cheek at the same place,then one right down the middle.

"Jesus!" cried Amy.

Aside from her shouting, Amy never stopped licking.

"That's enough, I think," cooed Donna.

I felt Elouise beside me, she was getting to her feet. Amy and Portia followeda few seconds later, so I duly got to my feet. I followed Elouise's posture,feet slightly apart, legs straight, head bowed very slightly but not completelysubservient.

One question leapt to the front of my brain. Why didn't I get spanked?

I had no time to wonder whether it was a blessing or a curse, as I couldsee the half-moon breasts enter my vision.

"Charlotte, my love, look at me," Donna began. "Everyone look at me, what'swith the bowing of the heads? Right, Charlotte, did you watch the other boot?Did you see who was better? I know they were both very good, but please tellme who was the better bootlicker out the two. You have five seconds."

I had to think fast, and it came down to two facts: Portia licked more, butAmy had the harder section to lick.

"Amy," I said.

"Amy was better," confirmed Donna.

"Yes."

"Very well. Elouise, will you escort Amy to the car, and have her help youunload some of our luggage?"

"Yes, Donna," sighed Elouise, grabbing Amy's hand and dragging her from theroom.

The three of us were alone. Donna strode to stand toe-to-toe with Portia.The mistress said calmly "So, little Portia is not as good a bootlicker asAmy. Well, what are we going to do about that, huh?" The poor clerk had herhead bowed through shame. Donna placed a pair of fingers on Portia's chin andlifted it up so their eyes met, and then she spat in Portia's face.

"Urgh," I sneered instantly, and Donna cast me a look to keep me away. Thenshe smiled, and spat into Portia's eyes. The first blow had been to the cheek,I realised later, the second one would have been half-anticipated, so Donnacould safely go for the eyes.

With two sizeable blobs of liquid on her face, and no real way to wipe themoff, Portia panted hard, half-opening her eyes, getting them to ask 'why?'

Donna smiled at her and started to rub her hands roughly over Portia's prettyface, first spreading the saliva all around, and then into the skin. I winced,but found myself thinking 'What would I do if I was Portia? Would I use thesafe word so early?'

When I realised that my answer would be a no, I got a thrill, a nervous thrill.I'd be the same as young Portia, breathing hard as my mouth and nose were alternatelycovered for a few seconds, destroying my normal breathing patterns.

"You," Donna called to me. "Stand back-to-back with her."

I did so.

"Put your wrists inbetween hers to hold her steady."

I did so, after realising what that would entail. With my arms down behindhers, she would not be able to run away without dragging me with her.

"Portia, I want you to answer this quickly, ok?" The question had a littleurgency, perhaps Donna was getting excited. I heard another pair of spits,and another muffled grunt or three as the massaging began again. "Right. Wholicked the boots better, you or Charlotte?"

"Me. I mean-"

She didn't want to get me into trouble, but she had.

"Right," smiled Donna. "I reckon you two should turn around, so I can geta good look at Charlotte here."

We shuffled round anticlockwise, and I faced Donna for the first time sincewe had met. She fake-spat at me.

"Yikes," I cried, turning away.

This was the worst thing you could do. Donna wanted her girls to respecther, and I'd not done this. She reached to the back of my head and grabbedsome of my hair.

"Don't fucking flinch, okay?" she snarled, the first time any emotion hadcrept into her voice. "God damn, I'm gonna have a fine time with you, bitch."

I was shaking now. She lifted up my jumper.

"Nice tits," she said flatly.

"Thank you, Donna."

I was looking into her face as her eyes looked at my breasts and the largebra that held them.

"What the hell size are these, 36D or what?"

"No, Donna. Portia is a 36D, I'm a 40DD." I found it a little cute that she'ddeliberately dropped me down a couple of sizes so as not to offend me. Therewas a silence, so I added… "My waist is a 26, and my hips are 40 again."

"You are a beautiful woman, Charlotte."

She tugged down the front of the bra, bunching it all up around the underwire.

"A fantastic, beautiful woman."

"Thank you."

"It's going to be a pleasure watching you squirm."

She picked up the tawse in her left hand, and gave a few practice swings.Like a pool player, she then proceeded to pick her spot on my right breast,waiting for a wince from me that would not come.

Quick as a flash, she tossed the tawse to her right hand, gave me a hardwhack on my left breast, then smacked me hard on my other tit with her lefthand.

"O-oow!" I yelped.

She did it again. This time, she was hitting an area that was already sore,and it stung, it was true that she hit much harder than any of us.

"Yow!" I cried.

"Hold on, just a few more to go," soothed Donna.

Whap! Slap!

She tried to vary the combination, sometimes giving me two slaps, sometimestwo tawses, but they all seemed to have the same effect. I'd be thrown sidewaysby the force of the blow, steadying myself with Portia's help. Then I'd feelthe blow, and each time it would be like someone had placed a hot iron ontomy tit, it glowed with pain, it was absurd, it was beyond screaming.

Slap! Whap!

The safe word came to mind, but I had no intention of using it. I did testthe waters, however.

"Mercy," I cried, as my legs began to buckle.

Slap! Whap! SLAP! SLAP! WHAP!

"Don't try that 'mercy' bullshit on me, you little tart," said Donna, hervoice now back in control. I had lost control of my legs, I was almost downto my knees, which only made Donna's blows hit me at a different angle.

"Please," I said. A single tear found its way from my eye.

Slap!

The hardest yet, right on the underside of my left breast, hitting it upto my chin.

"Oo, that was nice," tittered Donna. She dropped to her knees and struckme on my other one. Then the left, the right, and a new rhythm was discovered.

"Oh my god, pl-please," I sniffed. Tears were now flowing from my cheeksquite freely, I was on my own knees and could not get up. At my back, I couldfeel Portia holding onto my upper arms, probably worried about me lurchingforwards and angering Donna even more.

I had never, in all the years I'd known her, loved Portia more than at thatmoment.

"Right, that'll do for now," sighed Donna. "Portia darling, will you runto the bathroom and get me some handcream, please?"

I sobbed through a complete sense of relief. The outside of my tits werered, almost purple. I was sitting on my haunches, looking at them, wantingthem to stop hurting, to stop throbbing. I cried like a little girl, big snottytears seeping from everywhere. I was hungry, thirsty and hurting. But I wasalso alive, appreciative of Portia and in awe of Donna.

Portia returned with the cream, and was rewarded with a peck on the cheekand a polite request to sit on the sofa. Donna opened the cream and began tospread it over her hands.

"It hurts so much at times, y'know?" she said to Portia. She had not acknowledgedme at all.

I felt a new emotion, jealousy. I wanted Donna to notice me, just for a moment.I wanted her to stop talking to that fucking bitch Portiaand get her concentrating on me again. I couldn't explain it, but I would doanything to get her attention, whether it was lick her boots, ask her to whipme again, or even lick her pussy. I watched her flick some red hair from hershoulder, and I knew I was falling in love with her.

How could this be? I was never a lesbian. I looked to Portia, saw somethingof the same dumb expression on her face, and felt nothing for her.

I was right. I wasn't a lesbian. But I think I was in love with Donna.

"That's a lovely skirt, Portia."

Dammit, why couldn't she look at my skirt like that?

"Thanks, Donna."

That's all she said - "Thanks, Donna" ? What kind ofrespect is that?

"You wearing panties?"

"Yes, Donna."

"Let me take them off. Stand up. Turn around."

Quickly, unerotically, Donna removed Portia's black panties and placed themon the arm of the sofa. Then, finally, she turned to me.

"Charlotte, lie on your back."

"Yes, mistress," I said. "Donna, sorry, yes Donna."

I almost wept with shame, I'd fucked up again, calling her 'mistress'. Whatwould she think of me?

"Now, neither of you two are lesbians are you?" asked Donna. We answeredtogether with a resounding 'no'. "Well in that case, I think it'd be interestingif Portia sat on Charlotte's face, no? Better still, Portia, your knees can'ttouch the ground. Get on with it while I check up on the other two."

Portia had not been told to remove her skirt, which was quite interesting.The 'no knees' rule was a killer. She tried to squat on me first, but couldn'tget low enough without losing her balance. I tried my best, I leaned my headforwards to get my tongue at her, but I couldn't keep it up.

"Try doing a crab," I suggested.

"Okay," sniffed Portia. She sat down near my head, then got up on reverseall-fours, doing one of those bum lifts you see on the aerobics shows. It washard to just at first, and I got my nose squashed by the PVC skirt a few times,but eventually she got comfortable. The only problem was that her hips werehorizontal, not vertical.

"I can't reach," I said. "I can't reach your clitoris from here."

I couldn't believe it, I was straight, yet I was complaining about not beingable to lick out my best friends' pussy. I had to say something, I couldn'tsee her eyes to implore her to move. I was really worried that I'd pissed Donnaoff enough, and if she came back with me making a poor attempt at licking Portia.

"So?" she asked. Then, with a smile in her voice. "Donna just told me tosit on your face, didn't she? Aw Charlotte, I see it now, you want to impressher, don't you?"

"Uh-huh," I nodded, slapping my forehead against her buttcheeks.

"Well, if you really want to impress her, why not lick out my arsehole?"

"But-"

"Do it."

She moved her bum forwards a little, and I realised that I had no choice.She was clean, inside and out – that wasn't the issue. The fact was thatI was eating out the arse of Portia Collins.

And I was enjoying it.

Actually, that's only a half-truth. I was getting very little from the experience,but Portia's surprised yelps and quivers turned me on so much, and the factthat it would please Donna helped me too.

The biggest problem was that I was pretty good at it. Show me a clitorisand I was lost, but apparently I had a natural flair for arse licking. I usedmy lips to spread her cheeks, then probed my tongue around and into her hole.When I did this for a third time, Portia whined loudly and jerked. I thinkher arms must have buckled, because she fell into me a little, and my tonguehad no choice but to go deep inside her. She didn't get up, not at first anyway,she just waited for me to finish her off.

The moment never came. I heard Donna open the door to our room, and I heardher talking to Amy.

"Amy, you can put the box down anywhere. Your friends are just here, they'regetting acquainted," Donna said to Amy.

"Oh my god!" Amy cried. I imagine she'd seen what we were up to.

"Portia?" asked Donna, with no response due to Portia's own little indestructibleworld. "Portia! Are you coming?"

"No, nearly, oh fuck yes Charlotte you're a-fucking-mazing fuck ow nooo, yes !"

"Right, get off her," Donna ordered Portia. I kept licking, I hadn't beentold to stop.

"Just a few more seconds, please Donna, please!"

"Now!"

Portia stayed for one second. It wasn't enough. She got to her feet, Amyhelped me up, and the two of us watched Portia whimpering with a confused,aroused expression on her face. Her legs were still shaking, possibly throughthe weird position she'd held, but probably due to the stimulation.

Donna removed the handcuffs from Portia and myself.

"Right, line up, you three. Elouise is busy setting up the equipment in thestudio, so before we head down there, so I've got you all alone for the moment.Let's see what you're wearing on your feet. Hmm, this won't do. Portia's Ok,but the other two of you aren't. I want you all in higher heeled shoes, noboots. Go and change, will you? You have thirty-five seconds. Portia, if youhave higher heels than that, you should change too. Doesn't matter if they'rescuffed or unpolished, as long as they fit."

We sprinted upstairs to our bedrooms and each picked up a pair of our sluttiestshoes, bumping into each other on the way back downstairs. There was somethingin Donna's voice, some authority that she had, but whenever she her lipstickedmouth said something like 'you have thirty-five seconds', you obeyed fully.She didn't shout, she didn't threaten, we didn't know what would happen ifwe took forty seconds, but we still obeyed.

Within thirty seconds, we were back in line, putting on our shoes. I thinkPortia gained one inch, both Amy and myself gained two.

"That's better, isn't it?" asked Donna. "Portia darling, could you go tothe kitchen and bring in three trays, as identical as possible, and as manypint glasses as you have?"

"Yes, Donna."

Whilst Portia was doing that, Donna turned to a box, presumably the one thatAmy had brought in. She pulled out an electrical appliance from it, one thatI was not expecting at all.

It was an ice-making machine. I'd seen them in the Sunday supplements, theyclaim to be able to make shedloads of icecubes in minutes.

"Amy, will you go and get me some jugs of water. Pitchers if you have them,preferably, but large mixing bowls if you don't."

I felt a sense of household pride, because I knew that we had a couple ofdozen pint glasses, we had four identical trays, we had half a dozen pitchers.Donna duly filled up the machine and turned it on, smiling at Portia as shescuttled back and forth adding bunches of glasses each time.

When Portia had brought in about thirty glasses, Donna smiled and told hershe could stop, that was more than enough.

"While the machine's working, I think we should prepare the second elementof our little test. I know I haven't told you the first yet, but I think you'reall smart enough to know it involves ice. I think you'll like the second element."

She returned to her box and pulled out three 'items'. All right, they wereidentical double dildos, I knew exactly what they were. Purple and large, thereappeared to be a larger than normal space between the two elements, which Ifound useful. Whenever I'd seen them in a catalogue, when I was buying Portia'slast Christmas present, for instance, they always appeared to be right nextto each other, which would surely make them impossible to get in.

"Ladies, prepare yourselves, please."

We began to rub, nervously turning ourselves on, as we examined the instruments.I think the vagina part of it was about six, six and a half inches long, butit was very wide, about the width of my wrist, in fact. I hoped that wasn'tan omen. The butt-plug was a more normal size, four inches long, bulbous andflexible.

"In your own time."

Amy and I removed our own panties, and slowly began to insert the item intoourselves.

"Right to the hilt."

I realised that this was why the dildo was designed that way, it was so itcould go all the way in. Portia said "Done!" proudly, I was second, and Amyfollowed a couple of moments later. All three of us were pretty excited andnervous, none of us needed a large warm-up.

"Panties back on, please."

This was a new one for me. I know for a fact that Portia had once gone tothe shops wearing a dildo inside herself, and I could swear Amy had done thesame with a plug, she was fascinated with her arse. I had done neither.

Donna stood before us, and handed us each a tray.

"I got this idea when I saw the three of you. See, Portia and Amy look likewaitresses, with their skirts like that. Charlotte, with her sleeveless jumper,seems to be working in a beatnik coffee house. So I wanted to see how gooda waitress you lot are. A good waitress must deal with distractions, yet remainconcentrated. Hold the tray with two hands, at about nipple level."

She pinged off the ice machine, and opened it up. It was a surprise, themachine actually worked, and had produced a few gallons of cubes. She scoopedout three pints of cubes and placed one on each of our trays. She did it again,and again, and twice more.

"That's five pints you're holding. Hopefully it's not too much for you." Shedidn't ask whether it was or not. "I originally thought of doing this withthree or four pints, until I realised how many glasses you have, so well doneyou!"

I looked at Portia, who was smiling with a frown. I turned to the other side,and saw Amy's ice cubes tinkle on the side of the glass. I hoped she was nervous,and it wasn't that the weight was too much for her arms.

"Now, you currently have two distractions, don't you? The glasses, and thedildos. I'm going to give you a third distraction. I want you to listen carefullyto me, and to what I'm saying. When I say 'now', I want you to turn aroundclockwise whenever I saw a word with the letter 'x' in it. And I want you toturn around anticlockwise when I saw a word that has a 'q' in it. You haveto act instantly, or you'll be penalised. If you spill anything, you'll alsobe penalised. So that starts… now. Quarter."

We all paused for a beat, and shuffled round anticlockwise. It was hard tryingto keep balance, we were all on our most tottery heels and could not see thefloor. Besides all that, we had a double dildo causing pressure within us.

"Very good, but I want you to do it faster next time."

I turned clockwise, Portia gave a loud "Oh" of realisation and followed me.Amy did not move.

"Oh dear. If Amy had spun, I'd have penalised Portia, so you're a lucky girl,honey. But Amy, I'm afraid I'm going to have to penalise you."

Portia and I turned to Amy and watched silently. Donna strode quietly, heel-toetowards Amy, the wide smile on her face. She picked up one of Amy's pint glasses,tugged open the top of her blouse, and poured the ice-cubes down into it, rightonto her chest.

"Aaagh!" Amy cried. "Oooo, fuck!"

"Sh!" cooed Donna, placing a finger on Amy's lips. "A waitress would notbehave this way."

Amy panted fifteen times a second, almost hyperventilating, trying not tospeak, and just about managed it. I tried hard to catch her eye to comforther with a look, but she'd clenched them tightly shut. I knew there was noway she was thinking of quitting, which meant that she too was trying desperatelyto please Donna.

What was it that this girl had?

"I'll be most displeased if any of you cry out again. Most displeased."

She refilled the empty glass and placed it on Amy's tray, before adding anotherone to it. She paced around the shaking, whimpering Amy.

"I said you'd be penalised, didn't I?" she purred into Amy's neck. A swiftlick, and Amy jumped. "But I want you all to have fun too."

I knew Portia couldn't see, but I looked down to Donna's left arm as it snakedaround the back of Amy's waist. It dipped into the front of her skirt, andcontinued to head downwards.

"Lots of fun."

"Oo!" sighed Amy. This comment got no reproach, presumably it was acceptableto moan in pleasure. Portia heard this and adjusted herself so see too couldsee. I glanced at her, and saw her mouth open in a gasp of surprise and excitement.

Donna clearly knew more about a woman's body than any of us, and within moments,Amy was in tears of frustration. Donna's hand never removed itself from theskirt, so we couldn't tell exactly what was happening, but we could tell therewas rapid movement involved.

"Hush now, Amy," whispered Donna.

"Mmm!" moaned Amy above the tinkling of the glasses. The tears flowed morefreely, she wanted so much to drop the tray and finish herself off.

"Portia, should I make Amy come?" asked Donna.

"Well, I -"

"You will be penalised for that hesitation. Charlotte, should I make Amycome?"

"Yes," I said instantly.

"Very well."

The rubbing continued, but I noticed that it was when Donna licked the neckand cheek, and finally kissed Amy on the lips, that was the moment that madeAmy come.

"Oh my gooooooood!" was her only comment, as one leg buckled so much thatshe had to lift it off the ground so she wouldn't try to balance on it. Throughoutit all, the rubbing never stopped.

"Portia, should I make her come again?"

"No, Donna."

"Very well," said Donna, and the frigging stopped instantly. Amy let outa huge sigh of relief, and although she had spilled an ice cube, she had notlet any fall over. "Right, I have to punish Amy and Portia, don't I? It's excitingthis, isn't it?"

This time I missed out. I cannot understand how Portia, and particularlyAmy, were paying so much attention to Donna's words. They shuffled around quickly,I waited too long before following.

"That's nice, I've got to do the three of you now, haven't I?"

She strode to Portia, kissed her on the lips, pulled open the blouse andpoured the cubes into it. Portia bit her lip and three tears came from herright eye, but she remained silent.

I was next.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she said. She tugged the top of my jumper andtinkled the cubes onto my chest.

I'd never been so cold in my life. It felt hot and cold at the same time,I imagined my heartbeat slowing with the cold and speeding with the surpriseand the situation. Like Amy and Portia, I really didn't want to do anythingto displease Donna.

With all my might, I imagined how convenient it was that the ice would reducethe swelling in my breasts, but most of the ice drifted down the middle, wherethere was no pain to begin with.

Drops of water and cubes reached my belly button, and I think I realisedwhy Donna was enjoying it. When fiddling with my clothes before the pouring,she had coyly tucked the base of my jumper into the waistband of my skirt.It stopped the cubes, but the water dripped down onto my legs, my thighs, myeverywhere.

It was hardest at first, I thought that would be it, but shocks kept comingas the ice began to melt all over my chest and body.

She smiled sweetly, left me and stepped away. I couldn't care less, I wasin so much pain, but when she reached Amy, she poured half of the cubes downthe front of her skirt, into her panties, the other half at the back. "Justin case you were close to a second one," Donna explained.

She stepped to a point where she faced the three of us.

"Stand on one leg, the left."

We did so, all of us grimacing.

"Smile, aren't you enjoying yourselves?" she pouted.

"Yes, Donna," I said. She giggled at my pathetic attempt to sound normal.

"Ok, put your feet down, ladies. Just thought I should give you a littleexercise."

All three of us shuffled around.

"Quicker!"

We shuffled the other way.

"Ah you're like a Motown Group, you are. All symmetrical and sexy."

Another turn. We all smiled at this one.

"You're getting too good for me!"

"Thank you," nodded Portia.

When she stepped towards us, I honestly thought Donna was about to end ourordeal, but she had another trick to play. She adopted a higher-pitched, moreinnocent girly voice, still quiet, and said to all of us: "Look at you, yournipples are all hard."

Portia snorted, and I was a little disappointed, it was a bit cheesy. Donnafrowned, and stepped towards the tall blonde.

"You think that's funny?" Donna asked Portia. "I think you need a lesson."

She poured two of the pint glasses over Portia's head, letting her settledown, then pouring another two over her. She took the other two, poured oneover me, and one over Amy. "That's for not telling her off," she told us.

Portia's tray was empty, and Donna took it from the shivering girl. "Undoyour blouse, Portia."

Portia did so. She was wearing a quarter-cup bra that uplifted the bosombut didn't cover the nipples. Donna placed a finger and thumb on each of them,looked into Portia's eyes, and squeezed.

Portia instantly dropped to her knees, screaming some incoherent words atherself. One final word came out. "Stop!"

"You want me to squeeze harder? Why didn't you say so?"

At this point, Donna looked up at me and Amy, possibly to see whether wewere going to intervene. We did nothing, we just stood there.

Donna tutted, bit her bottom lip, and let go. She stepped back.

"I'm very disappointed in all of you. Portia, you will be severely punished,of course. Charlotte, Amy, you did not turn around when I said a word withone of the key letters in, even when I looked at you."

"Oh no," gasped Amy, when she realised our mistake.

"Put your trays down for the moment."

The next few moments were filled with silence. Portia, Amy and I kept ourarms at our side as Donna did some adjustments to our clothes. Firstly, surprisingly,she buttoned up Portia's blouse. Next she turned to Amy, undoing her blouse,scooping her breasts from her bra, and refastening the buttons with a smile.More satisfied with our obedience now, she lifted up my jumper, rolled downthe brassiere as she had done before, and pulled the jumper down.

I was aware of what she'd done – she'd exposed our nipples – butI didn't know why, or why she'd covered them up again.

"Ok, firstly, you no longer need to turn around when I say an x or q word,you can relax there. If I want you to do something, I suppose I'll have totell you explicitly," she sighed, a little disappointment in her voice.

None of us moved on 'explicitly'. None of us had noticed 'relax'.

"I have to admit that I was sorry to see how much movement there was, fartoo much. None of you kept your trays level, and it's a miracle that none ofthem fell over, isn't it? Particularly yours, Charlotte, your deportment wasdreadful."

"Yes, Donna."

This woman was about eight years younger than me, but I felt like a naughtychild before her.

"Okay, so we'll have to fix this, won't we? I'll have to dig something outof the box here, in the meantime can you fill up your glasses again, Portia?And fill up the pitchers too."

I looked at Amy, still shivering with the cold, her skirt still drippingwet. And I saw myself in her fragile, nervous figure. I never once thoughtof moving.

"Here they are," chirped Donna. "You finished, Portia? Ok then, put eightglasses on your tray and pick it up. You two can pick up yours too. Hold themat the right level, please."

I'd forgotten how tired my arms were, I must have been slipping before, andDonna was quite right to point it out. It took a huge effort to keep it atthe right height. Both Amy and Portia now had more glasses than me on theirtrays, so I actually had it easiest.

Donna picked up a pitcher, held it by her hip, and placed her spare handon the other hip. She smiled, that confident, beaming smile of hers that wrinkledher nose, showed all her teeth, and made her eyes come alive. "Where were we?Ah yes."

Without warning, she stepped to Amy, and poured a quarter of it down herfront. She did the same to me, and again to Portia. The ice was on the outsideof our clothes, but it still had the desired effect.

"My look," Donna said sarcastically as she remained in front of Portia, "yournipples are so hard. Now hold steady, but look to the ceiling."

Donna reached out and held out her finger and thumb again, coming to herfrom below. Portia didn't move, she didn't flinch, but her face betrayed her.She clearly expected to get a fierce pinch.

She got one.

She got another, on the other side.

She flinched at the pain, but did not say a word.

"Look down," grinned Donna, and Portia gasped when she saw Donna waving herhands at her. "Further." Portia glanced at her breasts, and saw a pair of smallclamps biting into her nipples.

We all knew of these clamps, none of us had used them. Portia looked to myface, her own expression one of confusion and humiliation.

"Look closer."

We all did, and noticed that the clamps were double-ended. It looked likethey were designed to clamp two girls together, face-to-face.

"Your turn," said Donna, stepping to me. I think it was worse that I wasunprepared, my nipples were cold, but had never been abused, either that nightor any night. Donna reached out, opened the clamp, covered my nipple throughthe thin fabric, and closed it.

I had never been in so much pain before, even the tit-whipping was nothingcompared to it. I knew that the whipping would end, but there was no sign thatthese clamps would ever come off, they could be on for hours. I felt hot, Iwas definitely aroused, my pussy muscles clenched around the dildo and my stomachgave a distinct rumble. I was losing control.

Again, I missed the effect on poor Amy due to concentrating on my own situation.

Donna asked us how we were, out of curiosity rather than general concern.We all admitted that we were exhilarated, yet in pain.

"I suppose you're ready for phase two, aren't you? Don't worry, this partwon't hurt a bit."

Donna stepped back to Portia, and adjusted the height of the heavy tray untilit was just so. Then she opened the other end of the clamps, and wrapped themround the edge of the tray.

I'd never noticed, but the trays had a rounded edge at the side, just a millimetreor two above and below. By clamping it, the tray was fixed securely to thetall, pretty body before it.

Moving quickly, she clamped Amy and me to our own trays.

"That's your incentive to keep them level."

All of us stared blankly at her.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, I just need to check on Elouise. You cantalk amongst yourselves, but do not move."

"Yes, Donna."

"Oh, and remember, the first sign of frostbite is a lack of pain. You shouldthank yourself lucky that I'm here. See ya."

She closed the door behind her.

Portia was the first to speak. "Are your arms hurting?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Like I can't believe," agreed Amy.

"Thank Christ it wasn't just me. Who'd have thought we'd be doing this, righthere, right now?"

"Great, isn't it?" smiled Amy.

It was, it really was. "So you're pleased I invited her over?"

"I'll make sure you don't have to do the washing up for six months afterthis. Amy and I will do it all for you."

There was a quick moment's silence, after which Amy began to giggle. Andthen chortle, and finally laugh out loud.

"What is it?" we asked her.

"We're st-still..." she could barely get the words out, "we're still fullyclothed!"

She was right. Aside from the clamps and the fact that we were all damp,inside and out, there was nothing particularly erotic or alluring about ourappearance.

Well, I'm exaggerating there, of course. A little ragged in the damp, Amy'stanned legs looked fantastic, and if I could have seen Portia's bosom, it wouldhave been very attractive. We weren't perfect, of course, none of us were settingany world records for hairstyles.

I couldn't be too sure about who was the sexiest out of us. I'm not a lesbian.

The uncomfortable silence after the laughter gave me time to think aboutDonna. What did she have? I thought that we'd all give her a chance, play alongin a few of her games, but nothing like this. She slapped my breasts, and Iturned round and licked Portia's arsehole just because it might please her.In real life, I could run from someone who hit me – or if they were Donna'ssize, I'd punch them back.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps it was because this didn't feel like real life,and Donna was certainly not like a real person, not like anyone I'd met beforein my life, maybe that's why it was so unreal. Even Amy and Portia seemed closerto me than ever, and in my uncomfortable, other-worldly state, our hystericalgiggles seemed to say that we'd have shared an experience that we would neverforget.

One thing was certain – she'd raised the bar. I began going throughthe most extreme scenarios that I had originally dreamt about for tonight,and mentally ticked them off one by one. At first, I was determining whetherI would let Donna do them to me, but after a few moments I realised I was dreamingabout what else Donna could add to them. For example, I'd idly wondered whethershe would cane us, something I wouldn't have looked forward to before tonight.Not only did I get a buzz from the thought of her caning me for a misdemeanour,in my mind I was a naughty schoolgirl and she was the strict headmistress.I could smell the chalk and was just starting to feel warm again when-

"Char! Charlotte! You've spilled a drink, what the hell you doing?" hissedAmy.

"Oh balls."

I had gone from aroused to petrified in two seconds. The jinxed glass hadslid on some cold water and tipped itself over the side, and all because Iwasn't holding the tray level.

I looked to Amy, then round to Portia, then down at the tray again, becomingmore frantic all the time. There was no way that I could remove the clampsto put down the tray, and I was sure that Donna would know if I'd spilled itanyway.

"Oh no, oh fuck, oh fucking hell, oh fuck."

"Calm down, Charlotte, it's just a little game," sighed Amy.

"Yeah, don't worry about it, honey," cooed Portia.

Their attempts to soothe me weren't working, as I suspected – in fact,I knew that Donna would see the slip as an affront to her authority. In mymind, she would see the glass on the floor, believe that we didn't respecther, and call it a night right there.

At that point, however, something happened. I still don't know what madeher do it, but it was definitely deliberate.

"Portia," cried Amy, "keep yourself level – you don't want to spillone yourself, do you?"

Portia turned and smiled. "That's exactly what I want to do," she said. Amyand I watched open-mouthed as Portia jiggled her tray until one – andexactly one – of her glasses fell to the floor.

"I see," smiled Amy, and did her own jiggle. When her glass fell, it didn'tfall to the ground, it merely topped over onto the tray.

"What are you two doing?" I asked.

"Collective responsibility."

"I wouldn't use a smart-arse legal term like Amy, but yeah. Donna won't singleyou out for a specific punishment if we've all done something wrong, will she?"

For the second time that night, and for a much nicer reason, I wept.

"Oh, come on you soppy cow! You'd have done the same for us, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah right," I snuffled into my shoulder. "I'm nowhere near as nice as you."

"You are, Charlotte, we love you, we do," trembled Amy, her own voice falteringwith emotion. "You're our best fucking friend ever."

We both looked to Portia, who was not prone to such soppiness. She smiled,her eyebrows displayed some sympathy, and her nose wrinkled. This was her equivalentto our snotty outbursts. There was a brief pause before she spoke.

"Charlotte might be our best fucking friend, Amy," she began with a smirk, "butpull yourself together, anyone would think we were a bunch of lesbians."

And, just as we had done when the door had closed, it reopened.

It was Donna, just Donna. Lord knows what was keeping Elouise down in mystudio, but the sight of Donna's reaction to the fallen glasses made me intenselyworried again. I was switching between elation and despair, between fear andcompanionship, as though I was a rubber ball.

Donna did not shout, initially she did not even speak, she merely steppedto each of us in turn, and without a word, counted our glasses, and hence thenumber that fell. I'm sure she was the same person, wearing the same clothes,but she seemed more imposing, more intensely beautiful and alluring than before.The lips seemed darker, there was a supreme pout to them, and she was frowning.

"One glass lost… each. Who spilled theirs first?"

"I did, Miss Donna."

"Charlotte. Yet you had the fewest to hold up." Her voice was still quiet,she had placed herself so she was leaning against the tray, pushing it intome with her bosom. A small tide of water sloshed against her bare white skin,and she didn't even blink.

"Yes, Donna."

"Don't look down, look up. Now, did you tell the others to drop their glassestoo?"

"No," interrupted Amy. "We did that ourselves."

"On purpose?" asked Donna, her voice a little higher pitched now, much morecod-inquisitive.

"Y-es," hesitated Portia. "We didn't want you to single out Charlotte."

"Didn't you?"

Donna took two of my glasses and poured them quickly over Portia. The othertwo went over Amy, and it was a miracle that neither of them dropped theirremaining glasses. "That's for being foolish. But it's Charlotte that I mustsingle out for an extra-special punishment now."

"No-s'not fair," shivered Amy. "All t-together."

"That's all right, you can query my decisions," purred Donna. "But answerme this. Three glasses went on the floor, yes? Yet if Charlotte had not droppedhers, then none would have been on the floor, right? Therefore Charlotte is solely responsiblefor the massive spillage."

"No, that's not fair."

"Amy, I have explained to you the reason for my decision, you cannot queryit any more. Your comment suggests insolence, and since you would not havebeen insolent without Charlotte's carelessness, she must be punished further."

Donna stood before me again, and gave me a polite smile. Weakly, I reciprocated.She took hold of my empty tray with one hand. "Let go, and put your arms behindyour back. Keep them there, if you want."

Nervously, I obeyed.

"Be a shame if I was careless like you, wouldn't it? I mean, what if I letthis go?"

And she did so. My poor frozen nipples got a stretch they didn't deserve,and I gave a yelp of surprise. What I didn't do was even more of a surprise,even to me. I didn't bring my hands from behind my back. I just let the heavytray dangle from my clothed nipples.

She took hold of the tray, bringing it back up to a horizontal position withone finger, pushing it into my breast so it caused no pressure on my nipples.

"Thank you," I gasped between painful breaths.

"Twice more." She removed the finger. "Well, there's no reason for you twoto stand around watching me, is there? Go upstairs and wait in the bathroomwith Elouise."

"Yes, Donna," they said meekly as they left, their backfired plan clearlycausing them immense guilt. Silly bitches, why didn't they think it through?

Donna dropped the tray for the last time – hopefully, and left it danglingthis time. "Come, follow."

She hadn't ever told me to keep my hands behind my back, but I kept themthere nonetheless. So many of her requests were polite suggestions, she'd neverraised her voice once.

The steps to the upstairs bathroom were the problem.

"Ya… ya… oo… yow!"

I could stand still with the tray pulling down on my nipples, but the joltas I lifted myself up a stair, then another, tilting the weight onto one sidethen the next, bouncing unwittingly, was totally excruciating. Once again,I had to keep taking short, cold breaths to stop myself from screaming, andI could hear the blood flowing through my head and body.

We reached the top of the stairs and the bathroom door, closed. Donna knockedon it and a long-forgotten blonde head popped out.

"Elouise, come out and help young Charlotte with her clothes. Give her agood towelling down and insert the new dildos."

It seemed absurd, but I'd almost forgotten about the double dildo insideme. It wasn't causing me pain (or pleasure), just a dull, background sensation.Perhaps it was enhancing the situation, I couldn't tell, I couldn't picturemyself without it.

I presumed that Amy and Portia were inside the bathroom, possibly alreadybeing punished or aroused, I just didn't know what was going to happen next.Elouise stepped from the room, being careful not to show me the inside, thoughI could hear water running. She was holding my largest towel, one that couldenvelop me like a blanket.

Quickly, without any fuss, she removed the tray, the clamps, then stood patientlywhile I removed my skirt, panties, shoes, jumper and bra. I noticed that Donnahad snuck quietly into the bathroom whilst my sight was partially blocked bythe jumper, but I thought little of it. I knew that was where the action wasgoing to be.

I had no real problem standing naked before Elouise, and felt a great dealof fondness for the cutie as she wrapped the towel around me.

"Ow, ow ow owww!" I yelped as she hugged me, before realising that she'donly hugged me, and the pain was the bloodflow returning to my frigid, numbnipples.

"Do you want to remove the dildos, or shall I?" she asked politely.

"I'll do it," I replied, shlooping the purple item from myself. I handedit to her, and she placed it on the floor, out of the way. "Did I hear Donnasay that I'm going to get a new one?"

"Two new ones, I'm afraid," she said, as though she was working in a conscientiouscall-centre. "Here they are."

She held them up. They weren't the biggest things I'd ever seen, but theywere odd. Again, it was a double-dildo, with the same structure as the oldone. This time, the vagina part was nine, maybe ten inches long - I'd had boyfriendsthat big and not felt pain from them, so I knew I'd be ok there. The butt attachmentwas not the typical plug, however, it was about seven inches long, and as thickas a normal vaginal dildo – pretty thick. After everything else tonight,I expected something much more severe, so was thankful it wasn't bigger, wider,or electrified.

It had two particularly strange features. The first was that it had strapsand a waistband, so could be worn like a pair of panties – I presumeit could also be locked on, though couldn't see where. The strangest thingabout it was the fact that it was ribbed in a most peculiar way. It seemedto be coated in criss-crosses of raised ridges, like it had been wrapped inwire. The thought of an electrified dildo came to mind again.

"I should help you with this," said Elouise, and slapped a large amount oflubricant on the butt attachment. She clearly thought I was a dirty enoughslut to have a pussy big enough to hold the longer dildo, and I was, thougha little intensive frigging was required. "Is it in?" she asked, looking closelyat it whilst I tied the straps to fix it in place.

"Feels like it," I cooed.

"In that case, good luck," she sighed, and knocked on the door. There wassomething about the frown on her face, the way she bit her lip, it made metremble again. And this time, I couldn't blame the cold.

Donna emerged, looking as collected as ever. She smiled when she saw me,and the pits of my stomach rumbled with hunger, excitement, fear and arousal.

"Hi honey. We're going to have to blindfold and gag you for your this nextbit."

"Okay," I found myself saying.

The blindfold came first, but it was more like a Batman mask – it coveredmy eyebrows at the top and half my nose at the bottom, and was strapped firmlyin place above and below the ears. It wasn't a bondage mask, merely a secureblindfold.

The gag was odd. I felt something force its way into my mouth, and that tooappeared to have straps that were fastened at the back of my head. This wasall completely new to me, yet strangely expected.

But then I heard a puff of wind, and another, and another, and I realisedthat the gag inside my mouth was inflating.

"Try to speak, honey," said Donna.

"I nn't eek!" I protested.

"More, Elouise, much more, keep going. Say that again, Charlotte."

"M mm meek!" The swelling pushed my tongue down onto the base of my throat.

"I'm still hearing syllables. More."

"M mm mmm!" I almost gagged as I tried to swallow some saliva. It felt likean apple was wedged just behind my teeth.

"Very good. I can't tell what she's trying to say. Five more big squeezes,Elouise, then tie it off."

"Mmm!"

My neck and head were held still whilst the adaptor, footpump, or whateverwas inflating my gag, was removed.

"What are you looking at, Elouise?" I heard Donna ask.

"Her beautiful breasts, look at them. I wish I had boobs like that."

I was pretty sure Donna wasn't a lesbian, but I was starting to have my doubtsabout Elouise. The thought repulsed me a little, as though I was on displayto some horny post-pubescent boy. I could not voice, nor show my displeasurein any way… and this thrilled me.

I knew I wasn't a lesbian, and I suspected I was a developing submissive,but was I a pervert too? Did I crave humiliation?

I was led through the bathroom door, where I was told to stop. The soundof running water had ceased, and there was just a quiet drip-drip of a tap.

"Shut that off, will you Amy? Good. Now it's time for Charlotte's excitingtime, and I want you to follow the instructions Elouise gave you before. Doyou understand?"

"Yes, Donna," Amy and Portia said unenthusiastically. Perhaps they were jealousof the attention I was getting.

"Very well," replied Donna with a hint of displeasure in her voice. "Elouise,the handcuffs and anklecuffs, please. Charlotte, hold still."

I stood quietly with my feet a foot or so apart, though the cuffs broughtthem together, and my wrists crossed subserviently in front of my stomach.

"Behind," said Elouise with a smile in her voice. "Good try," she whisperedconspiratorially. Again, the cuffs had a tiny bit of movement in them, perhapsan inch of chain between the bracelets.

I was then told to kneel, and felt myself being eased back onto my haunches,where I could hear a chain being attached to my ankle cuffs, then to my handcuffs.I could feel someone – probably Elouise – gentry spread my legsand make an adjustment to the dildo. The chain was tightened, and I was effectivelyhogtied, with that big double dildo in me, naked, before two strangers andmy best two friends.

At least two, probably three sets of hands were placed upon my body, aboveand below.

I'm not going to lie and say that I had never been more turned on in my life… butI had never been more excited and alive before.

The hands moved to below my body – definitely six of them – andI was lifted into the air. I breathed noisily and lustily through the gag,and suspected a lusty, warm bath while being fondled by them all. My pelvicmuscles gave a twinge as I wondered whether Donna would do some of the fondlingherself.

And then I was dropped into a bath of ice-cold water.

I screamed.

Or at least, I would have done, if I hadn't been gagged.

I wriggled, trying to get out, but it was no use, and then I realised somethingabout the double dildo inside me.

It was hollow.

It allowed any liquid to run right into me.

I almost passed out through fear and pain, my vagina felt as though it wasbeing fucked by an icicle, and my arse was beyond even that.

"Take her out," I heard Donna say.

It had felt like ten minutes, perhaps it was only fifteen seconds or less,but I was removed.

I was laid on my back – well, my shoulders and knees to be precise – whereI was dried down with a fresh towel, and the blindfold was removed. The gagremained. After I blinked a few times to adjust to the light, I saw Donna bendingover me.

She was smiling, warmer than I'd ever seen her before.

"This is your punishment, Charlotte. You shouldn't have dropped those glasses,should you?"

I looked left and right for Amy and Portia, but they were hugging each otherwith their faces in each others' shoulders. They were still dressed in theirsecretaries' outfits, both now completely saturated and ruined. I think Amywas crying.

"Oh, they're doing you a favour, a big favour. I told them that if they refusedto help with your punishment, then you would get double if one of them refused,triple if they both refused."

I blinked twice, as though to ask 'why?'.

Donna did not answer this question. "They both know how many times you areto be dunked," she began with her hypnotic voice, "and you don't, but I'm goingto add two dunks to that total, because you looked for your friends while Iwas still talking to you. That seems only fair, doesn't it?"

Donna turned from me, so I looked up, and saw Portia looking down at me withimmense pity. She was crying too. I heard Portia – strong, resilientPortia – wail aloud. And then my attention was drawn back to Donna.

"Elouise," she said. "Get the clamps back here, just in case there's anymore insolence. Right, it's time for the next dunk, and remember, more energy."

Donna sat on the closed toilet and watched me as I was lifted into the airas before, held over the bath, and dropped from a foot above the water.

Splash!

I tried with all my might not to wriggle, as I thought it would get my friendsinto trouble, but it was impossible. I shook and shaked and looked with glaring,guilty eyes at Amy as she parted my legs to get more water sloshing into me.Portia pinched my nipples, but neither of them topped Elouise, who held myhead under the freezing water.

I don't think I even blinked.

I wasn't trying to make anyone – even Elouise – guilty, but Ihad to look at something and someone, and it may as well be the people whowere holding me down and causing me pain.

They pulled me out, and it was repeated a third and a fourth time. Afterthe third time, I looked up from my towel and saw Donna, sitting on the toilet,ignoring everything and reading a magazine. I wanted her attention, I had togo back in until she would pay attention to me.

Whilst I was trying in vain to breathe the fourth time, I heard an instructionto the girls to 'turn her round one time'. When I was dropped this time, thesix hands left my breasts and knees alone, but pushed me down and around. Thiswas an unbelievable experience, they had to squeeze me down so I remained submergedas they turned me over, fully underwater, slowly enough so that I would notstruggle too much and have to go again. I loved them for that.

They tugged me out too quickly, it was painful to feel so much warmth soquickly, but it was better than the water, anything was better than the water.

As Elouise dried me off, there was an unexpected development. Donna droppedher magazine and stood up. I was lying on the floor, and she cast an imposingfigure. As she bent over me, her breasts changed shape, became fuller outsidethe imposing corset. In shadow, her lips were now black, her eyes were darkgreen, perhaps also black, but her skin was almost fluorescent white, it glowedin the ugly bathroom light.

"I'll offer you a deal, young Charlotte. You hear me?" she asked. I nodded. "Youhave five dunkings to go. Or, if you prefer, if you want, I could dunk Amythree times, and Portia three times. Nod if you want them to be dunked insteadof you. There is no trick, no wordplay, no psychology here, I promise on mylife that I won't dunk you if you agree to the change. Do you agree to change?"

I tried to look at Amy or Portia to determine their opinion, but Donna blockedtheir view. I had to imagine what they would think. I wouldn't put my worstenemy through what I'd just gone through, but I had to think what I would doif it was Amy lying where I was. Would I want to take her place? No. WouldI be willing to take her place? Yes.

I nodded.

"You're going to let them take your place?"

Nod.

"Very well. Elouise, remove her cuffs, please."

She did so, and I held the towel as I gingerly got to my feet.

"Give me a hug," said Donna.

Aside from damp hair, I was dry now, so I let the sodden towel drop to thefloor and walked deep into Donna's embrace. She clasped her hands behind thesmall of my back, and I was overwhelmed with gratitude for her sympathy. Iplaced my chin on her left shoulder, then curled my face into her neck andsobbed.

I don't know why I cried, my pain was over, but Donna symbolised extremeswithin me. Extreme pain, extreme drama, extreme pleasure, extreme emotion.Now this extreme person was holding me, I could not be unemotional.

What made me love her – in the way that a zealot loves his god – wasthe fact that she didn't push me away. Her arms surrounded me, I could feelthe coolness of the leather outfit and the warmth of the gaps of flesh betweenher clothes. I had never felt safer.

Part II - One Urination Under Goddess

"Ok, remove the gag."

It took a while to deflate the gag enough for it to be removed from my mouth,and I stretched my jaw a few times after it was removed.

"You ok?" asked Amy quietly.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Wow. I mean, y'know, wow."

"Can we get on?" Donna asked. Elouise, without a word of direct instruction,tapped Portia on the cheek. Portia understood and opened her mouth. The gag,still covered in slobber, was pushed firmly into her mouth, strapped up, andreinflated.

I had not seen anything stranger. The skin on Portia's cheeks was stretchedto an absurd, ugly level, and it did little for her jawline neither. It madeher nose and eyes look wonderful, however, she had a look of permanent surpriseon the top half of her face. Overall, including the fact that she couldn'tspeak, it was an all-round improvement.

While Amy and Portia stripped out of their outfits, I was told to put ona dressing gown and return in forty seconds.

"Yes, Donna," I said, reaching for the door.

"Ah-ah," tutted Donna. She pointed at my crotch.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." I carefully took out the accursed mesh dildo, gave ita wipe on a towel, and handed it gingerly back to Donna. She passed it ontoPortia without looking at her. I turned and jogged nakedly to my room, uncertainwhether I'd used up some of my forty seconds already.

I returned to find Portia in a frustrated mood, trying to rub some stimulationinto her clitoris, trying to get her mind to forget why shewas attempting to insert a suspicious double-dildo into herself. Donna waitedpatiently, watching with a curious smile on her lips. After a painful, franticjolt where Donna asked Amy to force it in with her knee, Portia was ready tobe cuffed. She seemed more flexible than me – although she was taller,she bent herself on her back quite beautifully. I cold understand the petiteAmy getting into that pose with no problem, but Portia was a surprise.

"Three dips, remember," Donna said to us. "An Eskimo roll each time."

We lifted her with ease and raised her above the water. At this point, Amylooked down at Portia, then at myself and Elouise.

"Higher," she smiled.

We lifted her another six inches above the water, and let her go.

There was a phenomenal CLAP! as her belly hit the surface, and the threeof us recoiled from the bath, laughing at the sadism of the situation. Quicklywe returned to Portia, and gave her a quick spin, much quicker than we wouldnormally do it, I realised.

As we took Portia from the bath and lay her gently on the fresh towel thatElouise had prepared, I wondered again how much my life had changed. The previousnight – and I remember this distinctly – I pondered about whetherI should boil my egg for longer than normal. This night, I was pondering aboutrotating my best friend in ice-cold water for shorter than normal.

The times, they were a-changing.

Amy had wept when I had been dunked, but she seemed more spirited and playfulwhen it was Portia's turn. She giggled as Portia writhed, and asked Donna ifshe could add more ice cubes to the bath.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

I felt sick yet exhilarated. I was ordered to pinch the blotchy red skinof my friend, my friend who was already in absurd amounts of pain. Yet thewater splashed my arms and legs and it invigorated me. The sight of Portiawriggling as I had, with an exhilarated look on her face, it reminded me ofhow masochistic we were. Somehow, Amy's lack of compassion added to the wholesense of occasion – if she didn't care for Portia, I'd care twice asmuch.

It wasn't until it was Amy's turn and she was getting undressed, that I suspectedwhy she'd been so cruel to Portia. She wanted rough treatment. It was a contestfor her, she wanted to be the best damn masochist out of the three of us.

"I'm going to make your fucking tits purple, you bitch," wheezed Portia witha defiant giggle.

"I look forward to it, P."

Portia held up on her promise. She ensured that everything of Amy, exceptfor her nose, was held underneath the water for as long as possible. Beforethe second dunking, she furiously rubbed Amy's clit, painfully making the soreflesh semi-aroused and raw. As soon as Amy responded, Portia lifted her singlehanded and splashed her down into the bath.

Amy's response to it all? A defiant smile. I'd never been so puzzled andproud of her.

"Have you three finished now?" asked Donna with a bored expression, as thoughsemi-dangerous levels of hypothermia were a daily occurrence for her. I'm exaggerating,of course, because surely there was no way that Donna would inflict this onus. But were we inflicting it on ourselves? Even gagged, we could always getthe safeword out somehow. Was it our fault? I'd have to ask Amy later – shecouldn't give me a legal opinion when she was gagged to high heaven and tryingto rub her breasts onto a radiator-warmed towel.

Elouise removed the gag, and Amy stretched some feeling back into her coldjaws. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think we've been punished enough. Portia, giveme a hug, honey."

"Good. Time for dinner. Let's get you three dressed."

"Dressed" was a slight overstatement. In fact, she asked us to wear underwear,simple non-fetish, pretty underwear. Pink for me, I like pink. Donna had herreasons, which were more than enough for me: "You'll be undressed after dinneranyway, and I'd hate to have you flopping around naked all the time."

She asked me and Elouise to make the dinner – something quick and simple,so I chose spaghetti Bolognese. Before we were allowed into the kitchen, shegagged us both. It can't have been a coincidence – neither of us hadeaten for days, and we had to cook something mouth-watering lest we incur Donna'swrath. Yeah, I said 'lest', I was that hungry. Even as I pulled out the saucefrom the cupboard I was drooling outside the gag.

There was a pad of paper that I'd kept by the fridge for messages, and Iwrote "How long since food for you?" on it.

"3 days" was the reply.

"2 for me!" was all I could think of writing. I added the sauce to the meatand gently brought up the heat.

Then, with a grin behind the gag, she wrote. "I'm going to stick my fistdeep into your cunt."

She had underlined the word 'deep', which concerned me. I kept stirring.To be honest, I suspected that I wouldn't be allowed to peacefully preparesome Bolognese whilst wearing only underwear and a gag. That would have beentoo much to ask, I told myself.

She dropped to her knees behind me, edged my knees apart, before tuggingaside the featherlight material that protected me. Gently, she stroked me,testing to see how pliant I was…

…and then she stopped.

She returned to her feet, and wrote something quickly on the pad.

"April Fool"

God damn, I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed. The thoughtof having four fingers, a thumb, and several painful knuckles up there… itscared me, I admit it. But there was a large and growing part of me that wantedto experience anything and everything that night, provided that it wasn't mychoice. That was the key thing, I'd realised, I could (probably) stop it atany point, but essentially all my torments and pleasures were the responsibilityand mercy of someone else. Someone not me. Someone like Donna.

"I knew you never had it in you," I wrote. "Or rather, you didn't have itin me."

I underlined "me", flashed Elouise a winning smile, and felt smug about myself.I returned my attention to the spaghetti, pointing to cupboards for plates,a drawer for cutlery. Back in a quasi-submissive mode, Elouise duly unpackedjust one plate, one knife and one fork.

As she placed them on the work surface, I began to hear yelps of pain fromthe dining room, out of sight from the kitchen.

I pointed to the spaghetti and gave Elouise a thumbs-up. It was ready. ButI was curious about the plate, and the screams, they were screaming now, soI wrote a question mark on the crowded pad.

"?"

Elouise ignored the plate – presumably that was meant to be a surprise.She answered the other part, however.

"Pubic hair removal - tweezers."

"Oh." I wrote.

"They'll stop when we come in."

"Should we wait, then?" I wrote.

"No, we should wait now!" Elouise wrote, returning a winning smile of herown.

So we waited, just a few minutes. I kept the spaghetti succulent, Elouisechecked and double checked the knives for smudges, smudges that Donna wouldpunish severely. We smiled at each other at the especially loud yells. It soundedas though Portia was the tougher of the two – Amy was by far the mostvocal. I know, I was surprised too.

I could have listened to them scream and tweeze all night, but I most definitelydidn't want the meal to be ruined. We knocked on the kitchen door, and it wasopened a moment later by Amy herself. She snorted a little snot from her nose,gently sniffed most of it back up, and led Elouise and me to the table. I wascarrying the pot of bolog, Elouise had everything else.

"Okay, you can take your gags off now," hummed Donna disinterestedly. "Nosuitable bowls?"

"No," said Elouise. "Shall I get the ones we packed?"

"I suppose," sighed Donna. Elouise scuttled off at speed, down to the basement,returning with several dog bowls, plastic, gaudy little things. She placedone on either side of Donna's plate.

Donna asked Amy and Portia to hop up onto the table, where they knelt inposition. Portia, guessing what was about to happen, began to tie her hairbehind the back of her head, but was promptly stopped by her mistress.

"No, I think you need to have your hair down."

Portions were served. Amy got the first, Donna the second, rightly knowingthat the best and tastiest meat would be in the middle of the pot. Portia gotthe third, and apparently final serving. There was enough left in the pan forat least two wholesome servings, but there was nowhere to put it. I didn'tcomplain, though my stomach rumbled so noisily that I had to pretend that itwas Elouise's, just to make me feel better.

"Make sure their posture is right, you two."

This order from Donna for me and Elouise was strange at first, but I realisedwhat she meant when Amy leaned forwards. It wasn't pretty – her backwas curved over, bringing her breasts back into her body. Without asking forclarification, I placed a hand on the small of her back, and an arm bar acrossthe top of her chest, readjusting her posture so she was arching her back,pushing her breasts down to the table. Even though they were small and coveredin her pale green lacy bra, they still combined to create a satisfying image,contrasting harshly with the dark mahogany of the table. Aesthetics, it's allabout aesthetics. Donna was right to give us that order. Amy munched on, shehadn't eaten since lunchtime that day, poor thing. She clearly realised thather dinner might be taken from her at any moment, and I could be partiallyresponsible for that. Her bottom was a little low, so I gave her an encouragingslap to put it high in the air. She waggled it left and right, much like acat I had as a kid when it chomped a tasty sardine.

Donna was first to finish, as she had the advantage that she was not beingprodded and tickled by two women, nor was she kneeling down. The knife andfork helped too.

"Keep eating, you two. That was a very nice meal," she smiled. "I came heretonight with the intention of denying both of you food all night, but I thinkI can repay your efforts by giving one of you a meal. And if I give it to you,don't try and be noble and share it with the other, will you?"

"No, miss," Elouise and I said simultaneously.

"But you've caught me off guard, y'know? I wish I had some sort of test toput you two through. Hmm. I know. Are you ready?"

We nodded nervously. Scenarios ran through my mind. The most obvious wasthe concept that we'd be whipped until we broke. This would be a bad thingfor me: I seriously doubted I could take pain as well as Elouise. If it wasa sadism contest, I had an advantage. If I had to cane Amy's arse, say, I knewshe would forgive me if I had to beat her harder than Elouise beat Portia.

The only other option I could think of was wrestling of some kind, whichwas a complete unknown. I was bigger and probably stronger than Elouise, butshe may have had hidden sinews somewhere, possibly technique too. I knew itwould be a fierce, fiery contest, one that would involve hair-pulling, slapping,pinching, and I started to get my game face on.

Whatever the scenario, aggressive or defensive, I got myself ready. Therewas no way I was going to be unprep-

"What is the capital of Peru?"

"Huh?" asked Elouise, clearly as off-guard as me.

I saw my chance.

"Quito," I snapped eagerly.

"Lima," followed Elouise a moment later, and she was rewarded with a smilefrom Donna. I'd have given my best guitar for half of that smile.

Fucking Ecuador.

Elouise was motioned to take her place on the table, and I poured her asizeable portion of cool Bolognese. I looked on wistfully as the famished Elouisewolfed down mouthful after mouthful.

"Ah, this is unfair on Charlotte, isn't it?" mused Donna, which froze Elouisein mid chew. "She helped prepare this meal. It smelt so lovely too, didn'tit? And that's half the joy of the meal, the smell, isn't it? Amy, can youget that gag and put it on Charlotte please? Once it's on, Charlotte can takeher place by Elouise and smell the wonderful meal she lovingly crafted. It'sthe least I can do."

It was absolute torture, and I drooled large gobs of saliva into the bowl.I was so close, I could taste it. Elouise didn't care, she was too hungry toworry about little things like my bodily fluids. She swallowed it all, everythingthat was left in the pot.

As Amy adjusted my posture by pulling on a nipple through the bra, she whisperedquietly to me: "Don't worry, Charlotte, it could be worse. You might have beenasked to do the washing up."

Portia and Amy had the honour of grooming themselves and Elouise, lickingthe stray flecks of spag-bol off each others' chins. I watched them, my stomachrumbling jealously.

Once complete, Donna took Elouise to her side whilst the rest of us linedup by the kitchen wall, all in a row, all in underwear, all wide-eyed and nervous.

"Before we head downstairs, we have one issue to address," said Donna. "Elouise,get the buckets while I explain. Right, ladies, I've seen you twitch, and Amyasked if she could go to the toilet before she ate, so I know you're all bursting.But you can't. Tonight I control you, inside and out. And inside includes yourbladders, I'm afraid."

She seemed almost apologetic, as though she was sorry that she had to enforceher regime upon us. If there was one thing that she was not, it was that shewas not joking.

"First of you to urinate will regret it. I'll tell you now, to give you incentive.Whomever disobeys me first will drink her bucket, as well as the buckets ofher colleagues, AND all the domestic outpourings for… let's see… aweek. No, let's make it a fortnight. Is that all right?"

We all sheepishly nodded at the phrase 'domestic outpourings'. We were stilllined in order, and there was no bucket upon which to squat.

"I said," growled Donna, "is that all right?"

"Yes," we all chirped instantly, none of us wanting to be last to speak.Amy adding, "if I let go, I will be a piss-slave for the fortnight."

I'd never heard Amy use the phrase 'piss-slave' before, so I blinked a fewtimes, tittered to myself, looked to Donna who seemed pleased by Amy's outburst,then added myself "I will be a piss-slave if I urinate first."

"And I pledge to be a piss-slave for a month if it's me," concluded Portia,trying to suck-up.

I kept telling myself that 90% of the human body is water, so therefore 90%of sheep, cow and pig must also be water, and beans, peas and broccoli arebound to have a fair proportion of water too. 90% of any food, therefore, waswater. Since I hadn't eaten for two days, it had to give me an advantage.

In came Elouise with her empty fucking bladder. Three buckets were laid fourfeet apart in the lounge, and a nod from Donna prompted us to stand above oneeach. Amy began to tug down her panties.

"No, keep them on," declared Donna. "It'll add some incentive. The losercan suck the moisture out of the winners' delicates. The contest begins."

You heard of those phoney sports psychologists? Those 'positive visualisation'bastards? I've always thought it was a bunch of new-age hooey, but I decidedto give it a try on Portia. Without saying a word, without even looking ather, I pictured Portia chewing on my lingerie, then dreamt of her supping apint of my piss on her birthday in three weeks. I loved the thought of servingher some cake then getting the funnel out and pissing down her throat. It'shardly what those psychologists had in mind, but it worked. I was barely sweatingwhen I heard Amy rumble and crumple. She did not let go, but she raised a hand.

"Yes, Amy, you may speak."

"Please Donna, may I bend over?"

She wanted to bend over to get more comfortable, though the way I felt, Ididn't think it was possible.

"You may not. Put your hands on your head. Portia and Charlotte, you maybend over if it makes you more comfortable."

"Thanks, Donna," we said.

"Thank you, Donna," Amy sighed.

I could hear some squeaking from behind me. For a few moments, I thoughtit was Portia clamping a hand to her abdomen to dull the pain, but then I realisedthat it was Elouise behind me. Before I could twig what she was doing, shewas standing at Donna's side, one arm hidden behind her back. The other armheld a die, which she passed to Donna.

"I like games of chance," said Donna. "Amy, you're a one and a two. Charlotte,you're a three and a four. Portia, you're the others."

She rolled a three. Elouise stepped forwards, mouthed the word 'sorry' atme, then punched me in the stomach as hard as she could.

I bent double, stepped back three steps, and stepped forwards again quickly.Only then did I realise that the squeaking had been the sound of Elouise puttingon a boxing glove. I did not lose my feet, but I had lost my advantage. Mybladder stung and swelled, and I wanted to piss, fall asleep, then cry.

I did not cry. I did not fall asleep. I did not piss.

The safeword would cost me a thousand pounds, but even if it cost me twentypence, I would not use it.

"Thank you, Elouise," I gasped.

"This time," said the young Donna with a chirp, "Amy's a one. Charlotte'sa two or a three, and Portia's the other numbers."

There was no reason why it was weighted against Portia, we did not ask forone – in some way, because it was Donna who said it, we knew that shecould not be questioned, so the decision seemed fair and correct.

In any case, it did not matter. Donna rolled a one.

Elouise stepped before Amy, and pulled back her arm.

"Nooooo!" moaned Portia. We looked to her face, then to her legs. Drips ofheavy liquid seeped down them, until she realised that she had already lost.She let go, and it was like a fire extinguisher going off, a blast throughthe sheer material. The bucket began to fill beneath her.

Amy's punch was forgotten in the melee, and a small part of me suspectedthat Portia had deliberately chosen her moment so Amy would not suffer. ThenI quickly reminded myself that Portia could be a heartless cow when she wanted,so quickly discounted the theory. Amy might love her friends, but she wasn'tstupid.

"You two may remove your underwear, place it in Portia's bucket, and relieveyourselves in the same bucket. Do so quickly please, while Portia cleans herselfup. Elouise, can you get some of Portia's best clothes to mop this up, please?"

Elouise skipped off to Portia's bedroom, returning with a lovely light-greenblouse that I'd always envied. Elouise dabbed it onto the few blobs of odourlessliquid on the carpet.

"Okay," said Donna. "Put the blouse in the bucket, we'll leave that for Portialater. I think it's time we headed downstairs."

Part III - Weapons of Miss Destruction

I was blindfolded - I presume Portia and Amy were too, but I was the firstto get the sightless treatment. Not only could I not see, I could not hearafter I was adorned with a pair of earmuffs. I had no idea whether they werethe industrial-strength ones you see on roadside workers, or a pair of tameones that you might get on a plane. I never saw them, but they muffled mostof the sound. For instance, I couldn't hear the door to the basement studioopen, but I could hear it slam shut behind me after I'd stepped through it.I couldn't hear what was happening to Amy or Portia, but I could hear variouschains and cuffs being positioned onto me.

Perhaps most importantly, I could feel what was happeningto me.

Firstly, I had been stripped - I was naked again. A day earlier, that wouldhave been alarming, but now it was old hat. What was new hat was the platform- I had been positioned on some sort of three-foot high table. Only thing was,this was my basement and there were no such platforms before tonight. If they'dgot that there in for me, who knew what they'd brought down for Amy and Portia.

I should say that I could not sense either of them. Even blindfold and withno hearing, I'm sure I'd have been able to pick up their scent or feel theirbreath if they were near me, but there was nothing but Donna and Elouise. Forall I knew, a bunch of hoodlums had been brought in by Donna, and they weresticking cocks and fingers into everything they could find, jerking huge gobsof come into their gaping mouths. But I couldn't smell them either. Even so,the depraved fantasy startled me. What was I thinking, and why was I thinkingit?

On the platform, I was eased into a position where I was on all fours, thoughit was weird - I was sort of elongated to some extent. My elbows touched theplatform, as did my knees. The distance from my wrists to my ankles was wellover four feet, though from the cold hands that urged me into position, I wasencouraged not to lie down flat.

I was then left alone, and I could hear Amy and Portia being put into theirown positions. Various clanks and clinks indicated that they were in a differentposition to me, and to be honest, I was jealous. I wasn't even chained down,but I could hear keys being fastened and locks being locked. I wanted a partof that!

Then they returned to me, and did lock me down on all fours. Just the anklesand the wrists, both several feet apart. Again, I was positioned with my kneesat ninety degrees, which pushed my bum up in the air and stretched out my armsenough that I had to pick my elbows off the platform. My breasts hung downand touched the platform, and I was far too comfortable for this to last.

I was right. I was ushered up to a painful stretch where my breasts leftthe table, and I felt something slide underneath me. I was then told to relax,so I naturally dropped my chest back down. My tits landed on a hundred littlepinpricks. I yelped and lifted them up again.

"You ok, Charlotte?" asked Amy.

"Hush," said Donna, so I did not have a chance to respond. I was ok, I wasclearly ok to anyone who could see me, which meant that Amy was still blindfolded.

It was a necessary evil to wait while we were all prepared, but it was unnervingto kneel down and do nothing but keep my tits off the table, while I heardsqueaks and squawks from Amy and Portia as their poses were fine-tuned.

It was getting dull, nothing was going on, and I was about to say someth-

"Aaargh!" I yelped.

I had tasted the pain of the first blow of my first flogging. I would quicklyforget this first memory, because there were a dozen that quickly followedit. I realised how awkward I now was. I still couldn't see, though that wasa minor worry. Of much more concern was staying balanced, with my back archedas much as I could - I wanted to stay pretty for Donna - whilst keeping mynipples above those bastard pinpricks. I brushed them a few times, and thatwas bad enough - warm brass next to the skin - but I knew that it would onlybe a matter of time before the flogging I was taking would make me lose control.

After the first yell, I had tried to resist my cries to gritted-teeth whimpers,with much success. The reason was simple: I didn't want to scream in agony,have Portia call after me to check I was ok, and get herself into trouble.I guessed her and Amy would be in stringent conditions of their own, if Donnagot angry then she could have made them much worse.

Of course, in reality, it would have made no difference at all. I see thatnow.

The flogging, as I said, stopped after about a dozen blows, or about eightmillion and three, if you asked my arse. The blindfold was removed, and myeyes adjusted to the white light that flashed off the face of Donna. I breathedheavily at how beautiful she was, and my tits touched the pinpricks. "Yow!" Imewed.

Only then did she smile. "I'll get you yet, Charlotte," Donna whispered inmy ear. "I want to hear you scream in perfect pitch. But first, I must attendto the others."

My eyes followed her form until she drifted behind me again. No floggingthis time, thankfully, nothing at all in fact. I turned away from her and sawAmy and Portia for the first time.

They took my breath away.

I had expected them to be set up in a position like mine, but the differencewas astonishing and, I later realised, truly deliberate. Donna had tailoredthe positions to best show off the girls.

Amy, with her flat stomach and taut, trim body, was stretched out on a frame,in an X. Her right foot was about a yard away from my face, and I could seeright up her leg, if that gives you any idea of her position. She was faceup, and tilted upwards slightly - I could see the expression on her face, butif she tilted her head back, I would only see the bottom of her chin.

A second look showed that there was no underside to the frame, and her flatbody position was because she had no give in any of her bonds. She was alwaysa fashion victim, so the fact that she looked gorgeous made up for the factthat she must be in terrible discomfort.

I turned my head to look at Portia. She was standing on a small circularblock, on tiptoes, bent double at the waist with her arms reaching for thesky behind her. She wasn't quite naked - it looked like a steel corset wrappedround her waist, more for posture than pain, I presumed. It worked - her backwas indeed arched, and the corset ballooned her pretty breasts over the top.I could see Elouise tying Portia's hair into a pony tail, and tying that tailto the corset, so Portia's head was dragged back uncomfortably.

It was Portia's balance that was the most exciting for me. There was no wayfor Donna or Elouise to know it, but Portia had the poise of a dead elephant.Every single stain on my carpets was as a result of Portia tripping over herfeet, or my feet, or occasionally Amy's feet. Show Portia a foot, they say,and she'll trip over it.

So now she had to stand on a foot-wide disc, perfectly positioned so thatshe was up on her toes to prevent awful pain to her arms. If she fell fromthe block, she'd drop about two or three inches - it wouldn't dislocate hershoulders, but it would not be the best thing for her at this moment.

Like Amy and myself, Portia had been positioned in a way that showed offher best features - her long, slim legs and her smouldering face. She was nota fashion victim herself, but looking at her like this, I made a silent vowto get her to wear shorter skirts and high heels more often. I'd keep her corsetfor myself if it did that to my waist.

Elouise looked at her knots around Portia, and sighed. She undid the tieand redid it, and Portia's face was now pointing slightly upwards, despiteher chest pointing downwards. Her face was about a yard away from Amy's leftfoot, and close enough to me to give her a reassuring smile. She nervouslygrinned back at me.

Elouise then stepped away from Portia, and paced towards the bucket of piss,which I noticed for the first time. I exchanged glances with Amy, who despitebeing in agony herself, was concerned for her young friend. It was no use,of course, there was already a pint glass in the bucket, and Elouise pulledout a decent enough three-quarter full glass for Portia. There were no smart-aleccomments, no cries for help, no safe words, no demands for freedom. Elouiseheld the glass to Portia's lips and slowly made her drink the first of it.The first of many glasses for four weeks, in fact.

"Please Elouise, can I have another?" Portia whimpered without sarcasm.

She got another, which she drank a little quicker, and then Donna - stillbehind me - told her she could drink the rest later. Elouise took the bucketupstairs.

We were alone with Donna. And I was worried. Amy was in agony, Portia wouldsoon be in agony herself when her calves began to tense, but me? I was fine,provided I kept my chest above ground. Whatever bad was going to happen next,it was going to happen to me.

I was wrong.

The next bad thing that happened caused Portia to grimace with flashing teeth,and Amy whimpered and looked away from me. This was because of the NEXT BUTONE bad thing after the next bad thing.

The NEXT BUT ONE bad thing was the thin cane that caught me on both buttocks.

I roared at the sound, even before I felt it. It was an ugly whap of a soundthat annoyed the ears. I know a good sound when I hear it, and this was nota pleasurable sound.

And then I felt it. And it felt like I'd been branded.

In the studio, I once leaned an arm on a soldering iron - this was worse,much worse, but it's the only reference point I had. I screamed a high F, bouncedforward onto the spikes for a split-second, before bouncing back to my normalpose.

Just in time for the second stroke.

She'd done this before, had Donna. The second one caught me just below thefirst, only half an inch or so. Close enough for me to link it to the firstone, not close enough that it didn't feel like one big pain - no, it felt separate,different, new, double.

I began to cry after the third one, just below the first two, but I didn'twant to give up so I said "Thank you Donna, please can I have another?"

The only thing Donna said to me was after the fourth one, when, after gettingback into position, I let my head drop. She told me everso quietly to keepit up, to show Portia and Amy my pretty little face, she said. She didn't needto give me an excuse, but the excuse made me more humiliated, more alone.

Two more quickly followed - they really were six of the very best. None overlapped,all were on my arse, none on the thighs or back. It felt like I'd been sittingon a six-bar electric fire, I was flushed and out of breath.

"Ah there you are," said Donna to Elouise, returning to the room. "Come hereand hold this."

What Elouise was holding, I recognised instantly. It was a Rampant Rabbittoy, and she held it in just the right spot. Donna came round to my side, Iturned to face her and flash her a brave smile. She didn't reward me with praise,which broke my heart.

"Tell me when you're going to come," she said. "If you come without tellingme, I'll be most upset. Ok?"

"Yes, Donna," I nodded. I looked at her, and watched as she fiddled withthe mat beneath my breasts, until she put her hand to my chin and faced meforwards again. I didn't dare look back after that, but I did watch Portia'sface to see if there were any clues.

Recovering quickly from the caning, I began to feel the pleasure of the Rabbitas it vibrated away at me, Elouise moving it about slightly, trying to findthe position where it did most damage. She found it a few times, but I wastoo timid to tell her so. She was good, better than me, but Portia or Amy wouldhave been better if they'd been holding it. Even so, it wasn't long beforeI said in a clear voice from my diaphragm: "I'm about to come."

The vibrator stopped instantly, and I was so shocked, I moaned aloud "Aw" andlooked back to Elouise. I realised my mistake instantly and turned back tothe front.

"For that, you get an extra twenty volts," said Donna.

I was desperately confused by that comment, though I wasn't thick enoughto be completely at a loss. I just wondered two things - which part of me wouldbe electrocuted, and how bad would an extra twenty volts be?

I had to wait for my answer. Donna, quickly followed by Elouise, had steppedtowards Amy.

It's funny, isn't it? Ah, perhaps I should explain what is funny before youagree with me, so here goes. I'd been caned like crazy, my tits were beginningto twinge, and I was starting to feel the frustration of an incomplete orgasm.Oh, and I was really hungry too, though that was the least of my worries.

At the same time, I didn't want any serious harm to come to Amy. So whenDonna asked Elouise for the pinwheels, an item which I was ignorant of untilthat point, I was genuinely concerned for her. My heart and what was left ofmy stomach went out to her.

But there was a third emotion. There was self-pity for me, pity for Amy,and now there was curiosity. When that first pinwheel, with its sharpened steeltips, was rolled across Amy's stomach, I wanted to see how Amy would react.

"Yearooo!" she cried, and despite being strung tightly to steel, she managedto wriggle, three or four inches of movement.

Donna noticed too.

"She moved. Tighten her up, Elouise."

Elouise quickly adjusted the chains, and all the slack was removed. Now,when Donna ran two wheels simultaneously down the centre of each breast, Amyhad only one outlet. She screamed.

It went on for a few minutes, and like my caning, it must have seemed likean age to Amy. With a porcelain smile on her face, Donna criss-crossed Amy'sbody with the small metal devices. I since discovered that 'normal' pinwheelsaren't usually as severe as Donna's, but Amy was left with harsh little tracksall over her front. For the observer, the best moment occurred when Donna starteda new trail from Amy's left wrist, traversing down the edge of her left side,causing tiny wriggles and large screams at the armpit, and again just belowthe ribcage. The outside of the leg was relatively fine and jiggle-free.

Having got to the bottom of the foot, Donna continued her journey back up,up the inside of Amy's leg. There was a bonus for me and Portia at this point,because we could see Donna from the rear. Having such a close look at her bottom,I actually drooled, it was so edible and pert. Only when Amy howled a gutturalroar did I turn my attention back to my friend.

Donna had reached Amy's pussy, and was slowly pricking it a dozen times asecond. If Donna had a fault, it was shown here - she had to be so unemotionalwith us, it was why I loved her, but it meant that she could not dawdle onAmy's pussy, like any sensible person would. She had to move on, she had topretend that it was no big deal to cause such glorious pain to such a tenderarea. By comparison, the inside of the right leg was a cakewalk. Only whenthe right armpit was explored did Amy yell again.

Then it stopped.

And I wanted Amy's torture to continue. That's the funny bit I was tellingyou about. I'd gone from loving Amy and being sympathetic as hell towards her,to wanting to see more torture.

I got my wish... but it was my torture.

Bastard.

Donna stepped back towards me, again fiddling about with the mat underneathme, but it was Elouise behind me who was doing the dirty work. She must haveproduced a jar of lubricant from somewhere, because I felt a soft finger teasingmy arsehole. It prodded in, and I was tempted to look back, but I restrainedmyself. It wasn't unpleasant, a finger - then a second - inside me, but I hopedthere wouldn't be many more.

For once, I got my wish. There were no more fingers inside me. Instead, Elouiseinserted a cold, smooth metal object in there, about the size of an egg.

The egg was quickly followed by a bonus - not only did the Rabbit re-enterthe equation, but it was positioned perfectly, right on the underside of myclitoris, where it would do the most damage. It got better - it was taped intoplace, thoroughly and firmly using that industrial strength thing they useto stick down loft insulation.

The only problem with the Rabbit was that it wasn't turned on.

Donna turned to face me, and she was smiling, so naturally I was worried.Elouise took her side, and placed her bare hand on the spiky mat. She didn'twince at all. I wanted to sympathise with her, but the Rabbit had started upagain. I was closer to orgasm than I'd thought, and the half-hour inbetweenhadn't cooled me down much. But as soon as it started, it stopped.

Worse still, my bottom had exploded. The egg, which I thought was a simplesex-toy, had sprang to life and electrocuted within me. I was trying my bestto get it out, when it stopped. Elouise had placed her hand on the mat again,and I realised what was happening. Pressure on the mat equalled Rabbit action.No pressure on the mat equalled pain inside my rear. It had taken two cyclesfor the penny to drop - I'd never been the smartest tool in the drawer.

Against my will, but for the sake of my bottom, I crouched down and placedmy breasts on the mat. The hand was removed, and silent tears began to creepdown the side of my face as the painful pinpricks needled into me. The Rabbitwas a bonus, still, but it was bad in a way, as I kept wriggling, moving mybreasts to new points. I had to lift up after a moment, and the egg came tolife again. It was unbearable.

"Ah yes, you need your extra twenty volts," said Donna.

I kept up above the mat, not for my sake, but because I guessed it was whatDonna wanted. I wondered how the egg could hum so loudly, until I realisedthat it was me who was humming to stop myself from screaming. I couldn't tellyou how worse the extra volts were, it may have been the same or a hundredtimes worse. I was past the point where I could think.

There they left me with the choice of the painful tits, though the pain continuedeven when I was in the air, or the painful arse, though the memory of the paincontinued even when my tits were on the ground.

They went back to Amy, and I blinked away the tears in surprise. Surely itwas Portia's turn? But Amy's session was quick. It involved Elouise going tothe frame that was holding her, and unfastened a bolt. The frame was turned,and suddenly Amy was face down, with a fresh white-skinned palette now available.

It was available for Elouise only, in fact. She picked up a cane and steppedbeside Amy's bottom.

Donna turned towards Portia, as did my gaze, and I barely noticed when Iheard a whap and a cry from Amy. I had enough problems of my own, I couldn'tconcentrate on her and Portia as well.

Portia looked delectably delicate. She was breathing heavily, and her calfmuscles were horribly tensed, her toes were white with the pressure she wasputting them under.

What she didn't need was Donna crouching next to her. Portia winced her eyesshut as each inevitable pinwheel began just above the heel. Up it went, gettingno flicker at the calves, but at the knees.

Oh, at the knees!

At the back of Portia's knees, when the pinwheel spiked into the sensitive,fleshy area back there, the knees finally buckled. Portia staggered forwarda pace, off the block she was standing on, and her arm sockets clicked angrily.She got back into position quickly, looking in torment.

"I'm sorry Donna," she blubbered. "I'm sorry I moved."

"We'll just have to start again," said Donna flatly, crouching next to theheels again.

Amy whimpered on in the background.

Me? I couldn't care less about myself, but I was doing well, I have to say.I had got into a nice rhythm, thirty seconds up, thirty seconds down. The onlything that could change it was a phenomenal orgasm, but that wasn't going tohappen. There was no way Donna would let me do that, she'd turn off the Rabbitlong before then. Even so, I had to warn her - I'd been instructed to.

"Donna, I'm about to come."

"You may come," said Donna without looking up. "Knock yourself out."

The problem with the order was that it was an order. I'd reached the thirtyseconds on the mat, as much as I could stand, and I wanted to get back off.But she'd ordered me to come, so I had to stay down, you understand? And bystaying down, I was concentrating on my sore titties, rather than anythingwonderful on my pussy.

There were other reasons. I'd never come in front of more than one personbefore, and never with the lights on. Add in the fact that my two closest friendswere in absurd pain - a glance to Amy showed red welts on her ass and upperthighs, but Elouise was still leathering her with great gusto - and it felteven more inappropriate.

The fact that I could see my friends so close, that was the worst tortureof all. Take Amy, for instance. I saw her stretched out, looking incrediblyuncomfortable and glorious, red and blistered with white blotches shining through.I wanted to be able to touch her, to tell her that she looked so wonderful,to be on hand to release some of the tension in her limbs or crank it up anotch or two if she wanted me to. I'd have given anything to drape my fingertipsacross her belly, watching as she tucked herself into me, or backed away forfear of tickling.

As for Portia, I'd just have caned that arse with the fiercest bit of woodI could find. I drooled at the sight of her, and as I've repeatedly claimed,I'm no lesbian.

Donna finally turned to Portia, and draped a white hand across her archedback, up to the neck, stroking her like a fast car. Portia let out a puff ofrelieved air. She was undergoing the sensual touch of an expert, the touchof a mistress, to be envied and fantasised about for ever and ever.

And ever.

Donna did, of course, torture the living daylights out of Portia, concentratingon the breasts and nipples, clamping the latter to dangling empty pails, eachlight enough to be bearable... when empty. Donna then whipped Portia steadily,barely raising a bruise on Portia's thighs and bottom, patiently waiting untilPortia's bladder gave way once more, as it always did. Elouise was on handwith a funnel and hose underneath Portia, and the pails were filled, and Portiascreamed, and they continued her torment for another good, long hour, Elouiseand Donna alternating areas of Portia's body, keeping the levels of humiliationand pain up like a couple of plate-spinners. Everything Elouise did, she lookedto Donna for approval, everything Portia suffered was stamped with a seal ofquality.

I wish I could have seen it.

At the thought of that cold white hand of Donna's, the mental image of itdrifting up and down my body, I exploded into the most powerful orgasm of mylife, snorting forwards like I was being thrown from a car. When I awoke, Iwas sure that I must have banged my head on something, but there was no bruise,no scar, no marks at all, except on my breasts and bottom, where I expectedand loved them.

I was surprised to be in my own bed, clad in comfortable pyjamas. I knewit wasn't a dream, the aches saw to that, as did the card beside my bed. Itsat upon a box of chocolates, and read simply:

You disobeyed me. I've asked Amy and Portia to punish you overthe next month, any chance they get. I'm most disappointed in you, I thoughtyou were stronger than that.

Donna x

The chocolates, and the "x" at the end of the card gave me a shaft of hope,which I would cling to, until I saw Donna again. But then I re-read the message,and cursed myself for being so damn weak. I held my chin in the heel of myhand, and wept.

Epilogue

When I was able to sit down again, I found that I had a lot more creativityon the guitar. I wrote four songs in half a day, none of them kinky or crude,yet all of them emotional and angry. The sort of goosebump songs that Amy adores.I booked an early day in the studio, and got an engineer, Pete, that I'd hadmy eye on for some time. Pete was shortish and bulky, with tidy, shoulder-lengthhair and a stubble that gave my bruised skin something to look forward to.I'd been to his place a couple of times before, but the evenings had alwaysfrittered away to nothing.

This time I felt confident, and invited him back to my place. I was onlywearing loose jeans and a scrungy black blouse, but I felt like a queen. Isuppose it was a bit rude, as I should have cleared it with Portia and Amy,but I knew that if they saw him, they'd know that I couldn't turn him down.

We picked up a takeaway on the way home, there was something delicious aboutsmelly duck that always turned me on. Ten seconds after I closed my front door,I realised what a mistake I'd made. That was how long it took for the scentto drift upstairs to the bedrooms.

"Hang on!" cried Amy. "I'll be down in a minute. Two minutes. Hang on!"

"Oh Christ," I muttered to Pete. "Listen, we have a little game that we play.Amy's going to lay the table and serve the food. Just play along."

"She's a servant? You're not that famous, are you?"

"No, she's a housemate. But it's just a game. Just put the bags on the table,she'll do the rest."

I decided not to tell him what she'd be wearing.

Amy scampered downstairs in her frilly little maid's outfit, as always. Herlong-term punishment had been this role, and she'd been told to make it assexy as she could. With her legs, this meant that she wore fishnets that stoppedon the thigh, then there was an inch or two of flesh, then you could see thefrills of the skirt that didn't even attempt to hide a pair of silky red panties.

The outfit itself was black, of course, and covered up a fair bit of herupper body, yet it moulded and shaped her fantastic bosom to a truly spectacular,rounded level.

After all that, the four-inch heels she wore seemed almost drab by comparison.

Her scamper stopped dead when she saw that I wasn't alone.

"Oh."

"This is Pete," I said.

"Pleased to meet you," said Pete. "You must be Amy."

Although it was wonderful to see the dual discomfort, there was a more pressingmatter to attend to. "The food's getting cold. Two plates and some iced water,please."

"Yes, Charlotte," nodded Amy with a curtsy, before scuttling away for cutlery.

"That was a surprise," gasped Pete as he sat at the dining table.

"I know, I forgot that we do that. Just play along."

At that moment, Amy leaned over by Pete's side, to place a candelabra inthe centre of the table. Through the duck and prawn crackers, he could pickup the delicious aroma of Amy's lace, silk and skin. "I think I can play along."

We adapted quickly. After serving the food, Amy placed a small hand-bellon the table so she could give us some privacy – if we needed her thenwe could call her in from the kitchen. The conversation returned to normality,and Pete was such a gentleman that he didn't ask to ring for Amy once.

As we finished our meal, I decided to give him a treat. I tinkled the bell,and Amy skipped in.

"Can you take these dishes away, please? Oh, bring in a tin of peas and asmall saucer. Thanks."

"Yes, Charlotte," said Amy, brightly. I gave her a lot of credit for that,because she knew what would come next.

While she was in the kitchen, I explained what would happen. "You see, Pete,this game we have, it's got a little twist. Amy is supposed to clean our plateswhen we're finished. Unfortunately we've scoffed all the takeaway so she'sgot nothing to do. No plates to clean."

"Hence the peas," mused Pete.

"Hence the peas. You learn fast. Here she comes. Watch."

I moved the candle to a safe distance, placed the saucer on the dead centreof the table, and poured a couple of peas onto the plate.

I never took an eye off Pete, as he watched Amy clamber onto the table, crawlover to the centre, and bend down with perfect posture, arched back, arms claspedtogether at the back of her waist. One by one, she pouted a pea into her lips,then sucked it into her mouth. One by one, she said 'Thank you, Charlotte,thank you Pete'.

"Unfortunately," I said to Pete whilst pouring a few more peas into my hand, "Ican be rather careless."

I threw one onto the couch, three at random areas on the floor, and one intothe hall. Amy pivoted off the table and crawled around after the peas. Therewas something of the cheeky monkey about her, she seemed to wave her red pantied-arseat us wherever she went. She found each pea quickly, returning to the tableto ate the remaining peas from my hand, like a trusting guinea pig.

"That concludes dinner. Amy, many thanks for that. See you later."

We moved to the lounge and insulted the music channels for a good half hour,gradually edging closer and closer together. Neither of us could drink – Ican't hold my beer, and Pete had to be in the studio early the next day. Thisthought prompted me to get a move on. First I had to get comfortable.

I excused myself and headed upstairs. It had only been a few days, yet alreadyI was accustomed to going to the bathroom for a funnel, knocking on Portia'sdoor, getting her to lie on the floor of her bedroom while I pulled down myjeans and panties, then sloshing a good half-pint of piss into her mouth. Shethanked me for it, as required, and I returned the funnel to the bathroom,rinsed it out, washed my hands, and headed downstairs.

"I think I need to go too," said Pete as soon as I sat down. "Upstairs tothe left?"

"No, the right."

"But I'm sure I heard your footsteps going… ah perhaps I'm going mad."

I realised that there was a faux-pas. The toilet had not been flushed, andyet it would have been clean. Would he notice? If he did, what sort of sickowas he? If not, what sort of unhygenic bastard was he? At this dilemma, I thinkI realised why I'd been single for so long.

I doubt he noticed. Perhaps he'd had an aftershock image of Amy, and wastrying to calm himself down. It was such a surprise to hear the toilet flush,though, that I definitely heard Amy and Portia rustle about upstairs, afterPete had returned to my side.

I kissed him on his return, and now he had my consent, he reciprocated witheverything he had. Within a few moments we were locked together, exchangingsaliva. I came up for breath, and lolled happily backwards, my arm wrappedround his side.

Then I felt him tug the back of my head. It hurt.

"Ow, stop that!" I said.

"Stop what?" he replied, and I noticed that his left hand was on my rightknee, and his right hand was propping himself into a decent kissing angle.There was another tug.

"Guess who?" said a cute blonde voice from behind me. It was Portia's voice,and it was Amy's hand pulling my hair.

"What are you doing?" asked Pete of Amy, although he clearly hadn't recognisedher. She'd completely changed her outfit, except for the stockings, and wasnow in a leather basque that cinched in her waist to an hourglass. She worea paper-white wig that draped Britney hair to her shoulders. Portia was similarlyattired – though wigless - and looked even curvier, bursting out of herown dress and imposing boots.

"Oh, don't worry," cooed Amy. "It's just a little game we play."

My main thought, as I was dragged to my feet and up to my tip-toes, was thatPete must not leave. "Please stay, Pete. It is just a game, honest, it won'tbe long."

Portia winked at him. "Yeah, just sit back and enjoy the show."

"Loose clothing is advisable," added Amy.

"You're sure you're okay?" asked Pete of me. I nodded a nervous smile. "ThenI'll stay," he concluded.

The action started. The pair wrestled me to the floor, where Amy straddledmy stomach, bobbing up and down to sap my strength. Portia was working on myface, rubbing fingers into my mouth and soaping my face with my own saliva,smudging the subtle lipstick I'd agonised over for twenty minutes at the studio,getting it just right.

"Brace yourself for a pleasant surprise, Pete," narrated Amy, as she placedher hands on my collar. She ripped open my shirt with a loud zipping sound,buttons flying around the room like bullets. "See? No padding."

As Amy roughly jabbed her fingers into my sides, ticking a painful responsefrom me, Portia shuffled around my body and began to tug down my jeans.

"No," I said meekly, knowing it was no use. If she'd unbuttoned them, she'dhave removed them with no problem. But she had to enforce her authority, soshe eased them down my thighs in a dozen jolting tugs. In the melee, I lostone sock and my bra.

"As you can see, Charlotte is a lovely, pretty thing, with silky soft skinthat is ripe for bruising slaps," began Amy, breaking off to smack my breaston its side, "and cute little nipples that can be chewed or tugged – shelikes them both. Let's turn her over. Ah, now this is fantastic, look at thatbottom – oh darn, these panties are so last season, they'll just haveto go. Portia, will you do the honours?"

Portia withdrew a pair of scissors from underneath the couch and snippedthe waistband of my purple thong, and pulled it from my body.

"Into the mouth go the panties."

"Nng!" I hissed as my jaws were forced open.

"See, whenever she's had this done to her before, she's always been wearingfresh underwear, yet she's had these on all day, so they're bound to be a littlesweaty, aren't they?"

I nodded, but there was more to it than that. I'd worn them during a dayin a hot studio, singing emotional, passionate songs in the presence of a manthat I could lick like a popsicle. Sweat and juice mingled with adrenalineand anger. I looked briefly at Pete, and he seemed engrossed in my situation,yet sitting calm like it was a lapdance and he wasn't supposed to move. I titteredwhen I realised he was worried that they might start on him.

"We're not going to be much longer, Pete, but while we prepare our finalsurprise, can you read this to yourself, please?" Amy handed Pete a piece ofpaper, upon which a paragraph or two was written.

"Nng nn ny?" I asked.

Pete ignored me until he had finished. "Never you mind," he finally saidwith a devious smile. His implied consent was all Amy and Portia needed. Portialeapt upstairs to her bedroom while Amy idly spanked my bottom with a ping-pongbat.

"Here it is!" beamed Portia, holding what appeared to be a strap-on in herhand. She'd been on quite a spending spree, after getting a decent promotiontwo days earlier. She'd just gone in and asked for it, and they gave it toher, she couldn't believe it herself. The strap-on was probably something she'dbought that day from the nearest sex shop. I think she had a discount cardthere, she'd bought so much in the past few days.

I was confused for a very brief moment when Portia began to tie it on me,until I realised that the belt had two phalluses, and one of them was morelike a plug, as opposed to a dildo. It was built with double penetration inmind.

Unlike a strap-on, the phalluses pointed inwards. More like a strap-in, infact.

"It's the deluxe model – self-lubricating. Not that you need much withPete here."

She gently inserted the elements. The plug wasn't that big and easily enteredme. The dildo would have been more of a problem if I'd been cold, but I wascooking enough for it to slide in after a little pushing and fingering. Theleather belt of the strap-in continued its journey from back to front, anda tight yank made me feel like I was filled to bursting.

"Leg irons."

These were new too, and 'leg irons' was a rather dramatic name for what turnedout to be a pair of padded cuffs that comfortably wrapped my ankles. What wasannoying about them was that the chain that linked them was just the perfectlength to go up to from one cuff, up to the belt around my waist, around andunderneath, following the leather, and back down to the other cuff with halfa link to spare. It meant that I could sit on my ankles, but any movement wouldtighten the chain and push the plugs deeper inside me.

"Nnh!" I said when I made this discovery.

"I think we should give her the neck collar too."

This was something I'd worn during their previous assault on me – itwas just a metal collar, to which they'd attached a pair of handcuffs. It meantthat I couldn't undo the belt, but I expected that.

"Pete will tell you where the key is. Have a good time, you two."

And with that, the ordeal was over. Amy and Portia held hands as they skippedmerrily upstairs, leaving Pete and me alone again.

I was naked except for the plug and dildo, and I had no means of protectionif Pete wanted to play with my breasts for the next three hours. Or if he wantedto bend me over his knee and cane me, I couldn't stop that either. Or perhapshe could lead me round on my knees until I begged him to stop and promisedhim anything, something like a throat-scraping fellatio and swallowing of anythinghe had to give.

"Are you okay?" he asked, taking the panties from my mouth. "You seem tobe breathing heavily."

"It's… it's just a game that we play."

"Well, I don't want to keep you chained up for ever. The note says that Ican tell you that the key to your handcuffs is stuck to the strap that goesbetween your legs. Unfortunately the note says that I shouldn't help you anymore, you have to do the rest yourself."

"Oh," I said.

"But I can offer moral support," he added.

"Really?"

"Yes. Go team."

It was trickier than it sounded. The problem was that I couldn't get up torub myself on the side of a table or a banister – I had to search forlow things that could get in there. And I spotted Amy's boots, her sexy newboots, lying innocently by the television, just fifteen feet away. Perfect.

"Good idea," Pete said. This boy could read me like a book.

I shuffled one knee forwards, and with a great deal of effort, managed tomove the other to match it, at the same time trying not to cut myself in half.It took me three minutes to move four inches.

An alternative was needed.

"The race is not always to the swift," Pete declared.

Deciding to topple over to my side was a huge risk, as I suspected that Icouldn't get back up, but it was the only choice I had. "Can you catch me?" Iasked quietly.

"I'm not supposed to, but yeah," he whispered, easing my down on my side,then wiping his hands on his slacks as though he was disposing of the evidence.

My idea worked, thankfully. There was a little more slack in the chain likethis, and I could hop forwards using my elbows as a pivot. Yes, I got carpetburns all down my left side, and I accidentally punched myself in the chinwhen I misjudged a hop, but it took me five short, painful minutes to moveacross to Amy's boot.

"I can't do any more," Pete said, anticipating my question. "I, I just can't."

"S'okay," I said, forgiving him. I managed to use the nearest wall to getmyself upright, and moved over the boot.

And then I rubbed it into me, frigging myself on the boot like it was theshower attachment. My breasts jiggled like trifle as I toed myself, pushingthe chain, strap and dildo deep into me.

"Have I got it yet?" I asked.

Pete remained silent, seated on the couch. If that's the way he wants it,I thought, so moved my legs as much as I could, to see if I could feel metal.

Nothing.

I couldn't do anything else, so I went back to the boot, tears of frustrationbeginning to form in my eyes.

"All right," Pete said when he saw how upset I was going to be. "I thinkyou'd better read the note that they gave me."

He held up the first of two post-it notes so I could read it. It was in Amy'shandwriting.

Pete, hi from me and Portia.

Don't worry, it's just a game we play. She likes you a lot, shereally does, and she can be normal if you want. But I hope that you likeher like this, because when she's like this, she shines, and that's justwith us. If she can do this with you, she'll be on cloud nine, she'll bethe happiest woman in town. Even if you're not keen to take part yourself,at least meet her halfway, please Pete, please.

"I think you know that you can do this with me. There's no halfway aboutit," he said, before he kissed my nose.

The tears of frustration turned to tears of joy.

"There's more," he said with a smile, holding up the other note for me toread.

Tell her that the key is between her legs, see what she does, seehow clever she is. (The key is actually sitting on her bed, when you'vehad enough fun.) Good luck with everything, Amy xx

"You absolute bastard!" I snarled.

"That's a strange attitude for someone who has no way of protecting herself," hesmiled. He didn't move an inch, I felt in no danger, but I got the message.

I shook my head. "You seem really cool about all this, must have been ashock. I'm surprised you didn't leave the minute it got weird."

"No, I'm fine. As long as a Labrador doesn't walk through that door, thenI'm not going anywhere."

"Damn. That's the next hour out the window."

"Come on," he laughed, "let's get you upstairs."

He lifted me up like I was a marionette, whatever that is, and carried meupstairs, slowly but surely. It was the first time he'd touched my skin, andhis fingers wandered sweetly to the strap between my legs. I drifted off intoa fireman fantasy as he carried me.

By adjusting his grip on me, he alternated my tortures, forcing the plugdeeper into my bottom, then the dildo into my pussy. Each time he changed,his fingers poked my flesh, pinching my arse and thighs, slapping me when hegot the chance. I yelped some mild protests, but didn't want or need him tostop.

Taking directions from my elbow, we entered my room.

On the bed, as promised, was the key. Unfortunately, there were at leasteighty other keys, more vibrators and dildos than I'd ever seen in my life,and a trifle with a small sign sticking out of it saying ' Couldbe in here, love Portia '.

"Blimey," I said. "I'm sure I tidied all this up before I left."

"Looks like you've got a busy evening ahead of you," said Pete, droppingme from a small height onto a duck-down pillow. "But before I do this, andsorry to be graphic, but I've got to remove my trousers before I rupture myself.Always happens when I see a beautiful naked woman tied up on a bed. Have yougot a towel?"

"Nope," I purred as I bounced towards the first key. "But I can get you one.Sit yourself down by the trifle, and I'll be with you in a moment."

The End