Bayawan “Whatever someone has done to you, they can do it again.”
With my knowledge that Gray was indeed a part of my abduction team, the possibilities for pain, restraints, and all kinds of meanness increased exponentially. My level of dread for what was to come skyrocketed.
As the truck traveled, we passed over the uneven terrain of the camp. I had no idea where we were going.
When we stopped, I was pushed out of the truck onto the ground. I heard Murphy ahead of me and felt him tug on my chains, pulling me forward. I was to walk the rest of the way to my fate.
My Hello Kitty bag was still slung over my shoulder, a dangling dead weight as I was marched along.
My dress was in tatters, barely clinging to my body. Another bra had been destroyed (but, since Gray had ripped one of my bras before, technically it was allowed).
The terrain was a little rocky but mostly muddy; I guessed we were in the woods.
When we finally stopped, I felt a log under me as Murphy dragged me onto it. My legs straddled the large piece of wood. I was pushed down onto my stomach. My dress was ripped still more, exposing my back and backside.
My captors started with spankings. At first it was Slut’s big blue cock smacking my ass playfully. Soon, though, Murphy had a better idea.
I knew Big Bro’s love of firing squads, having experienced the Hitachi Firing Squad last year at Rope Camp. He suggested the entire team participate in a spanking fire squad. So many hands stung my body all over my back and ass. I screamed and tried to wiggle away. Of course, there was no getting away.
They turned me around on the log, pulled off my hood, and Slut’s big blue cock was now in my mouth. Murphy gripped my hair and bobbed my head back and forth on Slut’s strap-on, encouraging my efforts.
There was yet still more abuse to my ass. Punches, for which Slut drew targets before her and others inflicted their blows. A cricket bat, who strokes were at first wickedly stingy. But then N3rddom (I’m assuming it was him since I know he owns a cricket bat) turned the implement and began giving me thuddy hits. Those strokes were but a small respite as next out came a cane; more stingy pain eliciting my cries.
Again I tried to crawl away. Instead they just flipped me over, my back now on the log. Apparently one side was cooked enough. It was time for the front.
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