poeticdesires

Category: Slut

  • Orange

    The look on her face was almost serene. I had never seen her experience this, never seen this play before.

    Yes, I had heard about it. It was a scene she was known for, a class she had given before but never was I able to attend.

    As I sat so close to her, watching it all unfold, I felt a wave of appreciation flow over me. She shared this amazing experience with all of us, this place she did not always go to, a depth few are willing or able to achieve.

    I sat close to the front so I could see it all. Her face. The rope work. Her body’s reactions. The room grew quiet quickly, taking on an almost ritual-like feel as the scene unfolded.

    It started slowly, methodically. First, the chest harness, binding her arms back. Not comfortable; that was not the intention of the scene. A line secured to the box tie was thrown up and tied tight, lifting her frame up. She could only stand on her toes.

    Next, the meanest part: her crotch rope. Coconut rope. It was to be a gift from the scene. Tied tightly, going into the creases of her thighs, then through her vulva, knots both on her clit and in her cunt. Cinched so that there was no give.

    A line tied to the side of her crotch rope, looped above her head, back down to the other side of the crotch rope, back up and secured. There would be no ease. This was never meant to be easy.

    A cuff on her right ankle. The rope stretched out to the side. Her leg up in the air. Her body off balance, trying to hold on. Pushing herself further. How long would she last?

    A cuff around her left thigh. It was time. The line went up. She was lifted completely off the ground. She floated in the pain, the pain visible on her face, in her body, the twitching muscles, the breathing. Still, she endured.

    A vibrator placed on her pussy. Could the pleasure make the pain worse? (It did.)

    Her breathing changed. Her voice warbled. She called out as she came, the pleasure mixing with the pain. How much longer would she last?

    She asked for the vibrator to be taken away. (It was.)

    But then her thigh was lifted more. You could see it. It was almost time.

    And then it happened. She called it.

    They took her down slowly. They released her bonds. The crotch rope was the worst.

    She’d done it. She pushed herself, pushed her body and mind to a place we, the attendees of the class, were so very grateful to witness, a scene we were so very grateful to see.

  • Little Moments

    “There were so many times tonight when all I wanted to do was grab you by your hair and push you down onto my cock.”

    “There were about a dozen times when all I wanted to do was drop to my knees, unzip your pants, and suck on your cock.”

    I was frustrated.

    The Meet & Greet had been fun, interacting with new folks, learning names, and generating ideas for classes for the next day. There was some drinking. There was a little play. But there was an obvious detail CherryBondage and I had not thought of: getting back to the Flying Dutchman for the Grue in the morning.

    It was decided we would travel back to CherryBondage’s home, retrieve what we needed, commute back, and crash at Hedwig’s. When we got back to CherryBondage’s place, I quickly realized it would be easier for me to just grab everything I had and bring it rather than parse out exactly what I needed.

    But then CherryBondage and I missed the last train heading back into London.

    Breathing heavy, having not been able to move as fast as her as I lugged my checked bag once more, I realized my over packing caused us to miss the train.

    In a moment of desperation, and utter not-giving-a-fuck, I offered to pay for a cab. Twenty-four pounds seemed a mere pittance to the idea of 1- waking up her house should we have returned, 2- lugging my things back up to her room on the top floor, and 3- not spending the night in the bed I longed to sleep in with the man I longed to be next to.

    I paid the fee. Forty minutes later we were at Hedwig’s and I was again carrying my checked bag up stairs, again all the way on the top floor.

    We left my bootblack kit in the hallway. I dumped my other bag in a chair in his room. I stripped quickly, not caring if I looked sexy doing it, and climbed into bed with Gray.

    And then he said that. And I said that. And it was all worth it.

    ~

    We laid in bed, well what was called a bed. It was a fold out “bed” from an Ikea couch, nothing more than two cushions on the floor, but it was his bed for the duration. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable than I imagined it to be.

    He was reading. I was writing. He laid on his back. I laid on my stomach.

    The day had been wet. We’d spent much of it inside the Flying Dutchman at the Grue, but came back to Hedwig’s in the light rain.

    We could hear people in the other bedrooms still awake, still happy, and still playing.

    As I scribbled in my Moleskin, my right side brushing up against his body, he rested his right hand on my ass and gently massaged my rump. I smiled at the affection.

    He liked my ass, and I liked that he liked my ass. He didn’t stop his gentle caress til he was ready to go to sleep.

    ~

    “My mouth misses your cock when it’s not in it.”
    “You say the nicest things.”

    ~

    We’d planned on heading back to The Electric Elephant, a kind of goodbye to our spot in London. But when we started walking towards the cafe, we realized it was much farther than we remembered, and the bus we needed had a stop right in front of another small eatery, Ozzie’s Cafe.

    We ventured inside. It was even smaller than The Electric Elephant. He ordered coffee; I ordered hot chocolate. He got a traditional English breakfast; I got a simple egg sandwich.

    I blew over my hot drink and tried to wait patiently for the temperature to drop to where I could drink it. We sat in a booth.

    He pulled out his journal and told me he’d be writing for a spell. Seeing the book come out, I knew we wouldn’t be chatting much for this meal. I pulled out my Moleskin, feeling inspired.

    Sitting, eating, writing, and sipping on my hot chocolate, I made a mental note of that simple moment, that few breaths of us in another small London spot, sharing space together.

  • Dominant Ash

    I was exhausted.

    My flight from DC to London had left at 10pm DC time, and arrived at 10am London time. Because of turbulence, I’d only slept for about three hours while on the plane.

    But I was in England. And CherryBondage was there waiting for me. We hugged for so long. It felt amazing to be near her again, to have her arms around me.

    As we made our way towards the Underground, she gave me great news. Gray had landed about half an hour before me and we were all going to have lunch together. Already my London trip was starting wonderfully.

    As CherryBondage and I headed down into the Underground, I realized our excursion, though fun, would not be easy. I lifted my checked back, packed to the gills with my bootblack kit, some rope, and other various items, and carried it down the stairs. And then up some stairs. And then down more stairs.

    CherryBondage and I met Gray and two of our friends at the Waterloo station. With recommendations from both Gray and CherryBondage, we decided to head to The Breakfast Club for lunch. Afterwards we stopped by Sh!, a adult store catered towards women, and then swung by another sex shop, though this one catered to gay men.

    Settling down, we encamped in a nearby Pret A Manger, seven hours after my arrival.

    As I said, I was exhausted, had clearly over packed, and saw no way to relieve myself of my mistake any time soon.

    In the moment, while sitting in the casual dining restaurant, all I wanted to do was push my chair out from my table, crawl under Gray’s table, place my head on his knee, pull his heel into my crotch, rest it against my clit, close my eyes, and relax. But I couldn’t.

    Still, I was among friends.

    As we chatted, Gray, who sat next to me, reached over and pinched my side. I kept my squealing low; there were other folks about. Gray then spoke about a new way of eating ash, a dominant way of eating ash. Of course I was curious, so he demonstrated the technique on me.

    Occasionally when we’ve played, I’ve been a simple ash tray. I stick out my hand, Gray rolls the ash into my palm, and I hold it for him.

    Gripping my hand, Gray squeezed my thumb and pinky together behind my palm creating a flat surface for his mock ash. Again I held back a yelp.

    Pulling my hand to his lips, he licked the center of my palm, dancing the tip of his tongue on my skin. I now understood what others felt when my tongue graced their palms. It tickled in the most sensuous way I’d ever felt. I wanted to melt right there.

    I couldn’t have my head at Gray’s knee, or his heel on my clit. I couldn’t make my luggage weigh less. I couldn’t magically be in bed, bathed, naked, and relaxed. But I did have Gray’s tongue on my hand, felt the heat of his ash kiss on my skin.

    Event though I was exhausted, Gray eating mock ash from my hand was enough to keep me going.

  • Lessons From London

    1- Pack Light

    Lighter than what you think light is. And then even lighter than that.

    I landed in London and met CherryBondage at Heathrow airport. After a quick primer on the London Underground, as well as a handy little map that fit in my pocket (which I lost), we then proceeded to the Waterloo Station where we were to meet up with Gray and two other friends for lunch.

    For the next six hours I found myself snaking through London, back pack on my back, one carry-on bag lugged by CherryBondage, and my checked bag which I hauled. This was packing light for me.

    However, it was far from any notion of light. My hands hurt, even though I constantly kept switching them. My back hurt from the weight of my bag, though I would’ve taken that pain over my red palms any day. My legs ached as each time we encountered stairs, which happens a lot with the Tube, I carried my bag up each and every step.

    Later, when it was time for play, Gray was a bit shocked to learn I had brought my entire bootblack kit, the source of much of the weight. That first day, and then hauling all my things to go stay with Gray, and then hauling everything again when I left was enough of a lesson.

    I bought the bag for my travel bootblack kit yesterday.

    2- WiFi, always use it.

    Thankfully in London, WiFi is plentiful. Unfortunately I did not realize this until it was too late. Before left for England, I swung by the phone store to add international calls and texts to my plan, but not data.

    So, when I got lost and need directions (multiple times), I whipped out my phone and used GoogleMaps. I thought since I kept closing down the app each time I found my way, the cost would not accrue so badly.

    I was wrong.

    I got a helpful text after that first data usage day, warning me of my the large amount of money I already owed. After said text message, I put my phone down and only used it when there was WiFi. And, if you pop into just about any shop and ask the person behind the counter, they’re tell you the password.

    Use WiFi; it’ll save you money.

    3- London is wet; get used to it.

    It rained everyday I was in London. Not at every moment, but at least sometime during the day or night there was rain. After a while, I never walked out of a building without expecting at least a small shower or light droplets falling.

    And, I must say, I did get used to it. Having come from a dry and cold area, it was nice to have moisture in the air. My skin and hair appreciated the change, and it gave me a reason to wear all of my clothes. (In this one section of my packing, I actually budgeted correctly.)

    Skipped puddles, side stepping small sidewalk pools, and hopping large oceans in the street became a fun game I played with myself each time we went for a walk, which was often.

    London’s wet, but I liked it.

    4- The Oyster Card is your best friend.

    The public transportation system in London is excellent. The first thing CherryBondage did, once she nabbed me from the airport, was purchase an Oyster Card, the payment card for both the London Tube system and their buses. Paying for one week of unlimited Zone 1-3, as well as unlimited buses, and adding about five dollars to get me from the airport, was enough so that I never had to add anything to my card for the entirety of my trip.

    My Oyster Card sits now with my passport, ready for when I go back to England. Though I still think the name is a bit cheesy, the reasoning behind it is quite true. With the card, London is your oyster.

    5- Money: Post offices exchange currency without fees, everything costs double, & coin cash rocks.

    Money gets its own note because so much of my time was spent figuring out the math behind currency.

    Before I ever landed, CherryBondage gave me quite possibly the best tip ever: do not exchange money at the airport. Instead she spotted me the cash I needed for my oyster card and I paid for lunch with a credit card before we eventually made it to a post office.

    As I sat and ate at The Breakfast Club with our group of traveling kinksters, I looked down the menu and saw reasonable prices. I enjoyed a hot chocolate and pull pork burrito for just under $15, which included tip.

    And then we made it to the post office. Gray had previously stated a simple fact, but it didn’t click in my head until I exchanged my dollars for pounds: everything costs double. I gave the attendant $400; ha gave me 219 pounds back. I then understood why Gray had only ordered a smoothie and a dessert. My lunch had cost me about $30.

    Still there were was one advantage to the pound which I loved: their coin money. In England they have the one pound and two pound coin, which I had not realized was so convenient. I collected all my change in a pocket in my back pack, and just when I thought I was running low on funds, I realized most of it was jingling around with me. More than once my pocket of coins paid for my meal.

    I will definitely be giving the Sacagawea another go of it.

    So… those are just a few of the lessons I learned while in England visiting CherryBondage and attending the London Grue.

    The stories of my sexy times will be coming quite soon.

  • I’m A Slut

    Today I was a slut.

    I am a slut everyday, but today was a magnificent day to be a slut.

    Attending our local Renaissance Festival, I donned garb befitting the occasion: a black wrap dress with ample cleavage shown, a chain mail diadem atop my mound of curls, black tights (for I knew it would be a bit brisk), my sexy sexy boots, and a belt which held my fox tail.

    I left this morning and arrived on the grounds around 11am. Accompanied by DeepEnd and RockStarIsis, we immediately set out to find food and beer. After a steak on a stake and a cider mixed with wine, I was more than happy to have just shown up for the day.

    As we mingled amongst the crowd, we lampooned ourselves as well as those around us. Inappropriate commentary abounded as we entertained ourselves in our not-at-all-politically-correct way. I was quite happy to spend time with my friends.

    As the afternoon crept up, RockStarIsis and DeepEnd departed but Amethyst arrived. Once again, meat and alcohol were needed. As we mingled, chatting and having a good time, the subject of boots arose. I escorted Amethyst to the seller of my boots, where she was happy to try on their wares and discuss adornment options. As she shopped, I stood around and watched.

    And then, randomly, a work friend appeared. I greeted him with a hug, introduced him to Amethyst, and we chatted. As Amethyst enjoyed her shopping, I enjoyed my time with my friend.

    We chatted as he stood next to me. On occasion I leaned into him and found that he would return my subtle advance. Feeling bold, I glided my fingertips against his arm. Again positive feedback. When we left the boot seller’s, we walked hand-in-hand. Later, when we parted, after yet more subtle cues, we exchanged phone numbers.

    Though I’ve known him for over a year, this was the first time we’d interacted outside of watchful eyes. I suppose it was best it happened this way. Though I am open at work, no else should feel like they have to be.

    Happy to have connected with my work friend, Amethyst and I jaunted on.

    Randomly, we ran into a few of her friends. I introduced myself and was happy to make the acquaintance of two beautiful women and one handsome man. As we talked, I soon learned one of the women was kinky, the other a lesbian, and the man was kink aware and kink friendly. This opened up our conversations and relaxed my need to censure myself.

    As we drank and traversed the Faire grounds, I found myself giving subtle advances to all three of them. An errant brush of an arm. A lean into the body. A smile. A hand hold. I found all three of them very attractive and saw no need to let that be hidden.

    As we nested by a tree near the elephant ride, more laughter and chatting ensued. I found myself in the beautiful position of one woman to my left, snuggled up next to me, while the other sat by my feet caressing my boots. The gentleman crouched near us, laughing and joking as we all took in the many Faire attendees.

    Sensing the perfect opportunity, I retrieved all of their info (phone numbers, Twitter, etc.). I will be honest: I felt like the shit at that moment.

    Since it was getting late, we meandered closer to the exit to buy ourselves more time. None of us wanted to leave. But, as with all things, soon it was time to go.

    Our hugs were drawn out. At one point I clung tight to the lesbian. At another, I found myself with the gentleman at my back and the other woman to my front, the sweet center of their embrace.

    Exiting Faire eight hours after I’d entered, I could not help but feel joy and happiness. From the food. From the alcohol. From the laughs and good conversation. But, mostly, from being a slut and not feeling any shame about it.

  • Also Missed

    “I’m leaving.”
    “When?”
    “Like, right now.”

    He was pissed. He was really pissed. He stood up and started punching my chest. For a moment I wondered if my missed playdate with TwistedView would happen right there.

    As I back peddled, somehow Murphy added into the mix, suggesting he could punch my back while TwistedView attacked my front. I was having none of that.

    I screamed no. And then I ran. Like seriously ran. TwistedView grabbed onto me, but I clawed my way free, sprinting onto the asphalt path. I turned and saw the two of them slowly approaching.

    “No. I’m serious guys. No.”

    Still, they crept forward.

    “Are you going to call red?”
    “I don’t want to, but I will if I have to.”

    Their menacing stares receded. They gave assurances they were done.

    Instead of punching me, they wanted to hug me bye. The two of them surrounded me. And then Murphy asked the magical question.

    “How are you? It’s seemed like you’ve been off this camp.”

    And then I could finally say it, could finally reveal the weight on my heart. I missed all the people that weren’t there.

    Life is life. You cannot predict it. Sometimes you’re just along for the ride.

    Some of people at the last FetFest were not there this year, but there were two that pierced my heart to its core. Lil Sis was out of the country and Gray was in Hawaii.

    As I drove to camp, I realized their absences were the source of my reluctance to go in the first place. It took me til 3pm to arrive even though I had planned to show up as soon as registration opened (11am).

    I thought about them the whole time I was there. I remembered all the joy I had with them this past year and the many wonderful moments from last FetFest. As hard as I tried to fall into my camp experience, I couldn’t shake my dark cloud.

    It didn’t matter that I knew I would see Gray in a week. It didn’t matter that I knew I was heading to London in a month. They weren’t there. And as much as I wanted to love my event, it just didn’t feel the same to me without them.

    When I left on Sunday I was sad to go but also relieved. I didn’t have to try to hide my sadness, didn’t have to push myself to participate, didn’t have to be on, didn’t have to do anything. I could just be me, sad-quiet-people-missing-not-funtastic-at-the-moment me.

    It’s hard for me to give my pain voice. And, because of that, I did not have the event I could’ve.

  • Not For Long

    “Are you ready?”
    “Huh?”
    “Are you ready?”
    “For what?”
    “Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom. Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom. Doomy doom, doom doom, doom da doomy doom, doom doom. Doom doom da doom, doom da doom, doom da doom.”

    Her rendition of the Imperial March was stuck in my head long after we parted.

    As I drove around I-495, ferrying a Brit to the airport, we approached the bend in the highway just before the Connecticut Avenue exit and it loomed before us: the Mormon temple. I could not begin to guess how many times I’d passed the imposing structure, but this time was the most memorable.

    Cruising along, Lil Sis sat beside me as I sped her towards Dulles, and away from us.

    “Would you like a strawberry milkshake for the road?”
    “How about Quiznos instead?”

    Apparently there are no Quiznos in London; she had her last fix of toasted sandwich (and toasted cookie too) before we were off. She paid for lunch.

    We chatted, small talk to get the through the unease I felt. I didn’t want to let her go.

    But she had to go. The last thing I wanted was for her to get into trouble with people who carried guns. I desperately wanted her to stay, but life isn’t so simple or easy.

    When I finally pulled up to the departure drop off, we hugged in my car. And then we hugged outside of my car. I held her tight, way longer than any normal interaction with a friend, because this was it. This was the bye.

    When we finally broke apart, I had to keep my attitude upbeat. I spoke of the London Grue, and the Olympics, and seeing her other friends. I tried to sound light, hopeful.

    As she walked inside, I stood at my car and waited. I watched her til I couldn’t see her anymore.

    I then took a deep breath and drove off. I played my music loud. I told myself I would see her soon. I reminded myself of the the London Grue and her fun with her other friends.

    I didn’t need to cry; I’d already done that on the floor in my basement a few days earlier, rope wound tight around me. I’d already wailed and lamented the suckage of life. I’d already mourned the inevitable.

    Instead it was time to breathe, and to drive, and to make myself look forward, make myself focus on seeing my Lil Sis again.

    And though a huge ass ocean separates us, I know it will not be forever or for long.

  • Abduction part 5

    My abduction had a special guest. They walked into my line-of-sight after all my limbs were restrained, somewhere in the middle of my pain. I hadn’t heard their voice before then either.

    They wore beautiful boots, black with red trim and buckles at the top. They used those boots to step on my stomach. They stepped on my chest. They stepped on my face and smeared the mud from their walk through the woods to my abduction onto my cheeks.

    Murphy ordered me to compliment the special guest on their boots.

    “I already did earlier.” I had, in fact, seen the special guest wearing those boots before my class and remarked on how beautiful they were.

    “We don’t give a shit,” yelled Gray. “Do it again!” He punished me for my sass. I screamed out in pain, and then in adoration of the boots.

    “I love your boots, X. All I want to do is kiss and lick them.”

    “Now you are a filthy fucking slut,” remarked Slut.

    With her hand now free from my cunt, Slut transitioned to biting me all over: my chest, arms, legs, stomach.

    With PrudeNate’s hand inside me, I soon asked permission to cum again. I was refused.

    I pushed through the pain, now not just the scratching and punches and biting, but also willing my body to not react, willing my muscles to not contract, willing my orgasm back.

    Murphy said I would gain permission for my cum if I screamed out my name, Cabin Bitch For Life. I did. I came.

    [Added thanks to PrudeNate:

    As my torment continued, someone remarked that there was nowhere on my body that had not been punched.  PrudeNate, however, disagreed. 

    “There’s somehwere she hasn’t been punched yet.”  The group looked to him in astonsihment, asking where. 

    “Here,” he replied as he punched my cervix with his fist inside me.  There were many nodding heads of approval, as well as a few at-a-boys.]

    During the duration of the scene, whenever I began to catch my breath, or Gray and Murphy thought I was getting too quiet (as in I wasn’t full throated screaming or sobbing), the duo beat me more.

    “We want your voice gone. You’re not going to stop screaming.” I don’t remember which of the two said that.

    N3rddom, who I’d barely seen throughout my ordeal, came into my line-of-sight, punched my chest, kissed me, and whispered into my ear, “Aren’t you glad you asked me to do this?”

    When he stood back up, he also remarked, “What happened to you mindfucking us?”

    With PrudeNate fisting me, CandleLover’s nails gripping my breast, and Slut’s teeth sunk down into my stomach, it became too much. At one point, Slut bit hard, pulled, and swiveled her head back and forth.

    I tried to break free. I was so sweaty it was hard for everyone to hold my limbs as I wrenched my body around. I got an arm out, but was soon restrained again.

    I needed to get away. I was able to curl my body away from Slut, but she never let go of my stomach. She just wouldn’t stop biting me.

    Finally I had to scream, the most guttural scream of my life. “YELLOW!” Immediately people relaxed their grip. I curled into a ball away from Slut, away from her teeth. It happened to be into Big Bro’s lap.

    I just needed a moment. I just needed water. I just needed Slut to not be biting me.

    After I chugged a bottle of water, I said I was okay. I thought we would go on.

    Instead Big Bro called it. I was done.

  • Abduction part 4

    Lying on my back, I was now completely naked. They pulled off all remaining pieces of fabric of my tattered dress, as well as slipped the strap of my Hello Kitty bag over my head.

    CandleLover held my left arm. Cannonball gripped my right arm. My back rested on their thighs. Murphy was on my right leg and Gray on my left. I couldn’t get away. There was nowhere to go.

    Slut again drew targets, this time on my chest. The marker she used scratched my skin terribly, a mere warm up for their punches. With her targets drawn, Slut began fisting me while others gave me more pain.

    First people took turns abusing my chest. Murphy intended to use his double barrel shot gun method, but he made me ask for it. The first time I asked, he said I wasn’t loud enough. The second time I screamed as hard as I could.

    “Murphy, please hit me with the double barrel shot gun!”

    He slammed both his fists into my chest. I was grateful for CandleLover and Cannonball supporting my torso, even if I was their hostage.

    Now it was Gray’s turn. He told Murphy how Big Bro was mentioned in my interrogation. Gray said how he didn’t punch as hard as Murphy, so he made up for it in number of hits and increased speed. Gray punched quickly all over my chest. He also struck my stomach and my thighs.

    Gray again pulled out his cane, the one that was great for leaving marks, and continued to attack my chest. He hit my nipples and lashed at the underside of my breasts.

    Then both Murphy and Gray sunk their fingers into my flesh, waves of pain surging from their pressure points manipulations. Meanwhile CandleLover’s nailed gripped my breasts and scratched my skin.

    I was given some reprieve as Cannonball poured water into my mouth. I gratefully gulped down the entire bottle, getting about a minute break before the torture continued.

    With my short breather, I was finally able to start enjoying Slut’s fisting, whereas before it had been a way to endure the pain. As she continued to work, I could feel an orgasm rising. N3rddom brought out a vibrator and placed it on my clit. The crew made me endure more pain before I was allowed to cum.

    When I asked permission, Murphy insisted I beg for my orgasm. He made me scream out the names of the event organizers, but they were nowhere within hearing distance. Then he made me ask the photographers, who had been shooting the abduction the entire time.

    When I begged the duo to allow me to cum, the male of the two replied, “In a minute.”

    “I like you. You can run with us,” said Murphy.

    Gray gripped my throat. My eyes locked on his. He began counting back from five. When he finished, I was allowed to cum.

    Finally, finally, I felt lustful beautiful warmth surge through my abdomen. Finally I was rewarded for my pain.

    Slut switched out with PrudeNate. Time for Round two.

  • Abduction part 3

    “Whatever someone has done to you, they can do it again.”
    “Oh shit.”

    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.