"Dear Diary, Tory; and Lois," is it?
Well then I'll begin this entry this way: Dear Diary and Tory, Erik has asked me to keep this up just as though you were doing so, our dear Tory. First he had me go through all you've written here and copy out every bodily or sexual phrase you used. To get, he said the feel of your prose. Then I had to read and reread all your silly drivel. Then he bad me read a couple of Victorian novels, since he says that's almost the way you write. He also gave me a whole list of phrases to use here, writing this just as you would have, Tory dear.
But I will not write it in the first person, as if it were written by you, which of course this isn't.
Nor will I write it in the first parson as me, Lois. I will keep up your journal, but in an objective style. But also, as far as I can, in your style.
Erik says that if I fuck up in doing that, he will wrap a wire around my tits, tight, and leave it there several days-with a plug in my ass, too. So… no more "luck" or "tits" or even "ass".
So you followed me…
No no! Not THAT way. Objectively. Look at me, look at Lois, she's a writer, now!
So Tory followed Lois, wearing a black bra and matching panties under a long-sleeved black blouse… that had belonged to Isobel… and navy blue pants. And house-slippers. She picked her virginal way across the backyard and through the woods, and across the fallen-down portion of the old rock fence, and went slipping from tree to tree up to the old house of assorted colored stones, laid mostly vertically; that is with the flat surfaces facing out, rather than their edges. She rounded the last tree, stopped carefully past the thorn tree, and squatted behind the big riotous bush to peek into that fascinating old cellar that Erik had refitted so carefully and cleverly.
Just as she squatted there, the lights went out in the basement. (Call it the dungeon, why not?)
She waited, scarcely breathing in the darkness, staring at the window and trying to will her eyes to see into the blackness inside. Meanwhile Erik went out the back door of the cellar-the dungeon… and up the steps. And Miles slipped silently out of the woods, where he'd been waiting and watching for Tory. (Once she was past his hiding place, of course, she hadn't seen the quick flash of his penlight that let Erik know she was indeed coming.) And I… that is, Lois, slipped out the front door; I went over to the porch rail on the side of the house where she was.
"Who's there?" I cried out, and naturally Tory tried to be as quiet as possible, with her heart pounding like a sledge-hammer and sweat breaking out to prickle in her armpits. She sneaked back out of the bushes and jumped up to run. As she passed the big tree right behind her, Miles stuck out his foot and she tripped and went flying headlong, with a scream of surprise and terror.
Miles jumped to stand astride her, and bent over to flip her over. She flopped over, whimpering and cringing, and saw him there, all in black and wearing that fearsome black mask… hood, actually, covering his full face Erik had had me make. She screamed again, and the cry trailed off into a gurgling sound as her throat closed up in fear.
In one swift motion Miles reached down, hooked his leather-gloved hand in the front of that black blouse she wore over all that juicy heroic bosom of hers, and ripped it all the way down to her belt. Then, still standing astride her, he reached in and grabbed two handsful of breasts that were the color of paper and the texture of nylon and the resiliency of rubber balls. He squeezed, digging his fingers in. She lurched upward, her face a mask of pure terror, and sagged.
Miles looked up at Erik who had got there in absolute silence.
"She fainted."
"Good. Bring her inside."
I went back into the house, locked the doors, and met them in the dungeon as they brought her in, Erik walking behind Miles, who carried her. She looked like a perfectly-done rag doll, hanging over his arms, with her hair streaming down and one arm flopping and her legs swinging from the knees down. She'd lost one dark blue house-slipper.
"This," Erik said, "is a good-looking girl."
"This," I said, "is one hell of a body!"
"Shall I strip her?" Miles said.
Erik shook his head, looking down at the unconscious girl Miles bad laid on the floor. Her pale hair formed a cloud-like halo about her head. Her oversize bosom, only partially bared by the ripping of her blouse since she wore a brassiere, thrust the blouse high and created many fascinating wrinkles in it. I've never had reason to be ashamed of my body, but this girl made me feel inadequate.
"No, of course we don't strip her yet," Erik said, as though Miles were an idiot. "We'll do that when she's conscious. It would crush her to wake up naked, but it will be better to let her see and feel her clothes go, when that time comes. Just put the leather cuffs on her and hook them together, behind her."
This Miles did, while Erik donned the long brown robe be always wears down here in the… the dungeon. Erik also outlined for us what we would do when the girl awoke. I grinned. Then he told me to start plying her with smelling salts, at the same time as Miles sat her in a chair and bound her to it with a single cord around her waist.
"Unnh… ummmm… hhh…" she began to rock her head, trying to get away from the smelling salts. And then she was awake. We had put on only one light, which was behind us and thus made her very clear to our view while our faces were just barely discernible to her. Mystery! She stared around at us with wide blue eyes, then jerked her hands and started to rise. Thus she learned she was securely bound.
"Let me go!"
"You've been trespassing," Erik pointed out. "This is my property. Following Lois here and trying to peep in my windows is hardly a neighborly way to behave. But after all we ARE neighbors, so I won't call the police. We'll handle the… recompense, ourselves."
Her eyes, if possible, went even wider and her breathing made the white tops of her trembling white breasts heave up over her black bra as though they would spill out at any moment. Her mouth worked for a moment in silence, until she could speak.
"What… you wouldn't da… you can't… recompense?"
"I thought you'd come back to that," Erik said. "Well, it isn't punishment, really. You have a choice. You can either perform a certain task for us, or be spanked, like a child."
"Spanked!" She jerked her head until the blonde hair flew, then bit her lip and said, more quietly, "A… certain task?"
"Show her, Lois."
I showed her. Miles wore his crotchless tights, and I knelt in front of him as Erik had instructed before we woke her up. Miles' phallic weapon was hardly in a state of erection, but I swiftly remedied that. My tongue licked down the shaft until I let him feel it creeping into the tenderly hair at its base, laying his testicles. I sucked at those semen-swollen globes, then my tongue swooped, curled, licked, loving the shaft I had moistened. It rose, and rose, and rose, until it was delightfully long and hard. (Or menacingly so, in her eyes!)
I heard her gasp behind me, and it made me smile.
I ate him then, sliding my mouth and face up and down the big throbbing red pole of his sex until my forehead and strained, tautened cheeks glistened with sweat from my exertions. My red hair tickled his thighs. I knew enough to stop, kissing the big engorged tip of his circumcised organ, just before he was ready to erupt into me like an angry and sex-starved bull. He groaned at being abandoned just at the point of climax, but that was the agreement.
I eased back, letting his long, swollen, red cock trail out of my mouth.
I rose and turned to smile at her… while Miles fondled the bare breasts thrusting out of my black body-stocking. Oh, her face! It was full of shock and horror.
"The only recompense I request," Erik told her, "is that you treat me precisely as Lois just treated Miles. I covet that pretty mouth of yours, Tory, all wide and so full of lower lip. It was made for sucking cocks."
She was speechless.
But after a time she regained the power of speech and railed at him: "Monster! I wouldn't dream of touching your obscene thing!"
"Then it will have to be the whipping," he said quietly, as calmly as ever.
"You… I… you wouldn't dare!"
"Release her from the chair, Miles."
Miles did, not without making her suck in a very sharp breath by passing his hand across the bulge of one full firm breast. She looked down at herself, as though noticing for the first time her partial exposure. Her indrawn breath was a little sob. She looked up at Erik with eyes that were more imploring than angry.
"Please-pull my blouse together." Her half-bare titties trembled and quivered.
Erik stepped forward, set his hands to her riven blouse, and jerked the edges wider apart. Both cups of her bra were exposed, along with the beautiful white bulges above them and the deep dark crease in the center. The flesh quivered like jelly with her mortified breathing.
"Oooooh! Monster! Sex maniacs! Stop this!"
Miles pulled her to her feet, hurting her of course, for he pulled one arm and her wrists were still linked behind her back. He had to hold her, very tightly, while Erik unbuckled her belt. Unzipping her pants, he drew them down her quivering thighs and tensing, full calves. She screamed and tossed her head and did her best to jerk free. A knee came rushing up at Erik; he side-stepped, batting it aside with one hand, and he slapped her. She was hurled into a startled silence.
"You… you…"
"… slapped you, yes," Erik said off-handedly, and the three of us tugged off her pants. Now her torn shirt hung in two ragged halves down her front, leaving bare a strip of flesh between, displaying her beautifully formed belly with its shallow navel. She wore black nylon briefs that matched her bra, and I saw that the mound of her pubis was very pronounced. She kept her legs clamped firmly together.
Erik took his seat in the chair. He tapped his thighs. "Right here," he said.
"No-o-o-ohh!"
She struggled, twisting and turning and trying desperately to wrestle with Miles, even though her wrists were well secured. I watched her and sighed, making my own rosy-nippled breasts, quite bare, rise and come shuddering down with the movement.
Miles forced her forward across Erik's thighs. He laid an arm on her back to hold her there while all three of us looked down at the plump upthrust of those round buttocks, thrusting hard at the fabric of her briefs.
"No-o-o-… please! I'll…"
Erik was regarding the lovely targets. He began by swinging a side-armed blow that made his open hand cup the very bases of the girl's plump white buttocks, just where they flowed out of her briefs to round down into her soft, tight-fleshed thighs. She squealed and jerked, squeezing the panty-covered, quivering hills together. She whimpered out a little moan.
"That's one," I said.
Erik slapped the enticing round rump twice again in the same manner, making his hand go craaack! against her jiggling cheeks. He paused, arm raised, to watch while the two black-clad hemispheres tightened in anticipation of his next slap. She writhed, but his left hand on her back held her fast. Her fingers twisted and turned, grasping at nothing as they were bound on her back above the sudden up-rushing mounds of her rump.
"Aa-a-a-aaaaa-a-a-ah… so-o-o… ha-arrd!"
Slowly, her cheeks began to relax; the silly girl probably thought that was all she would receive! I could see her buttocks edging apart within the tight black panties.
Grinning, Erik slapped the left cheek six times in swift succession. The girl lurched across his thighs and made a little throaty sound, a choked-off cry. I knew she hated to cry out; to announce her pain and humiliation only added to her embarrassment. The slaps were loud in the stone room.
His hand shot up and down, smacking still again onto her helplessly-flinching, jiggling flesh. Her eyes streamed sudden tears of pain and humiliation and misery.
"Stop… sto-o-oOP! You can't… can't DO this!"
Naturally she expected still another slap to her untouched left hindcheek, and naturally Erik swatted it once again, making the demiglobe jerk and jiggle. Then he put all his strength into a blow with his palm slightly cupped to slap the other cheek, hard.
"Ow-w-w-w-wwwwwow!"
SLAP! Again the big hand descended on jiggling, red-blazing hillocks.
That was a dozen, and that was my cue.
"She's faking," I said coldly. "She can't feel it, even, through those silly black panties. They're like armor!"
"My God!" she cried, jerking violently so that Erik had to grasp her side to keep her from wriggling off onto the floor. She was like a lovely, slippery eel on his thighs, and I was sure he must by now have a tremendous erection.
"No!" she shouted, trying to look around and up at him. "No no no no no-o-o-o-oo no!"
She cringed, moaning, when his fingers slipped beneath the snug little elastic band to touch her bare flesh beneath. She jerked violently when he stroked her up-surging cheek. Then he laid hold of the snug nylon and pulled. She screeched and kicked her legs until I thought she'd injure herself.
But Erik peeled her panties slowly and carefully down to bare a beautiful rump, gloriously fleshy and firm-looking, snowy white except for the reddening finger marks here and there on the gentle curves…
Erik slapped her naked rump. Again. Again, his palm descending right across the deep crease that separated them, turning the perfect globe of her bottom into two lovely hemispheres. She kicked and flailed and squealed, and suddenly I grinned, seeing the pale blonde fur on her sweet little slit, below the moons he tormented with his hard-falling palm. Didn't she have sense enough to know that she was displaying her closely-guarded sexpot when she kicked and jerked her legs?
Smiling, he slapped twice again, deliberately and slowly, cupping the cheeks. We knew that heat was filling the girl's rump, easing up into her quivering body. The heightening scarlet of her rump-cheeks was proof enough of that. Her white white breasts were spilling two-thirds out of her bra as she hung over his leg with her arms drawn back and hooked together.
The prints of his fingers were clearly visible on the left hemisphere, although on the right one they had spread and joined to form a lovely rose hue.
"You would follow Lois, and you would spy on us… but you wouldn't even give me a bit of pleasure with your mouth in recompense, eh?" Erik said, and she whimpered loudly.
Pushing hard with his left forearm on her back, he looked at me. I began to count.
"One…two. One… two!"
Methodically, he proceeded to cover every tiniest portion of that upturned and shivering flesh with his sharply-descending palm, keeping perfect time with my count. The loud slaps cracked out again and again. More tongues of flame leaped through her firm, round haunches. The girl writhed and jerked and quivered, emitting whimpers and little moaning sounds.
A well-aimed swat to the very base of her right cheek, the one that had received the worse punishment and now showed no white flesh at all, brought an ugly cry from her. Her bare legs shot straight out, jerking convulsively. Again he was careful to aim at the very reddest area of tormented flesh. Down came his hand, slamming hard across both full firm posteriors.
She screamed, jerking as though stabbed. Tears spurted from her eyes. Her loud "Ahhhhh" and "Arrrrhhh" and "Ayaaaa-a-a-a" sounds had now diminished to a steady moaning: "Unnnggghhhhnnnn…"
He looked up at me and nodded.
I went for the jar. She saw nothing while I held it out to him. He thrust his finger in, covering it with slippery greaseless lubricant and waited.
At last, since the beating seemed to have ended, she slowly relaxed her tight-clenched cheeks. (A very muscular bottom, that girl has!) We watched the slap-reddened demiglobes ease apart.
Erik slid his well-slicked finger between them and straight up into the smooth warm passage of her soft, tender, anus.
She screeched and went drum-taut, all over. I watched her calves bunch. She strove to hurl herself from his knees to the floor. To no avail, of course. He held her there and he held his finger in her. He looked up with a small smile, and he nodded.
"Deee-aa-a-a-rrr… G-Go-o-o-od… s-s-s… TOP!"
I don't believe I have ever heard a more pitiful or totally defeated and humiliated voice, a more pleading voice, in all my life. How could a girl BE this way? How could her parents have made such a creature of her? Why hasn't Isobel tried to make a human being of her? She's like a female priest! Christ, she's utterly miserable! And I'm happier than anybody has a right to be, serving and being laid by two men! I have been for three years, ever since I came here at age fourteen and Erik gave me the rules: serve, obey, fuck and suck. I agreed. He opened my virgin ass that night, the same night, with first one finger and then two and then his big swollen shaft.
I was so lost in this reflection that I almost missed his signal to me. Erik plans everything. I caught it, though, standing there staring at his hand on her backside, seemingly missing one finger, the longest one, the finger finger. I said what he'd earlier told me to say at this point.
"Don't let her fool you, Erik. She does that to herself all the time, and she's bad two fingers up into that blast furnace between her buttocks, too!"
The girl moaned and went limp. Miles squatted to peer at her face, and rose again, shaking his head. She was not unconscious.
She was just defeated, humiliated in every pore. Her entire body lay there limply, submissively, in helpless defeat and silent expectation and tacit acceptance of whatever was to come next. In her mind, of course, she was utterly debased and degraded, at bottom.
She didn't know about the plans we had for her!