She looked down at her body again, very conscious of her exposed nipples and her obscenely short skirt, which in fact revealed her shaved cunt as she knelt before us. She shuddered again as she thought about walking around in public exposed that way. I tugged gently on the leash, but held it close to her collar as I began to walk, making her crawl forward on her knees and giving her some practice responding to leash control. And I also knew that moving on her knees would force those dildos locked inside her to do their work as well. I monitored her closely until she appeared well on her way to an orgasm, then stopped and told her to rise to her feet.
Phil would accompany us for the trip. I removed her leash for the moment, but warned her, “If you do not move at our command at all times, we may just have to leash you on the street as well, slut. And remember —- do NOT conceal your body at any time, unless you want to wear the handcuffs.”
“Y-yes, Sir. Thank you Sir.”
We walked out the door. Denise’s eyes certainly darted around noting the occasional person on the street, extremely self-conscious. Her nipples remained rock-hard, confirming that public exposure was indeed a turn-on for her, as was the seemingly forced nature of her activities. Whenever we passed a male on the sidewalk, his eyes were glued to her tits, which bounced at her every step. The few holes in the thin fabric made it clear as well that she wore nothing beneath the shirt, as they exposed the flesh of her tits from the sides. Even worse for her was when other girls passed by—her eyes would lower in embarrassment and her face would turn beet red in humiliation as she was seen as the clear property of the two men with her and blatantly aroused. She knew they could see the cum on her face, and more than one was overheard commenting on that. Every step she took moved the two dildos within her body, keeping her arousal at a peak. And the camera caught it all, her own face and body reactions as well as the faces of people who saw her on the street and openly leered at her exposed body.
At one point, she begged, “Please Sir . . . ”
“What, slut?”
“I’m . . . I’m almost gonna cum with these dildos . . . what do I do?”
“You may cum, slut. Try to control your reactions and do not scream. You’ll be punished if you embarrass us.”
I watched her as her body strained, trying to walk normally, but the orgasm took her clearly and she could not suppress a deep moan as her hips rolled subtlely with the cum. Before we reached her place, she came twice more.
Her studio apartment was on the second floor. We let her lead the way and followed her, noting that we could easily see beneath her skirt as we climbed the stairs. Indeed, the dildos were obviously moving intensely within her as she climbed, and I was surprised that she didn’t cum again before reaching the top. If it was two flights, she definitely would have had another orgasm. Her juices were beginning to drip down her thighs, and we could smell her heat.
We entered and locked the door.
“Strip, slut!”
She looked back, a bit surprised at the command. “You are our property now and may not dress in private without permission.” She obediently removed the top and skirt. I let her keep the shoes on, and of course the dildo harness and collar remained locked on.
She didn’t have much to pack. A very few books and papers, a bit of jewelry. “We’ll be sorting thru your clothing, of course. Slaves do not hide their bodies behind the clothes of a free woman.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Much of her clothing was similar to what she had worn to the interview. The jeans all went to the trash, as did the shirts, except for one of each kept for bad weather days. She had two pairs of sandals, two pairs of heels and some hiking boots, all of which she was allowed to keep. She had four halter tops, and two were revealing enough and quick enough to remove to meet our standards. She also had two other cutoff tees, one in white and another in red, all tattered and clearly not intended for public wear. She also had a few acceptable skirts, not unlike the borrowed one she wore now. For her, they would be her primary uniform now. Her bras were completely unacceptable, although she did have a couple pairs of panties that were very skimpy G-strings and we allowed her to keep those.
She did have a knapsack. I told her to pack the stuff in that for the trip back—her Masters would not carry her things for her. And I knew the knapsack would pull her shoulders back a bit, and it would not allow her to hide herself as she would behind a box. I added a padlock, just to reinforce the idea of her clothing being under my control. Now, she was not a girl moving, but a beast of burden carrying our property.
After getting the knapsack properly fitted to her, I had a thought. Her wrists could be concealed beneath the bottom of the knapsack if she simply held them up. I handcuffed her wrists behind her and looked carefully to insure the cuffs would not be visible. That had the effect of pulling back a bit on the scant top she wore, tightening it against her tits, even stretching the holes in it, opening them further. I also noted that the skirt would likely ride up just a bit as she walked, revealing the bottom of her asscheeks. With her hands cuffed, she would not be able to pull it down.
She was moaning in arousal before we left the studio, and in fact she came again as we walked down the stairs, and twice more before we reached home. At one point, a gust of wind came up and revealed her welted ass in full, including the strap of the dildo harness which was pulled up tightly between her asscheeks. I told her, “Your ass marks well, slut.” She moaned, knowing her striped ass could be seen at times. By the time we returned, the cum on her face was totally dried, and her juices had dripped down to her knees.
I stopped her as soon as the front door was closed and released her cuffs. “Strip!”
She seemed taken back again, but only momentarily. The pack was removed, followed by her top and skirt. I told her to put them in the pack which I unlocked briefly for the purpose, and she obeyed. I then made her put the pack back on and re-cuffed her hands.
We led her to a small empty storage room. She was allowed to put the pack down there and kneel naked. Phil had his assistant begin mounting several eyebolts in some key locations in the small room which we would be using to fasten our slave with. There was literally nothing in the room BUT her pack now—not one piece of furniture, nothing covering the rough wood floor, just an overhead light with the switch outside the door.
I leashed her, then picked up her pack myself and led her to where I had set up a small work area to deal with our needs for leather restraints and such. I opened a cabinet and placed her clothing inside, then locked it. She would be unable to clothe herself unless I unlocked the cabinet.
“That will deal with your clothing needs for now. But there are some other things you need to wear…”
I had already roughed out some leather wrist and ankle cuffs in preparation. I fitted them to her, then riveted them in place around her limbs. They fit very snug and would not be removed until someone either cut the leather or drilled out the rivets. They each had rings attached for restraining her, and I knew that any one of the rings would bear her full weight if needed.
Her dildo harness was next. I removed the dildo for her cunt, since she would not be allowed any pleasure as she slept, but replaced the slender anal plug with one a size larger. I then inserted the plug into her ass, locking on the harness.
She gasped as it entered, but did not complain. “Your ass is too tight. It needs to be enlarged so that it can be fucked comfortably by those men who wish to use you there.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“The plug will get a bit larger each day until you can accept a cock of any size with no discomfort to the man fucking you there. Your discomfort is unimportant, except that if you do complain about the size of the later plugs, we can go up two sizes instead of one…”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Now you are properly attired as a slavegirl.” I pointed to a mirror and told her, “Look at the body of a slavegirl.”
She stepped to the mirror and faced it, and she looked at her body. I saw her nipples harden as she saw herself. I told her, “Caress yourself, slut!” She shuddered and her face reddened, but one hand moved quickly to her wet cunt and began to finger herself. As she began to moan nearing orgasm, I took a padlock and locked her wrists behind her back, saying nothing. I noted the camera focus in on her shoulders as her muscles flexed briefly testing the shackles; they did not give at all. She moaned in her need, her eyes desperate for pleasure, but I told her, “A slavegirl does not cum unless it is her Master’s will. She serves the pleasure of others, not herself.” She again looked at herself -— her thrusting breasts, her opened and wet pussy, her face which still bore the cum from Jocko’s cock earlier in the day as well as Stephanie’s juices.
I re-leashed her and we walked back toward her closet. I made her kneel against the wall where one of the eyebolts was and padlocked her collar to the wall. She had no slack and would remain kneeling until unlocked. We put out the light, and the camera was set up on a tripod right outside the door where it would capture her while she awaited us, illuminated only by the dim light from the hall outside.
We snacked in the kitchen briefly and discussed plans for the night and the next day. When finished, I walked back to Denise and wordlessly blindfolded her. I then went back to the kitchen and returned with Phil. No words were spoken—he withdrew his cock and proceeded to fuck the girl’s mouth. She moaned when she felt it nudge at her lips, but opened and served his pleasure. He came on her face, then left the room. I then removed her padlock and replaced it with about two feet of chain. This would allow her to lay down against the wall without choking herself. Her wrists would remain locked behind her, and the blindfold would also remain in place. She was never told whose cock she sucked, and would not know until she herself saw the movie which recorded it all. I said only a few words to her as I walked from the room, leaving her to her night: “You are a slavegirl.” She moaned pitifully as the latest load of cum dripped down and began drying on her face. She slept as she could with no blanket or pillow.
A couple of hours later, I was ready to bed down for the night, but there was one other matter to be attended to. I walked into Denise’s closet and awoke her wordlessly with simply a tug on her chain, until she rose, with a moan, to her knees. I thrust my own cock at her mouth, and inside as she opened. I used her roughly, her hair in one hand and her chain in the other, pushing hard into her throat, until I was ready to cum. I divided my load between her mouth and her face, watching as it dripped down onto her breasts, then re-entered her mouth to be cleaned. I made her clean my balls as well. I then turned and walked out of the closet. She had been used again, this time awoken from her sleep for the purpose. Her moans of arousal before I came told me she would respond well to this treatment. I would make sure she was similarly used, awakened from sleep to suck someone off at least once each night.
******
The next morning I woke her up and had her suck my cock immediately, but not to orgasm. I knew over time that awakening to a cock using her mouth would be a powerful tool not only in increasing her drive to submission, but it would also cultivate her addiction to cocksucking as her arousal would build within her as she was used. After a few minutes, I brought her to her feet and led her to the bathroom.
Her chain was removed, and I allowed her to use the toilet, then turned on the shower water and thrust her within, her wrists still shackled behind her back. I washed her myself, then combed the snarls out of her hair. I had her wear some sandals with 4” heels, but aside from them and her shackles, she remained naked.
The kitchen was next. I chained her wrists in front of her, with chains connected to her collar, long enough to work but not to cover her cunt or touch herself there. I told her, “Clean the kitchen, and prepare to make breakfast.”
She was a bit taken back when, as she looked for a broom and mop to do the floor, I gave her a whisk broom and a bucket and rags. “A slave works on her knees”, was my only explanation. By the time the kitchen was properly cleaned, the crew was getting up and ready for breakfast.
She made bacon and eggs for everyone else, and I allowed her to make a bowl of oatmeal for herself. It was amusing to see her react to the occasional spatter of grease on her flesh as she tended the bacon, but obviously she would not be allowed an apron. After the crew was served, I re-locked her wrists behind her back and placed her bowl on the floor. She would begin now to learn to feed herself without her hands, eating like a dog.
After she finished eating, she was used twice. Once by one of the cameramen, who had her suck his cock, this time swallowing his entire load. The second time by Stephanie, who she licked to orgasm.
When she had finished the dishes and cleaned up after breakfast, I showed her the new cage I had found for her. It was little more than a dog kennel, with cage bars on its top, sides and floor. It was sized and designed for a medium-to-large-sized dog to occupy comfortably, but I stood it on end and, with the open door now on top, had her climb in and kneel, still shackled. The door closed over her head and left her perhaps an inch of space above her head. Finally, I attached some light chains to the four corners at the top and hoisted it a few inches into the air. She would remain shackled, caged and exposed to our eyes until we were ready to depart.
Phil had taken the crew into another room to discuss some practical issues, so I took the opportunity to have a brief talk with Denise. I stood in front of her, her face close to the level of my covered cock. I found it interesting that she could not tilt her head to look up at me—the cage was too tight for that.
“So Denise—time to talk for a bit, for the moment, as equals.”
Her eyes looked up at me, to the extent they could. “Sir?”
I smiled, “Don’t worry about the ‘Sir’ for now. Right now, I want to know how you’re doing, how you’re feeling about this, how you’re reacting to enslavement.”
She looked down, paused and thought about it for a moment, which I thought to be a good sign. She was considering her answers and not responding on either impulse or on what she thought I wanted to hear from her.
“It is everything I dreamed about. Its hard sometimes—that whipping was certainly for real, and the welts still hurt. But right now I haven’t come since yesterday morning. That’s making me feel the control, and that in itself is making me feel very hot.”
I knew there was far more to say. I asked her, “How do you feel about being seen exposed and helpless by the others? Touched by them, even used sexually by them?”
She practically moaned. “I think that’s one of the most powerful parts of my fantasy. All of that. Being naked, even being exposed in public is an incredible turn-on for me. And it reminds me constantly of your power over me. I know I don’t have to tell you how much it turns me on -— I’m sure you can see it.”
I smiled back at her and said simply, “I can indeed. And that is one of the reasons why you are prohibited from hiding it.”
“There’s something special about having to suck off these guys. If I was just being fucked normally, I’d be getting off too. But giving pleasure when I can’t get off, being controlled so that I am not allowed to while I am serving other people, there’s something deep and moving about that, something I didn’t even anticipate from the outside, in my dreams. Its powerful. I don’t understand it yet, but I know it is a part of this thing and it wouldn’t be right without it.”
I told her, “You were allowed orgasm yesterday, as much for our entertainment as it was for your own experience of being controlled. Today, most likely, you’ll serve more people and not be allowed to take pleasure at all. You may well go a week, perhaps several weeks running, without being allowed to take pleasure.”
She closed her eyes and moaned audibly. She pulled against her wrist restraints, making the curves of her breasts stand out. I smiled at her, and she smiled back. “You are a natural slave, a natural slut. I wonder how you’d react to wearing a permanent chastity belt? You know there are such women, locked into chastity for good, who never are allowed to cum. There are even chastity belts made for such women, belts with locks which, once locked, cannot be released without destroying the belt.”
Her eyes widened at that, but her arousal continued to react. “I would hope that would not be my fate, but even so, the idea itself is powerful. I feel shudders going thru my body as I think about it.”
I smiled again. “Don’t worry, slut. That is not a part of my plan at this time. Right now I find it far more pleasurable to be able to make you cum with an audience so as to entertain as a slut should. Just remember that whenever you are allowed to cum, it will be by our choice, not yours. And it will almost always be in public, with an audience.”
We paused there, as I thought about a few other issues. “Today, we will be opening some more doors for you. I’ve got some surprises in mind, not the least of which are some new toys to try out on you.”
She smiled, then gave me a “MMMmmmm.”
I then told her, “You’d best remember, you are a slavegirl. Sometimes your suffering is what provides pleasure for your Masters, as well as your degradation and humiliation. And you will find those things among your surprises today, rest assured.”
She shuddered again at that, then closed her eyes and took a breath. “Master, if you are pleased by my suffering, then let me please you.”
How could I refuse such an offer? I reached into my pocket and pulled out a set of cloverleaf clamps. She looked at them with some fear, knowing what they were, but never having experienced them before. She summoned up her courage, then begged, “Please Master, clamp my nipples.”
I applied the clamps. As the first one bit into her left nipple, she gasped briefly, then moaned as the pain took hold. When the second one gripped her, she was already anticipating the pain and took it a bit better. Now, the pain was visible on her face.
Nevertheless, she smiled up at me and said, “T-thank you, Master.”
I simply watched her suffering the clamps for a moment, perhaps a full minute, to let her know I was taking it in and enjoying every second of it. I then began to speak to her again.
“We’ll be going out today. You will be serving the entire crew as well as some additional people, as a slavegirl. You will be prohibited from concealing yourself in any way. Your dress, when any clothing is allowed, will be minimal at best, down to total nakedness at times. We may also be trying out some special items with no purpose beyond punishment or training. You will provide sexual service on demand to anyone, and most of the time it will be with your mouth. Does a slavegirl have any problem with that?”
She pulled at her shackles again, and I noted with satisfaction the way it made her clamped nipples move. “N-no, Master.”
“Remember, always, one thing. No matter how restrictive your slavery, you always have one choice you can make at any time -- the choice to stop being a slavegirl. But as long as you do not make that choice, we will use you without hesitation, with no consideration at all for your needs except for safety, or for your likelihood to entertain us with your reactions to being abused. Answer me as an equal for this once -- do you fully understand that, and do you consent to it?”
She looked up at me and said, firmly and confidently, “I do.”
“Good.”
I turned and walked away, leaving her caged, naked, chained and clamped.
Ten minutes later, one of the cameramen, at my urging, came to her. Wordlessly, he added a couple ounces of weight to each of her clamps, to which she moaned in substantial pain. He then exposed his cock and thrust it through the bars of her cage at her mouth. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, beginning to suck him off. I stood by the camera watching, the weights hanging from her clamps swinging with the motions of her body as she sucked him, suffering her pain to bring him pleasure. It took a few minutes before he shot his load on her face, then walked away. She had been used.
We planned on a trip to a local bar where arrangements had already been made for the public use of a slavegirl. While the crew finished their preparations, I had another training item to try out on Denise. I went to my makeshift workshop and called her. “Cocksucker!”
She appeared quickly, kneeling at my feet.
“Stand, cunt. We have a new toy for you to try on.”
She stood. “Hands behind your neck, lace your fingers together, elbows well back!”
She obeyed, and her breasts projected themselves into even greater prominence.
I took a few measurements, then made some adjustments on my new item until I was sure the fit was perfect. I then showed it to her.
It was a bra of sorts. Two curved pieces of stiff belt leather forming a half bra which would support her breasts and thrust them out, but not cover her aureoles or the upper half of her breasts at all. Two loops around her shoulders made for a tight fit on her, and it could be locked on. I fitted it to her and locked it as she maintained her position. I noted her eyes as they caught the brief reflection of metal inside the bra as I brought it to her, and I know she felt something inside of it as I locked it on.
She held her hands as ordered, not being permitted to lower them yet. Before I would issue that command, I spoke to her about the lesson this toy was designed to teach her.
“Slut, your body is no longer yours--it is ours. You are allowed no modesty of any kind. The position you now hold displays your tits in a very provocative way. Should you lower your arms to hang naturally, your tits will no longer be displayed as invitingly. So, this item is designed to encourage your brazen display.”
I smiled cruelly, then said, “You may lower your arms.”
She lowered them, then gasped as the weight of her breasts came down with some pressure on the leather designed to support them. The leather cups were lined with small needlepoints about an eighth of an inch long--not long enough to injure or draw blood, but certainly long enough to puncture a bit into her flesh and create some substantial pain.
“AAaaiieiii!!!”, she screamed, as much from the shock as from the actual pain.
“If you raise your arms again as you did before, most of the pain will vanish.”
She quickly raised her arms again.
I smiled at her. “Anything which imposes a punishment for a slave concealing herself, but rewards her for displaying herself properly, is a good training tool. And this one can also be used for pure punishment, or for teaching you to tolerate the pain for its own sake. Lower your arms, cunt!”
I raised my voice for the last, making it a firm command that was not to be disobeyed. She moaned as the pain returned, and I quickly locked her wrists behind her back.
Now, she could do nothing to stop the pain. And she suffered it on the undersides of her breasts, one of the most sensitive places in her anatomy, also a place where all women feel extraordinary vulnerability.
She looked at me fearfully, wordlessly pleading for some key with which to end her punishment.
“A slave may be punished for cause, or for training alone, or for simply the whims of her Master. In this case, it is for both training and to please my whim of the moment.”
I unlocked her wrists. “Leave your hands down and suffer the pain until I remove the bra. Return to your duties. Should you disobey, I will lock your wrists in position for a substantially longer time.”
“Y-yes, Master.” She returned to the kitchen, the pain visible on her face.
About twenty minutes later, we were ready to go. I released the slave from her bra and allowed her to dress in her skimpy white tee, a black flared microskirt and her heeled sandals. I then tied her hair into a ponytail, but one coming up from the top center of her skull.
“Do you know what this is, slut?”
“No, Master.”
“It is called a ‘Cocksucker’s Topknot’. It is well-known by both members of the BDSM community and those who are oral sex enthusiasts as being a hand-hold for the head of a girl who is used to suck cock. Your clothes and your obedience will mark you as a slave. This topknot will mark you as a cocksucker to all those who know its meaning. And today, many of the people seeing it will know.”
The bar was in a seedy part of town. It was frequented by an assortment of characters, from gay men to construction workers to longshoremen to out and out perverts of all descriptions, not to mention the occasional pimp or streetwalker. We had already dealt with the manager of the place for permission to shoot, and we already had several cameras installed in key places, including several right in the single rest room which could be shared by both sexes.
I led her in on her leash, but with wrists and ankles unlocked. We sat at the bar, where she was ordered to kneel beside my stool. I draped the leash around the bar itself much as one would if parking a horse and wrapping its reins around a rail. Her wrists naturally crossed behind her back, and I noted her nipples were already obviously erect. Her knees were separated by over a foot.
As we finished a round of beers, the locals quickly formed a circle around the slavegirl. They leered overtly at her, staring at her tits which she made no effort to conceal. A few of them asked, “Who is she?”, or “Where does she come from?”, or “Is she being paid for this?”. I smiled, not responding to any of them at first. Finally, I stood and looked down at her.
“Slut--what do I call you most often?”
Her face reddened as she faced all the eyes looking down at her. “M-master, you most often call me ‘Cocksucker’.”
Laughter rang out, as well as a few cheers. “Right you are, cocksucker.” I then faced the group and asked, “Is there anything else you need to know?”
One called out, “No!”
I smiled then, and said, “Then what are we waiting for?”, and began to lead the girl on her knees to the restroom.
I paused briefly to note the television positioned above the bar. I called out “Phil, switch it on now please?”
The screen flickered, then a new picture came up of the restroom’s interior, its focus on a spot about waist high right beside the urinal.
Denise’s face registered shock as she understood what she was looking at. “Yes, cocksucker. You will be sucking cock in the restroom. And everyone here in the bar will be watching you on screen.”
I led her into the rest room, then locked her wrist shackles behind her back. I then used a short length of chain to lock her collar ring to a bit of plumbing right next to the urinal. I noted with amusement that one of the small details I had the crew attend to during the preparations was to remove the deodorizer from the urinal. This would allow the smell of piss to build up in the small rest room as well as provide some other possibilities for her degradation later. I then spoke to her briefly.
“If anyone wants to be sucked off, you will obey. Should anyone do anything to you you feel might be harmful to my property or threatening, simply call out and we will be here in seconds. And keep in mind--the men will be coming in here to piss. If they fuck your mouth first and you do not get them off quickly enough, you may be drinking down far more than a load of cum.”
She shuddered deeply at that. And I knew with the growing smell of piss in the room, the thought certainly would remain on her mind as she served.
We left, and her first customer came in.
He pissed first, and I know she was chained close enough to the urinal for her to feel a bit of the splatter. She registered it on her face as she felt it. The guy finished pissing, and came away already hard and ready. He took one step to the side and asked her, “You ready for this?” She replied, “Yes, Sir”, and opened her mouth. Less than five minutes later I saw her swallowing as he dropped his load entirely in her mouth. As he walked out, another man walked in and pissed without using her. The following man went right to her mouth and she began to suck him.
I gave her about half an hour, during which time she sucked off five guys. I then wordlessly entered and clamped her nipples, adding about two ounces of weights to each. I then turned and walked out. She moaned deeply as the clamps bit in, but said nothing.
On camera, her face now registered the pain from her nipples. And the men who used her mouth, I noted, began to cum more quickly, obviously aroused by her suffering. Before she finished an hour, she had sucked off a dozen men and drank the piss from three of them as well. Once more, her face was soiled--with cum, and with the odor of piss as well as her face and hair was now wet with it. I released her, allowing her to dress again in the brief skirt and her ragged white tee shirt. As per the rules, she was not allowed to clean herself. And I noticed the shirt picked up a couple of damp yellow spots where the piss had soiled her tits. She made the trip home looking like a well-used slavegirl.
The remainder of the day, we had her naked and working in the house for us. There was laundry for the crew, cooking duties, cleaning the bathroom, as well as general work on floors and rugs thruout the house. On two occasions we simply bound her in view where we could enjoy her--once, blindfolded in a commonly used hallway where everyone would use their hands on her as they passed, and another time at the entry to the living room on her back, where she was given some practice in foot worship. As an added whim of mine, to further her degradation, I did not allow her to piss before chaining her in her cell for the night--I knew she would piss before the night was over and would then lay in it for the remainder of the night. And more importantly, on the following nights, the smell of it would keep her company.
The next day we had scheduled the beach party scene. We prepared for an early start, with our slave doing the bulk of the work making up sandwiches and other snacks, as well as packing the cooler with plenty of ice and cold drinks. I also had one additional item I was preparing for her--a pair of sandals which would emphasize the need for her to be on her knees as much of the time as possible. The soles were lined with metal points which would be quite painful to walk in. And of course, they locked on.
In the car as we drove to the beach, we had her handcuffed kneeling on the floor of the back seat, her head between the thighs of Jocko, Stephanie and one of the other crew members alternately, using her mouth to arouse them all in turn. When we arrived, naturally we had Denise carry all of the blankets, food and drink, torturing her in the punishment sandals and working up a good sweat that would make her skimpy transparent top all the more transparent.
We got some good shots in of her sweating profusely as she labored carrying the stuff, straining to manage the weight of the heavy cooler and making several trips to the car, the pain from her feet registering clearly on her face. In the meantime, I was busy on the beach itself.
I brought along four of those leash attachments for dogs--the kind with a long point and corkscrew thing on them designed to screw into the sand and hold strongly enough to keep a big dog under control. They were set in a rectangle, and our blankets were arranged around them. Once the stuff had been carried to the beach, I stripped Denise and chained her kneeling to one of the eyebolts. I then locked on her punishment bra again, to her dismay, and now understanding how it worked, she immediately raised her arms and thrust out her breasts to alleviate the pain.
We still had her wait on us once we were ready. She was made to fetch drinks as well as food from the grill, her breasts suffering when she had to carry the items. And we noted with amusement that she rarely rose from her knees, crawling from person to person to serve the food. At one point, she spilled a drink, and I immediately punished her with a few strokes of a quirt on her ass, then clamped her nipples for half an hour. Now, her movements were even more amusing to watch.
I removed the bra and spread-eagled her between the eyebolts, face down for the moment. The sun beat down on her as the day warmed, but we began using her back for a table to hold the food. Eventually, I flipped her over and had her face-up. Then, on a whim, I blindfolded her. Now the hands of all present took great pleasure in touching her, teasing her tits with a stroke or a pinch, tickling her at times, or stroking her widely opened pussy to keep her arousal at a peak and bringing forth her deep moans.
Soon, it was time for a major performance. I freed her from the eyebolts, then added some chains to her shackles with about two feet of slack. I then handed her a shovel. I pointed to the center of the four eyebolts, and ordered her, “Dig!”
She suffered greatly as she labored. The sun continued to be hot on her naked flesh, and she sweat profusely. Soon she had a hole dug about three feet deep, just enough to contain her kneeling body.
“Into the hole, slut--on your knees!”
She climbed in and knelt, grateful to be off her pained feet again. I locked her wrists behind her, then began filling in the hole. The depth was perfect--as we filled the hole in around her, her breasts ended up laying on the sand in front of her. Her arms were encased to above her elbows, and nothing beneath the surface could move an inch.
Over the course of the next couple of hours, everyone there used her mouth for their pleasure, some more than once. There was another actress there besides Stephanie, as well as a couple of girlfriends of the crewmembers. All in all, over a dozen guys as well as the women were serviced by Denise before she was freed from the hole.
And Denise herself was clearly aroused by it all. Her nipples remained erect thru most of it, and she could often be heard moaning as she tried in vain to move her lower body to get herself off. At one point, I spoke to her... “A slut is a girl who seeks her own pleasure, who whines when she is denied, who thinks her pleasure is more important than her Master’s. A well-trained slavegirl learns how to transmute this desire into deeper service of her Master. Learn the lesson from this: How to be a slave instead of a slut. And take joy in bringing pleasure to those whom you serve, rather than in serving your own needs.”
After that, she continued to moan, which enhanced our pleasure watching her. And she knew that was permissible. But her tone changed. It was no longer whining or complaining, no longer a protest of what she wanted. It was simply a slavegirl suffering for her Master, knowing that He would take joy in seeing her suffer this way.
Eventually we freed her from the hole. I had her kneel naked, still cuffed at our feet.
“Pig, I have decided to reward you with a pleasure, as well as having you entertain us.”
“Oh, Thank you Master!” Her voice still had the edge on it, a sense of relief that her pleasure was important for any other reason than our entertainment. But I continued...
“Jocko! How would you like to use this pig in all three of her holes?”
At this, she gasped, in some fear. Her ass was still quite tight, and it would be a painful ordeal to take Jocko’s cock back there. But she made no complaints. Jocko, on the other hand, smiled broadly. He had his fully erect cock out in seconds.
“Jocko -- let her mouth set you up first, then use her cunt. Make sure she gets a good cum out of it. Then, have her clean you by mouth, and move to her ass. Finally, finish in her mouth.”
Jocko smiled cruelly. He knew well what the agenda would put the girl thru. She would cum early on, then have to endure the rest of the program following her orgasm. And she shuddered as well, knowing too well what she would be up against.
Her naked body was still soiled with the dirt from the hole as jocko stood before her. She opened her mouth and accepted his cock, licking and sucking it sensuously, stimulating him quickly to a full erection. Then, at his command, she knelt facing away from him and bent over, her face and breasts in the sand. She moaned, having been close to orgasm for hours already, as Jocko fucked her hard and fast, doing nothing to prolong her pleasure. He had her coming in short order, screaming out her pleasure loud enough to be heard for a hundred yards in all directions on the beach.
She rose to her knees, still reeling from the powerful orgasm. His cock, now covered with the juices from her cunt, went into her mouth again where she cleaned him. Once again, she knelt down, offering her ass for his use. Using only the spit she left on him, he pressed firmly against her rosette, slowly and painfully forcing her open until the head of his cock popped in. She screamed as it entered, his sizable cock stretching her brutally. Soon, he began stroking, and within a few minutes had most of his length buried in her ass.
He ass-fucked her for several minutes, until her ass was well-stretched. Then, once again, he pulled out and, now using her topknot as a hand-hold, dragged her to her knees again.
The cock he presented to her mouth was now soiled from her ass. She grimaced as she saw and smelled it, but nevertheless opened her mouth and accepted it, closed her lips around it and soon began licking it, cleaning it of all that soiled it.
Jocko fucked her mouth like a cunt, using the topknot with force as he thrust hard into her throat, ignoring her occasional gagging, using her for his own pleasure with no regard for her comfort. The girl remained highly aroused thru it all, and I noted her eyes frequently looking to either side to meet those of the people watching her.
The cameras caught it all as well, from wide angle shots showing the open beach and the sizable audience right on into closeups of her mouth laboring, her breasts and cunt visibly roused, even the welts on her ass which were still visible. And her eyes said it all--wanton eyes, radiating her heat, her face red with humiliation yet aroused blatantly as she was mouth-fucked, the cum from prior use still drying on her face.
When Jocko shot his load in and around her mouth, she moaned almost as if she was orgasming herself, even though nothing but the peering eyes of the audience and the cameras touched her. He pulled out of her mouth, used her hair to wipe his cock clean, then wordlessly turned and walked away to get himself another beer. Denise remained kneeling, displayed openly and fully revealed, awaiting further use.
Several of the men did make use of her, all using her mouth. I told them that if they found it arousing to see her nipples clamped, they could put the clamps on at any time. The third one did--including several ounces of weights on each one--and she remained clamped nearly an hour as another half dozen men and a couple of women all used her mouth.
The night was growing long, and I had more plans for her. I came to her and showed her the leather covered ring with straps attached. She looked at it questioningly, never having seen one before.
“It is a ring gag, cocksucker. Originally intended to keep the teeth of a girl off of the cock she is sucking, it is also used simply to impose an extra challenge to a cocksucking slave. You’ll learn more about it as you are used while wearing it. Open your mouth, cocksucker...”
She opened, and I strapped in the ring gag. Now, she could not close her mouth, nor would she be able to use her lips to help sucking the cocks. They would all use her throat now primarily.
Her eyes widened as the first one pushed into her throat. Indeed, her lips were now useless. The only option she had available was to voluntarily push her head forward more to take them deeper into her throat, as well as to lick them. And when their loads filled her mouth, much of the cum would drip out of her mouth and down her body.
The camera recorded it all, every load, every drip of cum, every moan of her arousal which continued to build thru the long night as she served the pleasure of all while remaining denied herself.
Late in the evening, I walked to her as she still wore the ring gag and told her to face me. I asked her, “Would you like a drink?”
She nodded.
“Then prepare to drink.”
Her eyes were unsure of my meaning until I began pulling out my cock again. Then, suddenly realizing my intent, she shuddered visibly. I allowed her no time for second thoughts, but immediately began to piss. I started out pissing into her opened mouth, then bathed her lower body in the piss before returning to her mouth and pushing my cock thru the ring as she swallowed the last of it.
She cried when it ended, feeling the depth of the degradation and humiliation as she was used, knowing it was all recorded on camera. But she faithfully licked my cock clean in her mouth after I finished pissing.
Soon after, I removed the ring gag, but locked on her chastity belt. The sweaty remains of her tee shirt as well as her obscenely short skirt were returned to her--and some more yellow stains appeared on the tee shirt as it picked up the piss on her body.
She still wore the punishment sandals, so I had her reload everything back into the cars as well as police the beach for any remaining trash people might have left behind. The cameras caught every grimace of pain as she walked as well as the smiles of enjoyment on the faces of those watching her. Finally, I had her take the trip home hogtied in the trunk of the car.
Back at the house, it was a celebration. Phil assured us that the movie would be a winner and would sell very well on the fetish market, and it would make Denise a star slavegirl. He told me I would also be in demand as a Master for future productions. Denise, naked except for her shackles and chastity belt, served drinks and sucked us off on demand as we celebrated, even drank a couple more loads of piss with no hesitation now that that wall had been broken for her.
We talked about the future. There would definitely be more videos in the making. Phil would continue producing them. I would direct and sometimes perform with Phil’s regulars. And Denise would continue being the star slut and slavegirl.
It was Denise around which the future was built. She would need regular care, use and training, and I would manage that for the most part. All of us, Denise included, felt that she would be better off as a slave to the group rather than enslaved to myself or any one individual. I would manage her training, but she would be owned and fully available for use by the company, both on and off set, 24/7. We would arrange a long-term lease on the house and the entire team would live there. Denise would serve us all, her servitude increasing and her rights to pleasure decreasing over time.
We had found a perfect slavegirl.
Denise had found slave-heaven.
6/24/10
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