hands – Page 3

Halfway There, Part Four

“Lida, switch with her,” Flint ordered and gestured towards the armchair. I tentatively moved to rise from the chair, unsure as to who he was referring to, before he continued, “Ivy, come here, take your clothes off.”

I slipped off the armchair and moved over to the couch, sliding out of my clothing along the way. Applying some pressure to my shoulders, Flint had me kneel on the floor and produced a zip-tie. He secured my arms behind my back so my arms were arranged forearm-to-forearm horizontally across my back, my hands resting on the opposite elbows. With a gentle shove, he made me lie back and, in a significantly less gentle move, removed a few coiled lengths of rope and dropped them on my face.

Unravelling one, he shook it out and folded my leg so my knee was bent and my foot was resting against my butt. “Comfortable?” He asked. I nodded as he started to tie my leg into position. Over on the armchair, I could hear Lida moaning.

By the time Flint finished repeating the process on my other leg, I was already a little rope-happy. I settled into position, letting myself relax until I felt the weight of my body and the strictness of the position taking some of the feeling out of my fingers. Flint hauled me up and sliced away the zip-tie, letting me shake my arms out before shoving me right back down.

“So,” he began over the escalating pitch of Lida’s moans. “What are we going to do with you?”

Halfway There, Part Three

Once again, I couldn’t manage to relax until the three had left the room. For all my humiliation in the bathroom, I wound up lying back in an armchair, legs up, with Macy licking my pussy. So, ah, yeah. Guess it was worth it.

Flint had ducked into the shower and Lida was over on the couch. We were attempting to maintain some kind of a conversation. Please don’t ask me why. I guess I thought at the time that it would be a totally polite thing to do. So, I tried my hardest to talk to Lida despite the fact that there was totally a pretty girl on her knees and eating my pussy.

When Flint came out of the shower, I was still relatively coherent, all things considered.

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

I sucked in a breath. “G…good.”

“Really?” He took a seat on the couch. “Let me know. Could she be doing better?”

“N…no,” I stammered out, “she’s doing good."

I guess I was raised not to criticize gifts, I don’t know, but I felt awkward saying anything negative about a person when their mouth was right on my clitoris. She was doing pretty well, but I wasn’t about to point anything out in the position I was in.

"Really?”

I nodded. “R…really.”

“Do you know how to take a pulse?” Flint asked.

We were on his friend’s couch, my dress hiked up to expose my upper thigh. It was already red and swollen from a few tenderizing punches and a couple of nasty slaps. Upstairs, one of Flint’s partners was messing around with his friend, though we couldn’t hear them from down on the couch. Earlier that week, Flint had texted me about it, saying he’d bring me along as entertainment while he essentially whored out his partner (for free, of course), a shared fantasy of theirs. I’d blushed, but totally agreed.

He made me wait for him on a street corner and pointed out the spot I’d left on his seat the last time I had sat there. Later, I would clean it up with my mouth. But, for now, we were on the couch downstairs. Flint was attempting to disprove my previous claim that I didn’t bruise, which had made him smirk uncontrollably when I had declared it at the munch we met at.

“Yes,” I replied, taking my fingers and finding the artery. “It’s…it’s pretty even.”

Flint grinned and delivered another blow to my thigh. I cried out in pain. I was starting to discover that I just about hated the medium-strength slaps, but I had begun to really enjoy the few that tipped over into the harsher ones. I’d start wailing and collapse into the hit, but would end up coming up giggling. Something about the absurd severity of the pain made me giddy.

“So, this whole thing, hurting you, it doesn’t really bother me,” he explained. “That pout you keep putting on isn’t going to sway me. You know your safewords. Otherwise, I’m just going to hurt you.”

His hands were large and unyielding. He didn’t hesitate before the slaps, going right into them and following through with a violent clap. He had me count down for the particularly hard ones. When he’d gotten me to a point that it was absolutely certain I would bruise, he reached up my dress and pushed a few fingers into me with my thigh still hot and stinging.

“Look at that,” he teased, before pulling back and slapping me across the face. “Going to leak on my friend’s couch, now? After the talk we had about my car? You can’t help yourself. You’re disgusting.” I felt my cheeks flush and looked away, but his fingers slid in me with new ease. He chuckled appreciatively. “Well, that really got you.”

Eventually, the fingers came out and he had me rest my head on his chest while we unpacked the encounter, going over how I felt about it. My thigh was still glowing with pain. Flint reached down and brushed my hair off of my forehead. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.” Against my ear, I felt the thumping in his chest pick up in speed and grinned. “There’s the pulse.”

Piss Shy, Part Ten

Disclaimer: The content of this story is a little bit harsher and a little more intense than most of the experiences I have written about on here. Please keep in mind that I had safe words – “yellow” for slow down or do less, “red” for stop. The things I did were done willingly and enthusiastically, even when I demonstrated reluctant or fearful behavior. I like to be scared and I like to feel psychologically exhausted, and this experience allowed me to tread some harsher waters. So, I hope you’ll stick along for the ride.

We moved back into the living room and Lida and I mercifully got a little break after the degradation in the bathroom. Flint pulled the blindfold over Macy’s eyes and had her lie down, while I helped Lida and WRM hold her still as Flint spanked her pussy. The slaps were so hard that her skin rippled, but she took the whole ordeal like a trooper. She even handled him hitting her with a toy that looked like the antenna on a car from the 90s.

Afterwards, Flint had me lie back down while the other girls held me. “You ever hear of a hitachi?” he asked as the blindfold went on. I groaned an affirmative and he laughed. “You know what it is, then?”

“Hell,” I replied with a huff. “This isn’t fair, I’m not allowed to cum.”

I heard Flint plug the hitachi in and felt its end push up against my pussy. “Well, then don’t.” He switched it on and I gritted my teeth, breathing hard and trying to keep myself under control.

I’ve never had a hitachi pushed up against my pussy before without panties or stockings to act as a buffer, and I soon discovered that I am entirely too sensitive for it. I kept arching up and away from it, exclaiming that it was just entirely too much. To add to the discomfort, WRM shoved some of her fingers into my pussy. She’s got long nails, which just do not work with fingering at all (I don’t know how the girls in lesbian porn do it). Overall, the whole ordeal was profoundly awful, so I guess I didn’t have to worry about cumming.

That is, until Flint took charge of the situation once WRM withdrew her fingers and, thankfully, the hitachi was removed from my pussy. “Macy, come here,” I heard him say, “Learning experience.” I felt his fingers – they were large enough that I figured they weren’t Macy’s – slip into my pussy, which was still sore from WRM’s nails. “Here’s how to make a girl cum.”

My eyes widened under the blindfold and I tried to squirm away, “no! I can’t!”

“Now, take two fingers and try to find the spongy part right up in the back,” he explained calmly, didactically, totally ignoring my protests. I whined as I felt his fingers brush my g-spot. He patted my pubis almost clinically, “it should be right here but on the inside."

His fingers slipped out of me and I felt Macy’s slip in in their place. Lida and WRM held me down while Flint took a cold water bottle and rolled it over my body. The low temperature almost burned, and the condensation left in its wake made my skin incredibly sensitive as he started slapping it.

"You’re a whore, you know that?” Flint said as he grabbed my throat, choking me while Macy ground her fingers into my g-spot. “You met these people, what, a week ago? Do you know anybody’s last name here?”

“N…no,” I stammered out as he let go of my throat. Something in me snapped out of the seriousness of the situation, and I started laughing. I didn’t know anybody’s last name, and I absolutely loved that. The whole situation was absurd, preposterous. I’d thrown myself into the belly of the beast, finally attended a play party in my new city, and suddenly I was involved in a fivesome (orgy?) with four people I’d just met. “I’m a whore,” I said between laughs, “I’m a whore.”

Flint grabbed hold of my throat once more, which pulled me back into the situation. Macy ground my g-spot harder, and I lurched forward as I felt a splash from the bottle of cold water being dumped onto my chest. I gasped loudly and Flint slapped my breast, the cold water intensifying the pain of the hit.

I forget what I said now, but it was something super sassy towards Flint. Suddenly, I felt pain tearing through my chest and upper rib, and I though that Flint had hit me with the bottle. Turns out, he just slapped me a little harder. Regardless, I curled up, groaning in pain. “You asshole. You’re a jerk.”

“Glad you figured it out,” Flint rolled me back into position on the towel and I felt the hitachi being applied to my pussy again. “Now, I don’t care that you’re not allowed to cum. You’re here to entertain us and we’re going to make you cum.”

“I’ll get in trouble!” I argued, arching off of the hitachi.

Flint applied pressure to my hips, holding me down. “Good.”

Piss Shy, Part Seven

Flint had the girls try to hold me down, but I was inevitably and usually able to throw them off from a combined force of the absolute distress of being tickled and the fact that I was thankfully stronger. It turned into a repeated process of the girls trying to hold me down, Flint tickling me, and me throwing them off and curling up into a ball until they succeeded in pinning me back down or Flint ordered me to hold still.

Eventually, Flint had Lida crawl up on top of me and kiss me while he beat her with something. As I was blindfolded, I couldn’t tell what. Lida kissed cutely, shyly. Her mouth was small and her lips pursed like a guppy’s. I reached up, running my hands over her back and shoulders, pulling her to me each time I felt her jump from the beating.

“Now come on, Ivy, you’re here to entertain us. Touch yourself,” Flint said as Lida climbed off of me. “And be careful. Your owner said you couldn’t cum."

I laid back and rubbed my pussy, thankful for the blindfold that allowed me to at least pretend I wasn’t being watched by a roomful of people. Lida and Macy were still touching me, idly discussing things like lingerie and shopping. But, after a little while, I realized I had to use the bathroom.

"Hey, ah…WRM? Flint?” I called out.

“Not here,” Lida replied, “in the other room.”

“Well, can you get them?” I asked, “I…um…I have a pee.”

“Kind of scared to move,” Macy admitted, “we’re not supposed to…” She thought for a moment, “you can go over there, they’re just in the next room. Just, ah, crawl over.”

After banging my head on a corner, I managed to make my way to the door. I knocked on the door before hearing it swing open.

“Yes?” Flint asked.

I bit my lip. “I…ah…I have to pee.”

And this was where the trouble started.

So I did something really, really brave and kind of nuts last night with some cool people from the munch I went to last week.

I’ve got kind of a crazy story to tell, if I ever get up the nerve to tell it.

“I can never think of you as a friend. You can do without a friend,” – Graham Greene, The End of the Affair.

If it were up to a certain someone, I’d just walk around like in shoes like these all day.

The tender little thumb stroke on the cheek is everything to me.

“No mask this time,” Sir told me, “just pretty you. Your pretty face. Maybe I’ll let you bring your blindfold just in case, but you’re not escaping behind a mask this time.”

(I’m so nervous and excited I’m not sure I will be able to sleep.)