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“In good time, when she earns it,” Jane said. She reached out and grabbed one of Leslie’s breasts with her hand and squeezed the sore flesh, watching her sub’s expression closely, waiting to see a wince of pain. Leslie shuddered, her body becoming taut, but she managed to force back the pained response. She had to prove herself worthy.
“Close your blouse,” Jane finally said, satisfied. “Go to the bathroom and wait for me in the far stall.”
“Yes, sir,” Leslie replied.
“And take off your pants,” she added.
Leslie nodded, as she quickly moved from her seat to the back of the bar.
Leslie waited at least twenty minutes for Jane to join her in the far stall of the restroom, an extra large one, no doubt picked to accommodate their activity, but still cold, as cold as the tiny square tiles on the floor were stark and cold. Leslie waited sitting with her naked ass on the toilet seat, her pants hanging on the door hook.
When Jane finally came crashing through the door, she jerked her up by the arm, the stall door banging, though remaining open.
With Jane’s foot on the stool, Leslie was flung over her Domme’s leather-clad thigh, so that her ass was exposed to anyone outside the stall. “Her cunt’s yours,” Jane told the friend who’d followed her in. A hand quickly reached in and felt for the wet hole between Leslie’s thighs. Her labia were pulled hard, her clitoris pinched, her pussy violated by fingers with rings that scratched her tender flesh.
Leslie remained mute, cringing inside, but compliant, doing her very best to contain her fear.
“You need grease?” Jane asked the other woman.
“No, this one’s flooding.” The hand penetrated her pussy deeper, pushing its way inside, all the way in, after three fingers there were four, then the whole hand shoved its way past the small opening. Not the biggest fist to screw her, but the meanest for the way she demanded such a quick entrance.
Leslie gasped, but that was all.
“Been fist fucked before?” Jane asked. She had her hand at Leslie’s neck, massaging her ever so gently, as the rude hand behind her worked her insides to a frenzy.
“Yes,” Leslie managed to gasp.
Taken by the anonymous fist, her body heat rose so fast she thought she would pass out; but then something cold abruptly hit her anus, and more fingers, Jane’s or the woman’s other hand breached her rear—Leslie couldn’t be sure.
“She’ll take a lot,” the other woman said.
The rape was ruthless, without any compassion, except what tenderness Jane delivered with her warm fingers at the base of her neck and the back of her head. It was hard for Leslie to believe she could orgasm this way, but a surge of energy shot through her lightning fast. She bucked noticeably as she withstood the fierce pain, and then cried out, grunting and groaning uncontrollably, experiencing both the pain and its accompanying pleasure. Being so completely absorbed in the moment, she forgot completely where she was.
“Such a slut you are, Leslie Patrick,” Jane spat. “Now lick her fingers dry.”
While still bent over Jane’s leg, still gazing at the toilet below, Leslie felt the fingers stuffed into her mouth. She tasted herself on the latex covered hand; latex and female cum were an odd but familiar combination.
“You got your work cut out for you,” the woman said, sarcastically. The woman’s hand soon disappeared and Leslie listened as she exited the restroom.
Leslie didn’t move because Jane didn’t move. Her Domme’s hand rested on her neck, the other on her bottom. So gently, so without malice. She suddenly realized in a moment of clarity that it had been Jane’s fingers in her ass – they were still working her back channel as if they planned to stay there all night.
“You mind well for a novice,” Jane declared. “I’m glad I don’t have to beat you for disappointing me. We’ll see how wide open you can be tonight, see how much your body can manage at one time. I’ll see what you can take, and then, I’ll push you harder.” This was a threat. “You have a nice ass, and now it’s my ass. Mine to beat and torture.” She continued with her fingers pressing into Leslie’s rectum deeper still. “I love brutalizing bottoms the best of all, I think; they can take so much punishment.”
The sound of women coming and going, peeing, flushing toilets, running water in regular intervals made Leslie wonder how many had spotted her there in the open toilet stall with Sir Jane’s hand at her ass. How many women had seen the other Domme take her with her fist? Such a fine thing, oblivion: being able to think of nothing but sex and body heat. This glaring restroom seemed like a crude place for love, but that didn’t stop her from delving into that emotion.
“Stay as you are,” Sir Jane ordered. Then the woman’s fingers vacated her bottom hole, and she wiped them on toilet paper. Something cold, smelling of leather, stiff to her senses, circled her neck. Collared. Jane’s leg suddenly dropped from the toilet seat to the floor, and she pushed Leslie to the cold tile with a firm hand.
The collar jerked, rubbing harshly against her neck. She was on a leash being led like a dog through the restroom to the carpeted hallway where several women stopped to watch, then to a stairway leading up to a room where she was shown to a corner.
“Keep your head on the carpet,” Sir Jane ordered.
Positioned as ordered, Leslie’s naked greased rear remained higher than her head, signifying its importance. Jane walked away, while Leslie peered out of the corner of her eye to the center of the dimly lit room. She spotted a submissive bound to wood beams that rose on either side of the sub’s body, and were joined by a crossbeam above. The woman was stretched out, with ankles fixed at the base of the structure and her hands fastened overhead. She faced Leslie, her resplendent breasts had been marked, as had her entire body. The red appearing on her white flesh reminded Leslie of Dagne and Zelda, and the others she’d seen punished this way. That white marked flesh reminded her of her own. The sub had been gagged, blinded by a mask, her head now flung back as she was deeply engrossed in her scene. Her groin writhed on the handle of a whip that had been thrust into her cunt by a Domme with a nasty scowl.
Leslie heard a climax in the bottom’s muffled voice, and saw a surge of pleasure move through her imprisoned form. When she shivered and collapsed against her bonds, her Domme withdrew the whip, flailing the spent body front to back until the sub was at the desired state of surrender. Finally, she was freed, falling to the floor; though prodded with the whip, she quickly moved away from the apparatus.
Leslie studied the empty rack, assuming she was next, though it was a long time before Sir Jane tugged at the leash again. In the interim, Jane adjusted things until they were the way she wanted them. Then returning to Leslie’s side, she pulled up on the leash again, leading her sub to a stool between the wood beams. “Sit,” she ordered.
Jane knelt on one knee in front of her, putting clamps on Leslie’s nipples and screwing them down until Leslie winced. She then stood up with her eyes fixed on Leslie’s face, no doubt reading the
