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With the one beer gurgling through her system, Kafka took one for himself from a waitress dressed in nothing but wrist cuffs, collar and a leather thong, then he jerked Laney’s chain and moved in through the mass of people, enthusiastically greeting those who were obviously his friends.
“Don’t you think she’s overdressed,” a man in a leather vest and pants asked him.
“You want to see her tits?”
“I think I want to abuse them,” he answered.
“Then do,” Kafka said. He immediately dropped the leash inside the black sweater where it fell between her naked tits, and then lifted the sweater away to expose her bare chest.
Laney shriveled under the man’s lurid stare, although she could feel the familiar tightening in her belly that went along with her arousal.
“Better that they were striped,” Kafka’s friend said.
“Then do it,” Kafka said, obligingly, “she’s my whipping girl tonight, courtesy of the mighty Marquis.”
“Oh?” he looked impressed. “He gave you this gem?”
“More like I lifted her out of Prague Castle, a neat little steal, don’t you think?”
The fellow stepped back, thoughtfully appraising Laney’s creamy tits, that were, at the moment, free of any sign of abuse. “How should I do this?” He stroked his beard while deciding, then finally grinned. “Would you mind holding her for me?”
Looking pleased, Kafka moved behind Laney and pulled her arms back so that he had her captured against his chest. The silky feel of his shirt and the warmth of his body were sensations she savored in that brief moment between Kafka’s seizing her and the first strike of the baton that delivered her swiftly into hell.
The man cut into her cruelly.
Her head dropped back against her captor’s chest as her entire body seized up in pain. She remained in that position, tight as a bow string. Although she swallowed her screams, she could not hold back the agonized moans that managed to escape her control.
Seven times the baton struck her breasts. The man was good, leaving a significant mark with each one, and turning hell into a reign of painful terror that did not abate until minutes after he stopped. She was practically delirious when he finished and paid no attention to the conversation that followed. She only barely focused on Kafka when, once the baton man was on his way, he picked up the leash again and led her through the maze of partying leather junkies. There were numerous comments made about the stripes that so nicely wounded her perfectly formed breasts, but her mind felt dizzyingly drunk. She seemed detached from the humiliation she would certainly have felt had she been completely sober. All this drunkenness on just one beer? As her mind free-floated, she wondered if she’d been drugged.
“When do we get to fuck your spoils of war, Kafka!”
The shrill voice rang out and suddenly jerked Laney back to life. Increasingly, Kafka presented her to the crowd as stolen goods from the Marquis’ warehouse. She could feel a hot and constant blush on her neck and cheeks, as she fended off the humiliating remarks. At one point, she was delivered up to the crowd and shoved inside a merciless gauntlet of sadists, who were given permission to abuse her. She was spanked, her pussy prodded, her ass cheeks flailed on with slappers, whips and canes until she couldn’t help but flail about in angry frustration. Jostled from hand to hand to hand, an urgent panic gripped her throat. She wanted to scream, but she was strangled by her fear.
For nearly a half hour, she was paired with a female wearing a dildo, which slipped neatly into Laney’s cunt. The two were roped together at the waist while standing on a small platform that was gradually lifted off the floor about two feet. Their backs were flogged, making every jerking action come back on the other, until Laney’s cunt exploded into a quick orgasm, which was followed moments later by an explosion in the blonde she clung to. The flogging went on, even after their crisis was over. There were more sadists vying for the opportunity to cause them pain and hear them screech. Too often the flogging hurt, with falls of thin leather cutting into their skin and giving them no respite, no chance of finding pleasure in the experience. Even being tied to one another was little solace when the pain seemed to have no end, and they were given little opportunity to enjoy the sensual body softness of the woman who shared their misery.
Their suffering did end, however. The platform was lowered, the two women freed and the slippery dildo in Laney’s cunt was removed. A moment later, the prick was presented to her lips and she was required to lick off her copious juices.
About that time, a cry rung from the crowd: “When we gonna fuck da slut?”
Kafka, who seemed hell-bent on pleasing everyone in the club with his stolen treasure readily gave her up again.
Still weary from the flogging and the sex, Laney was led to the main stage where public sex acts were nightly performed by exhibitionists willing to flaunt themselves. It had been empty so far that evening, so when a lovely, sexy female masochist like Laney took the stage, most of the people in the room turned into eager spectators.
Names were drawn from a box and when the winners were revealed, two burly bikers mounted the stage. Laney could smell the stench of beer and body sweat that preceded them, and her clenching cunt immediately responded to the stimulus, letting go a visible stream of sex juice that ran down her inner thigh.
How had her life suddenly come to this? Why wasn’t she running, or at the very least fighting to regain her sense of dignity? Her mind was ready with an answer, reminding her that dignity doesn’t matter to men with ‘properties’, nor should dignity matter to sex slaves.
Teetering in her high heels, she stood between the two brutish fellows, glancing back and forth between their faces while wondering which was the most repulsive to her. She liked handsome men with a little polish—even Kafka fit into that category. Even so, something about this pair had her all keyed up and wanting the pricks that bulged from their leather-clad crotches.
She was pushed to her knees, while their cocks were being drawn from their pants. Back and forth, her mouth worked at the frenzied pace they insisted on, letting one cock go deep into her mouth before she was pulled off and the other stuffed even deeper. They tasted sour, the heads salty with old piss, but the redolent quality of their mingled smells proved a pungent aphrodisiac that had her pussy wanting them banging her to heaven and hell and back again.
Once the two pricks became fully erect, turning into thick meaty flesh, she was suddenly pulled back to her feet and taken to a bench where she knelt straddling one man; the other would take her from behind. She fell forward over the one man’s chest, while getting use to his cock inside her. Meanwhile, the other man stood back, playing to the crowd that goaded him on. He started to spank her ass, occasionally stopping to pry her ass apart and spitting down the crack. Then as soon as he thought she was ready, he impaled her hind end deeply, letting his erection slide alongside the one that maintained his position inside her cunt.
The explosion of her physical senses caused her to climax almost instantly. Music blared, lights flashed and the oppressive smog of cigarette smoke almost made her choke. And yet, her inner body tended to both men with her inner muscles bearing down, squeezing and grasping and clenching ever harder in order to please the two at the same time. Her mind clicked off with her body taking charge until at last, she felt both men starting to finish off.
What the audience saw was worth the price of admission. One female. Two males—a clench of extreme proportions. The two cocks stuffed the female body full, and when they erratically lurched in and out of her liquid pussy and well-stretched asshole
, it would seem they would tear her crotch apart. Some more tender souls might have objected to this distilled display of animal lust, but Kafka’s plundered booty raised no objections; she seemed to remain at a perpetually ecstatic state, her mouth open in a musical scream, her wet lips luring the rest toward her, while her crazed body just kept up the fuck. She might have fucked until the place was sober if she’d been left on her own.
