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“No! She’s clearly not consenting to this!” I yell again, and Brock steps away from the wall, puffing his chest out to glare at me.
“Give it up, kid.” A weird fucker wearing a tiger outfit turns to me. “Everyone signs that consent form when we join. It gives Madam and Master power to inflict punishment even if consent isn’t given at the time. No one gets in without agreeing to that clause.” The weird guy turns back to Kitten, his eyes wild with excitement as his hand strokes his hard cock.
“This can’t be legal,” I say in disbelief.
“Master Hill is a Lawyer, Cass.” Moxie leans into me. “He would have covered his arse somehow in those membership contracts.”
She’s right. She’s fucking right!
Rhys throws her head to the side as Master Hill pushes the egg inside her, his fingers disappearing and lingering way too fucking long before he slips them free and proceeds to lick them clean.
Turning to face us with a satisfied smirk, Master Hill holds up the remote.
“No one touches her. No one goes near her until I give the ok. For now, let’s enjoy the show.”
Madam Vik pulls up a couple of chairs for her and her sick husband, and they sit together as if they are about to watch the fucking opera, linking their arms together before Master Hill presses something on the remote.
Kitten stiffens and throws her head back, her eyes rolling back before her hips start to gyrate slowly. As Feasters watch, moans fill the room as onlookers touch themselves or the person next to them, their excitement building as my poor Kitten unwillingly gives them a show. Her bare body trembles and vibrates with building pleasure as the egg works inside her.
My heart starts to slow as I calm down. This is ok, I guess. Kitten’s getting pleasure. She loves being watched, and she loves to come, so yeah, this is ok.
Scaring her wasn’t ok, though. Neither was that sick pervert putting his fingers inside her. But this? Yeah, this is ok.
It only takes a few minutes for her orgasm to hit. It’s intense, causing her to scream loud past the ball gag as she throws her head back. Her climax is long, and I kinda feel a bit shit thatIcan’t make her come for that long.
I’m a fucking idiot, though. Dumb as dog shit because it takes me a minute to realise that something isn’t right, especially when Skipper starts screaming again, going crazy. My eyes dart back to Master Hill, and I realise he hasn’t stopped the remote.
Kitten’s pleasured cries turn almost painful as he draws out her orgasm with that fucking thing inside her, but a moment later, she falls silent. Her body falls slack as she pants, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Good. That’s good. The egg thing has stopped. It’s over.
Master Hill stands from his seat, turning to his writhing crowd and, with a smug grin, yells over the noise.
“More?”
“More!” The Feasters cheer, the celebration causing Kitten to go rigid again as Master Hill holds up the remote for all to see before he presses the button again.
“Fuck.” Moxie shuffles nervously next to me, and I glance at her.
“What?”
She turns her eyes to me. “Too much pleasure can be a form of torture.”
My eyes widen. “What!” I shoot my eyes back to my girl and watch her body convulse as another orgasm hits her quickly. The waves of it going on and on as Master Hill doesn’t let up on the remote.
Feral roars rip from Skipper’s chest as he loses his shit, the muscles in his shoulders straining, his arms bunching as he fights against the restraints. I wouldn’t be surprised if he breaks through the chains soon. I hope he does because his reaction tells me someone needs to put a stop to this.
Shit,Ineed to put a stop to this. But how?
“I have to stop this.” I turn back to Moxie, trying to tune out the increasing moans of the people getting off around us. “How do I do that?”
“You can’t. Even if you try, you’ll make it worse for her. They won’t stop until they’re ready. Until they are satisfied with her punishment. She has to see it through.”
“No. Fuck that. This isn’t right!”
Kitten’s screams fill the room again as she comes, orgasm on top of orgasm on top of orgasm. Moxie was right. This isn’t pleasure. This is torture. Fucking hell. This is pure torture. She doesn’t deserve this. Fuck, no one deserves this!
When Kitten finally falls limp again, I know it’s because Master Hill has stopped the remote, giving her a moment to recover. Feasters watching on find their own releases, revelling in the show before them. I can’t deal with them, though. All I can focus on is the quiet sound of sobbing as the music fades between songs.
Kitten.
