Smoke

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Smoke Page 9

by C. P. Mandara


  “Well, I hope everyone enjoyed that, but now it’s time for challenge number three. Stand up and look lively, slaves.” We all shuffled about a bit, most of us wondering anxiously what the hell we would be expected to do now.

  "This next one should be fun. We're going to ask a member of the audience what they'd like to see you do." Oh God, anything but that. Anything. Bob had other ideas, unfortunately. Approaching the front of the stage, he put his hand to his ear, encouraging the requests that were coming forth at a rather alarming rate. Most of the lewd comments were unrepeatable, but one, in particular, must have taken Bob's fancy because he straightened up and then shushed the room with a long sweep of his hand.

  "We have our winner, gentlemen." The rough grate of his voice sent shivers straight through me. Whatever it was that had tickled Bob's fancy, I had a feeling this was not going to be fun. "Your last challenge is to finger the girl next to you to orgasm. The first ten to make their partner climax, won't get punished. Don't even think of cheating, slaves because I'll personally make sure you've come myself." Bob's eyes looked pretty menacing behind his mask, and having his fingers inside me was perhaps reason enough not to come. I figured I could take my three spanks and not try too hard with this game. "Ready, steady, go."

  There was a furious fumble of fingers as everyone hurried to obey. Turning to Red again, I took my time, getting my fingers and thumb nice and wet before scissoring her clit and squeezing hard. Then I sunk my two longest fingers inside her and let my hand lightly graze her clit.

  Meanwhile, she was delving into my pussy with considerable enthusiasm, and another finger was already in my ass. Red knew how to party, apparently. All of us were wet, panting, and desperate within seconds. Naked bodies twisted and writhed up on stage, and I'm pretty sure we made an alluring sight to the goggling eyes below us. By the looks of them, the suits were being teased and tantalised almost as much as we were – almost.

  Red was now squirming beneath my fingers, and her eyes were glazed with lust. She was literally dancing on my thumb, and when her legs began to tremble, I knew all I had to do was up the tempo a little, and she would be mine within reasonably short order. Coating my fingers once more in a generous helping of saliva, I pressed a little harder and moved a little faster, my fingers circling in a whirlpool of delight. We were both now standing up on tiptoes, trying to seek out the wicked throngs of orgasm as we writhed with each new twist of our hands. It was an instinctive dance, and not one I could control. Grunts and moans were coming all along our line now, and it wasn't long before the first screamer made herself known. Everything happened at once, then. It was like a waterfall of orgasms. When one began to wane, another took its place until the stage was full of wailing girls. The sound was electric, believe it or not.

  I have no idea if Red was in the top ten, but she came before me, creaming around my fingers with a look of hot bliss upon her face. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been denied for as long as I had. As she continued to work my clit, I kept my fingers gently moving, letting her ride her own climax out.

  "Right, that's enough. Stand up straight, faces forward." Bob obviously had other ideas. Cursing inwardly as Red pulled her fingers away from me, I figured I must have done something terrible in a previous life to deserve this kind of torment.

  The men began to applaud us with great enthusiasm, so I figured most of us hadn’t done too badly. Alas, Bob disagreed.

  "Can't remember who came first, or who made them, so you can all grab your ankles, and look smart about it." The brutal punch of Bob's command was a deflating blow for our group, but there was nothing to do but suck it up. Bending over with all the other girls, I felt my backside quiver at the thought of fresh marks upon it. Deciding then and there that if I ever found out where Bob lived, I would assassinate him did not make me feel any better. Fine. It made me feel a tiny bit better.

  With my ass high in the air, I felt decidedly exposed, which was the idea, I guessed. Presenting two, still throbbing ass cheeks for Bob’s paddle, I felt my skin prickle all over with anticipation. There was no question that this would hurt, I just wanted to know how much. Keen, wasn’t I?

  "Hold the position, slaves. Anyone who loses it will be removed from the auction." That made me blink. They'd spent a fortune on getting us here, and surely they'd lose one if they didn't auction us off? Was that an empty threat? Christ, I figured I'd better hold on to my ankles for all I was worth. The last thing I wanted to do was fall flat on my face.

  Bob waited until we all formed a pretty line of upturned butt cheeks. To make us sweat, he then ran his hand in a long line down all of them. As the blood began to pool in my head, I felt my face heat up uncomfortably. It was a scary thought, but this was going to be child’s play compared to what I might be signing up for under Dumortier.

  A trickle of something that must have been arousal leaked down my leg. It could have been lubricant, but I think I knew better. It was nice to know I found being humiliated rather exciting. Filing that away for future examination, I suddenly winced upon hearing the first crack of the paddle. My eyes quickly glanced from left to right, to see which end Bob was at. Judging by the heads that jutted out in jerking waves, he was starting from back to front. Great. I’d have to wait an age for him to get to me and I wanted this over with. Patience is a virtue.

  Each crack of the paddle, each grunt, each moan, and each pitiful wail as the spanks were delivered down the line served to increase both my anticipation and anxiety. If I had to decide between the two, I wasn’t sure which would win, either. Was I dreading this or looking forward to it?

  When Red began to receive her three smacks, I jumped every time the paddle landed. I felt her sharp intakes of breath as she braced herself for each strike and watched her shoot forward as each blow fell squarely in the middle of her buttocks. After Bob had finished with her, I was nearly a dribbling mess of nerves.

  When Bob positioned himself behind me, I grabbed my ankles tightly and centred my balance. There was no way I would be the first to fall over. Dealing with that kind of embarrassment would be more than I could bear. So I held my breath, straightened my legs, and prepared myself for the worst.

  When the smack came, it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared it would be, though it seared my sore skin with brutal intensity. Before I had time to let out my first howl of pain, another landed on top of it, and I just managed to get out a wail before the last heavy thud fell. My ass was officially on fire, and no amount of water was going to put that kind of blaze out. My eyes smarted with tears, and my legs wobbled, but I was still upright. Sort of. Bob didn’t care. He was already pounding his next victim beside me.

  By the time our mean chastiser of bottoms had finished with us, there were two casualties of war. True to his word, Bob cut them free from their bonds and with a sharp slap of his hand on their ass, send them running in fits of tears from the stage. To be fair to both girls, they were very slim and petite, and the force of Bob’s paddle was quite something to behold. I found myself mightily glad I was still in the running. If I’d been cast aside at the first hurdle, Sharkey would never have let me hear the end of it.

  "Didn't they do well?" The commentator was back, which meant we had a few seconds of breathing space, but even that was difficult when your stomach was bent in two. Most of the girls would start to feel their quadriceps burn in a moment if Bob didn't let us stand up for a moment, but so far – mine were holding out okay.

  After the applause had died down, the commentator then said, “Now we’re going to see how everyone deals with the crop, so stay exactly where you are girls, as we haven’t finished with those bottoms yet!”

  Although the girls in question managed to stifle their moans at this news, there was a lot of looking back and forward amongst the ranks. Already, I could see quivering thighs, trembling arms, and a few rather strained faces in the group. If I could read minds, I’d say most were hoping that Bob hurried up and got his skates on with this round.

&n
bsp; As luck would have it, he started the same end that he’d just finished. This meant that I wouldn’t have to wait too long to receive my strokes, but I’d be left hanging around for a bit at the end. At least it would give me a moment or two to process the pain. Red looked at me and wrinkled her nose. I could tell she was not impressed with the proceedings, but she didn’t look as bad as some of the girls further up the line. She was holding herself well and didn’t look like she was suffering too much just yet.

  The first whistle of the crop sailing through the air quickly focused my attention, and my eyes immediately left Red to stare out in front of me. At the end of the day, I was playing to a crowd, so I might as well perform for them. Crossing my fingers that Dumortier's goons were out there somewhere, I concentrated on holding my position as still as I could while I waited for my turn. Three strikes of the crop were going to be murder on my ass, but James had reliably informed me that it would make me respond to the slightest touch back there later, and that might work in my favour.

  Wincing every single time I heard the crop smack down, I counted in threes so I would know when it was my turn. There was lots of screaming, wailing, and tears going on, so I knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant. My turn came faster than expected. Feeling a shadow cross over me when Bob’s bulk stood behind me, I focused on my balance. Just keep breathing and keep it together, I told myself.

  The first slice of the crop was mind-bending, as I knew it would be. Why did James have to be so damn evil, earlier? As another lash sank into my skin, I swear it felt like someone had taken a knife to the flesh back there. I didn't move a muscle, but it was all I could do to keep still. Bracing myself for the last one, I prepared to let out the scream that had been dancing around in the back of my throat – just waiting for a chance to escape. As Bob let forth his final slice, I let it rip and damned if it didn't feel good. Yelling apparently has a way of mitigating pain. Don't ask me why, but it just does. I stored that little snippet of information up for future use as Bob moved along the line.

  By the time he’d finally finished we’d lost another five girls. They hadn’t fallen under the crop, but their legs hadn’t been able to hold the required position without stumbling, and that wasn’t tolerated, by the looks of it. Bob had them out of their ropes and howling across the stage before they could blink, poor things. It made me even more determined to keep as still as I could. Relaxing my muscles as best I was able, I continued to count the strokes until the line had been completed. It gave me something to do, at the very least.

  "A big round of applause for Bob, gentlemen." The suits complied, although none were looking at him directly. Most of their leering eyes were centred on us, and they had been for some time.

  "Slaves, you can all stand up now, and then we'd like you to turn around and display all those lovely assess for our delectation." Bob then barked orders at the first in the line, and we all shuffled along until our backs were facing the audience. Somehow it was more even more humiliating than the previous position because we couldn't see the eyes that were staring at us now. We could hear all the snickers and lewd remarks, though.

  “Aren’t they pretty? Who would like to get their hands on one?” asked the commentator. Plenty of excited grunts greeted that. “Good. Well, next is your chance to get up on stage and have a little fun with them. Bob’s going to show you some of the things you can do to the girls, so sit tight for a minute, until we give you the nod.”

  Bob stood beside an unfortunate slave girl at the front of the queue. She had long black hair, was roughly five foot ten, and as skinny as a rake. He grabbed her ass and squeezed it so hard, she squealed. Then using both of his meaty hands, he spanked it, first left and then right. Next, he pulled her hair so hard, her head came halfway down her back, and the hiss of sound she made carried all the way to the back of the room.

  “Right slaves, let’s see the other half of you now. Walk back around, faces front.” The order was barked out quickly, and we rushed to obey. In the back of their minds, all the girls were praying that the next ‘volunteer’ Bob decided to choose would not be them – me included.

  When everyone had tottered back around obediently, Bob started walking up and down the line, just to scare the living daylights out of all of us. Please don’t let it be me, I silently begged. As I was going to get all of this and more in a few minutes time regardless, it was a pretty stupid plea, but at least everyone’s eyes wouldn’t be on me all at once. I didn’t mind a bit of limelight every now and again, but this seemed too much, even for me.

  Bob was a bastard. He paced up and down our line three times before he stopped just behind me. Every vital organ in my body that was worth anything chose that moment to go on strike, and I stood there petrified, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

  Chapter Nine

  Feeling Bob’s warm body approach my face, my initial instincts were to bolt or scream – but somehow I managed to curb both of them - not that running was really an option. Wondering what the hell he was going to do to me, I waited with my eyes closed, breathing shallowly, and praying for alien intervention.

  When Bob's hand came down with a loud smack, interestingly enough, I couldn't feel it. If I was having an ‘out of body' experience for the first time in my life, this was definitely a bizarre moment for it, but when my eyelids finally peeled themselves back, it was to find Bob's hands between Red's thighs, happily slapping away. Oh my God. Red looked as if she was about to faint, and I can't say I blamed her. Thanking the aliens profusely, quietly inside my head, all I could do was watch in horror as Bob decided to have a little fun with my partner.

  Grabbing Red's hair, he tugged it sharply to catch her attention. "Open," he commanded, and when she nervously parted her lips, he placed two fingers on her bottom lip and dragged it down. "Feel free to inspect the goods in any way you choose, gentlemen," he grunted, thrusting two fingers inside her mouth and then pulling them back out slowly. "Kiss them, finger them, spank them, nip and squeeze them – it's your choice."

  With one hand still holding Red's hair, he brought his other up to her right nipple and squeezed it brutally hard. Then his fingers tugged downwards, elongating the little bud until it was at least three times its normal size. Red cried out, but his fingers were already gone, crawling up her leg, aiming for hidden pastures. When he thrust three fingers inside her with no warning, I wanted to wince for her. I have always been a bit of an empath, and I'm not good with people who are in pain. When I'm given a target to execute, I try to shut that part of my brain off, but it doesn't always work. Sometimes it's mind over matter, and I just have to make sure the logical part of me wins.

  Bob’s fingers spent their time happily thrusting up and down inside her, and I suspect Red was very glad she’d been oiled up nicely before we got on stage. If this is what I had to look forward to next, I wished European guy had used the whole damn bottle on me.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe Bob has shown you the ropes. As I know you'll have many more ideas of your own to try, we'll get the girls tied up and gagged quickly, and then you can come up and join us." That ended Bob's fun pretty abruptly, and even though he was wearing a mask, he looked a little crestfallen. I can't say I felt particularly sorry for him.

  I couldn’t help turning my head slightly to whisper to Red, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  In response, she tilted her head in my direction as her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Oh hell, no. He did me a favour, honey. He made sure everyone of those fuckers had their eyes on me. I've just had an intimate introduction to all the men in this room, and by association, so have you, so count on having a busy evening," she purred. "All I had to do was act the part." I blinked stupidly. Had it all been an act? How had I missed that? "You're welcome," she added when I remained mute. Then our ten seconds of freedom was over because the masses descended upon us.

  Meanwhile, several men, all dressed in black appeared on stage, and there was a whirlwind of activity all around us as our han
ds were tied together with more thick, coarse, hemp rope. It chafed uncomfortably, but I guess that was the idea. The man in front of me wrenched my arms above my head and made short work of fastening them to the beam just above my head. Good job he was tall. After everyone had been tightly secured, a big cardboard box was brought out, and all of our eyes were glued to it.

  Inside the box were the ball gags, and they featured a bright orange, rubber ball that was held in place with black leather straps. The mere sight of them had me hyperventilating. James had managed to get me through my fear of wearing them, but I still felt mightily apprehensive whenever they were brought into play. I took in a couple of lungfuls of air and concentrated on keeping myself calm. Nothing bad was going to happen to me here.

  The guys had obviously done this kind of work before because it took them mere seconds to buckle us all in. Now we were a row of red faces, red asses, and brightly coloured lips that looked like they were trying to eat big orange balls. It must have made quite a sight. As silently as they had come in, the men quickly filed off stage, and we all knew what that meant.

  "Now we invite you to come on up and introduce yourselves." All of a sudden Bob disappeared into obscurity, and men almost began running up the stage steps in their eagerness to greet us.

  If I had to guess how many men were in the room, I’d estimate the figure to be close to three hundred – far more than there were females available. So each of us would have at least one man to keep us company, some might have two or three.

  In less than the time it would take to clap my hands, if my hands weren’t suspended vertically above me and tied to a wooden post, Red had seven men after her. As they couldn’t really fit all around her, that meant I had some, too – by default. I almost felt popular.

 

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