They were both strong, surprisingly so for cheerleaders. Between the two of them, they wrestled Cynthia’s new dress over her head. She’d been yelling and flailing her arms the whole time, but once the dress was off, Meredith gave the order to hold her still.
Painfully, they pinioned her arms behind her back so all she could hope to do was kick. This option, however, was also removed as the toadyish Candy came up from behind and knelt down to hold Cynthia’s feet still.
Meredith was all smugness as she came up to taunt her rival. “Not so cocksure now, are you, little slut?”
“Meredith, I don’t know what all this is about, but your joke is going a little far,” Cynthia informed her stoically.
Meredith struck her now, slapping her across the face, hard enough to twist her head.
“You’ll speak only when spoken to,” Merry instructed. “Is that clear?”
Cynthia started to say something, but seeing Meredith pull back her hand again, she blurted hastily, “Yes, I understand.”
Meredith tore at Cynthia’s slip, ripping it from the shoulders. “What have we here?” she taunted, as Cynthia’s frilly white underwear was revealed. “A little treat for Shep, huh? Well guess what? You’re going to share it with us first.”
“Please, no,” Cynthia cried as Merry twisted both her nipples savagely. She tried to break free, but with the girls holding her fast all she could do was stand there and take whatever the cruel cheerleading captain wanted to dish out.
“Actually, I’m surprised a little slut like you wears underwear at all,” Meredith said, taking a small pair of silver surgical scissors from the belt of her black leather skirt, a perfect match to her leather top. “But we can remedy that.”
The scissors were cold and Meredith was very slow, making sure to maximize the torment. Bit by bit, she cut away the center material of the bra, making cutouts for each breast. Telling her she’d never again dare to even look at Shepard Trace after tonight, she rubbed the pointed tips of the scissors lightly over Cynthia’s nipples, sending wicked charges of pleasure-pain shooting all the way down to her pussy.
Leaving the cutout bra in place, Meredith slid the sharp instrument down her belly now, further heightening the girl’s sexual tension. Cynthia’s eyes were glued to the terrible device. When Meredith reached her panties, she pulled out the waistband and lowered the scissors down along the outside of her swollen nether lips.
“Who’s been down here, huh slut?” she teased. “How many this week? A dozen?”
“More!” Candy called up from the floor, under her crotch where she was still holding her legs.
“Yea,” Erica chimed in. “Sin sleeps with anybody and everybody, that’s why they call her that.”
“What about Shep?” Meredith demanded, leaning in so her masked face almost touched Cynthia’s. “Has he been in your pants? I think not!”
Cynthia shuddered at the twin sensations of Meredith’s tongue in her ear and the scissors point pressing into her warm wet opening.
“Don’t cut me, please,” Cynthia begged, her voice small and scared.
Meredith backed away enough to cut out a crotch hole in the panties, the same size as the nipple holes. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. We don’t want your blood, do we, girls?”
“No,” they all agreed, laughing. “Not blood.”
Meredith had her first, putting her down on the hardwood deck of her parent’s patio. Erica and Kelly each held one leg, very widely spaced, while the ever sneering Candy, whose tits kept threatening to pour out of her black leather bra, was in charge of Cynthia’s arms. Cynthia barely avoided a mouthful of tit, as Candy leaned over her to tell her what she was going to do to her when it was her turn.
Meredith, who had strapped a large dildo over her crotch, told Candy to shut up. Cynthia had no opportunity to object herself because they had stuffed a jock strap into her mouth. They assured her it was used and that they had gone to great trouble to smuggle it out of the boy’s locker room, just for her. It was ripe and the smell made her nauseous.
To Cynthia’s great humiliation, Meredith’s dildo had easy access to her slick canal. She was told in no uncertain terms by her tormentors that this was a sure sign of her being not only a slut, but a whore as well—and a pain loving one at that. Meredith was very thorough and she took her time, not having to worry about losing any natural erection.
She’d have gone on all night, just enjoying looking into Cynthia’s face, which Candy was under orders to hold straight up so she couldn’t look away, but the others were whining to try her out, too. Three times, she was dildo taken, as three times they changed spots. When it was Candy’s turn, however, Meredith said no, reminding her that her mother was just a peon who worked in a doctor’s office and that she didn’t deserve sex with their prisoner.
Candy pouted, saying her mother was a nurse and that she was the one who got the scissors and all the ‘other neat stuff’. Meredith grabbed her by her hair and threatened to cut her bald, quickly ending the debate. For the next round, Cynthia was dragged to the kitchen where they draped her over the back of a chair, ass up, ankles and hands attached to the four legs, two in front and two behind. They used medical tape wrapped in thick layers.
The way she was stretched, with her breasts cruelly forced over the top of the chair, she had no leverage at all. All she could do was look at the floor in front of her face and listen as Meredith made a point of telling her everything they were going to do to her. There was the paddle, which was long and wooden, a ribbed vibrator, and of course the dildo. The paddle stung like hell and the vibrator was a mean little thing that kept her jazzed up, but wouldn’t give relief. When she dripped come onto the floor, they beat her all the harder, making sure to aim for the large hole they’d just now cut from the rear of her panties.
The leather belt was Meredith’s father’s, and when they hit her with it, it was like a ribbon of fire. She moaned and squirmed pitifully with each stripe. When they were done, they untaped her and put her to her knees, removing the jock strap so Candy could replace it with a dildo, a different one, made of clear plastic.
“I got the biggest I could find,” Candy told her proudly, forcing it in and out rapidly.
Cynthia thought she would vomit. But really, all this was just a preliminary to the main event, which consisted of her eating out all four of her ‘hostesses’. Since they had exhausted her by this point, she offered little resistance as they attached a dog collar round her neck with a silver leash and led her on all fours back to the living room. One by one, then, she licked the girls out as they sat on the sofa, legs spread wide, their behinds pressing on thick terrycloth towels.
“Don’t you dare make a mess!” Meredith warned the girls, as if staining the furniture was worse than abusing another human being. Really, she was just a spoiled little girl—a spoiled, mean little girl that is.
“Ooh,” Merry squealed with delight as she checked the clock after Cynthia had serviced them all, swallowing enough female fluids to pickle her stomach. “It’s only six thirty; we have oodles of time left.”
More than enough time to take her anally, which was something Cynthia had never dreamed of. Meredith went last this time, and afterward Cynthia had to kiss her ass in thankfulness for being used like the slut she was.
Afterwards, they took her for a ‘walk’ in the backyard. It was pitch black except for the spotlight, and cold, too. On all fours, naked, Cynthia had to crawl out to the back fence where they made her pee in front of them. It was almost more than she could bear, squatting and urinating like an animal in front of these haughty, fully clothed girls who had just taken turns plowing her every orifice.
Beaten, submissive, utterly shaken, Cynthia crawled back to the house, heeling her mistresses like the good pet she was becoming. They didn’t let her in right away, but kept her chained to the railing of the porch for a while. Alone in the dark she waited, knowing that at any second someone could come by and see her like this. Cynthia shivered a
gainst the frigid night air. It felt like an hour till they let her in, but by the clock it had been less than five minutes.
“Time to dress for the party, dear!” Meredith declared cheerfully as they allowed her to crawl back inside. After kissing each girl’s feet, Cynthia was allowed to stand shakily and walk to the little bathroom off the kitchen. They used ice-cold water to clean her, splashing it on with a washcloth. They paid special attention to her intimate areas, taking the opportunity to violate her with fingers and bars of soap. This time they didn’t even have to hold her, as she was too exhausted to resist.
Meredith patted her head when they were done, calling her a good slut. She had no fight left and gave no resistance as they shaved her nether hair and dressed her in the red corset, crotch-less panties and absurdly high heels, ruby red.
“Now that’s the look for you,” Meredith assured her sarcastically. “Why don’t you dance for us and show off?”
Cynthia was very obedient, shaking her tits and ass just like they wanted her to, just like a good ‘Sin’ slut. It didn’t even matter. It felt like someone else moving, anyway. The girls amused themselves watching her a while and then they put her in place in the living room, part of a living tableau, with her eating Kelly, bent over so Erica could penetrate her ass with the strap-on. Shep was due to arrive, and it was show time.
In retrospect, it was an act of mercy for Meredith to invite only Shep. If others had seen her like that, she would have been obliged to leave town the next day. As it was, she could imagine nothing worse than seeing Shep’s face, his initial bliss turning to shock and pain as he walked in and saw his love in a state of disgusting sexual debauchery.
“What do you think of your girlfriend, now?” Meredith asked, eyes wide, practically drooling over him as she draped herself on his arm. “Red really is her color, isn’t it?”
Shep never said a word as he shook Merry off him. Very smoothly, looking very dignified, he just turned on his heel and walked right back out the door. He’d reminded Cynthia of a soldier, condemned to death, marching with honor to the gallows. Whatever went through his mind—shame, disappointment, or anger—she would never know. She’d never had the nerve to call or write and in all these years she’d never heard from the man, not even once.
Feeling like a prune, Cynthia rose to her feet, the reverie having come full circle. Turning off the water, she reached for a towel. It was dark out now and she’d yet to hear Reyna come home. That sick maternal feeling sat heavily in her gut once more. I’ve made a mistake, she repeated to herself for the umpteenth time. Reyna will never adapt to this way of life, and no one, including her, will ever accept me. I’m a failure, she thought. I’m a failure as a woman and as a mother. Putting herself to bed, she fell at once into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Three
Cynthia awoke to the smell of bacon. Sitting up, she realized how sore she was and how exhausted she’d been last night. Auntie’s bed was very soft, and it had made her feel so warm and secure. With a little stab of guilt she realized she hadn’t made any bed up for Reyna. Then again, Reyna had still been out when Cynthia had crawled into bed, her hair still wet, not a stitch of clothes on as she collapsed into unconsciousness.
Half expecting Aunt Marianne’s ghost to be at the stove, Cynthia padded to the kitchen, having donned an oversized t-shirt. She had to rub her eyes in disbelief when she saw it was her daughter awake and cooking. Not only that, Reyna looked downright pretty in her spaghetti strap dress, the floral print with a hem that came almost to her knees. The one from rehab graduation.
“Hi, Mom!” Reyna beamed from the stove where she was putting the finishing touches on the eggs and bacon.
“Good morning,” Cynthia replied as she gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek, noting the orange juice, toast and fresh brewed coffee already at the table of the sunny yellow kitchen. “This looks wonderful, but where did you get all this from?”
“I picked up some stuff at the store,” she explained, flipping her freshly combed hair over her shoulder as she turned the eggs lightly with a spatula. “Sit down, you’re just in time.”
Cynthia found her old place at the small wooden table. Tucking her hands under her thighs, rubbing her bare toes on the 1970’s era linoleum she said, “I didn’t even hear you come in last night.”
“I got in around eleven.” Reyna spooned some eggs onto her mother’s plate. “That’s not too late is it, Mom?”
Mom? She hadn’t called her that since elementary school. As for coming in by eleven, usually she didn’t even go out till then.
“No, honey, that’s fine. I’m so sorry; I never fixed you a place to sleep. The furniture should get here this morning.”
“No sweat. I slept on the couch.” Reyna plopped down across from her, shoved a piece of toast in her mouth. “I’m famished.”
Cynthia picked at the eggs. All of this was much too good to be true. “You’re looking very nice today,” she observed, fishing for information.
Reyna rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so suspicious. If you must know I met a boy yesterday and he’s taking me out today on a picnic.”
“Oh.” A boy. So that was it. Cynthia cleared her throat, trying to find the right words. “How nice, sweetie. Is he a . . .”
Reyna finished her thought. “Yes, Mom. He’s a responsible, sober young man.” Another bite of toast and she was up again, taking her untouched plate to the sink. “And he’ll be here to get me any minute now.”
“We’ll talk later, then?” Cynthia asked hopefully as Reyna planted a peck on her cheek and strode confidently from the room.
“Huh? Yea, sure, Mom.”
Cynthia sighed. Leave it to a daughter of hers to get involved with someone less than 24 hours after moving into a new home. But how would that fit in with her plans for Reyna’s future? Would this person support her in the right endeavors—a job, personal responsibility and so on? And what about getting Reyna through school? She still needed her GED and then there was college. And what about drinking? Would this boy help her stay clean?
A frown crossed Cynthia’s face. Reyna had already had sex with this boy. That was painfully obvious from the girl’s appearance. She had that universal female afterglow, that tiny window of self delusion when you think you’ve found Mr. Right, only to discover later you’ve already seen him at his best and the rest will be downhill now that he’s gotten all that he wants from the relationship.
“Later, Mom! He’s here!”
Cynthia heard the screen door slam and leaped to her feet. Could she at least catch a glimpse of him, maybe force an introduction and a small lecture or two? Forgetting her skimpy attire, she scampered to the porch just in time to see a green sports car pull away very fast.
Her heart stopped when she saw the license tag. It was a vanity plate, the special state agricultural kind. The letters couldn’t have spelled it out any more clearly – Trace 9. Cynthia bit her lip. In less than a day her little girl had found her way into the arms—and the bed—of a Trace boy. The question was which Trace boy?
***
Reyna had floated to the car, all waves and smiles as soon as she saw him. Jason looked especially delicious in an open cotton print shirt over a black tee and khakis. Two times now she’d seen him and he hadn’t yet worn shorts. Reyna thought that was cool because it set him apart from the little boys and middle-aged jocks.
Jason was a man. With three months to spare, legally that is, and his own set of wheels.
“Hi, baby!” She leaned over and kissed him chastely on the cheek, not wanting to heat him up too soon.
“Did you do what I asked?” Jason asked flatly, hitting the accelerator so hard she fell back against the leather seat.
“I sure did, baby.” Reyna tucked herself in, pulling the belt tight and sexy across her waist and between her breasts. She felt so good and tingly all over. As soon as Jason had dropped her off last night around midnight, she’d run inside to masturbate, just like he’d told her. Luck
ily Cynthia was asleep. She must have come a dozen times, feeling just like it was Jason inside of her and not her own hand. She’d done it in front of her window, just like he’d ordered her to do. She knew today that he’d want a full report. That was so hot—him being connected to her like that and caring about what she did when he wasn’t there.
“You want to hear about my night?” she cooed, as she proceeded to tell in detail how she’d pressed her nude body to the glass, making love to it all night, leaving herself totally exposed to possible discovery by Cynthia or anyone in the street for that matter.
When she was done, Jason just shrugged. “Whatever. Are you naked under that thing?”
Reyna reached across to his lap and trailed a finger over his thigh. “For you, baby. Only for you.”
He took his eyes off the road and looked her up and down like he had X-ray eyes to see her bare breasts and cunt. She arched her back, trying to show her best. Her nipples had yet to subside from last night and she was still wet, just as she’d been since he took her for seafood last night, feeding her lobster from his plate, making her take it in her mouth as the little vibrator kept chugging away, pummeling her insides. Reyna didn’t even like lobster and that was what made him do it. He had been dominating her, proving a point. The message had hit home, right in her cunt.
“Take off your flip flops.”
Reyna kicked off the informal footwear. He’d told her to dress up today, but this was the best she could manage out of her small suitcase till the rest of her clothes came. The dress was the one Cynthia had made her get for that silly ‘graduation’. She’d found it hanging up this morning in the hall closet. It had been nice of her mother to take her bag from the car and hang up her stuff. Maybe it was just a way to search her belongings for contraband, but it still felt nice. Anyway, they were in a new place now and needed a fresh start, which was why she was giving Cynthia a break.
“So where are we going, babe?” she wheedled as she let her hands explore him, up under his shirt, down over his erection.
Backwater Bondage Page 4