Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  Paul returned with more zip-ties, which he used to connect the sides of her forehead strips to the torso straps. When Paul began pulling her back and forth again, her head was much more stable, driving Travis’ length and girth farther into her throat.

  With her arms restrained and her mouth forced open by the Jennings gag, she had no control of speed or depth, and Travis was looking for his own relief — depending on her to suffer for his pleasure. She gagged and choked with every thrust until she finally figured out the rhythm and worked out how and when to relax her throat and accept the invasion.

  Meg’s fist pushed gently at Cara’s already tender entrance, and Cara wished she’d just stick it in already. She unsuccessfully tried to bend her knee and angle her hips towards the hand, needing more pain and craving the feel of Meg’s fist inside of her.

  Paul spoke from the wall, where he still played the part of puppeteer. “Push it in Meg, and I want your mouth on her clit. If your fist doesn’t sink into that sweet pussy in the next thirty seconds I’ll clamp your nipples.”

  Warmth enveloped her clit and a tongue stroked just under, massaging the muscles and nerve endings surrounding it as gentle suction sent her blood skyrocketing and nearly made her supporting leg collapse.

  Meg’s fist slowly sank into her and Cara erupted in orgasm, at last. Her entire body spasmed and jerked as ecstasy claimed her soul and her vision filled with purples and oranges, and her throat was stuffed with cock.

  And her bladder decided to let go.

  Warm pee shot from her, the spasms making it come out in bursts and add to the sensations of an already monstrous and out of control orgasm.

  Paul’s voice came as if from a distance, echoing in her mind. “Put your face in the stream, slave. You don’t have to drink but I want to see your entire head glistening with the fuck-puppet’s piss. Yes, that’s it, get your tits wet too, and now back to your face, and the top of your shaved fucking head. I own that head and I want it soaked with piss.”

  Cara wanted to stop peeing but she was still jerking and shuddering from her toes to her shoulders. She had no control of anything as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, and wave after wave of pee flowed out of her bladder.

  Meg’s fist moved inside Cara’s pussy as Meg shifted her head into the stream, then breasts, then face. Cara wasn’t sure if the climax, or the pee, would ever end.

  When Travis finally pulled out of her throat to allow her to breath, she sucked in as much oxygen as the straps around her ribcage would permit, and the orgasm picked up speed. Travis walked to the wall, saying, “Paul, the fuck-puppet has a nice fuckable ass, and I haven’t had the chance to play puppeteer yet. She doesn’t need prep, get Meg to swipe her other hand over your cock once or twice, it looks shiny enough.”

  Paul entered her fast, pushing in hard with no consideration for allowing her time to get used to him, and held. The straps around her hips began compelling her forward and backward, and with Meg’s fist inside of her pussy and Paul’s cock in her ass, another orgasm was only millimeters away.

  “Slave,” Paul said, “get your mouth back on her clit and work your hand in her pussy, you know what feels good.”

  Meg pulled her hand part way out, opened it, squeezed it into a fist again, and slowly forced her way back in. Cara was still sore from being fisted two nights before, and the pain was like a serious of brushstrokes painting a sunrise — each layering another shade of color, of pleasure and torment and intoxicating euphoria, until Cara screamed at the sensations and her body erupted in paroxysms of bliss and agony.

  Travis must’ve had enough of playing puppeteer, as he strode quickly back to her, pulling his cock out of his pants as he walked and pushing it into her mouth when he reached her, straight to the back of her throat, and down.

  He groaned and Cara heard the ruthlessness in his voice as he said, “Don’t take it easy on her Paul, and make sure your slave doesn’t either. I want to give my fuck-puppet a comprehensive test to see how much it can take.”

  The warm liquid around Cara’s foot had cooled and she lifted it out of the water to test how the bonds of her leg and torso held her weight, but with action at her mouth, ass, and pussy she needed the support her leg provided.

  Paul’s cock pounded her ass mercilessly as Meg’s hand forced its way slowly in and out, giving her slow and intense sensation while the woman’s mouth sucked at her clit and her warm tongue flicked, licked, and soothed. Travis fucked her face like a madman and reality slowly collapsed in on itself until Cara didn’t feeling anything specifically, but felt everything. Just as the individual instruments of an orchestra merge into a single sound, so the violins at her clit, the timpani at her ass, the trumpet fucking her face, and the cello at her pussy all merged into a single harmonic melody.

  When the orgasm claimed her this time her body froze on the outside as every internal muscle pulsed, quaked, shuddered, and quivered in a frenzied, hectic, dance of euphoria.

  Travis came down her throat, not giving her the choice of whether to swallow, and Paul gave a final violent thrust and roared as he filled the condom deep in her ass.

  Travis warned her to swallow before breathing as he slid out, and she was thankful for the reminder — sucking air in as soon as a cock left your throat was a bad idea when it’d just ejaculated into your esophagus, as one was likely to get a lungful of cum.

  Paul immediately began snipping zip-ties, and both Travis and Meg supported her weight as he severed the last strips. The men helped her walk to a dry section of floor before gently lowering her, and Cara was grateful to feel cushioning under the tarp.

  Travis went to work on her feet, legs and pelvic area with baby-wipes, and Paul used them on Meg, cleaning everywhere the piss had dripped and run.

  Travis’ eyes were his own again, and his hands gentle as they cleaned her. “We’ll get the two of you taken care of a bit here and we’ll let you share a bath. The day isn’t over, but you need to get warm and clean, and I’m guessing you could both use a nap.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  One of Cara’s long time fantasies had been that of lamp, an inanimate object providing light to the others in the room.

  She stood wearing a bronze latex outfit and holding a lit bulb over her head, with Meg wrapped around her legs painted with bronze body paint all over; and Cara wasn’t sure the reality lived up to the fantasy.

  The men paid no attention to the lamp providing light as they ate steak and baked potatoes, their conversation primarily on an upcoming mountain bike excursion the two were planning.

  They’d situated Cara with one foot propped on a short, bronze, Roman column slightly taller than her knees, with Meg seated on it with her arms wrapped around Cara’s waist and her face at Cara’s pussy, so her breath kept the latex over her clit warm. Cara held the opaque globe over her head, and her arm was growing dreadfully tired.

  She lifted her left hand from Meg’s shoulder in an effort to help support the weight of the globe, and the men stopped eating and looked at her.

  “Lamps aren’t supposed to move, are they?” said Travis.

  “No, I don’t believe so. Perhaps it’s defective?”

  “It’s still lighting the room, so I wouldn’t call it defective. Let’s see what happens if we pump more energy into it.”

  Travis stepped towards them as Paul walked to the sideboard and collected items from under a cloth napkin.

  Paul unwrapped Meg from around Cara and stood his slave to the side, posed as a statue with arms raised over her head.

  Cara was settled on an empty portion of the dining room table, on her back with legs ridiculously stuck in the air. Travis opened the zipper at her crotch and perfunctorily inserted a large plug with minimal lube into her ass, much as one would push a plug into a wall socket, and she yelped and gave a quick screech as it finally sank in. She had to breathe through the pain for several long seconds, taking more time than usual to relax around it.

  A mechanic doesn
’t look at the windshield as he works on the engine, and Travis didn’t look at Cara’s face as he quickly pressed a large egg into her pussy and settled a bullet alongside her clit. His fingers held her pussy lips around the bullet until he re-zipped the crotch and the latex held it secure. Cara had felt more silly than objectified earlier, but Travis’ callous treatment pushed her back into object mode, and her insides flared to life around the items filling and stretching her.

  Paul had Meg touch her toes with her legs spread, and he pressed a plug and egg into his slave before the men returned them to the ideal location for a lamp, but situated them back to back this time. Paul produced another bundle of the long zip-ties and began systematically strapping their legs together every few inches.

  A semi-inflated clear beach ball was wedged between their backs, and a large zip-tie wrapped their around torsos just above the breasts, arching their spines.

  Their hands and wrists were zip-tied straight above their heads, the globe held in their four joined hands. More strips were added to their arms every couple of inches, forcing their elbows straight, and a final zip-strip circled their foreheads and arms.

  Paul leaned down, made puffing noises, and Cara realized he was blowing more air into the beach ball. He continued until their backs were at an impossible arch and the sit-spots of their bottoms pressed against each other.

  Cara worried they might fall over once they were no longer held by the men, but Paul stepped onto the Roman column and pulled a rope down, fastening it to the strap around their torso to provide stability.

  The lamp’s globe was turned on, the room lights dimmed once more, and the men returned to their meals. Cara gasped and jerked in surprise as the egg in her pussy came to life, and she moaned in frustration as it quieted several minutes later and the bullet brought her clit screaming to awareness. A few minutes more and the plug in her ass began to gently make its presence known, and for the rest of the meal she had at least one item vibrating in her, often two, and occasionally all three — but never with enough stimulation to allow an orgasm.

  She assumed Meg received similar treatment, as she the other woman’s ass moved against her, both squirming and writhing in frustration.

  When the men finally finished their dinner, Cara was crazy with need. Travis walked their dishes to the kitchen and Paul impersonated an Army drill sergeant as he paced around them, markedly observing them.

  Travis returned with two small floggers, casually handing one to Paul, and they separated to stand in front of their respective partners.

  Travis reached into his pocket and all three of the vibrators shuddered to life at what felt like full strength, and music poured through the speakers — Cantara, by Dead Can Dance. They started slowly with the floggers, the rubber tips striking exposed nipples, as Cara’s latex suit covered everything except breasts, hands, feet, and a small portion of her face.

  The song picked up speed and the floggers kept pace, moving in a continuous figure eight from one breast to the other. Cara’s nipples were on fire, the vibrators inside of her thundering away nonstop, and the bondage held her firm against a wiggling, moaning, crying Meg.

  Cara was glad Paul had bound their heads together, because there would’ve been a danger of them thrashing and bashing and giving one another a concussion if they were free. However, the bondage held her motionless with her back arched into a terrible angle, obscenely thrusting her breasts out with no way to protect her hypersensitive nipples from the merciless rubber flogger.

  The music hit a frenzied section near the end and the floggers flew so fast they were a blur, and hit so hard the women only stopped screaming when they ran out of air. All sensations merged into a blur and swept Cara away in an all-consuming climax.

  Travis didn’t slow down, didn’t do anything different, and Cara was frozen in place as her muscles flexed, pulled, and twisted. Her silhouette remained immobile as she writhed on the inside in glorious contractions and tremors as the floggers continued to thrash her breasts and nipples. Her feral screams merged with the haunting music for several long minutes, finally quieting only as the music faded to nothing, and the floggers slowed and stopped.

  The zip-ties were quickly cut and the women repositioned, the vibrators turned on and off as the men alternated ignoring and tormenting them.

  When they eventually entered the basement dungeon, Cara’s eyes were drawn to a platform on the side of the room, with steps leading up to it.

  Meg was sent to the shower, and Travis and Paul peeled the latex costume from Cara’s sweaty body, though the bald cap was left on. She was instructed to join Meg in the shower, and both women were tasked with seeing the other was clean.

  Cara had already noted the flogger had stripped the bronze body paint from Meg’s breasts, and she was thankful she wouldn’t have to cause further pain helping get them clean. She sat Meg on the shower’s bench and kneeled at her feet, working the loofah methodically up her legs and then her body. She turned the hairless woman sideways on the bench to scrub her back and the top of her head, so Meg only had to stand to have her bottom cleaned.

  Only Cara’s hands, feet, breasts, and part of her face had been painted, so Meg didn’t have as much to scour, but she still soaped her up from head to toe, her strong fingers easily handling and manipulating body parts, reminding Cara the other woman was a nurse. They’d talked at length in the bathtub before their nap, but worked silently now.

  When they returned, the men oiled them both before walking them up the steps and directing them to hands and knees.

  Cara was feeling grateful for the padded surface when Travis leaned forward, grabbed part of the floor, and pulled it back to reveal a hole. His eyes were cold as he instructed, “Put your head into the hole, rest your weight on your shoulders, and curl your arms back towards your feet.”

  Paul had opened an identical hole, and continued with, “Once we close the stocks and the padding seals around your chests, we won’t hear any noises you make; the box below is soundproof. You also won’t hear anything happening up here. If you need to safeword you’ll have to stomp your feet in the safe signal pattern.”

  Travis motioned down, saying, “Your heads into the holes, please.”

  As Cara put her head into the floor and felt the padded pieces meeting around her neck and chest, holding her in place, the reality of the picture she must make above settled into her — an ass and cunt, with no head. Two asses, side by side, ready for whatever the men desired. It dawned on her she may not even know if Travis or Paul were fucking her, spanking her, or...whatever.

  She felt the belt hit her ass as Meg bellowed, and her scream merged into the one beside her. She quickly saw a pattern of being struck with each implement two times, and then feeling a different object of torture, though she couldn’t recognize every one. She identified the belt, a hairbrush, viper’s tongue, his hand, a couple of canes in different diameters and material, several weights and kinds of floggers, a single tail, bullwhip, loopy johnny, a few paddles, a slapper, tawse, phone cord... She thought it would never end, and as the implements became more severe, she frequently wasn’t sure she could handle the next strike.

  A bright light had filled her vision since she’d first put her head in the hole, but she was suddenly thrust into pitch dark, so it made no difference if her eyes were open or closed.

  After a couple moments of inactivity she opened and closed her fists, pushed up on her feet, straightened her legs, and went back to her knees. She felt totally disembodied from the portion of her above the small, dark room; though she could move those parts of her body, and did, frequently, to prove to herself it was still there.

  She found it hard to think of the legs she moved as hers, and when she stroked her calf, it was as if her fingers caressed someone else’s leg, and her legs were touched by an unseen person above.

  A handful of long minutes after all activity stopped, she said, “Meg?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. I think your master may be even
more deviant than mine. This is...I want to say evil, but it’s also genius and it’s fucking with my head.”

  Cara intended to laugh, but it came out as a huff. “That’s Travis, evil genius extraordinaire. I love him so much.”

  “I can tell; the two of you seem perfect for each other.”

  “How long have you and Paul been together?”

  “Eleven yea... Oh!”

  Cara gasped at the same time, as a hard cock drove into her pussy and began vigorously fucking her with no warning. Hands savagely gripped her hips as Travis pounded into her, and every welt and bruise on her red-hot ass and thighs screamed their presence.

  She was balanced on a crowning peak and on the brink of a powerful climax when he pulled out and entered her ass. Her eyes began to see the corners below her, and she realized the lighting was slowly coming back up.

  The cock pounded hard a half-dozen times and abruptly withdrew from her ass. Seconds later she felt fingers poking something inside and then pushing it deep. Meg moaned in protest beside her and Cara said, “I take it you know what that is?”

  “Yeah, it’s probably a glycerin and ginger suppository. When it starts melting it’ll burn like the fires of hell inside your colon.”

  Something else nudged her ass and within seconds the size grew as the plug was relentlessly pressed into her. She yelped as it slid in, and then tried to swing her legs sideways to escape as she felt it inflating, stretching her rectal muscles too much, too fast.

  “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK that hurts.”

  “The burn, or the plug?” said Meg, pain reflecting in her voice.

  “The plug. And the burn. Shit.”

  “The good news is the worst of it only lasts around ten minutes, and it fades completely at around twenty. Sometimes Paul puts a new one in me every ten minutes when he wants me to feel it longer, but that’s usually reserved for punishments.” She stopped talking to take a few breaths in an attempt to manage the pain, and continued. “He seems to like watching me squirm; sometimes he fucks my pussy and gets off on all of my twisting and hurting. Once he made me work out with one in, and he often adds impact play to the pain.”