She steeled herself for the inevitable discomfort, and pressed even harder and the unfeeling wedge responded by driving in deeper and widening the opening. She was approaching the widest part now, over an inch and a half across, and it was becoming distinctly uncomfortable. She hesitated a second, arresting the painful progress, and Lady Hartington growled at her to continue, emphasising her point with a solid smack of a work hardened hand on the portion of buttock still exposed above the low cut costume.
Desperately, she shoved her bottom backwards and downwards, and her sphincter closed with relief over the bulging knob, grateful to have passed the worst, and only have an inch or so of girth to accommodate.
"Hold it!" Lady Hartington snapped, and presented the glistening ball of the vaginal plug to the entrance to her feminine sheath.
"Go ahead," she commanded when it was in position, loosely held with the ball an inch or so within her pouting labia, and the girl let her weight fall back.
She had passed the point of no return now, she knew, and she could no longer control her own penetration. Oh god, it will split me in two, it feels as if it's in my gullet and going to choke me. I can feel my eyes bulging, she thought, as the flare at the dildo's root stretched her even further than the knob had done, and then she felt the nose pushing up seven inches into her belly. Indeed her eyes were bulging in their sockets with the strain of accommodating it and its comrade filling her vagina and swelling her belly in front, and her mouth gaped open in shock.
After a minute she had overcome the worst of the trauma, and Lady Hartington lifted her bound feet off the ledge and straightened her fused legs, securing them down and out in front of her by the strap attached under her feet, then returned to set the vaginal plug. Jenny gasped as the ball end clashed with the heavy knob in her rectum through the thin membrane separating the two.
All that remained now - and it was a big 'all' - were the two bunches of seaweed to cover her breasts, or at least the nipples and areolae in the interests of public decency. She had examined the fancy brassiere beforehand, had indeed tested it, but the sharp teeth, set in a crescent like a shark's jaw, still left her apprehensive. These were going to hurt, and she'd best prepare her mind as well as her teats. In the event her breasts sported hard, engorged, gristly teats, her usual reaction to fear and the anticipation of sexual torture, and the large nipples stood out like babies' thumbs, ready for the clamps to settle on their roots and start their painful work.
Jeez! It was far worse than she had remembered. No wonder Laura had made such a meal of it. She doubted if she could digest her own bitter portion with as much dignity. As she set the second in place she whined and snorted through her nostrils. The tears the first application of the asp-like bite had brought to her eyes had drained into her nose and now wet snot soiled her upper lip, and dripped from her chin.
"Don't make such a fuss, child," Lady Hartington admonished, "anyone would think you were going to be hanged; not be the star of the show."
"You don't know what it's like," she wailed in protest. "You haven't had to take a prong up your arse, and another in your belly, let alone have your teats cut off by a rat trap."
"Oh you girls," the Lady sighed, more in sorrow than in anger. "You seem to think that you're the first generation to have invented sex and sadism. I suppose it's always been so, though. I know my generation was the same, and my mother's before that. Goes all the way back to Eve, I suppose, made to suffer for seducing Adam. Let me tell you, young lady, if I were to drop my britches right here which, I might add, I have no intention of doing, you'd find me ringed and rimmed as tightly as any of you. I was writhing and squealing on old Doctor Gillespie's block, having my bum cut and stitched, while you were still sucking on your mother's teats, and we didn't have all Greta's modern refinements in my day either. Took hours and we just had to grin and bear it."
All three girls looked at her in open-mouthed wonder, and a newfound respect for the still handsome aristocrat. So she was a Sexton wife too. Who would have guessed it?
Two down and one to go. While Lady Hartington moved off to get Renee into place, the first two to be mounted tried to adjust their bodies to accept the various pains and discomforts. The latest to settle pawed the air with her fingers, as if playing an invisible piano, fighting the almost irresistible urge to wrench the clips off her martyred teats but mindful of the awful punishments she faced if she disobeyed the explicit instructions she had received to leave them in place. Each of them wriggled on their seats, to try and accommodate their impalement better, and each fervently prayed that the teeth in their breasts would cease to bite so keenly and that the sharp pain would soon subside to a more bearable ache.
When Renee's gasps and cries had indicated that she too had been set in place, Lady Hartington visited them all again, wiping tear stained cheeks, dabbing a little powder on shiny noses, repairing bitten lipstick, brushing hair disordered by frantic head waving, as the waves of pain had hit them and been fought to a standstill. They received her attentions with gratitude and a new respect.
Gradually the viper sharp pain in their breasts dulled until it was a dragging feminine ache, matching that in their bellies, the neural paths of the female sexual system directing each to flow towards a meeting in their vulvas, where it could be sublimated into something other than agony. Now they could compose themselves enough to smile with apparent sincerity at the spectators they would meet on their route, smiles filled with an almost luminous inner feminine radiance.
First though they had to reach the village green. Tom drove carefully out of respect for their predicament, for he had not missed a moment of their agonising and degrading installation, or their woeful reactions to their various impalements and clampings. But the track was ancient and rutted and their progress up to the main road nearly undid all Lady Hartington's last minute repairs to their toilettes, as they had groaned and shaken on their seats and the tears had sprung afresh to their eyes. They all felt intense relief and gratitude for the relative smoothness of Tarmac under the wheels.
By the time they had reached the assembly point on the green, the girls had mastered their discomforts and were wearing apparently happy smiles, seemingly unconcerned at their near nudity among the teeming crowds of residents and tourists. George greeted them warmly, obviously proud of his charges, reaching up to kiss each of them chastely on the cheek, before returning to his table outside the Trident.
From somewhere, Tom produced baskets of flower petals for them to throw to the crowd. The band struck up, the banners advanced and the floats followed, processing sedately round the village, visiting each of its pubs, applauded all the way by a cheering throng.
The girls found themselves, despite their discomfort, entering into the spirit of the occasion, swept along by the tide of enthusiasm and goodwill.
It was a classic demonstration of the ability of nubile females to endure even the most unspeakable humiliations and discomforts, if they can exhibit themselves in public, preferably in a state of near nudity. One has only to watch the teens and twenties of the female gender spilling out of a disco in the snow, still barely covered while more sensible men will be fastening their windcheaters round their ears.
Their breasts still throbbed and ached, the malevolent invaders in their bottoms continued to contribute their dragging discomfort, every now and again the float wheels struck a too high paving slab, or a sunken drain, sending a jolt through them that played havoc in their bowels, but still they smiled bravely through, buoyed up by hot glances and admiring comments from the crowd, repaying them with handfuls of rose petals scattered on their heads.
They even managed some good-natured repartee with the bold young men who took advantage of the slow speed of the procession to run alongside and pinch generous rolls of buttock flesh where it overhung the shallow moulded seats. By the time they returned to the village green, they bore crescents of black and b
lue bruises on their nether cheeks, painful but sincere tributes to their female attractiveness.
When they ran out of petals, they combed their long hair, attracting even more attention, the complimentary buttock nipping renewed with interest and responded to by oh's and ah's of half-hearted protest, though sometimes accentuated as an unexpected jolt disturbed their equilibrium. Finally the float drew up again before the Trident, while the panel of judges looked them over and discussed the finer points of their turn out and performance.
The half dozen men, drawn from all the villages taking part in the fertility festival, seemed to be having some difficulty coming to a decision. From time to time they would get up from their seats and move across to one or other of the half dozen floats that had been entered and take a closer look at the equipage and its riders. It may of course simply have been the natural male urge to take advantage of every opportunity to touch and admire bevies of such outstanding beauty as had been selected to take part, one could not blame them for that after all, but there did seem purpose in their fondlings and reason in their close inspections of the various sets of triple beauties they were observing so closely. One by one the floats were eliminated until only the Trident's Neptune and the trio of feathered 'birds' entered by the Cock and Hens pub from Foxis Mieux remained.
Renee was getting uneasy.
"I don't like it," she said doubtfully. "I think we may be about to dislike the next half hour intensely."
"What do you mean?" Laura asked. "It looks as if we're certain for runner up and we could easily win it. Personally I thought those half egg shells they used to cover their nips didn't hold a candle to our bits of weed."
"OK, so we could get second, but what if they call it a tie?"
Laura looked aghast.
"They wouldn't!" she gasped disbelievingly then, more doubtfully. "Would they?"
"I'm beginning to think so," Renee said glumly. "They seem to be going over and over it, first one float then the other. OK, some of it is just to cop a feel, after all that's part of the festival, but they seem to be stuck."
"Maybe they'll just declare it a tie, and share the prize," their redheaded partner suggested hopefully.
"Not a chance," Renee told her. "Quite apart from the fact it would go against the whole tradition, once they scent a tie-breaker in the offing nothing's going to cheat them of their fun."
"Oh, God, that last time I nearly died. I thought my tits would never recover. Don't tell me I'm going to have to put them on that damned table again and have them cut to ribbons like last time."
"With a bit of luck it won't come to that," Laura said. "That time was rather special. I haven't heard of a tit breaker being used at the festival before. No you can look forward to having your arse caned instead."
"Caned?"
"Yes. My guess is, we'll have to go up against the three girls from the Cock and Hens in a one on one caning comp," Renee said with continuing gloom. "That's how these things are usually settled, six each alternately until someone gives up. Ugh! I do hate canes."
As it turned out, she guessed correctly. The Chairman of the judges went to the microphone to announce a tie and that there would be a tiebreaker:
"Nothing too demanding," he declared. "Just a simple caning competition. They're all experienced girls so they'll hardly feel it."
Renee snorted.
"Hardly feel it," she exclaimed disgustedly. "I'd like to see one of them keep bending for a girl to lay a rod across his bare bottom."
"No you wouldn't," Laura assured her. "It would offend your sense of what is proper, and quite right too."
"Yes. I know you're right," Renee said, resignedly. "But I do so hate that cane. I'd rather have anything else than rattan on my bottom. Of course that's why Tom sticks with it and it sure keeps me in line, but I can't help hating it."
"Well you'll have something to take your mind off it now," Laura informed her in an equally gloomy tone. "If we're going to pit our bottoms against those chicks over there we'll have to get ourselves off this float, and I think that's going to take all our concentration for the next few minutes."
She wasn't wrong. Lady Hartington soon had the hatches open, and their ball-ended cunt-stuffers loosened to allow them to pull themselves off them, but it was easier said than done. Just to move an inch cost a multitude of groans and moans as tortured flesh protested, while their limbs had stiffened during their long confinement, which made even small movements difficult. Slowly, painfully, they prised themselves off the horrid impalements, which exited their bellies with humiliating vacuum sounds, the anal plugs in particular emitting disgusting sucking noises as they came free. And some minutes later, when they were able to attain an upright posture again, there were even more humiliating parps and squelches as the trapped air in colon and vagina was expelled. Altogether they were both sore and red-faced before they could descend.
Once on the ground, their 'tails' discarded, there was the small matter of their seaweed tit coverings. The rules of the tiebreaker, as explained with rather uncalled-for glee by the men, demanded that the contestants be quite bare, and the festoons of plastic weed covering their teats had to be discarded. A simple enough process and one ultimately to be welcomed, they were seriously sore by now, but the immediate future was bleak. All of them had had enough experience of this sport to know that their removal was an order of magnitude worse than their application. As each pressed on the vicious clip to remove a hated grip on her tender teat, she whined and writhed with the pain of the returning circulation, keeping up her tortured twisting for a minute or more before enough order had been restored to the mangled point for her to calm and think about facing the removal of its twin.
Eventually it was done and, red-faced, walking a little stiffly, for they were seriously sore inside still from the after effects of the ride on the twin dildos in their guts, they ascended the steps of the dais on which the judges sat. They were very conscious of the stares of the crowd and especially those strangers who had thronged in their hundreds to this otherwise secluded and neglected valley to see the famed fertility festival with its promise of female nudity and more. They were certainly going to get their money's worth this year, with a half dozen extremely nubile young women stripped naked and about to see who could lay the rod hardest across her opponent's bare backside.
The rules of the contest were simple, if the execution was arduous. Each girl on the team was to be paired off against one of the opposing side. Laura and Renee would go first, Jenny would go last as the least experienced.
"With a bit of luck you won't even have to try," Renee told her. "Laura and I should be able to see off those two soft bitches."
At first it seemed she might be right. Each girl had to bend in turn and take six strokes of the cane from the other although, to keep it fair, the one who lost the toss and went first, only had to take half a sixer, before the cane was passed to her, and her rival had to present her own buttocks for a half dozen venomous cuts. From then on six of the best was the order of the day, until one either failed to come to the line, or rose before her tally was told.
Renee disposed of her opponent in a straightforward manner. She lost the toss but, despite her frequent and vehemently expressed dislike of the rod, took her three opening cuts without obvious difficulty. Perhaps, her redheaded teammate thought, she was putting up a heroic bluff to conceal her fear and loathing of the instrument. Allowed to stand, she took up the rod in a purposeful way that left her opponent yelping and kicking back her legs as the wicked rod cut into her soft buttocks six sizzling times. The battle raged without obvious advantage until each had received some thirty strokes but by then the blonde had had enough and failed to come to the line, shaking her head in denial as she clasped her sore and welted bottom, to indicate she was not prepared to put it up to be beaten any further.
Laura made a good start and soon ha
d her opponent squirming and squealing but after three or four exchanges it becomes obvious that she, and most of the spectators who had plainly decided the girl from the Trident would soon be the winner, had been mistaken. Her opponent's movements had not been weakness, and the girl's accuracy and consistency was beginning to show in a solid narrow band of tumefied flesh under Laura's slightly fatted buttocks and a nasty patch on her flank where every cut seemed to terminate on the one spot, an ominously swollen bruise that threatened to burst at any moment.
Laura sensed her danger and whaled into the big soft bottom the girl from the Cock and Hens presented, but could make no significant impression on its plump cushions. Soon she was showing a very obvious reluctance when she was called to the line herself. Two rounds more and her tortured flank could not hold out and by the third stroke she was in agony with a thin trickle of red making its way down the side of her right thigh. She managed to hold out through the remaining three cuts, whining and writhing as the cane tip bit into an open wound, trying to turn her injured hip away, and made a final desperate effort to finish the match by using the last of her strength to punish the other bottom unmercifully, lashing into it with all her strength, but to no effect. This time her reluctance to bend again was obvious. There were tears of apprehension and pain in her eyes, which ran onto her cheeks as copiously as the rivulet on her flank. She held her ground for two fearful strokes and it looked as if she might master the third as well. For a moment she stayed bent, then slowly straightened, her hands going to clasp her ruined buttocks, while sobs visibly shook her whole body. Renee put her arms around the sobbing girl to comfort her.
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