Miraculously, I didn’t let my doubts and fears over my cravings consume me. I simply surrendered to them and to her. For once, I accepted that I was wired differently than the people I surrounded myself with every day. If my friends, my family, my peers even suspected, they would be shocked and outraged, or so I imagined. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that Mrs. Vandermeer understood. Not only did she understand, but she encouraged and celebrated what and who I was. Bizarre as it might seem, tied up as I was, naked and helpless, I felt free.

“Yes, Mistress,” I answered breathlessly, already feeling the stirrings of something primal within me, something stronger than mere lust. I felt the wet trickle of anticipation creeping along the insides of my quivering thighs as I gazed at her, wondering what she had planned. Pain and pleasure, knowing her. After all, she grasped that I needed both. Yes, I belonged to her, at least in this moment, heart and soul.

There were no more words, at least for a while. They weren’t needed. Not that it was silent. The lack of verbal communication allowed other sounds to fill the air. The rasp of my breath, broken occasionally by a tortured whimper. The soft creak of the pulley that held me in place every time I shifted my weight. The sound of her step, soft as it was, as she ducked under my outstretched arm so that she was behind me, out of my vision completely, allowing my imagination to take over. Oh, and the things I imagined shamed me as desire rose within me like turbulent floodwaters.

My gasp of surprise seemed louder in the near silence as she rested her chin upon my shoulder and encircled my waist with one arm, her hand pressing against my bladder, her lips brushing against my ear.

“Hold it in.”

I understood, almost instantly, what she meant as I felt her pressing harder, my need to pee reasserting itself with a fierce intensity. Gritting my teeth, my eyes squeezing shut, I willed myself not to disappoint her, my muscles tightening in resistance. I knew, with certainty, that I was going to lose the battle, but I vowed to fight the growing need for as long as I could.

“That’s a good girl,” she praised me, the pressure growing as I felt her pressing against the small of my back, allowing her to push harder.

I groaned, my hands clenching into fists, which uncurled as quickly, my fingers splayed in midair.

“Can’t,” I managed, barely getting the word out before she slid her hand between the crevices of my cheeks and pressed against my anus.

“Control, Miss Spencer,” she growled softly moments before sinking her teeth into the meat of my shoulder.

I let out a sharp cry, more surprise than pain, and almost lost what little control I had, my muscles trembling as I squeezed as hard as I could.

“Naughty little piss slut,” Mrs. Vandermeer chuckled, continuing to press her hand against my tummy, ignoring my whimpers as I fought to hold it in, knowing how good it would feel to let go. Almost orgasmic, I imagined.

“Your naughty little piss slut,” I whispered, shivering as her teeth brushed against my neck, helpless to do more than writhe in my bonds as she ran her tongue over my throat, her bite mark still throbbing noticeably, shivering as she began running her nails down my back, starting at the shoulders, her touch soft and sensuous at first, but growing harsher until she was raking them down my flanks, leaving a trail of pain in their wake and me gasping and breathless - until my concentration broke and I felt a gentle stream of urine trickling from my throbbing cunt.

“No,” I moaned, much to her amusement, as she reached for her phone and filmed me as piss began streaming from between my thighs, splashing against the floor and my feet. It was, truly, nearly orgasmic, and once I’d started, I lost myself in the feeling, crying out softly as she caught everything on film, once again, making a show of hitting ‘send’ while tears of humiliation slid from my eyes, surprised as she tenderly kissed my cheeks, her palms gently framing my face until I was done.

“It's okay, baby. No tears. If you’d like, I can put a stop to this. You can put a stop to this with one word.”

I mulled it over for a moment, trying to clear my mind and decipher what I wanted. Eventually, I lifted my chin and gazed deep into her eyes, my voice quivering with lust.

“Please don’t stop, Mrs. Vandermeer.”

Chuckling, she kissed me on the lips, her smile reaching her eyes for a moment before disappearing behind a cruel mask as she circled behind me once more.

“Beg me, Kitty,” she growled softly in my ear as she rested her chin on my shoulder, her arms encircling my waist.

My heart skipped a beat, instinctively knowing what she wanted to hear. Or maybe it had nothing to do with her desire, but rather my own. Maybe it was what I wanted.

“Hurt me, Abby-“

“Mistress Abby,” she said sinking her claws into my tender ass until I cried out, jerking against my bonds uselessly.

“Mistress Abby,” I finally managed. She relented, chuckling softly before kissing the ridge of my ear.

“I will have you properly trained yet, slut. Now, you were asking?”

My face burning with humiliation and lust, I tried again.

“I want you to… hurt me. Mistress? Please?”

It sounded pathetic, but then, it was. I didn’t care.

“Anything else, slut?” she teased, letting her hands slide down my quivering tummy until they rested on my mound, fingertips mere millimeters away from my cunt.

“I want to come for you.”

“For us, Shannon.”

“Us?” I breathed, eyes going wide with apprehension.

“Say it, baby.”

“You and Greg?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice so low that it barely registered.

I let out a low moan, my imagination running wild, visions of the two of them circling me like predators, wielding crops, striking out without warning, pain flaring through me until I couldn’t take it anymore and climaxed before both of them; Mrs. and Mr. Vandermeer.

“No, please don’t make me,” I whispered, but my body had already betrayed me, or should I say my pussy had. I could sense drops of pearlescent arousal forming like dewdrops on my cunt lips.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to make you. Before I’m done with you, though, you’re going to beg me, seeing as it’s the only way I’m going to allow you to come. The alternative is to be sent away wanting, knowing that even when you’re at home, you won’t be allowed relief.”

Thankfully, she didn’t wait for a reply.

The crop was a cruel tool. The feel of its flat leather head was cool and gentle when she stroked it over my naked flesh. She used it to lull me into a state of pleasure, stroking everywhere; along my calves, my arms, along my flanks, my ass, breasts, belly, back, the insides of my thighs, my mound… I simply closed my eyes and enjoyed it, forgetting myself until she struck it against my nipple, pain blazing through me as my eyes flew open and I cried out. She hadn’t held back, either. Already I could see a red, flag-shaped mark appear on my pale breast.

Wordlessly she began to tease me again with gentle strokes. This time, however, it merely heightened my anticipation. In other words, I nervously awaited the next blow.

This time, she marked my ass cheek, causing me to jerk at my bonds uselessly, almost losing my balance. The thought of what that would feel like against my scalp scared me.

“More, Miss Spencer?” she asked, her smile beatific in its cruelty.

Not knowing how to answer, I simply turned my eyes toward her, hoping she’d see the answer in their depths. Laughing, she struck me again, the flat edge landing against my wet, puffy lips, the edge striking my throbbing clit. This time I let out a short scream, tears running down my cheeks. I’d never imagined anything could hurt as much as it did. Worse, as she began running the smooth head of the crop soothingly up and down my slit, I found myself hoping she’d do it again.

“Such a delightful little girl,” Abby remarked with a smirk, smacking the inside of my thigh, this time softly. I moaned in relief, thankful for the respite.

“Greg doesn’t like hurting his pets, Kitty. Not like I do. He plays a different kind of game with them. It’s more for his pleasure than theirs. I do this-”

She struck against my flank, just beneath the pit of my underarm.

“Because I know it brings you pleasure.”

Pausing to put the crop aside, she moved closer, her lips almost touching mine, and smiled as she cupped my pussy, stroking it, smearing my juices over my lips and clit and mound until I was writing in my bonds.

“Just as I know that sucking my husband’s cock until he comes all over your pretty face will bring you pleasure.”

“No,” I whispered shakily.

“No?” she replied softly, her eyes boring into mine. “You sure about that?”

I thought of the fantasies I’d been having about being taken by Abby’s husband lately and felt myself blushing, my cheeks growing heated. This time, I simply shook my head, much to her amusement.

“Would it help if I was doing this-“

She pushed her fingers into me, curling them upwards, and began to stroke my outer wall from within.

“Oh, god, please,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head as I began to rock my hips, doing my best to hump her fingers, despite my bondage.

“Remember, baby. No matter how close you come, I’m not going to let you find any release. I’m going to simply keep you on the edge for as long as I want.”

It should be no surprise that, eventually, I ‘broke’. Yes, it was because of the pain, but not because I wanted her to stop. I thought I would go mad if I wasn’t allowed to climax soon.

“Good girl,” she said, kissing me on the cheek, before stepping back and taking another photo, sending that like she had all the others. 

“First, let’s get you cleaned up,” she told me, her voice gentle, if stern, as she untied me, taking me in her arms so that I wouldn’t collapse to the floor, holding me, her hands soothing as she helped me to sit, before massaging my limbs. Tilting my chin up, she regarded me carefully.

“What I told you before, Shannon, was part of the play. I want you to know that, if you’re not comfortable with this, we’ll simply call it a night.”

Biting my lip, I nodded my understanding, pausing as I searched deep down inside myself. In the end, I simply shrugged shyly, staring at the floor as I shook my head.

“I want this. I’m just a little nervous is all. And scared.”

It was another one of those moments when she let her warmth shine through, taking me in her arms and holding me tenderly, her soft lips pressed against my temple until I started calming down.

“I’ll be right there, baby. Remember, you can put a stop to it at any time.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered, clinging to her until, finally, I felt ready, getting unsteadily to my feet.

“Good girl,” she told me, taking my hand in hers and leading me from her secret little closet, sending a thrill of warmth through me that, to this day, I can neither describe nor explain.

oOo

“Despite his fascination with you, I think he actually feels a little guilty that you’re as young as you are. Still, our desires drive us, as you well know, Kitty,” she told me as she led me up the stairs. I felt exposed, of course. After all, I was stark naked, her marks still bright against my pale skin. There was no mistaking what I was; her dirty little bondage slut. The thought sent a little thrill through me.

At least I was clean now. She’d taken pity on me and used a damp towel to wipe my feet and legs where I’d splashed myself. It was both humiliating and gratifying, being fussed over by my Mistress. Clean of body, at least. My mind was another matter. Dirty thoughts resided there. Thoughts of kneeling before my Mistress and pleasuring her with my mouth and, God help me, thoughts of doing the same to her husband.

“You look pretty, kitty.”

Startled, I froze near the top of the stairs, his masculine voice intruding on what had been, until now, a paradise devoted to the worship of the feminine or, to be more exact, my Mistress’s body.

“Thank you, Sir,” I managed to reply shakily.

“Greg will do. I am not your Sir.”

Chuckling softly, the sound sending a thrill through me that went straight to my cunt, he turned his attention to his wife, kissing her on the lips with what I can only describe as subdued hunger.

“Enjoying yourselves?” he asked, one corner of his lip curling up in a knowing smirk.

Mrs. Vandermeer simply lifted her eyebrow at him, a gesture I’d grown accustomed to.

“Behave yourself.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And don’t be cheeky, or I keep her for myself.”

The expression on his face sobered and he glanced over, taking his time to appraise me, his gaze roaming unashamedly over my nakedness. I should say that he was unashamed. As for myself, I felt the flush of embarrassment creeping quickly from head to toe as well as my heart pounding in my chest so loudly I was sure they could both hear it, remembering the marks Mrs. Vandermeer had so recently left on me.

“You’re very cruel, Abby,” he remarked, his eyes returning to her.

“It’s why you married me,” she retorted, her hand on his chest, pushing him away, her other hand gripping my wrist tightly, nails digging uncomfortably into my skin.

“Come, Kitten,” she ordered and, like the good girl I wanted to be for her, I followed them both towards the bedroom, butterflies made of lead filling my stomach, weighing me down so much that my Mistress had to practically drag me down the hall and through the door, pausing before we entered the room of my deflowering to give me a reassuring look and then when that didn’t seem enough, a tender kiss just below my ear.

“One word, Baby, is all it takes. You want to go home?”

“No, Mistress,” I replied back, my voice so soft she had to strain to make out the words. “I want to be your good girl. I want to let him…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence, but then, I didn’t need to. Nodding, she gave me one last tug and closed the door behind me, standing behind me, hands resting on my shoulders, her touch comforting and protective. As long as she was with me, everything would be okay. It was a simple truth; not something I just believed, but something I knew without a doubt.

Taking a deep breath, I let her guide me across the floor to the bed, my eyes never leaving her husband as he pulled up a chair and took a seat, content to simply watch for the time being. What they had planned for me, I didn’t know, nor did I want to. Swallowing hard, I surrendered to Mrs. Vandermeer completely.

“Play with yourself, Shannon,” Greg said softly, his gaze so intense it was frightening.

Blushing, I looked to my Mistress for guidance. The only sign of emotion she showed was a small upward quirk at the corner of her mouth as she nodded her approval.

What choice did I have? Spreading my legs while he watched, zeroing in on my smooth wet pussy came close to breaking me. I knew that, if I didn’t start soon, I wouldn’t be able to. My chest heaving, gulping for breath, I slid my hand over my thigh, and then between them, and began to play with myself for his gratification.

“You are so beautiful, Shannon,” he spoke, admiration in his tone. “And so sexy.”

Blushing, I closed my eyes, thinking that it would be easier if I didn’t have to look at him. It was, at least until I felt the bed shift, doing my best not to panic as I felt her touch on my thigh, her leg brushing my knee as she sat beside me.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she spoke, though I wasn’t sure if her words were directed at me or her husband at first. “I think this might be a little overwhelming for her. She’s been such a good girl, I’m going to let her come, and I’m going to let you watch her, but no more than that. At least not tonight.”

I felt the tension, at least some of it, drain out of me suddenly. Despite my fantasies, the thought of making them real had been daunting. I was, I think, already at my limits of what I could or would do with Abby’s husband present, although that realization hadn’t come until just now.

“Thank you,” I breathed, barely loud enough for her to hear.

Her reply was a simple kiss on my cheek as she proceeded to run her fingers slowly through my hair, stroking and petting me as she would an actual kitten, fittingly enough, her hand trailing slowly down my arm, the other resting upon the top of my hand until I could feel her fingers as well against my flesh.

“Wider, baby,” she breathed, and I obeyed instantly, spreading my legs as far apart as manageable while, together, we stroked my pussy, our fingers slick with my cream, until my thighs began to tremble and I began to whimper, begging her for release.

“Please, Mistress, I need to come. Please?”

“While my husband watches?”

“Yes,” I hissed, not caring one way or another as long as I got release. Her game, however, hadn’t been completely played out yet.

“Open your eyes, pet,” she commanded and, of course, I obeyed, my gaze turning towards Greg as he sat, leering at me, his trousers undone as he stroked his thick cock.

“You sure you don’t want to suck on his cock, kitten? Or maybe let him fuck your tight little teenage cunt?”

“No, please,” I whimpered, feeling so much need building inside of me that I realized that, permission or not, I was going to climax soon, and without it, I was going to bear the brunt of, not only Abby’s punishment, but worse, her disappointment in me.

“What if we make a deal, Shannon,” she chuckled, and I knew without a doubt that she was very aware of my predicament.

“Please?” was all I could manage, and barely that.

“How about if you let him come on your pretty little tits for me. No touching, nothing else, just a little cum to decorate you. It would please me, baby. It would please me very much.”

How could I refuse, especially when the idea of him covering my chest with cum came very close to setting me off.

“Hurry,” I breathed as I rubbed furiously against my clit, and she freed my hand and pushed a single finger into my soaking cunt.

“You are not to come until he does, is that understood?”

I answered with a moan, which seemed to appease her.

“Greg?”

He stood, his hand never leaving his cock, stroking its length, his face twisted with lust as he towered over me, his pants down around his ankles. God, he really was gorgeous. Maybe not tonight, but one night, I thought. One night I wouldn’t be able to say no, and Mrs. Vandermeer would let him fuck me.

“Oh my god,” I breathed, the thought tipping me towards oblivion. “I can’t-“

Thankfully, I didn’t have to finish that thought. With a grunt, he unleashed a stream of thick cum, striking me just below the throat, splattering on my collar as well as my flesh.

“Come for us,” Abby commanded, seconds before I exploded with ecstasy.

I felt more cum hit me, this time coating half of my breast and my nipple. Crying out, I writhed, unable to stop her from plunging her fingers deep into me, thrusting them in and out, driving my orgasm while I rubbed my throbbing clit raw.

“My dirty little slut,” she growled and I blossomed once again, as did he, this time his spunk hitting just below my breasts and coating my belly.

“My nasty little fuck toy.”

“Yes,” I moaned, hips bucking and thrusting, my moan turning into a cry of pure passion.

“Mine.”

“Yours,” I managed, shaking and finally spent after what had seemed like an endless orgasm.

Not that Abby was done. She pushed me back on the bed roughly and straddled my hips, rubbing herself against me, marking me, or perhaps she was letting me mark her. I felt her hands slide over my stomach, smearing her husband’s thick cum over my stomach and then my ribs and, finally, my tits.

“Who do you belong to, kitten?” she growled, leaning over me, her face filling my vision.

“You, Mistress. I belong to you,” I managed, my mouth hanging open, expecting her kiss, surprised when she pressed her fingers to my lip.

“Be a good girl and suck them clean for me.”

Without hesitation I began to suck, sealing my lips around her digit as she pushed it past her joints, all the way to her knuckles.

“Taste it, Shannon? Your pussy? But that’s not all. Mine, as well. And Greg’s cum. Your first taste, baby.”

Eyes wide at her revelation, I kept sucking, sliding my tongue over her finger, never faltering as she replaced it with another, cleaning them like the good girl I so desperately wanted to be until, finally, she simply lay on top of me, not seeming to care that I was covered with semen, and kissed me gently, stroking my hair, her gaze pinning me down, and then, rolling me over onto my side, embracing me in her arms and rocking me gently - until I must have dozed off, exhausted by the evening's events, my last memory her tender words.

“Sweet dreams, baby. You’ll want to be well rested for tomorrow.”

And oh, such sweet dreams they were…

oOo

a few notes. I have struggled with this one for over 4 months due to a crippling case of writer's block, for which I am extremely sorry. a few thanks need to go out. ChrissieLecker for encouragement and advice. Laura-kitty for always believing in me even when I didn't, and finally, Mistress Evie for inspiration. Hopefully the next one doesn't take nearly as long and yes, there will be a next one, Mona ;)