The Twisted Mind of Tina B

Well, Sir, the brunch went swimmingly. At least for them.

I served a hot and spicy tagine with cool potato-leek soup and . . . well, I guess You don’t care about that.  We had three of her GFs, solid customers, and I wore my maid’s uniform - a very short flouncy black skirt, little white lace top, stretchy enough that it could be pulled down under my boobs if need be.  Heels, of course.  That’s it. No panties or bra.  Then, at the last minute, some little bells clipped onto my nippies. Not TOO tightly, but enough to make them throb and swell..  Ropes loosely binding my ankles, making it hard to walk - especially on our deep carpets.  You get the picture - me wiggling nervously around the table as I served and refilled, trying not to trip over myself as their hands slid under my skirt more and more aggressively, until it was all I could do to stand up.

Oh, and my wrists handcuffed in front, making it hard to serve (and perhaps making You just hard, Sir?)  Lots of tittie bell ringing as I tried to keep the handcuff chain out of their plates.

After serving dessert, I thought I was home free, though having a hard time keeping my hands away from my crotch as I stood silently in the corner.

But they had other ideas.

As the four of them reclined comfortably, I was ordered to crawl to each of them to receive a dog shock collar strapped on me - one around each thigh right up hard against my cunnie, and one around each tit, the shock part underneath, pushing the boob meat up.  Each of them had her own controller.

Mistress put a half hood on me, a soft leather one that fits like a second skin, covering everything above the mouth, taking Her time to buckle it tight, cutting off sight and leaving me in a quiet, dark place, panting through my mouth.  I was starting to shiver, so She gave me a full-on kiss that made me tingle all the way down.  And then ordered me to start crawling. For what I didn’t know. 

I yelped and jerked up as one of the tit collars burned me, followed shortly by the other. My handcuffed hands twisted and jangled trying to sooth my big balls.  I could dimly hear the girls laughing as Mistress ordered me down again.  Seared my ass with a crop or something to make Her point.

So I knelt there, panting with fear, not knowing what was expected of me.  Suddenly one of the thigh collars jolted me, and I flung myself forward, falling on the floor.

"So," a girl said.  "Let's see if we can drive it where we want it. . . "

"Where ya NEED it," another voice jeered, to more laughter.

The left tit collar burned me, and I staggered to my right, bumping into someone's legs.  Whimpering excuses, I started to back away, but both thigh collars jolted me, flinging me forward between some legs, squealing.  Yelping again as hands grabbed my hair and yanked my mouth into soft, smelly flesh. Damp flesh.  Hungry flesh that exposed itself to my mouth and closed over it.  Using me as if I were just a disposable sex toy.

Well, I guess You can tell what followed.  Between jolts and mouthfuls of soaking flesh, I grovelled on the floor, whimpering and waiting for the next shock.  But no matter how you try, you can't ever get ready for it.

When they eventually tired of that game, someone had the bright idea of lashing my wrists and ankles together in front - and hanging me in the foyer, where they could shock me at will without hearing my shakey cries for help. Fortunately for me, Mistress reprimanded them for even thinking of hanging me by the cuffs - which tear the skin badly - so they relented and hung me by my ankles instead.  

The fucking ropes crushed my ankles unbearably, making me twist and groan miserably.  I tried to sit up and grab the rope with my hands, but someone saw me, and they re-cuffed my hands behind so I couldn’t get any relief.

I hung there so long I got extremely dizzy, kind of going in and out.  Some hard spanks woke me, though.  Just in time to feel a belt being looped around my neck so they could pull my crying face up between their thighs again.  Choke me until I opened my mouth.  Force my mouth to do its job on their womanhood, some of them cumming all over my face and into my nose.  Eventually my lips and tongue got so tired that I wasn’t doing a good enough job, so someone took a cane to my thighs.  That encouraged me, sure enough, though I have to tell You that being hooded and having my head moved around while hung upside down left me with no idea of where I was.  What I was.

After they left, Mistress left me hanging there while She went off and did something.  Probably with a vibrator.  When She came back, I begged tearfully to be let down, but She just crammed a big foam gag into my mouth, making it almost impossible to breathe.  Terrified, I groaned and miewed as Her hands teased my bare, needy cunnie, making my helpless body jerk and twist. Pulling my twat open with Her fingers, she inserted something big and long, making me feel every inch as it slid slowly down into my defenseless slit, stretching me horribly.  Something bumped up against my clittymound - and started vibrating.  And then I didn’t pay any more attention to Her.

Wave after wave of orgasms shook my body like a rag doll, the spasms yanking my wrists against the handcuffs without regard for how the hard steel cut into my skin, while my legs vibrated and strained as if they were doing some obscene Olympic event.

So please forgive me for not responding to You sooner, Sir, but I was allowed to sleep late because my body is pretty wasted.  I’m actually typing this in bed, because as soon as I was awake She handed me the laptop and said curtly “Write”.

So I wrote.  And hope.