Sharon Goes to School
Chapter 15D: the Ball
original story: Scipio
continuation: RogueAlan
Part B
For a moment Sharon was horrified to find herself thinking that 40 was not such a big number. The tingling of her nipples and sex, though, made keeping such thoughts for more than a few moments difficult, as did the periodic forceful penetrations. Sharon wondered how long it would last, having long since lost count of the number of times a cock had been driven home. Her focus shrank to that second when she would be filled…
Then on a seven count there was a strange noise… a ringing bell. The anticipated-- welcomed-- thrust of a hard cock fully into her dripping sex did not occur. Sharon’s eyes moved side to side, verifying that it was true as far around the circle as she could see. The blindfolded girl wavered… or shimmied. The beat resumed, but with a doublet repeated for the first beat of the cadence, and with it, the young man behind Sharon drove into her twice. Only to be gone again. She bit her lip, struggling not to cry out at how delicious the second unexpected thrust had been.
She realized after the next double thrust that the tempo had increased as well… it was less than a second between the beats, whereas before… She trembled at the next delicious invasion. Across from her, the blindfolded girl spasmed visibly and went on shaking when the man who had been beside her moved away. The silent woman standing to her side lifted her right arm, after exchanging the crop she had been holding for the peacock feather that had been in her left hand. For a moment Sharon envied the girl, wishing she could get off as easily. Her body was trembling, too, desperate for release, and thinking about anything else was getting harder to do. The moments she was not reveling in being penetrated, she spent desperately trying to be quiet and still.
There was a plaintive ‘No!’ barely audible over the drums after the next doublet, and while she could not see what was happening, Sharon knew, having seen it before. The steady beat, the symmetric movement of the young men was beautiful, though, and Sharon wanted to watch it. At some point, after coherent thought and reason had fled, there was another change, ‘taka-at-taka’ immediately after the doublet. Sharon was barely aware of it, until she was again impaled, but after only four beats, and only once. The alternating single and doublet went on, building her nearly to a climax. She watched the girl ahead and to her right begin to twitch, obviously cumming. There was commotion to her right, and she guessed another girl was finding relief. She threw bitter curses at them, wishing it was her for a few seconds before realizing what a spiteful bitch she was. The woman standing across the circle to her right remained in place, the feather and crop now raised, held out slightly over the girl to either side.
The men were nearly running through the circle, maintaining the appropriate spacing to go on with the maddening dance. The bell rang again on count three, and it was a double spearing every four beats, the delicious pressure and friction building Sharon to the edge of her orgasm, without pushing her over. She wished her hands were free, sure she could trigger her release before the woman watching over her could react. Instead, she remained helpless to do more than anxiously welcome each thrust. Around her, the sentinels were ‘correcting’ more of the women. Sharon shuddered at the thought of the kaleidoscope of color and muscle and skin being stolen away, even as she ground her teeth at the effort it took to keep from crying out.
There was a shocking jangle of bells, and the tempo changed yet again, the maddening doublet at the 4 beat, with three slower strokes beginning between the seventh and eighth beats, and carrying into the space between the first and second. On the first such series, there was a cry of relief to Sharon’s right that sounded very much like Kelly. Sharon was nearly there as well, she knew, praying for a repetition of the triple stroke. The double thrust at the middle of the series, though, was not enough, and then the three slower thrusts seemed just a tease… She wanted to be fucked hard and fast, like the quick pair of thrusts.
And then the strange jangle of several bells or cymbals was repeated. The men stopped moving, except to stomp in place, and Sharon realized that the majority of what she had been hearing… was physically feeling, was from the impact of dozens of feet on the floor in rhythm. The men in the center of the circle marched out to either side, leaving it vacant except for the silently revolving mirror ball. The bright lights hitting it were redirected, and Sharon gasped at the raw power emanating from the man that stepped into the circle from the space to her left, out of her line of sight. He was at least seven feet tall, wearing a headdress that would not have looked out of place on a Native American chief. He used a twisted wooden cane as jet black as the darkest participant’s skin, a heavy bulb at the tip polished to a gleaming ebony.
His stride matched the still moving feet of the others, but his steps were longer, and then he was moving around the mirror ball, raising his arms, to thrust his fists at the sky at which point all was silent.
“It is done,” his deep baritone echoed in the large sanctuary, “You have proven yourselves the master of all but one… who will be mine to claim.” The men she could see on the outside of the circle dropped to one knee, heads bowed. The figure at the middle of the circle lifted a silver coil from his right hip. He shook it out, still holding the oversized cane in his left hand, and expertly flicked the coil, which rattled like a fine chain against the marble floor, as it snaked out almost directly at Sharon. She barely contained her gasp of surprise when the women to either side of her caught her shoulders, the woman to her left catching the free end and rising, replacing the lead anchoring Sharon into place on the collar of her mask. Holding her by the shoulders, Sharon was brusquely moved upright, the change making her back protest at how long she had been in the awkward position, even as her abdominal muscles unclenched for the first time since she had forgotten they were cramped and hurting.
She raised her head, not wanting anyone to see subservience or pain, and hobbled along between the guides as gracefully as she could manage, the discomfort of her weight settling on her calves a welcome relief compared to what her torso had been enduring… at least for a moment. They moved around the rail at which she had been imprisoned, the lead now attached to her collar being taken in by the huge man standing in the middle of the circle. Sharon shuddered, wondering how any human could be so large. When they came to a stop in front of him, though, Sharon stared defiantly upward, a challenge, despite the persistent buzz of her nipples and clit, that need for release momentarily blocked by pain and fear and steroid amplified will.
“Spirit,” the man intoned, and up close she could see that he was older… Not the oldest BZ member she had met, but older than most. “I like that.” He held out a hand and one of the silent women to her side held out the crop , handle first. The man took it, swirling it expertly in a figure eight before the women. Sharon did not flinch. He studied the crop, “Ah, from a local chapter,” he smiled, showing bright white teeth, “I see the stories about you have some merit.” Sharon felt proud but did not let her expression change. “Nevertheless, you are a BZ Bitch… You need to be reminded who is your master.” He had brought the cane, taller than Sharon was, in close as he spoke, and abruptly thrust it to the side in the direction that he had entered the circle.
The women responded immediately, herding the helpless white housewife through a left turn and out of the circle. Having come in blinded to what was happening, Sharon had not seen the sanctuary beyond the wide flat expanse of marble where the circle had been formed. It had obviously been where the pews had once been arrayed, she thought absently as she approached the same type of low wide marble steps that led to the paired black wood pulpits and between them, the ornate black wood and jeweled throne. Behind her, the beat of pounding feet resumed, at some unseen signal. Sharon wondered if she was going to be draped over the wide arm of the throne to be pummeled by the giant she had just met… part of her welcomed the possibility, still aroused and anxious to cum, while part worried he would truly destroy her if he was at all proportionate.
Belatedly she realized that there was a ring of black men at the edge of the room all the way around, each naked but for a plain light brown loincloth, matching head and arm bands, and string sandals that went up their calves. Those closest to the throne stepped forward, and Sharon thought they would take control of her. Instead, they untied what looked like black silk sashes from the rear corners of the throne, and the fabric began to pay out with an audible buzz. Sharon blinked in surprise when a small chair appeared before the throne. It reminded her of the one person hammocks sold at the Renaissance festival, except there were several odd poles and loops hanging beneath the angled two piece seat. The seat itself reminded Sharon of a doll recliner Chris had spent an hour putting together for Catherine one year. It seemed hopeless to expect her to use it, but the women spun her as two other hooded women appeared.
Sharon was pushed back until she could not balance, and had no choice but to trust the impossibly small pieces of plastic, which rested firmly against her lower back and barely supported her bottom. Her right leg was raised, pulled wide, and the loop at the end of one of the poles was skillfully slipped over her heel. She found herself distracted… the heel had to be nine inches tall. She absently realized the man before her had to be almost eight feet tall. Her mind whirled at the impossibility of that. When the women encountered difficulty getting her foot through the loop, they quickly stripped off the boot, leaving the legging of her outfit folded back from the mid calf to her knee. Her other foot was quickly similarly fixed, leaving her legs as if she was doing the splits in mid-air, bare toes flexing just at the edge of her vision.
The plate against her back tilted farther back, and it was all Sharon could manage to keep from crying out in surprise. The women cinched a two inch wide black nylon strap around her lower abdomen and with that Sharon knew she could not accidentally fall from the chair. When that was done, the plate that had partially supported her bottom was abruptly removed. As Sharon considered how vulnerable she was in that position, her arms were stretched out over her head and to each side, anchored to the remaining poles. She moved enough to be certain she was not going to escape the swing without help. Only then did the giant reappear. His crotch, hidden by a codpiece made of what looked like bone, offered no sign of what she should expect.
Sharon was not surprised when the men handling the broad black ropes tugged, lifting her easily so that her naked sex hung at the level of the Chief’s groin. She shivered when one of the women, reaching up over her head, began to tease her dripping sex from below, fingers dipping in & out, one circling her engorged, buzzing clitoris. Two others worked at her neck, and Sharon was surprised when her mask was removed a moment later. She lifted her head, staring down at the skin tight rubber in which she was ‘clothed,’ but for the pale skin of her breasts, her nipples fully engorged, and the thin pale hair pointing to her bare sex and pouting clit. Her eyes came up to the monster of a man standing between her wide splayed feet where she hung several feet off of the floor.
“What is your name,” the baritone rumbled. Sharon had to lick her lips before she could answer.
“I am BZ Sister Sharon,” she answered. The man pursed his lips, waiting. Sharon blushed, “I am BZ Bitch, Sharon Sobel,” she said. The chief nodded, and Sharon thought there was a murmur among the young men standing in rows at the bottom of the stairs. The chief apparently heard it as well, because he turned, moving back and forth along the front edge of the raised dais, the long cane held out menacingly toward the stomping but otherwise silent men.
“So close,” he intoned, “And still the beauty and guile of a woman… one of your own servants, is nearly enough to destroy you.” He turned, heading back toward Sharon, who could only see the top of his headdress and forehead when he turned, “This is why we test you… train you… prove you are more than any woman’s match.” He was silent for several steps, and then, “This is how you free yourselves from the evils of our feminist world, and reclaim your position as Man. And not just man, but the pinnacle of all that is masculine… B. Z.”
“Hup!” every male voice responded in unison, the room echoing. The chief nodded gravely, “Your brothers are your support,” he went on, although Sharon was finding it hard to focus… She had guessed that the woman playing with her sex had applied more of whatever it was they had smeared over her skin before bringing her into the room, but had been helpless to stop it, and as the prickly burning had grown, she had stopped worrying about anything more than quenching the fire in her loins. Her clit was sparking more than she could ever remember, a Twang that threatened to catch her breath every few seconds. “… for any problem, and will offer them aid for any problem they bring to your doorstep.”
Sharon realized she was panting. She shifted her ass, trying to relax the stretch of her spread legs, wishing she could even rub her thighs together, confident she could get herself off easily, she was so hot. Her eyes focused on her waving toes, the swirling multi-colored light emphasizing the dark ink of the tattoo ringing her left ankle. The metal of the nipple ring glittered as the scintillating lights moved over her partially bared chest, and then she noticed the sparkle as the lights caught on the anklet Chris had put onto her right leg just an hour or two before. “This is your peril,” the bulbous head of the cane smacked Sharon’s bare sex firmly, and she gasped, even as she wished it had penetrated like the succession of cocks had been doing… She needed to cum.
“This is not your salvation,” the chief’s voice carried across the room, “But it is your reward!” The cane head pressed against her, dipping down, spreading her labia, almost entering, then butting up against her clit again. Sharon writhed, unable to stop herself, hips pumping at the tip uselessly. The chief smiled at her as he stepped close, between her legs. “These women know the truth… They are yours to command. Treat them well, and you will always have a home in which to leave your cares.” Sharon cried out, as on ‘home’ he stepped close, peeling away the cod piece and driving his erection into her. He held himself there as she twitched and moaned, on the slippery edge of her climax. Despite the almost desperate need to cum, though, Sharon could not seem to get off. The big man chuckled, “Though you may find,” he backed out slowly, drove himself into her once more almost savagely, and repeated it, leaving Sharon whining, claws digging uselessly into her gauntlets, toes flexing behind his clenching buttocks, “Even your reward is sometimes able to make you rise above yourself….”
Reaching down, he caught her unpierced nipple in one hand and drove in & out in long, hard thrusts, easily pushing the aroused housewife into an orgasm. Sharon screamed, the chair fixtures rattling as her body thrashed where she lay suspended in mid air, jutting off of the chief’s erection. He backed away, “No woman can withstand us. We are one,” he paused, “Indomitable B. Z.”
“Hup!” the men responded again. The chieftain stepped back, chuckling at Sharon’s weak attempt to bring her ankles together, trapping him inside of her. She was relieved to see as she lifted her head to watch him move away that he had not been the huge inhuman monster she had been sure she felt on being impaled… He was bigger than Chris, but certainly not the largest cock she had ever taken… not even the largest that had been thrust into her during the ceremony.
The sash-like ropes hissed, and she was smoothly dropped below the level of the chieftain’s crotch, which Sharon accepted with a mixture of relief he was not going to take her like that again, and a lingering wish that he would at the recollection of how powerful her climax had been. One of the women who had led Sharon about stepped up, surprising Sharon by applying a red ball gag, the back rubber strap tangling painfully in Sharon’s hair. She tried to avoid it, insisting that she would be quiet, but the woman, whoever she was, did not listen. Sharon tried to remain calm, resisting the urge to gag at the taste of the rubber ball.
She lifted her head when she had calmed, aware of the sound of a low masculine voice. The towering chieftain was moving back and forth in front of the crowd, waving his arms. Behind him, two of the hooded women held silver trays stacked with black and crimson cloth of some sort. A third petite sentinel came up at a gesture and handed the chief a scroll, which he carefully unrolled, turning to face the assembled young men. Sharon shivered, amazed that every one of those men had been inside of her… The thought triggered a spark between her legs, an unmistakable hunger for more.
He read a name and the others stomped once, then clapped once, as one of the group stepped up. He stood more than a foot shorter, but because the chieftain was turned to the side relative to her position, Sharon could see that the master of ceremonies was actually standing on stilt-like devices. She remembered seeing something similar watching men at school working in one of the hallways. Unlike the clumsy metal tubes, the chief’s ‘legs’ had a curved tube mimicking the back of a real calf, flexing as he moved. She almost giggled, relieved that there were not, after all, eight foot BZ members.
The applicant stopped before the taller man, and the chief took a dark black wood staff from the waiting hooded woman and passed it with grave severity to the smaller man. She watched as the recipient bowed deeply, then stepped… stomped really, to the side at the direction of the hooded woman, who then stepped just in front of him, as if she was a faithful dog at heel.
The process was repeated when a second name was read, the second staff more ornate at the top. When the third name was read, Sharon was surprised, realizing as the applicant stepped to the front that she knew him. It was Samir. Glancing among the faces, she recognized a handful, all younger members of her frat chapter. She nearly giggled again, understanding this was an initiation rite of some sort for BZ, she guessed from around the region based on the number of men she had never seen before.
The staff Samir was given was taller than the others, though not as tall as the chieftain’s. It was several inches taller than Samir, and had a silver cap, from which blood red tendrils wove down another foot on the staff, to slightly above where the young freshman held it, smiling proudly at the others. He let his hooded guide lead him to the side, and then the other women stepped up, and the chieftain began to read names, handing each person as he approached the black cloth and red ribbon package. Sharon watched the young men who had moved beyond. Across the room a thick heavy door was rolled back, exposing a blindingly bright flickering light. Sharon could feel the heat increase all the way across the sanctuary. Heavily shielded men stepped forward, thrusting several long black rods into the light, which she realized was a furnace or fire of some sort.
She winced as the first young man who had taken his package stopped, letting two of the women strip away the feathered harness that had partially covered his chest. One of the almost armored men said something and the young man nodded, pointing to his right chest. In the next moment, one of the rods was pulled free. Sharon saw the glowing orange of the end of the rod, and then there was an audible sizzling noise as the metal was placed for just a moment against the skin over the young man’s chest. He went taut but did not make a sound, and then the rod had been plunged into a bucket near the armored man’s foot and returned to the fire. One of the hooded women deftly slapped a white cloth over the burn on the man’s chest. Sharon saw the wetness drip over his smooth black skin-- the cloth was wet, she hoped with cold water or even ice.
The young man was led farther from the start of the receiving line, and as she watched, she realized several of the hooded women and some who had been serving in the ring as… fuck toys was all she could think; the women were quickly cracking eggs, letting the white run through their fingers and then setting the yolks aside. She was puzzled, even after the young man was brought to a halt before them, and some of the egg white was smeared over his chest, over which a dressing was placed.
At the sound of a masculine groan, she looked back to see the brand being removed from the next victim, who had not been as stoic as the first. The women chaperoning the newly accepted member helped him along, and by his reaction to the application of the egg white, Sharon could only guess that it was somehow helpful in taking away the pain. She saw the first young man had donned a baggy black T-shirt, with ‘2010 BZ Initiate’ in the characteristic font in bright red on the front. When he turned to stand behind those waiting their turn, she saw that his name was printed on the back, as well as his home school, ‘Pope, Creighton.’
The line moved smoothly, most dealing with the pain of the branding without real difficulty. When the others had been taken care of, the three that had first been called were brought over, and different brands applied to each, more painful to Sharon’s eye, as each received two separate brands. She winced, watching Samir take his with a tremor but no sound. She had seen the brands on many of the BZ but had never considered how they had gotten them. And as one of the women approached at a word from the chieftain, turning and lifting the bottom of her robe to expose her bare ass, Sharon shuddered, terrified at where she would hide a brand from Chris, and at what he would say when he invariably discovered it.
The woman cried out when the brand was applied, and her sisters quickly applied the cold cloth, helping her toward the others while another was brought forward to be marked. She winced each time one of the BZ Sisters was put to the brand, their cries building her fear and anxiety. She was so relieved when the procession stopped with the last of the sentinel’s being marked, the smaller branding iron that had been used on the women left to the side of the fire, that she never stopped to consider what else might lay in store for her.
The lights came up, and where Sharon hung spinning lazily she realized that the entire balcony of the old sanctuary was filled with spectators. She gaped, more at having missed them before than her nude, lewd display before so many strange men. The sentinels, the robed women who had kept the others in line ran out, passing to either side of her. Their hoods were down, and the women were smiling, some waving to people in the crowd or those participants still ringing the room as they moved. Sharon looked from side to side, trying to see if any of her sisters were among them. There was a touch on her right shoulder, and she turned to catch a momentary smile as Kelly ran towards the center of the enormous room. So her young lover had been one of those keeping she and the others in line. Sharon felt a bit jealous, except that the orgasm had been amazing.
The crowd cheered after they had come to a stop, lining the wide steps. The girls ran from the room in the other direction, followed by the other women who had been the living fuck dolls during the ceremony. Most were still naked, some still hobbling on the impossibly tall heels. After receiving their round of applause, several of the other women came back to help those who were struggling more than others. The assistants… those in the loin cloths, as well as those wearing the armor and others in white shifts came out next, to a round of applause. The chieftain then strutted onto the stage to a long round of applause. He leveled his staff at the men who had reassembled after their branding. Most had left the feathered straps down, away from the new marks on the chests, and cheering, they swarmed forward as the others in the balcony and ringing the room cheered and clapped.
Only when they had quieted did the stilted BZ raise both arms. Quiet returned to the big room, and then he swept the staff towards Sharon,
“And don’t forget Mrs. Sobel, the most deserving of the BZ succubi.” There were cheers and a long round of applause, “This concludes the stomp in,” he paused, “The wait staff will be around shortly to take care of everyone.” He raised his arms again, “Come welcome our new members, partake of the fellowship and fun that is B,” every foot in the sanctuary stomped, “Z.” a clap, nearly as loud. The chieftain’s staff came down onto the marble floor, the sound of its striking drowned out by the ’Hup!’ shouted from every throat, including those in the balcony.
Sharon watched the chieftain head to the opposite side of the room, ducking to exit. The lights stayed up, but colored lights and lasers and reflectors switched on, dotting the vaulted ceiling. She saw the stained glass windows… it was dark outside. She saw the balcony was emptying, and realized people were streaming into the sanctuary from various doors. Some of her Sisters reappeared, those who had been nude wearing plain white robes open at the front, the sentinels still in their hooded robes, the hoods down.
Some carried platters of food, while others fetched drinks and other food from the tables that the young men in white had quickly set up, piling them with bottles of beer and liquor and sandwiches. Sharon realized how hungry she was, and wondered when they would get her down. She saw a familiar face enter from the opposite side of the room, but it was not anyone she knew from school. She giggled, embarrassed at herself, when she realized it was the student who had served as the emcee for the ceremony.
He snapped his fingers, and several of the red robed women gathered, following as he confidently crossed the room to where Sharon hung.
“You know you’re amazing, right?” he asked the helpless housewife. Sharon managed a shrug. He laughed, “Well, trust me, it is true. You are so shit hot the council is worried you may forget your place.” Sharon started to protest, but he arched an eyebrow, “I see you have forgotten your place… so perhaps they are right. Our little BZ Sisters are not here to argue with us, are they?” Sharon managed to shake her head, eyed down, which left her staring at her nearly nude body, and his waist. She shivered, remembering how amazing it had felt as he had thrust into her. “This is our little object lesson for the others, and a reminder for you,” he said, running a hand up her bare thigh, almost to her pouting labia. Sharon shuddered, her arousal at full bloom in that instant, “And a lesson for any of the other girls who think they’re too good for the frat.” Sharon wanted to protest, but realized any argument would he would claim prove his point.
“Ladies,” he spoke to the others, gesturing below Sharon, “One of your jobs is to keep our sacrifice aroused… Just aroused. Do you understand?” Sharon saw nods, but it was hard to concentrate… the self assured young man had stepped between the white housewife’s spread thighs, his jeans rubbing against her sex as she swayed in front of him. His fingers worked her nipples, which were already erect with her resurgent need, “Mmmm, so very nice,” he paused, “But out of balance… When will you be getting the matching piercing?” he asked. Sharon shrugged,
“Whenever I’m told to get it,” she answered, subserviently. The young man nodded, “I knew you would not forget your place. Enjoy, little slut,” he stepped back, leaving Sharon wanting more, and patting the heads nearest him as if the women were dogs, he wandered into the growing crowd. The heavy bass of hip hop erupted from speakers high on the walls throughout the room. The lights came down slightly, the ceremonial sanctuary having been changed over in just minutes into a BZ rave. The white robes and shirts glowed brightly, as did Sharon’s clothing.
One of the girls held a straw to her mouth, “Drink this, hon,” she said, popping her chewing gum rudely. Sharon did not hesitate, taking a big swallow of what she recognized as a Mind Eraser. She kept drinking as long as the younger woman held the straw to her lips, worried that she was being tested. She gasped, nearly choking on the liquor as something cold was smeared heavily over her bare, parted labia, followed a moment later by more which another of the women she did not know applied to her bare nipples. Immediately it was as if her skin was on fire. She twisted in the seat, unable to do more than endure the maddening sensation. The girls laughed at her predicament, and then moved off, the last pushing Sharon’s bare foot, setting her spinning in the room. She let her head loll back, watching the room moved past her upside down. There were far more men than women, in the room, groups talking and laughing, drinking and toasting one another. She saw a few of the BZ members from her chapter, and thought she saw Kelly briefly, as well as Melissa and Carlyn.
She felt hands on her knees, and looked up, the room tilting dangerously as she glanced down her body to see another of the BZ Sisters using what looked like a paint stirrer to smear more of the cold hot ointment on her sex. Sharon groaned, wishing the young woman would eat her for a moment. She tried to curl her ankles in, to trap the smaller woman, who just giggled, spanking Sharon’s clit with the wide end of the stirrer. Sharon arched her back, whimpering her need, her clit sparking from the rude treatment.
Another Sister applied more of the material to her still erect, aching nipples, leaving the pebbled skin glistening and oily. A third woman patted her cheek almost gently, “Here,” she said, and Sharon obediently drank more through the straw, wishing absently that there was weed available.
“Feeling horny?” the first young girl, a brunette asked her. Sharon nodded without releasing the straw. “You’re much nicer than I thought you’d be,” the other woman continued, “Not uppity at all, like my BZ claimed.” The straw was pulled from her mouth.
“The BZ at your college know me?” she giggled at how badly she was slurring her words. “No,” the first girl said, “I guess they just thought you’d be that way, since you’re a star.” The first girl had stepped back, and one of the others pushed her, starting her turning in the opposite direction from before. “Wheee!” Sharon giggled, “I’m a shooting star.” “C’mon, Bree,” the girl who had been having her drink caught the first girl by the arm, “You don’t want to wind up hanging there like a sex toy piñata, do you?” The first girl offered a wave, which Sharon could not return, and then they were gone.
The party swirled around her. Guys would step up, asking if she wanted to get off, and Sharon would nod, inviting them to fuck her. Laughing, they would set her spinning after tweaking a nipple or teasing her clit. And the other BZ Sisters came by repeatedly, offering her more to drink, and reapplying what was making her nipples and sex scream for relief. “Water,” she managed after drinking more Mind Eraser than she would have been able to count, “Please.” The girl paused, lifting a bottle that looked like water, dripping condensation. Sharon took a greedy swallow before she realized it was vodka… straight, ice cold vodka. She nearly choked, managing to get it down, then shaking her head, thinking the her fellow BZ Sister had misunderstood. The pouty bottle blonde gave a cruel smile leaving the bottle tilted, and forcing the helpless housewife to choke down several more swallows before suddenly Kelly was there.
“Don’t drown her, bitch,” she warned, and the girl paled, putting the bottle down hastily and walking away. “You okay, Shar?” Kelly wiped a strand of Sharon’s hair off of her forehead. Sharon giggled, “Thought she had water,” she snorted, “Dummy…. God, I’m so hot,” she licked her lips, trying to press her thighs together, confident she could get herself off, “Get me off, lover,” she urged, “We can dance for them… They’ll love it.” Kelly smiled. “Not tonight, lover,” she answered, “Hang in there, we’ll be home, soon.” Sharon giggled, “Hang… hanging in… ahhh!” another BZ Sister had reapplied the gel, the cool almost instantly supplanted by the persistent, still building burn.
Sharon’s world shrank to barely more than the fiery edge of her need… The world was spinning… Fingers teased her nipples and clit… Voices taunted, asking if she was hot, if she needed to get off… She was no longer teasing them when she answered that she was and did… She was encouraging, then urging… and ultimately begging for someone to fuck her. She pressed her chest at the wandering fingers, aware that there were long, feminine nails as well as the rough, blunt fingers of BZ brethren toying with her nipples. She tried to thrust her sex against the probing fingers, helpless to do more than thrash in the hanging swing as the party goers paused at short intervals to tease her…
They never continued long enough to let her get off, and never stayed away long enough for her to calm down or rest. Soon enough she was aware that she was offering those toying with her anything… mouth, ass, cunt… desperate to feel relief. She promised to take everyone in the building, swore she would do whatever they wanted. A voice asked if she would fuck them in her home and shoe nodded, desperately hoping to be impaled in the next second. Someone asked if they could fuck her in front of her husband and she groaned yes, encouraged by the sensation of a masculine hip brushing her naked inner thigh. Each time she was left disappointed and just as aroused as she had been. Could they take pictures? Videos? Would she visit their schools for a weekend party? Would she bring friends to be shared? Would she let them pierce her right nipple? Her clit? Would she let them tattoo ‘black cock forever’ on her ass? Would she fuck in the sky cars at the amusement part? Would she breed for them, letting them put her babies up for adoption to the highest bidders? Would she fuck them at the water park? Would she dance for them at this club or that club? Would she like to be the party cunt for a Caribbean cruise? Would she put out at the visitor center on the highway coming into the city? Would she put out at the major league ballpark? Sharon agreed to each inquiry or offer, not caring what they asked, barely hearing the inquiries, her entire focus somehow relieving the impossible pressure of her need.
Between questions she went on begging for anyone to fuck her and get her off, shamelessly saying they could cum wherever they wanted. She drank whenever they put a straw to her mouth, took several deep hits of a joint, hoping without success that high would ease the strength of her arousal. A feminine voice asked if she would let her ******** become a BZ Bitch. Sharon nodded without hesitation, whimpering as the deliciously painful edge of a fingernail extension traced around her pierced nipple, then down her body, nails sharply pinching her aroused clit but not long enough to trigger her release. The girl laughed cruelly, then asked if the other BZ Bitches could enjoy her husband. Sharon said yes, sobbing when the fingers did not work their magic again, instead tracing agonizingly down her thigh as the woman disappeared. Her hand caught hold of Sharon’s ankle, and she told Sharon she liked the jewelry, then pushed, firmly, setting the helpless suspended housewife spinning in a lazy clockwise direction.
The spinning room left Sharon feeling vaguely sick. She groaned that she thought she was ***** a moment before she vomited, turning her head and struggling not to choke in her position. She was glad it was mostly liquid, aware that she had eaten too much for lunch… and that lunch had been hours before. Someone wiped her mouth, and of course immediately offered her more to drink. Sharon did not protest, and then resumed her begging when the straw was taken away. Wondering if she could die of arousal, she let her head loll back, watching the world spinning by, upside down from her perspective. There were still clusters of guys talking and laughing, drinking and fooling around, but she also saw that most of her sisters were being thoroughly used… and were obviously enjoying it.
A girl she had never met before was sprawled on the marble steps, her ass hanging off of the riser as a big BZ hammered into her in the missionary position. Her spinning body carried her on to the image of the blonde who had nearly drowned her, taking one brother doggie style while slurping hungrily at another’s jutting cock. Looking out into the crowd she saw couples fucking standing in the middle of the big room, fucking on the long benches… pews, she noted and giggled perversely. BZ Bitches were crouched at the bar, blowing guys as they drank and talked to their buddies. It seemed as if every woman in the room was getting off except for her. God, she wanted to be feeling that… ‘I want that’ she said repeatedly, a drunken mantra, never aware that the endless teasing had stopped but her arousal was not ebbing.
She blinked, seeing that several of the men had formed a loose circle about her. She started when someone caught the risers, stopping her spin, and instead forcefully pulled her away from where she had been hanging. She blinked, realizing she was staring right at the man’s swollen cock… it was so close, she opened her mouth, straining to slurp him inside, certain he would spin her around and impale her once she had him close… He laughed,
“Oh yeah, she’s ready,” he said to someone else… someones, maybe, she could not focus to think about what was happening. “Here we go,” Then Sharon was swinging through the air in a pendulum, the air moving over her skin somehow managing to stoke her excitement. She giggled, the noise rising to a joyous shriek as the arc stopped with a slap that seemed to echo in her ears as her spread inner thighs hit the muscular thighs of the man at the opposite end of the circle, his cock having punched balls deep into her boiling sex. He did not stay seated, though… did not thrust in and out as she wanted. Instead, he backed out, then spun her half around, and gave her a shove, sending the aroused white housewife on another trip across the circle. She was impaled as before, a different cock part way around the circle. Sharon cried out at the delicious sensation, but once again the bastard pulled out, spun her, and sent her on her way. “Yes!” she cried at the abrupt, shuddering end of the next trip across the ring. The young man did not get lined up, and was not thrust as fully into her as the first two had, but it was still enough… or would have been, if he had just fucked her… just a few strokes… “No!” she complained as she was spun and sent on her way again. She arched her back, trying to increase the pressure of her clit on the invading cock as she was speared once again. The guys who were teasing her laughed, asking her if she wasn’t enjoying it… if she didn’t want their big black cocks. She nodded, slurring that she did… that she’d do them all, but wouldn’t they rather fuck her all the way instead of sharing her.
“Tell the camera” one of the men demanded, and Sharon was surprised, turning her head to the side, to see a big professional grade camera on the shoulder of a naked BZ Brother, the lens catching the action as she was swung from frat member to frat member.
“God I love big black cock,” she smiled, hoping she sounded appropriately sexy, and aware that she meant every word, “I’d do anything to get off on a cock right now,” she added, licking her lips, then offering a theatrical moan, letting her head drop back when the next cock lanced into her, “God that’s gooood,” she slurred, whining in protest as he pulled out and spun her around, “Don’t you want to get off, baby?” she said, raising her head to look at her nearest tormentor, “I’d be so good to you…” The young man hesitated, and she knew he was considering it, but someone else in the ring cleared their throat, and off she went again. “Fuck,” she complained, making the men laugh, and then cried out again as she was impaled in another single stroke. “Not fair,” she complained to the cameraman after another three men had used her for a single delicious but inadequate thrust, “I’ll do you too,” she said to the camera, “Just step in and do me.” That seemed to do it, she thought, as the cameraman moved toward her as she again found herself impaled on a young BZ cock. The man who had just penetrated her spun her but only until her bare, wanting sex was pointed at the young man holding the camera, and then held her in place.
Sharon had lifted her head and watched with growing delight as the new cock moved closer to her needing cunt. “You said you want this?” the cameraman carefully reached down with his free hand, wagging his erection. Sharon nodded, biting her lip. “I didn’t hear you,” he scolded. Before Sharon could respond he had pivoted out of the way and she was sent across the circle to another single penetration. “I’m sorry,” she said during the movement, groaning loudly in pleasure at the end of the short swing. “Please!” she begged as she was again casually removed from a stranger’s cock, and spun around, “I’ll do better… I want your cock… I love that big black cock!” She was propelled across the circle close to the cameraman, but past him, grunting as the cock clumsily hit along her inner thigh, not penetrating completely, building her frustration. “Please!” she begged again, “God help me, I have to have your big black cock!”
“Don’t you want to wait to go home to hubby?” the cameraman taunted, stepping between her spread thighs. Sharon saw the lens on the big camera turn, the black center hole showing a reflection of her latex encased body. She was relieved that she was unrecognizable. “No!” she shook her head as much as the garment allowed. “I want you to fuck me now.” “Why?” the cameraman was well endowed, she noticed, licking her lips in anticipation as he moved closed enough to slap the broad, swollen head against the top of her bare sex. She shivered, as he repeatedly teased her enlarged clit as it poked proudly out of her labia. “I want to cum.” “Oh, you’ll cum with these guys,” the cameraman said calmly, moving back, dragging his dick over her clit as if he was going to leave her. “No!” she whined, “I want that big beautiful black cock inside of me now… please fuck me, daddy,” she batted her eyes, biting her lip, trying all of the tricks she had learned working at Go’s.
“This is the specific cock you want?” the cameraman taunted her. She nodded, giggling at the word specific. “What’s my name?” She blushed, realizing how easily he had manipulated her. “Master,” she whispered after a moment. The man’s smile below the big camera caught her attention. “I like that,” he said, and then Sharon’s eyes flickered closed, her mouth dropping open as a whorish groan escaped her throat. While she’d been distracted he had eased into her. He paused though, with just the head inside. She shook her head, whimpered, arching her back, trying to get the swing moving to take more of him into her. “So you’re really hot, then,” he teased. Sharon struggled to control her breathing, focused on the fact that at least he was still inside of her. She managed to nod.
“Please, Master… Please fuck me!” she begged. Eyes half closing as he fed another inch into her, then backed out. “Have you had this cock before?” he taunted her then. Sharon bit her lip, trying to decide… He chuckled, “You don’t know?” She blushed again, hating the camera catching it all. “No, Master… but you feel so good… please fuck me… Please let me cum!” He pushed halfway in, then stopped again… and chuckled as the white housewife struggled to keep from panting. “I don’t think you’ve had this cock before,” he teased, “You’re too tight… and after letting all these young men use you like that.” Sharon nodded, unsure what she was supposed to say. “Do you like teasing all these poor young men?” he taunted her, “Using your body to make them do your bidding?” Sharon nodded again. “You should be punished.” Sharon’s eyes went wide, as she wondered if he meant to stop fucking her. He stayed in place, “If you really want my cock… If you really want to cum, you should apologize to these young men.” Sharon relaxed slightly.
“I’m sorry everyone…” she paused, at a loss for words. “You shouldn’t be such a cockteasing slut…” he prompted. “I shouldn’t be such a cockteasing slut,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t have teased them like you have,” the man shimmied his hips, moving side to side, distracting Sharon. “Shouldn’t have teased you,” she managed, “God, I have to cum… please fuck me… I’m not teasing, I love it… I love your big black cock!” she cried out. The cameraman buried himself, held like that for a three count, then backed out until the head was barely inside of her again. “Not fair!” Sharon whimpered, “Don’t tease!”
“But you’ve been teasing these poor young men, haven’t you, Sharon?” Sharon nodded, not registering he’d used her name. “If you really meant it, you’d suck my friend here off,” the cameraman’s free hand pointed. Sharon let her head fall back-- it was the only way to look where he had pointed. The move left the last other cock to have been inside of her pointed directly at her face. She blinked, realizing it was approaching, and had just enough time to open her mouth before it thrust, still slick with her arousal, into her mouth, not stopping until it was nestled in her throat. She groaned, body twitching, clit pulsing powerfully, and realized the man between her legs was thrusting in and out… She groaned again, amazed at how good it felt, her body twitching visibly as her climax peaked. Terrified he would stop, the white housewife hungrily sucked at the cock thrust into her throat, bobbing her head the bit she could manage.
She ignored the sparkles at the corners of her vision, the majority of which was merely the swinging balls and tight curled black pubic hair of the man in her mouth. She drooled, not caring about it as she tried to move her head more, remembering she wanted to get him off, but unsure why. The bloom of her climax wiped conscious thought from her mind, as she screamed the last of her breath out around the cock filling her throat.
“… so hungry she didn’t come up for air before she passed out!” she heard dimly, echoing as if she was in a swimming pool. There was a taste in her mouth that she recognized but could not place… She realized there were other noises… loud music… laughs, and voices raised in conversations… and moans… feminine and masculine. Blinking, Sharon found her head was sagging as if she had gone to sleep with her head hanging from the edge of the bed. She tried to lift it, but that increased the ringing in her ears. She had only enough time to puzzle about the odd arrangement of straps extending from her body into the darkness of the ceiling. Where was she? She shifted and found her movement was restricted. The ringing in her ears eased, and she chanced glancing around, with her head still upside down, scared for a moment at the number of people wandering around, wherever she was. “Ah, she’s back with us,” a familiar voice said. A tremor of arousal raced up her spine as the person… she knew he was between her legs, backed up, dragging his cock over her bare sex.
Horrified that she was naked while the people around her were mostly clothed, Sharon raised her head, and the world seemed to tilt, even as she realized her body was begging to have that cock inside of her again… Spotty memories filled in gaps, even as the stranger’s erection plugged into her wet and hungry sex. He plunged into her fully, chuckling at the cry that caught in Sharon’s throat. She shimmied her hips, tilting her pelvis, reveling in how full she felt. He backed out, then thrust into her again and she raised her head, wanting to know who was fucking her so well.
She blinked again, seeing the big camera, which panned from where her body was fused with the muscular black man to her flushed face. “You remember what you were doing?” the man said, his face mostly obscured by the camera. Sharon’s focus just then was on the pleasure he was giving her. She was aware of a powerful need to cum, and glancing around at the men surrounding her, she remembered that she was in some sort of swing… had been teasing them… No, she had been being teased… they had just made her say otherwise. She giggled at that thought, then whined when the nice cock fucking into her pulled out. A straw appeared at the corner of her mouth and she took several swallows, recognizing it. “Guess you’ll have to remind her.” There was cold between her legs, and then over her breasts… something smeared over them. She gasped as her nipples, already tight, seemed to become little ice cubes, and in the next moment they were on fire, as was her cunt. She blinked at thinking about it that way, shook her head, trying to ignore the need that was consuming her to remember what she had been doing. Why was the man not between her legs anymore? She realized her body was swinging, and then he was inside of her again… God, it felt good. She shuddered, then again as she lifted her head to see it wasn’t the same person but someone else… The young handsome black man pushed back, and then he was out of her. She wanted more and tried to scissor her legs behind his ass. He easily avoided that, spun her around, and she was moving through the air again. Another jarring stop… another cock lancing into her sex. She groaned.
“Teasing,” she remembered them wanting to talk about that, “Won’t tease… Just fuck me… Fuck me,” she slurred. “What’s that, Mrs. Sobel, “A voice asked after she’d lost count of the next series of single penetrations, “You want to fuck me?” she nodded drunkenly, then remembered-- she had to talk. “Yes, baby,” she cooed, “Fuck me! My cunt is yours.” “So you’re sorry you teased these poor innocent boys.” She nodded, “Issssorry,” she managed. “That’s good,” that calming voice was closer, “I want to let you get off, you know, but you have to prove that you’re sorry.” Sharon nodded, her head hanging inverted, then giggled at the way the room spun. She felt someone moving between her legs and looked up into the camera as she felt that cock slap down against her clit. “You want this, then?” She smiled, “I want your big black cock, daddy,” she urged him, “Don’t tease me… Fuck me, please!” She cried out as he entered her, stroking in and out, expertly getting her still more aroused. She bit her lip, eyes riveted to the dark black skin thrusting easily into her sex. She whined when he stopped, halfway inside of her, “What about the poor guy you were teasing,” the man said. Sharon dutifully looked back to where he had gestured… finding an erect black cock driving toward her face.
A moment later she was writhing under the steady pounding of the cock between her legs while sucking fervently at the cock thrust into her throat. ‘Faster’ she tried to say, dimly aware that she had to hurry or he’d stop… concentrating on getting the man in her mouth off and ignoring the flashing lights in her vision…
“… gonna be fine, it’s just some fun.” “Bullshit! She’s gonna wind up in a coma. Samir! What will Shaun and Dave do if these assholes turn Sharon into a vegetable?” “I said she’s fine… we do this all the time.” “Bullshit!” Sharon groaned, then gagged, choking on something. She managed a wet cough, tasting what she got out of her throat and into her mouth… cum.” Her head was pounding, but even so she was aware that she was incredibly aroused. She tried to put her hands over her ears.. Kelly was arguing with someone, and she heard Samir’s voice, but the other voice… It was familiar, but she did not know who it was. She found she could not move her hands. She lay still, wishing they would be quiet… wishing someone would fuck her… wondering what had happened. Careful not to breathe too deeply, which made her want to cough again, she concentrated on ignoring her body and listening.
“I’m serious, Samir… If you don’t believe me, go call them. How long was she out, asshole?” “Hey, you can’t call me an asshole; you’re a BZ Bitch.” “I’m the BZ Bitch who’s gonna nail your nuts to the wall if you don’t stop thinking with them and start getting a clue.” “You aren’t in charge here, bitch.” There was a sudden movement, a wet thud, and a whimpered inhalation. Something heavy landed next to Sharon. “Call me a bitch again and I’ll cut you.” There was a click and she heard people moving back. Samir’s voice. “No, I didn’t know what was happening… Kelly got me and… no… no… I didn’t, I mean yes, but… No!… You’re right… I’m sorry, I know… I guess in all the celebration I forgot… No… No, I don’t think so… When did Kelly get a knife?… Oh, OK,” Sharon heard him step closer, “Here, Jefferson, he wants to talk to you.” Sharon could hear the tinny sound of a voice shouting, even though Jefferson was a few feet away.
“Hey, Shaun,” her heart swelled, and Sharon felt like she could cry, she was so glad that he and Kelly and Samir cared about her. “Get her down or I’ll cut the goddamn straps,” she heard Kelly demanding. Several voices protested, and in just a few seconds her body jerked as she was lowered to the ground.
“… didn’t want to… No, we weren’t trying to… No, I wasn’t… That’s bullshit… That cunt said.” There was a scuffle to the other side and Sharon heard Samir warning Kelly to calm down. Kelly stomped off as Sharon returned her attention to the man talking to Shaun. “… always do… She’s shit hot, man! All of the guys wanted a taste, so… Yeah… She can hit it hard, dog, so… No… No, no, no. Nobody did that… Nobody wanted to do that… It was just for fun… You know how it is; bitch gets off like a nympho when you do it… Naw, she was still hungry for it after the sixth time, and there were eight guys playing the game, so… No, man… No, I swear she was still conscious… Higgins, wasn’t the bitch workin’ your joint like she was starving.” “Yeah, she was great,” another voice answered hesitantly, “But I didn’t want her to… well shit, man.” “Shut up,” the man called Jefferson growled, then quickly, “No, no, not you. Well hell yeah, she’s worth… I mean, we record everything. Sure, multiple perspective, this was gonna be for that POV thing we... What?! You tryin’ to cut us out? OK… But I mean I wanted… No, no I understand. A’ight… Sure… You got a great stable, man, but watch that little brunette… She Puerto Rican or something? I thought she was gonna gut me. I should get to… Uhm, OK… Samir?” Sharon heard him hand the phone over before he tried to get up from where he’d stayed on the floor beside her.
“Gonna get that bitch he muttered.” She turned her head, trying to keep track of Jefferson after the threat he had just made while listening to Samir. “… tagged his ass good, kicked him right in the nuts… Well, Sharon’s pretty out of it, and he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, so… Cool, I’ll tell him. But this is his turf, you know… Thanks.” Samir handed the phone back, “Jefferson,” The man grabbed it away. “What?… I told you I… But I… … Yes,” he did not sound very convincing Sharon thought, dimly aware that several other phones were ringing in the auditorium. She remembered it had been a loud party, but wherever they were it was pretty hushed, so she must have been moved. “No… I mean yes… yes, Shaun. I won’t. They get a pass tonight… Man? That’s bullshit, I… OK… Yeah…” he turned slightly away from Sharon, “Yo, Higgins! Get the masters… dump a copy onto the system, but they get the tapes and the SD cards…” She could not hear the answer, “Hell yes, get them a copy of anything on the drives… And get her cleaned up… Hear me, bitch?”
Feet rushed close and Sharon was helped to her feet. She wanted to warn them she could not walk, and was surprised when she managed without all that much help. The one sided conversation continued, “Whoa man, you didn’t need to call the dogs in… I was just… Well, shit, man, I didn’t get to blow a nut…” Sharon could feel the fluid oozing out of her sex. “Liar!” she said, resisting the others’ attempts to guide her and turning, “What? Naw, she’s still ***** as fuck, dunno what she’s saying.” “I said,” Sharon straightened as much as she could in the latex get up, “You just lied… I know you came inside of me, even if I still haven‘t gotten to cum.” There were masculine chuckles from several spectators.
“You bitch, I’ll…” She saw legs closing in… several people. “Whoa, whoa… Just playin’ a’ight? I’m cool… What?… Naw, Shaun, I… Yeah, that’s what she said… the lyin’ skank… I what?… You’re crazy. That’s putting her word above mine… I… Shit… … No… No, she wasn’t lyin’… I jus’ wanted to drop another, that a crime?” Then his words were marred as someone turned the music up, and people around her began to talk and move. Sharon was not sure whether she would have rather been moved for some perverted sex game she could not remember elsewhere, or have done… whatever she had done with all the spectators in that enormous room… It was embarrassing that where the party had been going on could be that quiet… everyone had to have seen. She was glad once again that the costume hid most of her face.
The lights went down as they left the big auditorium, and Sharon wanted to ask the people guiding her if she had made a total spectacle. She wanted to ask where Kelly was… And to her embarrassment, she was tempted to ask if anyone would help her to get off. So she kept her mouth shut, telling herself it was just all the booze and weed she had been enjoying.
To Be Continued 15D3
Chapter 15D: the Ball
original story: Scipio
continuation: RogueAlan
Part B
For a moment Sharon was horrified to find herself thinking that 40 was not such a big number. The tingling of her nipples and sex, though, made keeping such thoughts for more than a few moments difficult, as did the periodic forceful penetrations. Sharon wondered how long it would last, having long since lost count of the number of times a cock had been driven home. Her focus shrank to that second when she would be filled…
Then on a seven count there was a strange noise… a ringing bell. The anticipated-- welcomed-- thrust of a hard cock fully into her dripping sex did not occur. Sharon’s eyes moved side to side, verifying that it was true as far around the circle as she could see. The blindfolded girl wavered… or shimmied. The beat resumed, but with a doublet repeated for the first beat of the cadence, and with it, the young man behind Sharon drove into her twice. Only to be gone again. She bit her lip, struggling not to cry out at how delicious the second unexpected thrust had been.
She realized after the next double thrust that the tempo had increased as well… it was less than a second between the beats, whereas before… She trembled at the next delicious invasion. Across from her, the blindfolded girl spasmed visibly and went on shaking when the man who had been beside her moved away. The silent woman standing to her side lifted her right arm, after exchanging the crop she had been holding for the peacock feather that had been in her left hand. For a moment Sharon envied the girl, wishing she could get off as easily. Her body was trembling, too, desperate for release, and thinking about anything else was getting harder to do. The moments she was not reveling in being penetrated, she spent desperately trying to be quiet and still.
There was a plaintive ‘No!’ barely audible over the drums after the next doublet, and while she could not see what was happening, Sharon knew, having seen it before. The steady beat, the symmetric movement of the young men was beautiful, though, and Sharon wanted to watch it. At some point, after coherent thought and reason had fled, there was another change, ‘taka-at-taka’ immediately after the doublet. Sharon was barely aware of it, until she was again impaled, but after only four beats, and only once. The alternating single and doublet went on, building her nearly to a climax. She watched the girl ahead and to her right begin to twitch, obviously cumming. There was commotion to her right, and she guessed another girl was finding relief. She threw bitter curses at them, wishing it was her for a few seconds before realizing what a spiteful bitch she was. The woman standing across the circle to her right remained in place, the feather and crop now raised, held out slightly over the girl to either side.
The men were nearly running through the circle, maintaining the appropriate spacing to go on with the maddening dance. The bell rang again on count three, and it was a double spearing every four beats, the delicious pressure and friction building Sharon to the edge of her orgasm, without pushing her over. She wished her hands were free, sure she could trigger her release before the woman watching over her could react. Instead, she remained helpless to do more than anxiously welcome each thrust. Around her, the sentinels were ‘correcting’ more of the women. Sharon shuddered at the thought of the kaleidoscope of color and muscle and skin being stolen away, even as she ground her teeth at the effort it took to keep from crying out.
There was a shocking jangle of bells, and the tempo changed yet again, the maddening doublet at the 4 beat, with three slower strokes beginning between the seventh and eighth beats, and carrying into the space between the first and second. On the first such series, there was a cry of relief to Sharon’s right that sounded very much like Kelly. Sharon was nearly there as well, she knew, praying for a repetition of the triple stroke. The double thrust at the middle of the series, though, was not enough, and then the three slower thrusts seemed just a tease… She wanted to be fucked hard and fast, like the quick pair of thrusts.
And then the strange jangle of several bells or cymbals was repeated. The men stopped moving, except to stomp in place, and Sharon realized that the majority of what she had been hearing… was physically feeling, was from the impact of dozens of feet on the floor in rhythm. The men in the center of the circle marched out to either side, leaving it vacant except for the silently revolving mirror ball. The bright lights hitting it were redirected, and Sharon gasped at the raw power emanating from the man that stepped into the circle from the space to her left, out of her line of sight. He was at least seven feet tall, wearing a headdress that would not have looked out of place on a Native American chief. He used a twisted wooden cane as jet black as the darkest participant’s skin, a heavy bulb at the tip polished to a gleaming ebony.
His stride matched the still moving feet of the others, but his steps were longer, and then he was moving around the mirror ball, raising his arms, to thrust his fists at the sky at which point all was silent.
“It is done,” his deep baritone echoed in the large sanctuary, “You have proven yourselves the master of all but one… who will be mine to claim.” The men she could see on the outside of the circle dropped to one knee, heads bowed. The figure at the middle of the circle lifted a silver coil from his right hip. He shook it out, still holding the oversized cane in his left hand, and expertly flicked the coil, which rattled like a fine chain against the marble floor, as it snaked out almost directly at Sharon. She barely contained her gasp of surprise when the women to either side of her caught her shoulders, the woman to her left catching the free end and rising, replacing the lead anchoring Sharon into place on the collar of her mask. Holding her by the shoulders, Sharon was brusquely moved upright, the change making her back protest at how long she had been in the awkward position, even as her abdominal muscles unclenched for the first time since she had forgotten they were cramped and hurting.
She raised her head, not wanting anyone to see subservience or pain, and hobbled along between the guides as gracefully as she could manage, the discomfort of her weight settling on her calves a welcome relief compared to what her torso had been enduring… at least for a moment. They moved around the rail at which she had been imprisoned, the lead now attached to her collar being taken in by the huge man standing in the middle of the circle. Sharon shuddered, wondering how any human could be so large. When they came to a stop in front of him, though, Sharon stared defiantly upward, a challenge, despite the persistent buzz of her nipples and clit, that need for release momentarily blocked by pain and fear and steroid amplified will.
“Spirit,” the man intoned, and up close she could see that he was older… Not the oldest BZ member she had met, but older than most. “I like that.” He held out a hand and one of the silent women to her side held out the crop , handle first. The man took it, swirling it expertly in a figure eight before the women. Sharon did not flinch. He studied the crop, “Ah, from a local chapter,” he smiled, showing bright white teeth, “I see the stories about you have some merit.” Sharon felt proud but did not let her expression change. “Nevertheless, you are a BZ Bitch… You need to be reminded who is your master.” He had brought the cane, taller than Sharon was, in close as he spoke, and abruptly thrust it to the side in the direction that he had entered the circle.
The women responded immediately, herding the helpless white housewife through a left turn and out of the circle. Having come in blinded to what was happening, Sharon had not seen the sanctuary beyond the wide flat expanse of marble where the circle had been formed. It had obviously been where the pews had once been arrayed, she thought absently as she approached the same type of low wide marble steps that led to the paired black wood pulpits and between them, the ornate black wood and jeweled throne. Behind her, the beat of pounding feet resumed, at some unseen signal. Sharon wondered if she was going to be draped over the wide arm of the throne to be pummeled by the giant she had just met… part of her welcomed the possibility, still aroused and anxious to cum, while part worried he would truly destroy her if he was at all proportionate.
Belatedly she realized that there was a ring of black men at the edge of the room all the way around, each naked but for a plain light brown loincloth, matching head and arm bands, and string sandals that went up their calves. Those closest to the throne stepped forward, and Sharon thought they would take control of her. Instead, they untied what looked like black silk sashes from the rear corners of the throne, and the fabric began to pay out with an audible buzz. Sharon blinked in surprise when a small chair appeared before the throne. It reminded her of the one person hammocks sold at the Renaissance festival, except there were several odd poles and loops hanging beneath the angled two piece seat. The seat itself reminded Sharon of a doll recliner Chris had spent an hour putting together for Catherine one year. It seemed hopeless to expect her to use it, but the women spun her as two other hooded women appeared.
Sharon was pushed back until she could not balance, and had no choice but to trust the impossibly small pieces of plastic, which rested firmly against her lower back and barely supported her bottom. Her right leg was raised, pulled wide, and the loop at the end of one of the poles was skillfully slipped over her heel. She found herself distracted… the heel had to be nine inches tall. She absently realized the man before her had to be almost eight feet tall. Her mind whirled at the impossibility of that. When the women encountered difficulty getting her foot through the loop, they quickly stripped off the boot, leaving the legging of her outfit folded back from the mid calf to her knee. Her other foot was quickly similarly fixed, leaving her legs as if she was doing the splits in mid-air, bare toes flexing just at the edge of her vision.
The plate against her back tilted farther back, and it was all Sharon could manage to keep from crying out in surprise. The women cinched a two inch wide black nylon strap around her lower abdomen and with that Sharon knew she could not accidentally fall from the chair. When that was done, the plate that had partially supported her bottom was abruptly removed. As Sharon considered how vulnerable she was in that position, her arms were stretched out over her head and to each side, anchored to the remaining poles. She moved enough to be certain she was not going to escape the swing without help. Only then did the giant reappear. His crotch, hidden by a codpiece made of what looked like bone, offered no sign of what she should expect.
Sharon was not surprised when the men handling the broad black ropes tugged, lifting her easily so that her naked sex hung at the level of the Chief’s groin. She shivered when one of the women, reaching up over her head, began to tease her dripping sex from below, fingers dipping in & out, one circling her engorged, buzzing clitoris. Two others worked at her neck, and Sharon was surprised when her mask was removed a moment later. She lifted her head, staring down at the skin tight rubber in which she was ‘clothed,’ but for the pale skin of her breasts, her nipples fully engorged, and the thin pale hair pointing to her bare sex and pouting clit. Her eyes came up to the monster of a man standing between her wide splayed feet where she hung several feet off of the floor.
“What is your name,” the baritone rumbled. Sharon had to lick her lips before she could answer.
“I am BZ Sister Sharon,” she answered. The man pursed his lips, waiting. Sharon blushed, “I am BZ Bitch, Sharon Sobel,” she said. The chief nodded, and Sharon thought there was a murmur among the young men standing in rows at the bottom of the stairs. The chief apparently heard it as well, because he turned, moving back and forth along the front edge of the raised dais, the long cane held out menacingly toward the stomping but otherwise silent men.
“So close,” he intoned, “And still the beauty and guile of a woman… one of your own servants, is nearly enough to destroy you.” He turned, heading back toward Sharon, who could only see the top of his headdress and forehead when he turned, “This is why we test you… train you… prove you are more than any woman’s match.” He was silent for several steps, and then, “This is how you free yourselves from the evils of our feminist world, and reclaim your position as Man. And not just man, but the pinnacle of all that is masculine… B. Z.”
“Hup!” every male voice responded in unison, the room echoing. The chief nodded gravely, “Your brothers are your support,” he went on, although Sharon was finding it hard to focus… She had guessed that the woman playing with her sex had applied more of whatever it was they had smeared over her skin before bringing her into the room, but had been helpless to stop it, and as the prickly burning had grown, she had stopped worrying about anything more than quenching the fire in her loins. Her clit was sparking more than she could ever remember, a Twang that threatened to catch her breath every few seconds. “… for any problem, and will offer them aid for any problem they bring to your doorstep.”
Sharon realized she was panting. She shifted her ass, trying to relax the stretch of her spread legs, wishing she could even rub her thighs together, confident she could get herself off easily, she was so hot. Her eyes focused on her waving toes, the swirling multi-colored light emphasizing the dark ink of the tattoo ringing her left ankle. The metal of the nipple ring glittered as the scintillating lights moved over her partially bared chest, and then she noticed the sparkle as the lights caught on the anklet Chris had put onto her right leg just an hour or two before. “This is your peril,” the bulbous head of the cane smacked Sharon’s bare sex firmly, and she gasped, even as she wished it had penetrated like the succession of cocks had been doing… She needed to cum.
“This is not your salvation,” the chief’s voice carried across the room, “But it is your reward!” The cane head pressed against her, dipping down, spreading her labia, almost entering, then butting up against her clit again. Sharon writhed, unable to stop herself, hips pumping at the tip uselessly. The chief smiled at her as he stepped close, between her legs. “These women know the truth… They are yours to command. Treat them well, and you will always have a home in which to leave your cares.” Sharon cried out, as on ‘home’ he stepped close, peeling away the cod piece and driving his erection into her. He held himself there as she twitched and moaned, on the slippery edge of her climax. Despite the almost desperate need to cum, though, Sharon could not seem to get off. The big man chuckled, “Though you may find,” he backed out slowly, drove himself into her once more almost savagely, and repeated it, leaving Sharon whining, claws digging uselessly into her gauntlets, toes flexing behind his clenching buttocks, “Even your reward is sometimes able to make you rise above yourself….”
Reaching down, he caught her unpierced nipple in one hand and drove in & out in long, hard thrusts, easily pushing the aroused housewife into an orgasm. Sharon screamed, the chair fixtures rattling as her body thrashed where she lay suspended in mid air, jutting off of the chief’s erection. He backed away, “No woman can withstand us. We are one,” he paused, “Indomitable B. Z.”
“Hup!” the men responded again. The chieftain stepped back, chuckling at Sharon’s weak attempt to bring her ankles together, trapping him inside of her. She was relieved to see as she lifted her head to watch him move away that he had not been the huge inhuman monster she had been sure she felt on being impaled… He was bigger than Chris, but certainly not the largest cock she had ever taken… not even the largest that had been thrust into her during the ceremony.
The sash-like ropes hissed, and she was smoothly dropped below the level of the chieftain’s crotch, which Sharon accepted with a mixture of relief he was not going to take her like that again, and a lingering wish that he would at the recollection of how powerful her climax had been. One of the women who had led Sharon about stepped up, surprising Sharon by applying a red ball gag, the back rubber strap tangling painfully in Sharon’s hair. She tried to avoid it, insisting that she would be quiet, but the woman, whoever she was, did not listen. Sharon tried to remain calm, resisting the urge to gag at the taste of the rubber ball.
She lifted her head when she had calmed, aware of the sound of a low masculine voice. The towering chieftain was moving back and forth in front of the crowd, waving his arms. Behind him, two of the hooded women held silver trays stacked with black and crimson cloth of some sort. A third petite sentinel came up at a gesture and handed the chief a scroll, which he carefully unrolled, turning to face the assembled young men. Sharon shivered, amazed that every one of those men had been inside of her… The thought triggered a spark between her legs, an unmistakable hunger for more.
He read a name and the others stomped once, then clapped once, as one of the group stepped up. He stood more than a foot shorter, but because the chieftain was turned to the side relative to her position, Sharon could see that the master of ceremonies was actually standing on stilt-like devices. She remembered seeing something similar watching men at school working in one of the hallways. Unlike the clumsy metal tubes, the chief’s ‘legs’ had a curved tube mimicking the back of a real calf, flexing as he moved. She almost giggled, relieved that there were not, after all, eight foot BZ members.
The applicant stopped before the taller man, and the chief took a dark black wood staff from the waiting hooded woman and passed it with grave severity to the smaller man. She watched as the recipient bowed deeply, then stepped… stomped really, to the side at the direction of the hooded woman, who then stepped just in front of him, as if she was a faithful dog at heel.
The process was repeated when a second name was read, the second staff more ornate at the top. When the third name was read, Sharon was surprised, realizing as the applicant stepped to the front that she knew him. It was Samir. Glancing among the faces, she recognized a handful, all younger members of her frat chapter. She nearly giggled again, understanding this was an initiation rite of some sort for BZ, she guessed from around the region based on the number of men she had never seen before.
The staff Samir was given was taller than the others, though not as tall as the chieftain’s. It was several inches taller than Samir, and had a silver cap, from which blood red tendrils wove down another foot on the staff, to slightly above where the young freshman held it, smiling proudly at the others. He let his hooded guide lead him to the side, and then the other women stepped up, and the chieftain began to read names, handing each person as he approached the black cloth and red ribbon package. Sharon watched the young men who had moved beyond. Across the room a thick heavy door was rolled back, exposing a blindingly bright flickering light. Sharon could feel the heat increase all the way across the sanctuary. Heavily shielded men stepped forward, thrusting several long black rods into the light, which she realized was a furnace or fire of some sort.
She winced as the first young man who had taken his package stopped, letting two of the women strip away the feathered harness that had partially covered his chest. One of the almost armored men said something and the young man nodded, pointing to his right chest. In the next moment, one of the rods was pulled free. Sharon saw the glowing orange of the end of the rod, and then there was an audible sizzling noise as the metal was placed for just a moment against the skin over the young man’s chest. He went taut but did not make a sound, and then the rod had been plunged into a bucket near the armored man’s foot and returned to the fire. One of the hooded women deftly slapped a white cloth over the burn on the man’s chest. Sharon saw the wetness drip over his smooth black skin-- the cloth was wet, she hoped with cold water or even ice.
The young man was led farther from the start of the receiving line, and as she watched, she realized several of the hooded women and some who had been serving in the ring as… fuck toys was all she could think; the women were quickly cracking eggs, letting the white run through their fingers and then setting the yolks aside. She was puzzled, even after the young man was brought to a halt before them, and some of the egg white was smeared over his chest, over which a dressing was placed.
At the sound of a masculine groan, she looked back to see the brand being removed from the next victim, who had not been as stoic as the first. The women chaperoning the newly accepted member helped him along, and by his reaction to the application of the egg white, Sharon could only guess that it was somehow helpful in taking away the pain. She saw the first young man had donned a baggy black T-shirt, with ‘2010 BZ Initiate’ in the characteristic font in bright red on the front. When he turned to stand behind those waiting their turn, she saw that his name was printed on the back, as well as his home school, ‘Pope, Creighton.’
The line moved smoothly, most dealing with the pain of the branding without real difficulty. When the others had been taken care of, the three that had first been called were brought over, and different brands applied to each, more painful to Sharon’s eye, as each received two separate brands. She winced, watching Samir take his with a tremor but no sound. She had seen the brands on many of the BZ but had never considered how they had gotten them. And as one of the women approached at a word from the chieftain, turning and lifting the bottom of her robe to expose her bare ass, Sharon shuddered, terrified at where she would hide a brand from Chris, and at what he would say when he invariably discovered it.
The woman cried out when the brand was applied, and her sisters quickly applied the cold cloth, helping her toward the others while another was brought forward to be marked. She winced each time one of the BZ Sisters was put to the brand, their cries building her fear and anxiety. She was so relieved when the procession stopped with the last of the sentinel’s being marked, the smaller branding iron that had been used on the women left to the side of the fire, that she never stopped to consider what else might lay in store for her.
The lights came up, and where Sharon hung spinning lazily she realized that the entire balcony of the old sanctuary was filled with spectators. She gaped, more at having missed them before than her nude, lewd display before so many strange men. The sentinels, the robed women who had kept the others in line ran out, passing to either side of her. Their hoods were down, and the women were smiling, some waving to people in the crowd or those participants still ringing the room as they moved. Sharon looked from side to side, trying to see if any of her sisters were among them. There was a touch on her right shoulder, and she turned to catch a momentary smile as Kelly ran towards the center of the enormous room. So her young lover had been one of those keeping she and the others in line. Sharon felt a bit jealous, except that the orgasm had been amazing.
The crowd cheered after they had come to a stop, lining the wide steps. The girls ran from the room in the other direction, followed by the other women who had been the living fuck dolls during the ceremony. Most were still naked, some still hobbling on the impossibly tall heels. After receiving their round of applause, several of the other women came back to help those who were struggling more than others. The assistants… those in the loin cloths, as well as those wearing the armor and others in white shifts came out next, to a round of applause. The chieftain then strutted onto the stage to a long round of applause. He leveled his staff at the men who had reassembled after their branding. Most had left the feathered straps down, away from the new marks on the chests, and cheering, they swarmed forward as the others in the balcony and ringing the room cheered and clapped.
Only when they had quieted did the stilted BZ raise both arms. Quiet returned to the big room, and then he swept the staff towards Sharon,
“And don’t forget Mrs. Sobel, the most deserving of the BZ succubi.” There were cheers and a long round of applause, “This concludes the stomp in,” he paused, “The wait staff will be around shortly to take care of everyone.” He raised his arms again, “Come welcome our new members, partake of the fellowship and fun that is B,” every foot in the sanctuary stomped, “Z.” a clap, nearly as loud. The chieftain’s staff came down onto the marble floor, the sound of its striking drowned out by the ’Hup!’ shouted from every throat, including those in the balcony.
Sharon watched the chieftain head to the opposite side of the room, ducking to exit. The lights stayed up, but colored lights and lasers and reflectors switched on, dotting the vaulted ceiling. She saw the stained glass windows… it was dark outside. She saw the balcony was emptying, and realized people were streaming into the sanctuary from various doors. Some of her Sisters reappeared, those who had been nude wearing plain white robes open at the front, the sentinels still in their hooded robes, the hoods down.
Some carried platters of food, while others fetched drinks and other food from the tables that the young men in white had quickly set up, piling them with bottles of beer and liquor and sandwiches. Sharon realized how hungry she was, and wondered when they would get her down. She saw a familiar face enter from the opposite side of the room, but it was not anyone she knew from school. She giggled, embarrassed at herself, when she realized it was the student who had served as the emcee for the ceremony.
He snapped his fingers, and several of the red robed women gathered, following as he confidently crossed the room to where Sharon hung.
“You know you’re amazing, right?” he asked the helpless housewife. Sharon managed a shrug. He laughed, “Well, trust me, it is true. You are so shit hot the council is worried you may forget your place.” Sharon started to protest, but he arched an eyebrow, “I see you have forgotten your place… so perhaps they are right. Our little BZ Sisters are not here to argue with us, are they?” Sharon managed to shake her head, eyed down, which left her staring at her nearly nude body, and his waist. She shivered, remembering how amazing it had felt as he had thrust into her. “This is our little object lesson for the others, and a reminder for you,” he said, running a hand up her bare thigh, almost to her pouting labia. Sharon shuddered, her arousal at full bloom in that instant, “And a lesson for any of the other girls who think they’re too good for the frat.” Sharon wanted to protest, but realized any argument would he would claim prove his point.
“Ladies,” he spoke to the others, gesturing below Sharon, “One of your jobs is to keep our sacrifice aroused… Just aroused. Do you understand?” Sharon saw nods, but it was hard to concentrate… the self assured young man had stepped between the white housewife’s spread thighs, his jeans rubbing against her sex as she swayed in front of him. His fingers worked her nipples, which were already erect with her resurgent need, “Mmmm, so very nice,” he paused, “But out of balance… When will you be getting the matching piercing?” he asked. Sharon shrugged,
“Whenever I’m told to get it,” she answered, subserviently. The young man nodded, “I knew you would not forget your place. Enjoy, little slut,” he stepped back, leaving Sharon wanting more, and patting the heads nearest him as if the women were dogs, he wandered into the growing crowd. The heavy bass of hip hop erupted from speakers high on the walls throughout the room. The lights came down slightly, the ceremonial sanctuary having been changed over in just minutes into a BZ rave. The white robes and shirts glowed brightly, as did Sharon’s clothing.
One of the girls held a straw to her mouth, “Drink this, hon,” she said, popping her chewing gum rudely. Sharon did not hesitate, taking a big swallow of what she recognized as a Mind Eraser. She kept drinking as long as the younger woman held the straw to her lips, worried that she was being tested. She gasped, nearly choking on the liquor as something cold was smeared heavily over her bare, parted labia, followed a moment later by more which another of the women she did not know applied to her bare nipples. Immediately it was as if her skin was on fire. She twisted in the seat, unable to do more than endure the maddening sensation. The girls laughed at her predicament, and then moved off, the last pushing Sharon’s bare foot, setting her spinning in the room. She let her head loll back, watching the room moved past her upside down. There were far more men than women, in the room, groups talking and laughing, drinking and toasting one another. She saw a few of the BZ members from her chapter, and thought she saw Kelly briefly, as well as Melissa and Carlyn.
She felt hands on her knees, and looked up, the room tilting dangerously as she glanced down her body to see another of the BZ Sisters using what looked like a paint stirrer to smear more of the cold hot ointment on her sex. Sharon groaned, wishing the young woman would eat her for a moment. She tried to curl her ankles in, to trap the smaller woman, who just giggled, spanking Sharon’s clit with the wide end of the stirrer. Sharon arched her back, whimpering her need, her clit sparking from the rude treatment.
Another Sister applied more of the material to her still erect, aching nipples, leaving the pebbled skin glistening and oily. A third woman patted her cheek almost gently, “Here,” she said, and Sharon obediently drank more through the straw, wishing absently that there was weed available.
“Feeling horny?” the first young girl, a brunette asked her. Sharon nodded without releasing the straw. “You’re much nicer than I thought you’d be,” the other woman continued, “Not uppity at all, like my BZ claimed.” The straw was pulled from her mouth.
“The BZ at your college know me?” she giggled at how badly she was slurring her words. “No,” the first girl said, “I guess they just thought you’d be that way, since you’re a star.” The first girl had stepped back, and one of the others pushed her, starting her turning in the opposite direction from before. “Wheee!” Sharon giggled, “I’m a shooting star.” “C’mon, Bree,” the girl who had been having her drink caught the first girl by the arm, “You don’t want to wind up hanging there like a sex toy piñata, do you?” The first girl offered a wave, which Sharon could not return, and then they were gone.
The party swirled around her. Guys would step up, asking if she wanted to get off, and Sharon would nod, inviting them to fuck her. Laughing, they would set her spinning after tweaking a nipple or teasing her clit. And the other BZ Sisters came by repeatedly, offering her more to drink, and reapplying what was making her nipples and sex scream for relief. “Water,” she managed after drinking more Mind Eraser than she would have been able to count, “Please.” The girl paused, lifting a bottle that looked like water, dripping condensation. Sharon took a greedy swallow before she realized it was vodka… straight, ice cold vodka. She nearly choked, managing to get it down, then shaking her head, thinking the her fellow BZ Sister had misunderstood. The pouty bottle blonde gave a cruel smile leaving the bottle tilted, and forcing the helpless housewife to choke down several more swallows before suddenly Kelly was there.
“Don’t drown her, bitch,” she warned, and the girl paled, putting the bottle down hastily and walking away. “You okay, Shar?” Kelly wiped a strand of Sharon’s hair off of her forehead. Sharon giggled, “Thought she had water,” she snorted, “Dummy…. God, I’m so hot,” she licked her lips, trying to press her thighs together, confident she could get herself off, “Get me off, lover,” she urged, “We can dance for them… They’ll love it.” Kelly smiled. “Not tonight, lover,” she answered, “Hang in there, we’ll be home, soon.” Sharon giggled, “Hang… hanging in… ahhh!” another BZ Sister had reapplied the gel, the cool almost instantly supplanted by the persistent, still building burn.
Sharon’s world shrank to barely more than the fiery edge of her need… The world was spinning… Fingers teased her nipples and clit… Voices taunted, asking if she was hot, if she needed to get off… She was no longer teasing them when she answered that she was and did… She was encouraging, then urging… and ultimately begging for someone to fuck her. She pressed her chest at the wandering fingers, aware that there were long, feminine nails as well as the rough, blunt fingers of BZ brethren toying with her nipples. She tried to thrust her sex against the probing fingers, helpless to do more than thrash in the hanging swing as the party goers paused at short intervals to tease her…
They never continued long enough to let her get off, and never stayed away long enough for her to calm down or rest. Soon enough she was aware that she was offering those toying with her anything… mouth, ass, cunt… desperate to feel relief. She promised to take everyone in the building, swore she would do whatever they wanted. A voice asked if she would fuck them in her home and shoe nodded, desperately hoping to be impaled in the next second. Someone asked if they could fuck her in front of her husband and she groaned yes, encouraged by the sensation of a masculine hip brushing her naked inner thigh. Each time she was left disappointed and just as aroused as she had been. Could they take pictures? Videos? Would she visit their schools for a weekend party? Would she bring friends to be shared? Would she let them pierce her right nipple? Her clit? Would she let them tattoo ‘black cock forever’ on her ass? Would she fuck in the sky cars at the amusement part? Would she breed for them, letting them put her babies up for adoption to the highest bidders? Would she fuck them at the water park? Would she dance for them at this club or that club? Would she like to be the party cunt for a Caribbean cruise? Would she put out at the visitor center on the highway coming into the city? Would she put out at the major league ballpark? Sharon agreed to each inquiry or offer, not caring what they asked, barely hearing the inquiries, her entire focus somehow relieving the impossible pressure of her need.
Between questions she went on begging for anyone to fuck her and get her off, shamelessly saying they could cum wherever they wanted. She drank whenever they put a straw to her mouth, took several deep hits of a joint, hoping without success that high would ease the strength of her arousal. A feminine voice asked if she would let her ******** become a BZ Bitch. Sharon nodded without hesitation, whimpering as the deliciously painful edge of a fingernail extension traced around her pierced nipple, then down her body, nails sharply pinching her aroused clit but not long enough to trigger her release. The girl laughed cruelly, then asked if the other BZ Bitches could enjoy her husband. Sharon said yes, sobbing when the fingers did not work their magic again, instead tracing agonizingly down her thigh as the woman disappeared. Her hand caught hold of Sharon’s ankle, and she told Sharon she liked the jewelry, then pushed, firmly, setting the helpless suspended housewife spinning in a lazy clockwise direction.
The spinning room left Sharon feeling vaguely sick. She groaned that she thought she was ***** a moment before she vomited, turning her head and struggling not to choke in her position. She was glad it was mostly liquid, aware that she had eaten too much for lunch… and that lunch had been hours before. Someone wiped her mouth, and of course immediately offered her more to drink. Sharon did not protest, and then resumed her begging when the straw was taken away. Wondering if she could die of arousal, she let her head loll back, watching the world spinning by, upside down from her perspective. There were still clusters of guys talking and laughing, drinking and fooling around, but she also saw that most of her sisters were being thoroughly used… and were obviously enjoying it.
A girl she had never met before was sprawled on the marble steps, her ass hanging off of the riser as a big BZ hammered into her in the missionary position. Her spinning body carried her on to the image of the blonde who had nearly drowned her, taking one brother doggie style while slurping hungrily at another’s jutting cock. Looking out into the crowd she saw couples fucking standing in the middle of the big room, fucking on the long benches… pews, she noted and giggled perversely. BZ Bitches were crouched at the bar, blowing guys as they drank and talked to their buddies. It seemed as if every woman in the room was getting off except for her. God, she wanted to be feeling that… ‘I want that’ she said repeatedly, a drunken mantra, never aware that the endless teasing had stopped but her arousal was not ebbing.
She blinked, seeing that several of the men had formed a loose circle about her. She started when someone caught the risers, stopping her spin, and instead forcefully pulled her away from where she had been hanging. She blinked, realizing she was staring right at the man’s swollen cock… it was so close, she opened her mouth, straining to slurp him inside, certain he would spin her around and impale her once she had him close… He laughed,
“Oh yeah, she’s ready,” he said to someone else… someones, maybe, she could not focus to think about what was happening. “Here we go,” Then Sharon was swinging through the air in a pendulum, the air moving over her skin somehow managing to stoke her excitement. She giggled, the noise rising to a joyous shriek as the arc stopped with a slap that seemed to echo in her ears as her spread inner thighs hit the muscular thighs of the man at the opposite end of the circle, his cock having punched balls deep into her boiling sex. He did not stay seated, though… did not thrust in and out as she wanted. Instead, he backed out, then spun her half around, and gave her a shove, sending the aroused white housewife on another trip across the circle. She was impaled as before, a different cock part way around the circle. Sharon cried out at the delicious sensation, but once again the bastard pulled out, spun her, and sent her on her way. “Yes!” she cried at the abrupt, shuddering end of the next trip across the ring. The young man did not get lined up, and was not thrust as fully into her as the first two had, but it was still enough… or would have been, if he had just fucked her… just a few strokes… “No!” she complained as she was spun and sent on her way again. She arched her back, trying to increase the pressure of her clit on the invading cock as she was speared once again. The guys who were teasing her laughed, asking her if she wasn’t enjoying it… if she didn’t want their big black cocks. She nodded, slurring that she did… that she’d do them all, but wouldn’t they rather fuck her all the way instead of sharing her.
“Tell the camera” one of the men demanded, and Sharon was surprised, turning her head to the side, to see a big professional grade camera on the shoulder of a naked BZ Brother, the lens catching the action as she was swung from frat member to frat member.
“God I love big black cock,” she smiled, hoping she sounded appropriately sexy, and aware that she meant every word, “I’d do anything to get off on a cock right now,” she added, licking her lips, then offering a theatrical moan, letting her head drop back when the next cock lanced into her, “God that’s gooood,” she slurred, whining in protest as he pulled out and spun her around, “Don’t you want to get off, baby?” she said, raising her head to look at her nearest tormentor, “I’d be so good to you…” The young man hesitated, and she knew he was considering it, but someone else in the ring cleared their throat, and off she went again. “Fuck,” she complained, making the men laugh, and then cried out again as she was impaled in another single stroke. “Not fair,” she complained to the cameraman after another three men had used her for a single delicious but inadequate thrust, “I’ll do you too,” she said to the camera, “Just step in and do me.” That seemed to do it, she thought, as the cameraman moved toward her as she again found herself impaled on a young BZ cock. The man who had just penetrated her spun her but only until her bare, wanting sex was pointed at the young man holding the camera, and then held her in place.
Sharon had lifted her head and watched with growing delight as the new cock moved closer to her needing cunt. “You said you want this?” the cameraman carefully reached down with his free hand, wagging his erection. Sharon nodded, biting her lip. “I didn’t hear you,” he scolded. Before Sharon could respond he had pivoted out of the way and she was sent across the circle to another single penetration. “I’m sorry,” she said during the movement, groaning loudly in pleasure at the end of the short swing. “Please!” she begged as she was again casually removed from a stranger’s cock, and spun around, “I’ll do better… I want your cock… I love that big black cock!” She was propelled across the circle close to the cameraman, but past him, grunting as the cock clumsily hit along her inner thigh, not penetrating completely, building her frustration. “Please!” she begged again, “God help me, I have to have your big black cock!”
“Don’t you want to wait to go home to hubby?” the cameraman taunted, stepping between her spread thighs. Sharon saw the lens on the big camera turn, the black center hole showing a reflection of her latex encased body. She was relieved that she was unrecognizable. “No!” she shook her head as much as the garment allowed. “I want you to fuck me now.” “Why?” the cameraman was well endowed, she noticed, licking her lips in anticipation as he moved closed enough to slap the broad, swollen head against the top of her bare sex. She shivered, as he repeatedly teased her enlarged clit as it poked proudly out of her labia. “I want to cum.” “Oh, you’ll cum with these guys,” the cameraman said calmly, moving back, dragging his dick over her clit as if he was going to leave her. “No!” she whined, “I want that big beautiful black cock inside of me now… please fuck me, daddy,” she batted her eyes, biting her lip, trying all of the tricks she had learned working at Go’s.
“This is the specific cock you want?” the cameraman taunted her. She nodded, giggling at the word specific. “What’s my name?” She blushed, realizing how easily he had manipulated her. “Master,” she whispered after a moment. The man’s smile below the big camera caught her attention. “I like that,” he said, and then Sharon’s eyes flickered closed, her mouth dropping open as a whorish groan escaped her throat. While she’d been distracted he had eased into her. He paused though, with just the head inside. She shook her head, whimpered, arching her back, trying to get the swing moving to take more of him into her. “So you’re really hot, then,” he teased. Sharon struggled to control her breathing, focused on the fact that at least he was still inside of her. She managed to nod.
“Please, Master… Please fuck me!” she begged. Eyes half closing as he fed another inch into her, then backed out. “Have you had this cock before?” he taunted her then. Sharon bit her lip, trying to decide… He chuckled, “You don’t know?” She blushed again, hating the camera catching it all. “No, Master… but you feel so good… please fuck me… Please let me cum!” He pushed halfway in, then stopped again… and chuckled as the white housewife struggled to keep from panting. “I don’t think you’ve had this cock before,” he teased, “You’re too tight… and after letting all these young men use you like that.” Sharon nodded, unsure what she was supposed to say. “Do you like teasing all these poor young men?” he taunted her, “Using your body to make them do your bidding?” Sharon nodded again. “You should be punished.” Sharon’s eyes went wide, as she wondered if he meant to stop fucking her. He stayed in place, “If you really want my cock… If you really want to cum, you should apologize to these young men.” Sharon relaxed slightly.
“I’m sorry everyone…” she paused, at a loss for words. “You shouldn’t be such a cockteasing slut…” he prompted. “I shouldn’t be such a cockteasing slut,” she repeated. “You shouldn’t have teased them like you have,” the man shimmied his hips, moving side to side, distracting Sharon. “Shouldn’t have teased you,” she managed, “God, I have to cum… please fuck me… I’m not teasing, I love it… I love your big black cock!” she cried out. The cameraman buried himself, held like that for a three count, then backed out until the head was barely inside of her again. “Not fair!” Sharon whimpered, “Don’t tease!”
“But you’ve been teasing these poor young men, haven’t you, Sharon?” Sharon nodded, not registering he’d used her name. “If you really meant it, you’d suck my friend here off,” the cameraman’s free hand pointed. Sharon let her head fall back-- it was the only way to look where he had pointed. The move left the last other cock to have been inside of her pointed directly at her face. She blinked, realizing it was approaching, and had just enough time to open her mouth before it thrust, still slick with her arousal, into her mouth, not stopping until it was nestled in her throat. She groaned, body twitching, clit pulsing powerfully, and realized the man between her legs was thrusting in and out… She groaned again, amazed at how good it felt, her body twitching visibly as her climax peaked. Terrified he would stop, the white housewife hungrily sucked at the cock thrust into her throat, bobbing her head the bit she could manage.
She ignored the sparkles at the corners of her vision, the majority of which was merely the swinging balls and tight curled black pubic hair of the man in her mouth. She drooled, not caring about it as she tried to move her head more, remembering she wanted to get him off, but unsure why. The bloom of her climax wiped conscious thought from her mind, as she screamed the last of her breath out around the cock filling her throat.
“… so hungry she didn’t come up for air before she passed out!” she heard dimly, echoing as if she was in a swimming pool. There was a taste in her mouth that she recognized but could not place… She realized there were other noises… loud music… laughs, and voices raised in conversations… and moans… feminine and masculine. Blinking, Sharon found her head was sagging as if she had gone to sleep with her head hanging from the edge of the bed. She tried to lift it, but that increased the ringing in her ears. She had only enough time to puzzle about the odd arrangement of straps extending from her body into the darkness of the ceiling. Where was she? She shifted and found her movement was restricted. The ringing in her ears eased, and she chanced glancing around, with her head still upside down, scared for a moment at the number of people wandering around, wherever she was. “Ah, she’s back with us,” a familiar voice said. A tremor of arousal raced up her spine as the person… she knew he was between her legs, backed up, dragging his cock over her bare sex.
Horrified that she was naked while the people around her were mostly clothed, Sharon raised her head, and the world seemed to tilt, even as she realized her body was begging to have that cock inside of her again… Spotty memories filled in gaps, even as the stranger’s erection plugged into her wet and hungry sex. He plunged into her fully, chuckling at the cry that caught in Sharon’s throat. She shimmied her hips, tilting her pelvis, reveling in how full she felt. He backed out, then thrust into her again and she raised her head, wanting to know who was fucking her so well.
She blinked again, seeing the big camera, which panned from where her body was fused with the muscular black man to her flushed face. “You remember what you were doing?” the man said, his face mostly obscured by the camera. Sharon’s focus just then was on the pleasure he was giving her. She was aware of a powerful need to cum, and glancing around at the men surrounding her, she remembered that she was in some sort of swing… had been teasing them… No, she had been being teased… they had just made her say otherwise. She giggled at that thought, then whined when the nice cock fucking into her pulled out. A straw appeared at the corner of her mouth and she took several swallows, recognizing it. “Guess you’ll have to remind her.” There was cold between her legs, and then over her breasts… something smeared over them. She gasped as her nipples, already tight, seemed to become little ice cubes, and in the next moment they were on fire, as was her cunt. She blinked at thinking about it that way, shook her head, trying to ignore the need that was consuming her to remember what she had been doing. Why was the man not between her legs anymore? She realized her body was swinging, and then he was inside of her again… God, it felt good. She shuddered, then again as she lifted her head to see it wasn’t the same person but someone else… The young handsome black man pushed back, and then he was out of her. She wanted more and tried to scissor her legs behind his ass. He easily avoided that, spun her around, and she was moving through the air again. Another jarring stop… another cock lancing into her sex. She groaned.
“Teasing,” she remembered them wanting to talk about that, “Won’t tease… Just fuck me… Fuck me,” she slurred. “What’s that, Mrs. Sobel, “A voice asked after she’d lost count of the next series of single penetrations, “You want to fuck me?” she nodded drunkenly, then remembered-- she had to talk. “Yes, baby,” she cooed, “Fuck me! My cunt is yours.” “So you’re sorry you teased these poor innocent boys.” She nodded, “Issssorry,” she managed. “That’s good,” that calming voice was closer, “I want to let you get off, you know, but you have to prove that you’re sorry.” Sharon nodded, her head hanging inverted, then giggled at the way the room spun. She felt someone moving between her legs and looked up into the camera as she felt that cock slap down against her clit. “You want this, then?” She smiled, “I want your big black cock, daddy,” she urged him, “Don’t tease me… Fuck me, please!” She cried out as he entered her, stroking in and out, expertly getting her still more aroused. She bit her lip, eyes riveted to the dark black skin thrusting easily into her sex. She whined when he stopped, halfway inside of her, “What about the poor guy you were teasing,” the man said. Sharon dutifully looked back to where he had gestured… finding an erect black cock driving toward her face.
A moment later she was writhing under the steady pounding of the cock between her legs while sucking fervently at the cock thrust into her throat. ‘Faster’ she tried to say, dimly aware that she had to hurry or he’d stop… concentrating on getting the man in her mouth off and ignoring the flashing lights in her vision…
“… gonna be fine, it’s just some fun.” “Bullshit! She’s gonna wind up in a coma. Samir! What will Shaun and Dave do if these assholes turn Sharon into a vegetable?” “I said she’s fine… we do this all the time.” “Bullshit!” Sharon groaned, then gagged, choking on something. She managed a wet cough, tasting what she got out of her throat and into her mouth… cum.” Her head was pounding, but even so she was aware that she was incredibly aroused. She tried to put her hands over her ears.. Kelly was arguing with someone, and she heard Samir’s voice, but the other voice… It was familiar, but she did not know who it was. She found she could not move her hands. She lay still, wishing they would be quiet… wishing someone would fuck her… wondering what had happened. Careful not to breathe too deeply, which made her want to cough again, she concentrated on ignoring her body and listening.
“I’m serious, Samir… If you don’t believe me, go call them. How long was she out, asshole?” “Hey, you can’t call me an asshole; you’re a BZ Bitch.” “I’m the BZ Bitch who’s gonna nail your nuts to the wall if you don’t stop thinking with them and start getting a clue.” “You aren’t in charge here, bitch.” There was a sudden movement, a wet thud, and a whimpered inhalation. Something heavy landed next to Sharon. “Call me a bitch again and I’ll cut you.” There was a click and she heard people moving back. Samir’s voice. “No, I didn’t know what was happening… Kelly got me and… no… no… I didn’t, I mean yes, but… No!… You’re right… I’m sorry, I know… I guess in all the celebration I forgot… No… No, I don’t think so… When did Kelly get a knife?… Oh, OK,” Sharon heard him step closer, “Here, Jefferson, he wants to talk to you.” Sharon could hear the tinny sound of a voice shouting, even though Jefferson was a few feet away.
“Hey, Shaun,” her heart swelled, and Sharon felt like she could cry, she was so glad that he and Kelly and Samir cared about her. “Get her down or I’ll cut the goddamn straps,” she heard Kelly demanding. Several voices protested, and in just a few seconds her body jerked as she was lowered to the ground.
“… didn’t want to… No, we weren’t trying to… No, I wasn’t… That’s bullshit… That cunt said.” There was a scuffle to the other side and Sharon heard Samir warning Kelly to calm down. Kelly stomped off as Sharon returned her attention to the man talking to Shaun. “… always do… She’s shit hot, man! All of the guys wanted a taste, so… Yeah… She can hit it hard, dog, so… No… No, no, no. Nobody did that… Nobody wanted to do that… It was just for fun… You know how it is; bitch gets off like a nympho when you do it… Naw, she was still hungry for it after the sixth time, and there were eight guys playing the game, so… No, man… No, I swear she was still conscious… Higgins, wasn’t the bitch workin’ your joint like she was starving.” “Yeah, she was great,” another voice answered hesitantly, “But I didn’t want her to… well shit, man.” “Shut up,” the man called Jefferson growled, then quickly, “No, no, not you. Well hell yeah, she’s worth… I mean, we record everything. Sure, multiple perspective, this was gonna be for that POV thing we... What?! You tryin’ to cut us out? OK… But I mean I wanted… No, no I understand. A’ight… Sure… You got a great stable, man, but watch that little brunette… She Puerto Rican or something? I thought she was gonna gut me. I should get to… Uhm, OK… Samir?” Sharon heard him hand the phone over before he tried to get up from where he’d stayed on the floor beside her.
“Gonna get that bitch he muttered.” She turned her head, trying to keep track of Jefferson after the threat he had just made while listening to Samir. “… tagged his ass good, kicked him right in the nuts… Well, Sharon’s pretty out of it, and he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, so… Cool, I’ll tell him. But this is his turf, you know… Thanks.” Samir handed the phone back, “Jefferson,” The man grabbed it away. “What?… I told you I… But I… … Yes,” he did not sound very convincing Sharon thought, dimly aware that several other phones were ringing in the auditorium. She remembered it had been a loud party, but wherever they were it was pretty hushed, so she must have been moved. “No… I mean yes… yes, Shaun. I won’t. They get a pass tonight… Man? That’s bullshit, I… OK… Yeah…” he turned slightly away from Sharon, “Yo, Higgins! Get the masters… dump a copy onto the system, but they get the tapes and the SD cards…” She could not hear the answer, “Hell yes, get them a copy of anything on the drives… And get her cleaned up… Hear me, bitch?”
Feet rushed close and Sharon was helped to her feet. She wanted to warn them she could not walk, and was surprised when she managed without all that much help. The one sided conversation continued, “Whoa man, you didn’t need to call the dogs in… I was just… Well, shit, man, I didn’t get to blow a nut…” Sharon could feel the fluid oozing out of her sex. “Liar!” she said, resisting the others’ attempts to guide her and turning, “What? Naw, she’s still ***** as fuck, dunno what she’s saying.” “I said,” Sharon straightened as much as she could in the latex get up, “You just lied… I know you came inside of me, even if I still haven‘t gotten to cum.” There were masculine chuckles from several spectators.
“You bitch, I’ll…” She saw legs closing in… several people. “Whoa, whoa… Just playin’ a’ight? I’m cool… What?… Naw, Shaun, I… Yeah, that’s what she said… the lyin’ skank… I what?… You’re crazy. That’s putting her word above mine… I… Shit… … No… No, she wasn’t lyin’… I jus’ wanted to drop another, that a crime?” Then his words were marred as someone turned the music up, and people around her began to talk and move. Sharon was not sure whether she would have rather been moved for some perverted sex game she could not remember elsewhere, or have done… whatever she had done with all the spectators in that enormous room… It was embarrassing that where the party had been going on could be that quiet… everyone had to have seen. She was glad once again that the costume hid most of her face.
The lights went down as they left the big auditorium, and Sharon wanted to ask the people guiding her if she had made a total spectacle. She wanted to ask where Kelly was… And to her embarrassment, she was tempted to ask if anyone would help her to get off. So she kept her mouth shut, telling herself it was just all the booze and weed she had been enjoying.
To Be Continued 15D3
