by Garden Variety
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© Copyright 2014 - Garden Variety - Used by permission
Storycodes: FM+/f; bond; cartrunk; motel; outdoors; group; rope; strip; bdsm; ceremony; objectify; shave; wax; piercing; cons/reluct; X
Ghoul-gle jpn
Coven Garden Variety FM+/f; bond; cartrunk; motel; outdoors; group; rope; strip; bdsm; ceremony; objectify; shave; wax; piercing; cons/reluct; X

Cast of Characters

Lulu – Blonde, full-figured, a paid sacrificial-victim of cult
Anne-Marie – Witch-leader, coven organizer, roommate
Jo-Anne – Assistant coven-leader, witch, devil-worshipper
Bob and Dick – Cult gay couple, piercing-suspension experts
Freddy and Harry – Cult medical men, bleeding-wound staunchers
Marge - confused teenage motel-keeper’s daughter
Shrouded Coven pacing-chanting members, a “Leaping Lures” [fishing-cabin motel] desk-clerk – all small-part players

All characters were more than eighteen by the time of the story.

CAVEAT: Activities described herein may be hazardous to health, so please don’t try this at home!

Chapter 1: “Lulu”

Lulu says: You may remember my sacrifice on Halloween by the coven (part one). They’re at it again. That’s why I’m hogtied over an open grave with chains and weights on my nipples, clit and pussy while Satanists are screwing me… It all started four days ago, I had just gotten back from the woods. My apartment had that closed-up airless feeling. I got the windows open and my bag unpacked, when Anne-Marie phoned. She’s their chief witch. Says my performance as a sacrifice was such a hit, they want me back for the Revels, a November 4th sacrificial festival. I’m supposed to be no more than seventeen, but they’re going to torture me for four hours to make up for my being twenty-one!

I try to get out of it, since I’m not suicidal anymore. But our Witch-Leader thinks I only want more money, and she goes up to a thousand and next to fifteen hundred. Says they’ll all be tested for STDs and I will too, so the sex will be safe! They’ll throw in the price of the test! I have to think about that money, since I’ve decided to live on, rather than dying. …The dough from the house-sale when I divorced, as large as forty-five grand is, is not going to last forever, and I don’t want to go back to work as a typist.

I told her I’d call back and she says “Make it soon, you Lulu, you!”

Why she thinks my name’s an insult, I don’t know… I look at my pierced nipples, clitoris and pussy-lips in the mirror. They’re barely-healed with a small dumbbell-shaped spacer in each hole. And she’s talking about putting rings in, hanging me by these holes.

Men smile when they see me. It’s because of my big breasts. It doesn’t matter that my figure isn’t exactly correct: I’m an oversized figure-eight. So I’m a little proud of my huge tits. I don’t like them abused. I know the biggest boobs are rare.

Did I describe myself? I’m a short, chubby, blonde person, with enormous breasts, about 39DD. My boobs are round, melon-like with sculpted pink nipples. I have a 23-inch waist, nicely curved, and a small round belly, a fat pussy, and too-heavy-but-shapely, massive, white, pillar-thighs. My weight is around 130-135, and I try to lose: But don’t get anywhere. I’m only five-foot-two. I’m 39DD-23-38.

I’ve been married. He left because I’m ‘too fat’: 140 pounds those days: Is that so very much? I got depressed while alone despite having some dough. Answered an ad to be sacrificed by devil-worshippers. I thought their ritual might kill me, since I once had a heart murmur. It didn’t kill me, but I found I didn’t want to die. Now the weirdos want me to do another fake sacrifice for them! The witch-leader is called Anne-Marie, a tall, attractive brunette, lesbian with her assistant-witch-leader, Jo-Anne. May be jealousy there: Jo-Anne fears my love-making with Anne-Marie, but there’s no danger of that. I’m straight and in fact, only had one sexual affair before marriage. I turn down a pass most days, two at their Satanic Halloween sacrifice-party!

Others in the coven – there’s five women and eight men, not counting myself. No wonder those guys seem horny! One married couple among them, so the ratio is twice the men to women. I’m leaving out the fact there’s a gay couple, Bob and Dick, who do the piercing – all but my clitoris for some reason – done by one of the doctors. Freddie is a dentist, and Harry the doctor, who pierced my clit. It still comes out that there’s five men to four women, and two of the girls are a lesbian couple, I think, so that means it’s really five men to two women, so you can see why the two medical guys wanted to screw me. I saw some guys going with women in shrouds, but couldn’t tell who was with whom? Three extra men total?

Doctor Harry sent me rings to replace the dumbbells he put in my piercings and I’m supposed to wear the rings and chains at the Satanic Revels Festival. He says to try them out ahead of time, and I’m healed enough by today. The box came in the mail: Includes a diagram of how the gear fits.

I’m putting on the leather bra, size 39DD – it has cut-outs for my nipples! I’m pushing the dumbbell-spacers out, they’re stuck. …Tightly turning a ring into my first nipple. – “Ouch!” It’s still sore! - , Next, working the second ring into the hole in my other only-now-healing nipple…It’s bad pain…And closing the hoops. “Click!” …“Click!” Feeling accomplished some way I peer in my glass: ‘I look good but slutty.’

They are on. There’s a bicycle-type, shiny, silver chain with small padlocks for each end. …I’m not to close the nipple-rings-to-chain-attaching-padlocks, because Doc Harry keeps the keys! Oh, the chain is aluminum but it weighs something! I hook on the big weight-lock that hangs on the large, shiny, silver tit-chain. I also don’t close this lock: Really yanks my tits down an inch. ‘I look a right bondage-painslut.’

Next for my crotch-less black-leather shorts. They’re tight, though they’re thirty-eights, my size. I’ve gotten a bit better at pushing the stuck dumbbells out, the hoops in, and clicking them through my six pussy-lip piercings. Still hurts a bit. ‘Six of those, three on each side of my poor pussy! My clit is a real pain.’ But I get that dumbbell out – first un-sticking it, next pushing through like I’ve learned to do – and gently work the hoop in its place. ‘No blood. To me that’s a victory.’

A heavy, narrow cable fits correctly through all six hoops through my pussy-lips and the end comes through my clitoris-hoop. “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” “Click!” A chain-gear reverse-pushes the cable, hoops open-spreading me and the chain – I’m following a diagram here since it’s harder than boot-lacing – wraps around my waist, pushing up on my clit-ring-cable on the way. Weighs a bit less – Harry says altogether the hardware doesn’t total more than a pound – seems like an awful lot. I guess he was correct about my being sufficiently-healed today: Although my nipples and pussy seem sore, and show healing-cuts, they aren’t bleeding. I can move around slowly and carefully in my chains and weights. I’ll take off everything but my rings. It’s all too cumbersome and meanwhile, only a tryout.


[At Doctor’s Office]

Now to get the STDs test. I wait a long time at the doctor but he takes it and charges the fee to the coven, who he seems to know: At least Harry…

His dark-haired, mid-thirties, compact-if-thickset nurse Norma, a tough cookie, demands I strip completely. She rather roughly takes a blood sample.
I don’t think my disrobing is at all necessary: Or the way the doctor gives me what is like a breast exam, he’s feeling me and squeezing my huge round pink-nippled but perforated boobs, saying,
“Lie down and open your legs wide. …You’re a bit overweight you know that?”
‘He’s poking my thighs! He’s feeling my pussy up and down, my clitoris, my asshole!’

“What should I weigh, Doctor?” ‘I’m going along with the gag!’

“125 pounds would be excellent for your height, and 130 would do in a pinch, but you’re 134.”

“So if I lost nine pounds I’d be all right, or even only four pounds?”

“Dress yourself. I’d say you’d lose a cup-size or two, if that is important: Say, if you’re a swimsuit model?”

“I appreciate you’re thinking I could model, but they want me three years younger with an 18-inch waist.”
“You might consider watching your desserts and walking more than driving, but making no real weight-loss attempt.”

“What do you mean, Doctor?”

“I mean I like you exactly the way you are.” Smiles, puts card of my medical-record in a rack on the door, shakes my hand, and exits.
Nurse Norma comes in, an unfriendly look: Takes door-pocket card. “You’re to leave when ready, Lulu.”

‘Every woman thinks I’m out to get her man! How come?’


I phone Anne-Marie and tell her that I’m going to her Revels.

“I hope you aren’t on your silly dieting-craze, are you?”

“I’ve only lost one pound, and none of me looks any different,” I relate sadly.

Anne-Marie laughs. “You are lucky, don’t you know your shape is the number-one thing you have going for you? …What about the rings and weighted-chains and cables, did you try out all that gear?”

“It’s most-uncomfortable but it went on and it did what it was to do, I thought.”

“And the black-leather cut-out bra and shorts, they fit all right?”
“Yes, it’s strange and doesn’t do much for me as clothes or support: It’s to excite your crowd instead?”
“Don’t you worry. It’ll work fine. You’ll see. I went to the bank and got fifteen hundred cash. I trust that’s your price?”

“I didn’t jack you up. I’m different now than before… And I can use the money, that’s all…”


Chapter 2: “Leaping”

[At Anne-Marie’s]

Anne-Marie says, “When I say go, you and I both lift this” [tire] “up, standing-straight. I’ll count three again and on three, we take it out of the trunk and lay it on the ground [indicates a spot at our feet].”

I say, “Mistress, do I have to get into the trunk again? You know me now, I won’t try to escape. And it’ll be better company.” ‘Pushing for my tender bits not being roughed-up in advance of the terrible rituals.’

“I’ve got the radio.”

We lift out the tire in two moves, like she described and I get in the trunk. I lie face-down on my belly squashing my sore tits: So Anne-Marie can tape my wrists behind me: Lift my ankles so she tapes them.

She uses a rope for my connecting hog-tie. I’m struggling to turn so I’m not on my stomach, but on my right side when Anne-Marie suddenly reaches in and grabs me pulling my body into my desired position.
“Don’t say I never did anything for you!” Decreasing laughter follows, accompanies loud trunk-lid slam.


I’m in the trunk now. It’s sudden dark, slightly smelly and cold. I feel every bump in the road, but it is no longer as scary this second trip, because I know how long it takes. That is a big relief. A familiar stop to let me out before arriving at the fish-camp to change me to front-sitting. We can act as if we rode there normally. Looking around furtively, Anne-Marie undoes the hogtie rope, saving it, and cuts my tapes. I get in the front seat, removing the remainders of the silvery duct-tapes from my wrists:
She slaps my face hard: “Thwack!”
“Say ‘Thank you, Mistress,’ filthy Lulu-slave!” Slaps my face hard, which turns me back the other way.

“Thank you, Mistress!” She’s pulling out fast, satisfied to make me bump my head against the glove [-less?] compartment because I’m bent forward, pulling tape off my ankles.

Anne-Marie laughs, a sinister chortle: “You have color in your vapid, blonde freckle-face now, Slave-Lulu!” More wicked laughter.


[Arrival at ‘Leaping Lure’s’ Fish-camp]

Same scraggly, scrawny, crooked-toothed, country man checking us in, while staring at my big chest like he’s never seen tits before.
“Number four, the double-cabin for you and Lulu, Ms. Tomson.” Stares at my top again on saying my name with a grin…the big bum!
“You made a hit, Lulu!” ‘Anne-Marie would like to thump my sore chest, since she fakes an arm-wave toward me, …I flinch, …she doesn’t complete.’ Laughs more, loud with the strange devilish-note in it. ‘I know she hates me because I’m an attractive girl men go for and I return the favor. She wants girls!’

I see there’s a girl, about seventeen or eighteen, exiting our cabin after cleaning it. Must be the owner’s daughter…I ought to warn her. Her name is Marge: She’s talking to Anne-Marie, who gives her a dollar. ‘A tight, minimal teenage-figure and light-brown hair. One of those mountain-girl faces that’s not so much pretty as not-ugly. She’s there, that’s all. She knows that her figure is on the slight side, the way she goggles at me. Eyes on stalks her tongue all but hangs out onto my prominent plaid-shirted breasts.’

“That’s Lulu…She’s something isn’t she? Has to diet continuously with that figure of hers though, don’t you, Baby?” ‘Again she elbows toward my chest, I bend back, she misses…very silly'. [Ha, ha, ha.] This time Marge laughs with her and shakes both our hands: Her hand is little, warm and vulnerable. I wish I could warn her of Anne-Marie’s predilections. Instead I frown, shake my head at Marge: ‘Doesn’t work.’

We spend some time unpacking: Enter our cabin, spend a few minutes carrying stuff from the car into the room and emptying our ditty bags into the bathroom. Anne-Marie looks at her watch: “We’ll have to go to our group campground and get it ready: Not much time.” More driving, this time I’m up front.

At the campground I see Bob is attaching the flag in the tree and Dick is helping mount the sign above, with a few other coven members: Including one woman I don’t know and Jo-Anne, Anne-Marie’s lover and assistant-leader. Both messages show the star-shape, their symbol, and there’s a new drape on the wooden [their altar] frame showing a different symbol, a letter ‘A’ in a circle: “Not that it matters to you, but we voted on this Anarchy symbol. It only won by one vote. Some people aren’t anarchists, notably your two medical friends.” ‘No friends of mine, those bastards! Some doctors! They want to hurt me and fuck me too! If they’re for the government, it’s got to be evil!’ A couple are laying out tall, black candles. I’m supposing without knowing for sure: That’s the coven’s one married-couple: Wonder what ceremony they had?

‘You’ll need to fit yourself on those logs.” Anne-Marie pointing out some logs straddling an open grave. ‘I don’t want to do it but after all I’m getting paid.’ I go over to where Bob is: Half a gay-couple I know.

Gay Bob, who’s an undertaker, I find later out, shows me where to lie on the logs, my tits seem to exactly-fit in an upper, between-logs space and hang down. “Better take off your shirt and bra.” Bob helps me unbutton and unclasp. Everyone seems to stop and gaspingly watch my huge, round, white, pink-tipped 39DD-boobs flip free, jiggle, appearing like a jack-in-the-box treat. Not much fun is promised for them here I fear. I untidily kneel on lower logs which are closer-together and gradually lower my lovely tits into the space in between the upper logs. My fat boobies hang free into the dirty, fresh-grave air. There isn’t much tolerance: My large tits exactly fit. This stinks in more ways than one!

“Excellent!” Crows Bob. “Now pull your knees up a bit.”

‘It’s obscene to show my stretched-panties the way they outline my pussy’: They want ‘objectionable!

Bob yanks my ankles up toward my behind-held hands, lowering me to press the logs tightly with my body. “Good! The doctors are going to give you a bonus for each guy you take on: Not me or Dick of course, but both Freddie and Harry are interested in your tail… And there’s another guy, Karl. That’ll be another six hundred you’ll get out of the Revels! You’ll really have something to celebrate.” My body-weight shifts logs upward: ‘My magnificent boobs unseen, completely hung down are vise-jammed by squeezing logs above the open-grave. I have a shivery-feeling people here’d like seeing my tits cut off!’

Anne-Marie says, “Lulu’s going to have to be chained-up for all this, isn’t she? Better tape her arms behind to make sure.” Steps forward on the logs, which shift slightly, squashing my boobs somewhat, and says, “Hands tighter behind.” It isn’t comfy to press down on those damp logs with my belly and my tits push out more into the dark void. My bottom and pussy feel stretched up a mile and Anne-Marie says, “We’ll spank her, whip her and paddle her here first. Sound like a good idea?” Tapes way up.

Bob and his gay partner Dick, an artist who does piercing and tattooing to pay his rent, are discussing and seem to agree, saying that: ‘Body parts are to be sacrificed’ and since they: ‘Aren’t really dismembering’ me [‘This kills me! I shiver and shake with fear!’], they can: ‘Count the spanking, paddling and whipping as a sacrifice’ of my bottom!

“How many do you think?” Asks Dick.

A fat guy strolls up and casually feels my bottom and pussy! ‘I’m worried, trembling…To them, I’m a toy!’ “Hey!” I shout. A sweaty-stink off this man? ‘There’s got to be a line drawn here somewhere?’

“Karl, you’ll have your fill of that later, but now we’re only trying her on for size.”

“Later, Baby…” Says Karl, an ugly cuss if I ever saw one, leaning close down into my face, where topless I’m nearly kissing the grave-straddling wooden log. This flabby, pasty, unhealthiest-looking, Karl, owns four health-food stores!
None of the coven are very healthy specimens: I am the closest, perhaps, and you know I’m far from perfect. I hate to admit it, but that muscular-nurse Norma in the STDs-test clinic was the best I’ve seen.


Dinner finds me as the naked table with beef, pork and chicken bowls on my boobs and pussy. Beans, mixed-veggies and rice on my belly and thighs. They’re all six warm-to-hot, but the coven-members chat and poke freely at my skin-burning bowls. As though it is nothing unusual to have a beautiful and tasty morsel acting as their table! I’m burning in some spots –the forks picking at the food push the bowls onto me harder. Glad when Jo-Anne moves the chicken-bowl off my pussy! She says to Anne-Marie, poking at my boobs-bowls with a double pointed fork to pick up pork and burger servings; “I’d almost want to eat her nice blonde pussy, but I’m sure she’d taste bitter!” Looks at my sparse blonde pussy-fur.

Anne-Marie glares into my eyes. [Stabbing me slightly in both boobs twice with the serving fork!] “I prefer this white breast-meat myself” “Ohhh!”

“Did that hurt?” “I’m so-o-o sorry, Lulu.” Bends down and kisses my lips, sticking her tongue in. ‘I accidentally respond, it’s playing the ‘Slave’-role? - I don’t know!’ “Try the girl…She’s a real dessert!”

‘Jo-Anne also kisses my lips open-mouthed and I’m sorry to have to admit, I kiss back again…’ They both also lick and kiss my poked breasts! They recede laughing. Frightening because I know they are lesbians and I room with Anne-Marie! So far, this is the only pass they’ve made at me. I don’t want to tempt them. …They’re perverted enough: My scolding, might only tempt them to flirt, play, more and more!


Chapter 3: “Marge”

[Bathing and Preparing for the Satanic Revels]

My body is as I described, tapering waist with big pink-tipped breasts up top - they’re pretty impressive, but I’m used to them by now: Below my slightly-protuberant belly are my less-obvious attractions but some people – especially Europeans – admire my shapely, round ass and my massive, white pillar-thighs.

After a long bath, I see whipping instruments have been tacked up on the wall over my bed, probably in order to terrify me. I look carefully at the metal-studded, holed paddle, 18 inches long and four inches wide. That’s the worst, the three increasingly-heavy floggers aren’t as bad, and the spanker, although it’s doubled, is going to be only like four fly-swatters hitting me at once.

What is scary though, is that –I see through my cabin-window– Anne-Marie has stopped to chat with teenager Marge out by her car, and is caressing Marge’s bottom, moving her with her toward Jo-Anne’s!

I have to attract Marge. Only one thing occurs to me, so wet and spectacularly-naked, I swing open the door. I point to Anne-Marie, half-turned away from me, shaking my head. I beckon Marge, who’s looking my way, with my finger, closing the door. I do about three times the come-on, it would’ve taken to get a man. In time but with nothing to spare: For Anne-Marie catches on, looks in my direction. I see through the curtain without moving it: Marge is begging off and letting Anne-Marie go on alone. Good.

After a minute, the teenager knocks and now wearing a robe, I let her svelte form slither through door.
‘I can’t say she’s pretty because all her features are too small, and her lips are thin. She’s not a stunner.’ “They’re lesbos, into bondage and torture.” I tell her.

“Gosh!” She cries.

“It’s all right, if you want to spend time with me instead.” ‘I don’t know why I’m doing this…I never cared for girls!’

“I’d like hugging and kissing but nothing too serious…You’re special.” Says little girl shyly, lowered eyes.

“That’s perfectly all right, Margie honey.” We go to my bed and she strips, showing a little-girl figure, only begun to bloom. Her tits are A/B-cups and have red nipples, pretty big considering she’s got such small boobs. Tight and trim all over, without an ounce extra anywhere! Her skin is cream-colored.

I like her subtle, barely-there curves, and lowering robe, show my own quite-opposite outstanding, round, giant, white, pink-nipple attractions! My enormous boobs hardly droop at all!

“How wonderful!”

Kisses and licks them. I kiss her openmouthed and we lie down on my bed.
“We’re going to lie with each other and love each other a little, maybe take a nap…What do you think?”

“I’d like that a lot, Lulu!”

“Good, but you can’t stay longer than a couple of hours, because Anne-Marie will return after that time, O.K.? Please tell me, how old are you, Margie?”

“I was eighteen a couple of weeks ago.”


I don’t think I make such a big mistake: Marge’s a nice little girl and I don’t want her ruined by two monsters! We hold each other close. I know she had a few lesbian-lovers: Turns out to be nothing more than a school crush or two on women teachers, one of physical sport. And a girl at camp who kisses and hugs with Marge after lights-out. But no real affairs at all. Which is good.

I accidentally showed her how her body worked: When after a lot of hugging and kissing, an hour’s worth, I kiss her small, sweet, subtly-curvy boobs and touch her pussy! She orgasms like a train! Even choo-chooing! Or it’s a repeated ‘Woo-oooo, woo-oooo’? It’s spectacular, half a minute long or more. I look deeply into her small blue eyes, while she shudders to her rather long climax. She’s seeing stars!

Marge says to me on parting that she ‘loves’ me! ‘Is it my short blonde hair, my body or what?’

I say, “Oh, no, Marge: Not that…We’re friendly and like each other, that’s all.” ‘I’m confused myself!’

Anne-Marie came home an hour later and I faked being asleep. She asked me about Marge and I pretended I don’t know who that is, even. Marge meanwhile wants me to work at the fish-camp!


[The Next Day]

For lunch, I had to be the table again, and this time the plates were hot enough, I have red circles in six places those serving-dishes sat: One red spot on each boob, one pink circle on my belly, one red spot on my pussy, and one pink circle on each of my heavy, fat thighs. “It’s a little too much!” I tell Anne-Marie.

To Doctor Harry she says, “Why don’t you give Lulu something to calm her down?”

Harry brings me a glass and a red pill about the size of a M & M’s peanut.

“What’s in this?”

“A mild downer like for a hysterical old woman whose husband died.”

I take it because anything an old woman can take won’t do much to me. But it’s so strong I feel strange and dreamy for six, seven, eight, hours or more...In fact, the whole rest of my time at the Revels is hazy!

Chapter 4: Satanic Revels”

[That Night]

Soft-focus images in the dark: My clothes are taken away and the black cut-out bra and black crotchless shorts pulled with difficulty onto me.

Bob and Dick are joking, my pussy is ‘like a boot’, while lacing my pussy with the heavy cable and locking the bike-chain to my tits! “A rack couldn’t bear this heavy a weight unless it’s a Lulu!” [Another burst of raucous laughter.] I may mis-hear their joke, it isn’t funny.] I am crouching, next lying, on the logs with my tits hanging in-between. My hands are tightly tied behind and my separated ankles are hogtied up to my waist-chain and to my hands.

Shrouded figures surround me with tall black candles: Anne-Marie muttering her gobbledygook.
Her shroud has a red inverted cross between her boobs. I lie on the logs a long time, perhaps hours.

A figure [Freddie? An old-fashioned spicy after-shave?] is vertically-paddling me ferociously with the heavy, holed, metal-studded paddle. I feel these strokes vibrate all the way up my belly, through my [pill-caused?] daze. “Thwack!” Repeated at least a dozen times!
Those leather shorts might be protecting against ripping my butt-flesh? I think the pill is wearing off.’

Cannot see the men hitting me! They have hooded shrouds on, too! My weighted, stretched, painful boobs pull awfully, when I turn my neck all the way back. There’s great deal of strain on my newly pierced-nipples: Not used to hard treatment! The whipping with the three floggers is done by men: [Bob, Dick and Harry?] The two gays use a musky perfume, they probably call it ‘cologne!’ They’re hitting me hard, I remember how they seem nice, but they hate pussies!

Harry has no smell. My pal Harry’s heavy-flogging is getting to me. It seems to hit my unprotected asshole and pussy: My leather-supported tits, I see dragged down by chain. It’s that lock-weight, swinging in the air below me. I am chained and cabled by my rings.

Harry the thin, clean doctor, Freddie the spicy, chubby dentist and Karl the stinky, fat shopkeeper all screw me from the rear, pushing my face repeatedly into the damp log. I feel a warm drip from my mouth to my chin, they’ve stubbed my nose into the wood and it’s bleeding. Like a gang-rape!

Purposely thrusting as hard and fast as they can? Each of the three men in turn, Freddie –a smallish cock for his size– Harry long and thin like his body –Karl noticeably shorter and wider, explode into my stretched-open pussy and finish with grinding out hot, milky eruptions into my cervix! They make horrid noises. “Eee-ee-Gah!“ “Aaack!” “Ugghhh!” Sounds of flesh-meeting-flesh again and again with walloping every thrust! “Whap!” Men lie crushingly – especially Karl – atop me afterwards for a time!

With my hogtie, my legs hurt bent back, my shoulders nearly break off! “Please, I’m bleeding…”
‘My tits are killing me. I wish I’m flatchested for once. This wouldn’t ever happen to a pancake-girl!’

I don’t have a chance of an orgasm during the two doctors’ sex because I hurt, and the one time I’m close –a halfway-orgasm starts right at the end – Karl I guess has a matching wide-track cock, and I’m not a wide receiver! Impossible-fit excited me, don’t ask why, it was either get excited and wider, or die. I would have known him because of his sweaty body-odor stink, had he not been otherwise notably ‘fat.’

Girls – Anne-Marie and Jo-Anne by their maniacal laughter – spank me out of coming, my orgasm dies almost at its inception, with that instrument I didn’t think anything, but the spanker –each stroke a double-hit– is tough if wielded brutally-hard! And if you’ve been hit fifty times already with a paddle, had three whippings and three rapes! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

“I’m hurting here, help me, …blood!” ‘Unfortunately I either lapsed into unconsciousness here or what?’

After what seemed forever, it stops. I return to normal, not woozy: Except I feel dozens of stings hurt.
Doctor Harry is looking at my bloody nose, asking, “Why didn’t you say you were bleeding? This could have gotten serious if it kept up about an hour or so. When did you hurt your nose?”

Bob and Dick are unchaining me, meanwhile. I say by force of habit, “Thank you.” They both grin, nod.

“Oh. Ten or fifteen minutes ago. Perhaps? I don’t really know but it was after Freddie and you had your way with me…Maybe Karl. He’s potently brutal and it takes everything right out of me. I climax…?”

Harry glances at his watch and says, “You’re about right, that was fifteen minutes ago. All right.” He sticks two narrow rolls of cotton up my nostrils and says, ‘It’s O.K., Lulu, breathe through your mouth.’

I open my mouth to breathe and it works. How come I’m so stupid?’

Harry’s got his little black bag and it doesn’t go with the tall, black candles burning at his sides and that black, hooded shroud he’s wearing. I manage not to laugh.

He opens a foil package: It’s only a chem-wipe and he uses it on my mouth and chin: Comes away all bloody and he puts it in a special ‘bag for medical waste’ he has there: Opens another one and rubs it on my neck and upper tits. I like the keen, alcohol smell and the cool feel of that juice smeared on me.

I look down and I see I am covered with blood all over my big boobs and the sides of my belly!

Anne-Marie comes up and hunkers down beside us with a glass, fills it, from in and around my navel and the folds at the top of my thighs. Goes back over to shrouded, candle-holding, coven-members and mutters, holds her own tall, black candle, leads procession of chanting coven followers. Performs some weird ritual with my blood, raising the glass in the air and to her lips!

I tell Harry, ‘I feel faint.’

He says, ‘Here, put your head between your knees.’ Pushes me into a squatting position, head down.

I’m unfettered now I think I’m going to be all right, if only my body stops recoiling so much everywhere!


[The Next Morning]

Marge sees me, packing things back from the cabin, out at the car. Cutely beckons with curled finger: “C’mon in the office for a minute, Lulu.” Marge is a morning person: I detect from her glowing face.

“Mistress, it’s all right?” Anne-Marie is at our cabin-door with Jo-Anne. Who knows what they’re up to now? But there is a kiss. And not a peck either. They’re really getting into it. So I go on into the office.

Marge says she’s ‘Cleared it with her Pop.’ I can work as a chambermaid if I want, at ‘Leaping Lure’s’. ‘It’s pretty quiet now for a couple or three months, the winter. We don’t do much because nobody ever comes except a few hardcore ice-fishermen.’

She says ‘The pay is per-cabin’ and she’ll ‘split whatever work there is’ with me. I’ll live there free too.
I say that sounds fine, but ‘Can I let you know’?
A big kiss and whole-body hug follows, with Marge asking me if I’d ‘Touch and kiss her until she comes.’

“Strip off fast…There’s no time.” She does so and is the minimal-figured, creamy-complected girl I remember, which is good. Because I work better happy. She orgasms while I’m on my knees, kissing her little red-rose-tipped boobies and rooting my fingers around in her pussy. She doesn’t need her clitoris touched at all! She’s so wet and ready, she probably might’ve come from kissing! I’d like to have tried it… Instead I dress her back up and ask her if ‘she can please herself’ until I manage to arrive?

“You will, then?”

“Yes, darling, of course I will.” One quick kiss, but the open-mouthed, tongue-flicking kind, mashed-together lips, horribly-hurried, we feel each other’s boobs enough for a ghostly reminder: Out the door.

Luckily Anne-Marie is arriving at the car at the same time.

“I won’t tie you, Lulu, or trunk you, this time. You are a very good Slave. Here’s your twenty-one hundred: That’s your fifteen, I promised, plus two hundred each from Freddie, Harry and Karl.

…By the way, Harry says you owe him for treatment. He’ll take sex.”


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