...It was a foolish ordeal, but one that the newly discovered exhibitionist in me couldn't refuse for more than one reason, my girlfriend Sam's presence there to ensure I did the deed in its entirety should I suddenly lose my nerve and then beg for some easy out. There was but one day of the year that one could get away with such a costume in public, Halloween in our part of the country chilly, but the farm girl in me was used to the outdoors and the temperature swings of fall.
Samantha and I had played all kinds of games since we were kids, but as we had matured the level of both the exposure and sometimes restraint in some of these games took an adult turn. That culminated almost benignly with a late day end-of-summer skinny dip dare, and I being caught by her then boyfriend without my clothes as my good friend had taken off with them as part of the dare. She had intended to return them to me only after I had swam for the hour I had agreed to in our dare, but the boy she was sweet on had seen her car and went to investigate our favorite hidden spot, he finding me at the end of that long trail instead and joining me for a swim with a big smile on his freckled face. He liked what he could see above the level of that murky water obviously, I a rather well endowed late bloomer, (and their firm masses rather buoyant), boys being boys and always wanting to get their hands, (as well as their other slobbery body parts) all over them.
If he were paired with anyone but Sam that day I might have let nature take it's course in that hidden pond, I rather well practiced at seducing other's boyfriends and even the occasional young husband, the latter my preference as they weren't the least bit interested in anything but a brief physical fling with that ring of commitment on their finger. Young husbands were usually skilled and passionate enough lovers, and therefore desirous to explore the depths of their depravity in a masterful way with a willing partner that could keep a secret. They weren't hard for me to find either, quite the opposite in fact as they usually found and pursued me, offering a ride home when I was out biking alone on a long stretch of road, we many times not going straight home however as there were plenty of places to hide out in the country and do our adult mischief.
Was it the way I talked, or walked, or even the way I looked all tanned up in a little pair of cut off shorts and a halter top? Boys and men, despite their simple natures, apparently sensed my availability perhaps based on all three, I reaping what I had sown whether intentionally or otherwise. In any event it was a fun life, but one day I knew I would have to settle down and grow up.
Most of the girls and even some of the women in our little town, (and even some in the neighboring wealthy horse farm one) didn't necessarily like me, I blossoming rather fully and suddenly, and then discovering boys and sex just a little later than they and earning a reputation with the local male population as a fun date. For a time there I felt driven to catch up on all the fun I had missed out on, my raging hormones driving me to do things that most good girls didn't do, at least around where I lived. "No" was a word lost to my vocabulary for a very tumultuous two years or so, as faithful Sam became my only female friend.
Sam's discovery of my swimming partner and I buck naked in that pond together after her long hike (with my clothes still in her hand) threatened to ruin our friendship even though we hadn't done a thing to apologize for, other than he stripping off to join me, which good manners and natural curiosity demanded when one is caught skinny dipping on a hot day. She was so angry with me, (and apparently him to a lesser extent), that she peeled out of there with my clothes still in her possession, her boyfriend following in his pickup truck after hastily tucking himself back into his shorts and somehow avoiding a very serious zipper injury to his rather nice man hardware...
After some time had passed, and I was certain that Sam wasn't coming back for me, I was forced to find my own way home that afternoon. I snuck through a field, stone row, electric fence, and tree line in just my skin, but other than potentially losing my best friend, experiencing the best adventure of my life, and I hooked on a new kink. Once safely back in one of our own out buildings on the proverbial "back forty" some hours later I found an old pair of cut off bib overalls to slip into, but not before I took care of my own needs while laying on some straw bales. I had my legs splayed wantonly to either side and the sharp strands poked me painfully as I did the deed with one hand as the other molested my own breasts like a rough lover, all while fantasizing about being discovered on my naked trek. It was a magnificent, toes curled, bite my lip series of orgasms, almost like an overindulgent dessert after a great dinner, but that frantic release of tension brought on some serious introspection along with my post orgasm low...
I didn't want to necessarily get caught by anyone despite my slutty fantasies to the contrary, (they running equally between being caught and used, and caught and ruthlessly punished), but depending on who might have caught me still a potential second adventure one way or the other, all while negotiating a naked ride home with almost any man between eighteen and eighty.
If one of the snotty horse farm girls had caught me alone and trespassing naked through their fields instead (with my at one time well earned reputation) I might have had a different kind of adventure, and that one could have gone quite badly depending on who exactly caught me, some of those girls having a different kind of reputation, and little empathy nor humor...
Sam and I eventually made up, it was however a tentative truce rather than a full resumption of friendship as she still suspected my intentions with her beau, or more likely his with me. With my reputation earned when I had first discovered boys, and they had in turn discovered my suddenly womanly body (that I made no attempt to hide with my too small short shorts and threadbare flannel shirts, sans crushing and restrictive bra that I didn't really need), I couldn't necessarily blame him, or her.
I then realized I had to once again offer to put some skin in the game to fully resume our friendship and make things right again between us, and possibly (if I were lucky) at the same time come close to that feeling of being abandoned and "forced" to wander about in my skin while avoiding capture. I then confessed to Sam how much I got off on her abandoning me at the pond, I double dog daring her to make something like that happen again, knowing it was both a demonstration of my trust, and an offer for her to settle her imaginary score with me if she wanted.
Sam lit right up with my offer, possibly just a little too quickly upon reflection, but I had challenged her with my open-ended double dog dare, and to wiggle on even the slightest detail would have the exact opposite effect to the one I intended. Sam would have full control of this adventure, and I would be at her mercy, somehow this arrangement feeling the most natural for me.
"Halloween, it was the perfect opportunity" she offered some days later, and she promised me she had the perfect dare, her only concern was that I would chicken out, and she wanted some assurances that I wouldn't with all the planning she was going to put into this. "Something" she offered ominously, that would make it impossible for me to back out, even though I never had in the past. Once properly bound by her the many, many times we had played at our games I had little choice anyway, her knots and ropework quite good these days, and quite inescapable.
"I'm up for anything you can think of" I offered unconditionally with a smile, knowing for certain the delicious reward waiting for me when I was bound up and struggled myself to exhaustion, or orgasm if I could manage it discreetly. I was always the "bottom" in our games, and some form of restraint was likely with my offered dare of redemption, and all good farm girls like Sam knew how to use rope and tie proper knots to make that happen.
I had been bound up by Sam countless times since we were kids, but adulthood brought a new dimension to those innocent games, I stripping off at her insistence someplace private to "prove" I weren't cheating as she bound and left me to struggle and attempt to escape, only for her to return later after her errands to release me if necessary. With my scant clothing in her possession it was a certainty I could be found pretty much where she left me no matter the outcome, (except for our skinny dipping debacle) and that I had enlisted no outside help in my potential escape. Early on I had escaped her inexpert knots and some form of cheating was suspected, (most especially with my guilty "I just did something naughty" look on my face), but these days that was all but impossible.
Gaining my freedom, and my clothes back again usually required me to agree to do something for her, but those somethings were never sexual between us, more on the order of cleaning her room or doing some farm chore for her, or agreeing to some future dare. In adulthood she was always fully clothed during these negotiations, and I not wearing a stitch, the lines of separation between us dramatic and her "negotiations" easy because of it. Had I not agreed to her terms back then she could simply have left me bound and naked where I was, and then just return later when I had changed my mind.
Could Sam have not known the true extent of how excited I got from this power exchange going on between us? By silent agreement I never offered, and she never asked either, but Sam was an intelligent woman so I deemed this as unlikely. I liked Sam being in charge and setting the direction of our friendship, and would willingly submit to whatever she desired as repayment for both her steadfast past, and for our continued future friendship.
Big clown shoes, white mittens, red curly clown wig, and a stupid smiling clown face mask awaited me in Sam's barn on Halloween afternoon, I wondering how exactly this played into my abandoned and exposed kink, and then more logically as to where the rest of my costume was. She seemed quite proud of herself so I dared not say a word, we, (or far more likely I), apparently going trick or treating like the children we no longer were, or perhaps even to some kind of Halloween themed costume party.
"We're out together for the weekend?" Sam asked, making sure I had done my part.
"Yup, we're going to the lake house for a girls weekend by the way, so nobody will be waiting up for me."
"Good, because I don't know how long it will take to get this stuff off of you after your little adventure."
"What stuff?" I asked.
"You'll see soon enough" Sam answered ominously. "Did you do what I told you to?" She redirected, and in doing so deliciously reminded me of who was in charge here.
"Yes ma'am" I answered, giving myself fully over to her authority verbally for the first time since that end of summer blowout, and skating over her "stuff" comment entirely.
"Strip and get under that hook then, your glasses as well, I don't know how long this stuff will take to dry either, and you might not want all that much company until I have you properly covered up." It was that voice of command once again that I hadn't realized I had been missing, my body tingling with anticipation. This wasn't necessarily a sexual thing between Sam and myself, but some of the same elements of submission and dominance were still there, it was just that sex, with Sam, wasn't either of our unspoken goals.
I stripped down quickly and without shame in front of Sam just as I had many times in the past, and then stood like a statue where she had indicated, hoping that nobody from the farm actually went looking to see what we were up to (not that I would recognize them anyway without my glasses if they had). I had not worn all that much in anticipation of donning a costume of some kind anyway, my body also freshly bald below my neck just as she had ordered. I had wondered earlier how her cryptic hints would make my costume become a reality, but I was committed to saving our friendship at almost any cost, and challenging even the slightest detail of her plan wouldn't help that.
Sam then pulled a length of stiff half inch thick rope from a nearly full spool, it was new and usually left alone by us for it's more official farm purposes, we ordinarily using the broken-in older stuff left lying around that wouldn't be missed should one of the farm hands become suspicious. Sam cut through the new rope with a razor knife, then took a lighter and melted the rough cut ends to prevent the rope from fraying, the soft cover and stronger synthetic core fusing together in one mass, just like the original end on the massive spool someone had been kind enough to prepare.
I presented my hands in front of me when commanded, Sam leaving a long tail and then wrapping between my wrists over and under with my hands about a foot apart, this by far not the most restrictive position I had ever been bound up in by her. With a good six inches of wrap going from my wrist to up toward my forearms she then started wrapping the long ends of the rope around the core mass of what she had created, she then cinching the ends together with several half hitches. These she fused together with the lighter so as to make it appear that the rope was one continuous piece, all in all an artistic touch that at the same time meant that a knife of some kind would be removing my bonds when it became necessary.
I had never been bound like this by her before, and I was therefore quite stuck unless I could manage to cut the rope from my wrists, or somehow pull the fused knots apart on the far side of my bindings with my teeth. Her creation formed a pair of inescapable rope handcuffs, but their construction also formed a kind of spreader arrangement as the stiffness of the new rope prevented my hands from touching each other and therefore working cooperatively for any escape, or for that matter much of anything.
It was a brilliant use of rope that I had never seen before, and proof positive that this dare I had agreed to would be different than any other, and that Sam had invested her time and therefore had done her proverbial homework on this expansive dare. It seemed a contradiction and all for naught though, I not getting into any traditional clown costume I could imagine, nor even an impossibly slutty one that left almost nothing to the imagination, without the ability to put my hands into some kind of sleeves first.
I had dared Sam to outdo herself, but I also knew that wandering about house to house trick or treating while bound up and fully exposed would either get me arrested, or grabbed off the street and passed around a house party like the insatiable slut I sometimes felt like. The latter might sound like fun to a certain part of my lusty brain under certain circumstances, but the rational part knew it was insanity, most certainly bound up and helpless as I was.
Sam then lowered the overhead hook she had me stand under, she then attaching it to my wrist rope cooperatively, and then hoisting my arms aloft. This was another first, she surprising me further and continuing to pull my arms aloft until I was standing on my toes, the loss of firm contact with the floor causing me to spin slowly before her as the rope almost fully suspending me took a set under it's load.
"HOLD STILL!" Sam barked, as if I had any choice in what my body did strung up as it was.
"I'm sorry" I apologized sincerely, I not wishing to cross Sam in the slightest way as her passion for this dare of mine was obvious.
Sam then left me hanging there helplessly naked as I spun, only to return with several unlabeled quart cans from a nearby work bench, my momentary fear that she would leave me hanging there indefinitely obviously unfounded. She then meticulously shook the contents of each can, and then used a screwdriver to open them as I watched her intently. Inside each can was a very thick paint, one each of red, yellow, blue, black, and chalk white, and a small stiff paint brush for each as if she were painting a fence... or artistically fabricating the bulk of a risqué clown costume for her good friend and budding exhibitionist.
The "stuff" that might be hard to get off made sense now, and a kinky part of me even liked being made to do something like this, as any exposure I was forced into would be guilt free. It was obvious now that I was to be painted up and presented as a clown, except that the bulk of my costume would be my own skin, covered in a very thin coat of opaque paint, of course very form fitting like one of my dance class leotards.
The actual application of those paints with those stiff bristle brushes quickly turned into a tickle torture session like no other I had ever experienced though, and my fits of laughter and wiggling suspended form not only threatened to cause our discovery, but threatened Sam's elaborate artwork in general.
"I suspected this might happen," Sam explained needlessly, as if she were just waiting for some excuse to silence me, less I beg for some mercy at this late hour. She then produced a brand new blue racquetball from her pocketbook and reached up to press it into my cooperatively open mouth and behind my teeth, silencing a good part of my giggles as I bore down on it's rubbery tasting mass, although I could have possibly spit it out had I truly wanted to.
My painting tickle torture then continued in earnest, my exposed armpits, the back of my knees, and several other especially ticklish parts of my nearly suspended body, causing me to hysterically giggle and jerk around like a caught fish hanging on a hook. Sam I think enjoyed this torment far more than she let on at the time, even though my hysterics frustrated her artistic efforts on my behalf.
The other parts of my body received her paint brush's attentions as well, and there was no stopping my nipples obvious reactions as she painted concealing darker circles overtop of them, nor as she carefully painted over my womanly charms with her face inches from them to ensure she didn't miss a spot, her first firm slap on my bare bottom not only reminding me to cool myself down, but that I was at her mercy until she decided otherwise.
The loud smack on my helpless bottom technique was employed by Sam several more times to calm me down during my costume's application, it's effectiveness, I think, surprising both of us equally. What at first started out as a playful slap, then morphed into a firm and stinging series of smacks. Sam in effect dished out some well deserved corporal punishment (and redirection) on my exposed butt, this definitely something new between us though. Sam was also quite strong from working on the farm, and I think at times she underestimated her strength, my likely reddened butt I'm sure agreeing if it could only speak in it's defense.
Eventually my suspended tickle torture session ended, and my naked skin was covered neck to ankle with paint in the form of different color and sized circles on a chalk white background as if I were wearing a cobbled together garish and tight clown costume. It was highly erotic and not the least bit suitable for daytime, but Halloween was a night time adventure, and it was almost entirely dark outside the barn by the time Sam was done tormenting me with her brushes.
My overly large stuffed cloth clown shoes were a one size fits all kind of thing, and held on by tiny little zippers so as to disappear into the cloth of their construction and present a seam free look once the zipper's tabs were tucked into the cloth as intended. The large white mittens were quite restrictive on the inside as well once Sam let me back down on the ground, but here their simple Velcro closures were all that was needed to keep them in place on my mostly helpless hands as the tabs to release them were located on the bottom sides of them, and well out of reach of my teeth bound up as I was. My racquet ball gag rendered my teeth useless for this purpose anyway, but I assumed in error I wouldn't be wearing it much longer.
The red curly wig covered my own hair and fit my head, that's about all I can say about it, but my ridiculous smiling face mask firmly attached to it with a buckle, making the pair a package deal. The face mask would keep the wig on my head, and vice versa, and both would hopefully render me anonymous to whoever might see me in this outrageous skin flaunting costume of Sam's. There was also no practical way to remove this costume nor unbind myself without Sam's help, and I had to admit that her elaborate costume was everything I had hoped for, and then some.
"We're, or that is to say you, are going trick or treating" Sam told me, she handing me a small sack with the familiar phrase printed on it as if to drive this point home. "You're going house to house with that sack until it's full of my favorites, or you don't get a ride to the lake house afterwards, it's that simple" Sam told me matter of factly. My gagged and mumbling attempted response, I thought, perhaps reminding her that I was still gagged and not able to say much of anything, this perhaps the only flaw to her plan from my point of view so far.
My nearsightedness was a secondary consideration, I ordinarily wore contact lenses, but glasses and no contacts were another of Sam's conditions for this adventure of hers, and I dared not challenge her in this. The glasses had been removed by Sam early on while getting "into" this sexy costume, leaving me almost sightless, at least for anything more than a few feet away.
Sam then bundled me into her car, after I struggled to walk slowly toward it in my clown shoes as they flopped noisily on the ground in the silent night air and threatened to trip me. Despite the dark parking area it was still a relief when my tender and naked butt met her cold vinyl front seat, the body paint dry by then and not smudging as I expected it might, making it's later removal an unknown variable to this costume of mine. She had to both open and close her car door for me as my bound wrists and bulky mittens made using my fingers for anything impossible, and her car's bright interior lamp showing anybody who might be looking from the house far more of me that this budding exhibitionist might like. I had a mask and wig on to conceal my identity, but both in Sam's driveway and in her company, no disguise would be adequate should someone see us together...
Once driving (and once backing out was all but impossible) Sam started to tell me some more details about this adventure, like that we were going up to horse farm country, as they had all the money, and therefore gave out the best candy treats. She also told me she thought it would be far too easy if I were actually able to say "trick or treat" and that if I wanted to fill my candy bag and earn a ride to the lake house later, I would have to be creatively improvise.
In keeping with this theme she told me that my gag would be staying in as my buckled on face mask would make spitting out the blue ball all but impossible. I had come to this conclusion myself, but I had thought it had been an oversight, Sam showing me a rather hidden sadistic side to her character once again, just like when she had abandoned me at the swimming hole, or even just earlier when she had spanked me into tender submission while strung up before her.
Driving nude and painted up, (even at night) in the front seat of a car with your best friend sitting right next to you is scary at best, but doing so while bound and not being able to see clearly where your going for the stated purpose of delivering you to do a task someplace unfamiliar is doubly so. We eventually ended up where Sam had apparently intended my adventure to start, (thankfully without the local sheriff noticing my unique costume and pulling us over to investigate), I not able to see the addresses either, just that the homes themselves here were huge, and separated by expansive lawns and long twisting driveways.
I struggled to even ring the doorbell on the first massive home with my cumbersome clown mittens on and had to resort to using my elbow on the button, but the charming older man who answered the door was oblivious to my struggles. He did smile broadly at my costume, (or lack of costume), all the same, the twinkle in his eye and obvious humor of the moment making me smile behind my face mask in return. Without being able to actually say "trick or treat" coherently, gagged as I still was, I instead opted to hum it while shaking my treat bag with the saying printed on it, the bag held in front of me at waist height so as to somewhat hide my painted female charms in his porch light's illumination.
"You're obviously a clown, young lady" the man observed out loud. "Perhaps even a naughty clown" the man further offered as he noticed my firmly bound wrists... "I must say, that's by far the best and most creative costume so far this year. Please turn around for me once so I can see all of it dear, would you?" he asked in a very non threatening way.
I did as the kind man asked, although shuffling around much less than gracefully with my huge clown shoes on for fear of tripping myself right off his porch. He then gave me a substantial handful of large candy bars as a reward, ones that I knew to be among Sam's favorites, this almost too easy. Always being polite I hummed "thank you" to the nice man and bowed, the unrestrained fluid motion of my rather substantial painted breasts as I bent over not missed by him in the least.
I then made my way down his driveway, (and towards where I expected Sam's car to be) all as I felt him watch me go...
The relative safety of Sam's car wasn't waiting for me at the end of the nice man's long driveway though, I expecting she would drive me to each home separately, but we obviously hadn't discussed this beforehand either with my gag in place, and the sheer practicality of her getting out to both let me in and then back out again for every stop was in question anyway. I couldn't necessarily see her car waiting for me at the end of the community road either without my glasses on, but with little choice anyway I walked toward the next big house with my anything but stealthy flopping clown shoes as fast as I could.
The next home went much as the first, except this one had stairs to mount the porch that had to be carefully navigated, and this was at best difficult with my oversized clown shoes threatening to trip me on every step. These first two homes that I had been compelled to trick or treat at were also next to each other, and that meant the men were also neighbors, and likely the first had even called ahead and told the second what to expect might arrive on his doorstep next. I got a small fortune in candy from that nice man as well, my opinion of snooty and lacking in humor horse farm country people challenged by these two gentlemen, although they were men, and my costume quite adult and well beyond flauntingly sexy.
The third home on that side of the road was dark, and I bypassed it and went to the last on the block, the woman who answered the door obviously the hired help judging by her house maid's uniform. She told me quite clearly to get "my naked tramp ass" off of their front porch before she called the cops, which I did for obvious reasons and as quickly as possible, but without any candy reward this time.
That brought me to the end of the community road, and I crossed the street when I didn't see Sam's car waiting for me, intent on working my way back down the other side of the street to look for her, I at that moment feeling quite naked and abandoned by Sam. It was the feeling I had sought after, but this was also unfamiliar territory, and the last house's reaction to my costume reminded me of how very, very vulnerable I was here to a whole host of perils.
I rang the next door's bell on a very nicely decorated home and was greeted by a suddenly unsmiling witch costumed girl several years my junior, her first angry words to me like a slap in the face.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, especially looking like that!!! Massive udders... long legs... and naked as can be... let me guess, Samantha Smith's slutty friend?" the girl asked with venom in her voice, after she looked me up and down in dismissive inspection.
I tried to mumble an apology to this unknown little witch and get my naked ass out of there, but my attempts at gagged coherent speech fell on deaf ears, the girl turning in her doorway and snapping her fingers urgently as if she were used to giving orders that were immediately followed. I then tried to run away just as urgently, but I stumbled embarrassingly on my clown shoes and fell right on her manicured front lawn in a heap next to the other Halloween lawn decorations.
Before I could get myself up, two of her costumed friends were on me, they grabbing me roughly by my elbows and lifting me like a cheap stuffed animal prize won at the carnival. My wrists were still bound in front of me, and my capture therefore an easy thing for them to do, and this also made any resistance I might wish to offer futile at best. Not that it was necessary, but several more girls came out and pounced on me, they then carrying me bodily as I struggled toward the massive back barn, it lit and decorated for an elaborate Halloween party of the kind I would never have been invited to otherwise.
This was apparently how the wealthy horse farm crowd partied, (as best as I could tell without my glasses) but what they intended to do with their abducted and struggling clown was a mystery, other that it was surely no good for me. I couldn't scream for help gagged as I was, fighting was useless against such numbers, and I was for all intents and purposes naked and far from home, my only hope at all that Sam somehow found and rescued me before my captors did whatever evil deed they intended.
"Let's make it a party decoration" the witch suggested, "the guys will be here soon and it will be awesomely humiliating to hang it up on display someplace where they can see it, maybe even touch it... maybe even..."
"Do you think they'll recognize her?" one of the others interrupted
"So much the better if they do" the witch opined darkly.
"They'll just want to take her someplace and pass her around like a cheap bottle of wine...”
“Who could blame them, she's certainly dressed for it," another chimed in.
"Wanna bet?" the witch asked darkly, I realizing that this was the one I had the most to fear from of the group.
The girls then pulled off my mask and wig, they then taking turns holding me with the others taking full body selfie pictures with me as if I were some kind of trophy caught clown fish, my face and nude painted body quite recognizable in the light of the barn I'm sure. With that humiliating task complete the girls then replaced my disguise, not out of charity though.
"Bring it this way" the witch commanded, I taking notice that I was an "it" to her and not a she. The thought terrified me, one can justify doing all manner of evil things to an "it", but a "she" implies humanity, and therefore deserving of humane treatment at some point.
Two heavy ropes were already hung about three feet apart over the upper hay loft railings at our destination, I not even bothering to struggle anymore as it was pretty clear that the girls were going to do what they wanted no matter my wishes on the subject. This was of course a further form of submission, but just not the kind I had envisioned at the beginning of this dare with Sam.
I was forced to my knees, one each of the ropes then efficiently tied off to my improvised wrist rope cuffs near each wrist, where I could grab them with my large padded mittens should I want to, the girls then pulling the free ends strung over the overhead railings until I was pulled back up to my feet. The girls didn't stop there though, they continued to pull in unison until my clown shoes were well off of the barn floor and my body swung like a pendulum. I then bicycled my legs trying to reach some firm footing on instinct, the girls left laughing at my fruitless struggles, human empathy of any kind apparently in short supply that night.
"Oh, that won't do at all" the witch ring leader commented, she then directing her friends to bring over a heavy wood bench of the kind that could seat several people at a long table, it heavy enough that two of the strong girls struggled to place the thing directly below my hanging body, my flailing feet finding it and taking the strain from my arms. This I realized was no charitable act either, as giving me some form of support likely meant that this obscene display I was being forced to provide could now go on almost indefinitely.
My relief was also short lived, two of the girls grabbing one each of my legs and pulling them outward and away from each other toward the outer ends of the heavy bench at the witch's direction. This forced me to go up on my toes to keep the entire strain of supporting my body from my wrists alone, and adding further obscenity to this display I was providing as I felt my bald and painted womanhood part as if in invitation to a lover.
The witch was obviously in charge as it appeared to be her home and ranch, she then barking for one of the girls to go to another building and retrieve something to be found on the workbench near the door. The girls laughed at the witches suggestion, but I didn't when I saw her return with a large hammer and some equally large spikes (once close enough for me to actually see them). This looked to me like a very real and one way horror show when the witch approached my foot with the spikes in one hand, and the hammer in the other. I then struggled for all I was worth as the two girls holding my feet struggled back, but they were in a better position than I and quite strong.
The witch then looked up at me and spoke sharply. "Knock it off, this spike is either going into your stupid clown shoes, or possibly straight through your foot if you continued to struggle for my friends!... It's really up to you as I don't care one way or the other!" she further threatened.
I then stopped struggling, and in this at least the witch kept her word, she driving three spikes deeply into the stuffed front part of my clown shoes without smashing my foot once, pinning my shoe to the bench and holding my leg out wide. My other foot was predictably next, and when she was done my legs were held firmly splayed wide, but I was at least convinced that she and her friends didn't want to actually kill me, at least not yet!
Some straw bales and what looked like a hand painted sign were then moved to cordon off my display area and hide the bench I was tippy toeing on, the letters on the sign far too blurry for me to read without my glasses though. They then placed some fall harvest vegetables on the straw bales to apparently further decorate my display, it was curious, but in keeping with a theme of sorts. Had I been costumed as a scarecrow it would have made more sense, but nobody obviously asked me beforehand.
As bad as all this was, this highly embarrassing spectacle I was being forced to provide at least looking survivable in the short term, but the level of animus directed toward me by these horrible and privileged teenaged horse farm girls was just irrational. "What had I done to deserve this, other than possibly borrowing their boyfriends for some one time adult fun in an extreme moment of personal need?" I asked myself reasonably...
The guests eventually started arriving just as my legs started to really burn, people I might have even recognized had I worn my glasses or contacts. I tried to pick out their voices, but that just put a possible face to the spectators ogling my obscene display as they walked past, a great many of them indifferently amused. I tried to hold still and breathe as little as possible, pretending that I was some kind of inanimate doll like object, instead of a living and breathing woman, most especially when the guests looked my way.
It was a foolish hope that I might actually be mistaken for a life sized naked female clown doll, but I had few other options to choose from other than to wait for Sam's eventual rescue, any second thoughts of mercy from my captors looking unlikely until their party was over and their insane bloodlust for me was sated. I held my head level and my mostly hidden eyes behind my clown mask looking out over the guests heads as I dared not make eye contact, I choosing to suffer in indifferent silence less someone noticed my humanity and think it was an invitation to seriously interact with the nakedly displayed human me.
It also occurred to me that I couldn't stop any physical interaction anyone might wish to engage in with me bound up as I was anyway, so staring ahead and pretending I was anywhere but there while waiting for the end of the night and my likely release made logical sense, although this was at best an irrational response to an irrational situation. There would obviously be a tomorrow, with its own new challenges, but before that I had to find a way to get through the now...
The girls who had captured and strung me up noticed my withdrawn doll like act and weren't amused by it, they coming by now and again to poke me or slap my butt, (and likely to see if I were still breathing), they recognized only by their own identity concealing costumes in my blurry sight when close enough. I had a feeling each were goading the other into deeper depths of depravity with me, but these were teens, and I likely no better the few short years ago when I was one.
...Had I spoiled their fun by being so passive, by not begging and crying for mercy from them? Possibly, but I had little choice but to submit to their whims and torments until they released me anyway, so what exactly did they expect?
Others stopped by as well, chuckling to themselves or their dates as they silently read the sign before me with adult beverages in hand, and with a renewed horror I realized that some of the chuckling boys and young husbands were likely one time lovers. I couldn't tell for sure as there had been a great many of them, and the din of the party's noise and booming bass of the sound system made identifying voices hard at best.
Certainly none present that night had any mercy, nor overt humanity to spare concerning my strung up humiliation, but perhaps (I held out the false hope) they truly didn't know who I was. It was one thing to suffer for their amusement as a macabre human party decoration anonymously, quite another to do so as a known person with a face and name to match. The girls who had captured and subdued me so easily knew who I was obviously, with their peek under my mask, but perhaps the other guests didn't, or wouldn't, if I kept my proverbial mouth shut, (although gagged and now drooling as I was this was an impossible thing).
Nearly everybody there had stopped by my display over the course of the first part of the evening and had placed what I assumed were cash bills under many of the display vegetables, the purpose for which both curious and foreboding to me as they all felt the need to pick up and intimately handle the vegetables in question. It was the older women that frightened me most of all in this as I pretended not to look, they hefting specifically the corn, cucumbers, zucchini, squash, and even some oddly shaped gourds as if in deep evaluation of the quality of the harvest, squeezing them and testing their firm freshness and size, and then sneaking a look up toward me.
It was the manner of the way they looked up at me in my display that gave me the most uneasy feeling of all, as if my being strung up humiliatingly naked before them wasn't enough, that I somehow deserved even more debasement from them to settle some imaginary debt I owed. The pattern, (to a woman) was repeated over and over again, first they picked up several vegetables individually and evaluated them, then they looked up toward my face with a smirk, and then their eyes roamed slowly downward, and finally back toward the object in their hands as they concluded their selections and placed their cash.
They looked to be traditionally grown crops in my blurry vision, or perhaps, (at best), larger and healthier versions of the same, but to me nothing more than objects used for decoration, ironically just like myself. I also found it rather odd that no one picked up the massive pumpkins, green beans, and potatoes to evaluate them in the same probing way, but to be fair I couldn't read the sign before me as they could, and the answer to this little mystery could have innocently been hidden there.
Such, (as it turns out), was a foolish and naive thought, just as my holding out hope for Sam's eventual rescue was. My evil captors had a plan for me, (or at the very least that evil near child who had engineered my capture and display did) my strung up torment apparently only the first part of the night's dark entertainment. The evil witch then called everybody over to stand before me, her loud words like a carnival barkers and demonstrating her overt confidence, and apparent intoxication, the sound system muted for obvious reasons:
"Our slutty charity clown, who chooses to remain masked for rather obvious reasons, has offered to entertain us further on this Halloween night in a way that only it can, all in exchange for your generous charity donations. Thank you all, ladies and gentlemen!" the witch then stated in grandiose fashion. "This year's chosen charity is the old clown's retirement home, rather fitting if I don't say so myself."
"This is also nothing more than a continuation of a game that our charity clown has unfortunately played for us ladies before, many, many, MANY times in the past... but possibly not this publicly" the witch continued for the gathered crowd while glancing briefly my way with a purely evil look on her costumed face. She had chosen her costume well, she was a witch, but the evil look on her otherwise pretty face was an obvious contradiction.
...The gathered crowd mostly laughed in response, as if they truly believed I was somehow a willing participant in this horror, (or wished to) but manifest in some of the ladies there that laugh sounded frighteningly evil, telling me that there was something more to this horror than meets the eye, at least for some of them. It didn't make sense that teenage girls would be throwing a Halloween party like this for their married older counterparts either, unless they were older sisters and relatives, or unless they all had something else in common...
"What could these well off horse country people truly intend for me though?" I asked myself, ignoring the clues before me in illogical fashion. These were exquisitely costumed people of wealth and privilege, and that unfortunately meant that they likely were capable of almost anything, most especially in their inebriated and costumed anonymity, just as I had been earlier myself before being so easily captured and strung up by these spiteful girls.
... There was a better question to be asked, but at that moment it wouldn't come to me...
"It's a simple game that our slutty clown has obviously played before, simply called 'Will It Fit?' The rules are painfully obvious, and simple. Bills face up, bills face down, you get the idea, don't you?" the witch asked rhetorically with a giggle and dark smile, belying the seriousness of what was about to happen. The girls in attendance surely did, judging by their own nervous laughing responses, but a part of my mind still refused to acknowledge what logic suggested was about to happen. I was in a state of denial, but I also got the distinct impression that at least some of the ladies present were as well. Perhaps they thought this was a prank to be played on their strung up naked captive for charity, but that this was in the end a hollow threat to make some kind of point about stealing boyfriends and husbands, and that their witch host would stop just short of doing the deed in its entirety.
...For all I know this slightly more rational "hollow threat" version could have even been the witch's sober intentions for me, (to threaten, but not actually do) but alcohol has a way of modifying one's desires and lowering one's inhibitions, and it wasn't lost on me either that I was the only one with any proverbial skin in the game, at least this particular night. Her friends, and the others as well, had been heard by me earlier goading the little witch on, not that she needed such, but they had also been drinking too.
In other words, the witch and her anonymous friends had nothing to lose, except a competitor for those same boys and wealthy men, some of those same men almost certainly present that night with their dates to watch the show I was being forced into performing for them as well, I nothing more than an amusing spectacle for their viewing pleasure. Some of the men had even placed their own cash "donations" as well, but my gripe that night was with my fellow women.
The witch made a big show of counting out all the cash beneath a large and freshly picked ear of corn still mostly in the husk, (except where the ladies had peeled it back to inspect it.) The carrots had been bypassed entirely, as had the giant pumpkins, but as it turns out for completely contradictory reasons now knowing the title of this horrible little game I was to be participating in for their amusement.
"Five hundred thirty dollars... not bad at all" the witch commented in slightly slurred speech. "I see some of the bills are face up, but most of the others are face down though," she laughing ominously as she spoke, several of the women in attendance responding in kind to an apparent shared joke between them.
The evil witch thrust the ear of corn high into the air, her little hand not even able to come close to closing around it, I getting an idea for the first time of how large and unique this particular harvested crop was. Her move left her elevated hand and my eyes close enough to each other for clarity in my limited vision (for the first time that night), but could she possibly have known this too?
...Did this mean that the witch knew the precise limits of my uncorrected sight, and that this taunting act of hers was exclusively for me alone? The next natural question was where she had acquired this knowledge, and if she therefore also knew that I couldn't positively identify a single person at this insane torture session disguised as a festive Halloween party. This suggested a further layer of anonymity for my costumed assailants in general, and specifically that they had free reign to do as they pleased with me to ensure I "got the message" regarding their boyfriends and husband’ infidelity.
"The only question left to ask, do we husk it first ladies?" The witch barked in her overloud carnival barker's voice, she clearly enjoying this little circus side show of ours rather disproportionally.
There were several no votes, but more yes votes, I still in a state of irrational denial as to what this evil mob of costumed villains intended for both me, and that massive ear of fresh corn, either husked or not.
The corn was handed off to one of the ladies and she husked it violently like it was her mission in life, (or possibly for purely personal reasons as she was in a hurry to see the deed done), the ear still quite large, but now lacking it's green leafy sheath and small hairs at the tip. With this done the witch handed what looked like a box of condoms off to the costumed woman who had husked the corn, she and another selecting and opening the familiar package as we all looked on, I still in a state of denial though. One woman then rolled the condom onto the bare ear of corn with a practiced skill as the other held the over long stalk cooperatively, I watching in blurry horror, the others there laughing at the obvious and obscene repurposing of the vegetable that was about to take place.
All the clues came together for me in a single epiphany, and I could no longer "not look" the witch in the eye, my night of horror apparently only starting, and this apparently no "hollow threat." Unless this was still, somehow, just an elaborate prank to teach me a lesson about stealing boyfriends and husbands.
The witch then lightly hopped up on the bench with me to softly whisper in my ear, her agility belying her apparent intoxication, as did her clear headed cheerful gloating.
"What do you think the boys will want with you after they see what will really fit inside that slutty body of yours? After they come to realize that they don't have a prayer of even feeling the inside of you all stretched out like an old breeding cow... even the well hung ones?" The witch tormented. "We're not only going to stretch that cheating thing out and ruin it for good though, but we're going to let every man here watch while we do it, so they know too. That story will get around, I promise you that..."
"I'm not completely cruel though" the witch went on sweetly as if she were bipolar, "I had a friend bring a big box of XXL sized lubricated condoms, just in case this doesn't get your slutty juices flowing... like it obviously does mine."
The evil witch then stepped around behind me on the bench I was displayed on; there plenty of room for her feet directly under my trapped body as my own were spread wide with my large clown shoes still nailed to the bench itself. She was holding my body about my ribcage for balance anyway, so it was an easy thing to slide her hands up toward my painted breasts, she hefting their significant mass in her gloved hands and pinching my painted nipples savagely.
"Too bad we can't auction off these massive melons for charity too" the witch called out from over my right shoulder, my widely splayed legs making it seem as if she was significantly taller that I, which she wasn't. The crowd cheered my torment, but what they might not have noticed was how erect my abused and painted nipples had become, or that my chest and head had rolled backwards slightly in reflexive cooperation. As irrational as it sounds, this torment at the hands of this little monster was turning me on like mad, my buds fully erect, and not just due to her manual manipulations of my tender flesh. I felt the heat of my arousal down there too, and splayed as I was this would be an impossible secret to keep, my womanhood already open in invitation by my spread legs positioning.
...Was it the party-like atmosphere and crowd of spectators that wished me no good, the public sexual display I was being forced to perform in, or that this near child had such total control over me that I was reduced to nothing more than her human play toy? I didn't know the answer right then, but I knew my body well enough to notice that this torment was doing something for me, perhaps being bound and strung up also playing it's own part in my kinky mind, as these were things Sam and I had liked to do together since we were children...
The witch then hopped down and was handed one of two poles, one of the girls likely getting them while I was distracted by her playing with my boobs seconds earlier. The tags were still on the curious yellow poles (that looked brand new to me), likely bought just for this party, as were the massive box of condoms (if the witch was to be believed). That meant that this torturous display of mine HAD been preplanned, (certainly the charity auction sign had been painted before hand) and that implied Sam was involved, but I wasn't completely convinced of the depth of her treachery just yet...
The pole device I recognized as one of those things used for changing high overhead screw-in light bulbs, we had one just like it at our own farm. It had an expandable pole part, and an adjustable grasping set of rubber fingers to grab a light bulb of almost any size high out of one's reach, or as it turns out, almost any other round object one chooses. I then watched in morbid disbelief as the witch stuck the protruding stalk on the condom covered corn cob into the fingers of the pole device, she adjusting them firmly, and then approaching me like a medieval knight holding her lance high, and about to make the fatal blow to her nemesis.
...This was the moment, this horrible prank either stopped right here, or the real horror show started, and I the proverbial "main event."
The little witch held the condom covered corn inches from my masked face so I couldn't help but to see it clearly. "We all know you like to fuck!" she added crudely, moving her pole closer and farther away from my face and simulating my giving it head, to which the crowd again laughed.
All the attention was on me, one serious regret of mine was that I couldn't also clearly see the eyes of my tormentors, I curious to see if there was sympathy to be found there, or just raw irrational bloodlust. The witch then got down low so as not to obstruct everybody's view of the "coup de grace" she was about to deliver, my womanhood at head height for most of the night anyway, and quite conveniently so for this as well.
...What to do? I had but a few seconds to decide; resist, cry, and scream into my ball gag incoherently while thrashing about wildly, or allow my body to do this, and perhaps try to pretend that I actually am a willing participant. Only seconds earlier the witch's torment had my body excited, and I knew such things could only be made worse if I didn't allow this trend to continue. Did the witch know this, and was this her twisted way of helping me through this ordeal, things already too far along to stop, even if she had wanted to? It was as if there were two witches, or perhaps just one bipolar one that I had foolishly pissed off somehow. I don't even remember that particular boy's name, I coming to the realization that I had been a complete, "I'll hump anything on legs" slut for a good year or so there, and perhaps even deserving of this on some level...
The witch slid the tiny tip of the corn cob up and down my opening with the pole much more gently than I had anticipated, but I still squealed into my large gag and tried to wiggle away on reflex. It wasn't so much the size of the thing as the temperature, cold things not belonging inside me, like ever. The crowd was dead silent, I not even realizing that I had grabbed the ropes closest to my mittened hands and had pulled myself away from the invading vegetable, my feet firmly tagged to earth by the heavy bench, and I obviously not going anywhere until these monsters were good and done with me.
The witch was relentless, and the small tip led way to the larger corn kernel textured tapered body, she finding my opening rather tenderly considering she was doing so while at least partially intoxicated, and while guiding my farm fresh field grown temporary lover on a pole. She had no reason, nor apparent inclination to be gentle with me in the least, and still she was. The pole was unnecessary to me as well, and therefore a further curiosity, as the witch could have reached up and impaled me on the cob while it was directly in her tiny hand, delivering her unique retribution directly by her own proverbial hand, as it were.
The small part that was inside me at that point was perhaps the size of a well hung man, and easily accommodatable for me with my active sexual history with such men. The witch pushed further though, she sadistically rotating the pole she held as she did so, and therefore the textured corn cob she was slowly impaling me on. The motion was suggestive of a giant industrial drill bit, but despite this I arched my back and groaned into my gag, the bump, bump, bump of the individual kernels feeling rather nice down there, texture wise, although still forign and cold to me at the same time. The silent crowd then erupted with cheers and applause at my torment, as if their favorite sports team had just scored a goal. They clapped and cheered the witch's ingenuity too, or perhaps just her sadistic inspiration, depending of course on one's point of view to be sure.
I felt my muscles down there clutch at the rotating invader on instinct, as if trying to slow it's rate of advancement while slightly lifting me, but my arms that were holding me aloft were getting tired despite this. The witch perhaps sensed this, that little near child wise beyond her years in matters of the flesh. She then elected to set her pole on the floor of the barn, changing the angle of entry to a more natural one, but this apparently wasn't for my benefit though.
She pointed at one of the hay bales, and then to where she wanted it moved, one of the men easily placing the heavy bale at the base of the yellow pole and preventing the witch from having to hold it any longer. There was still more of the massive tapered corn cob outside of me than in, but she had correctly deduced that there was only direction it could possibly go now.
My arms were getting tired and I was starting to sweat, despite the cool barn I was on naked display in. Gravity was slowly winning this battle, I slowly self impaling while half of the group watched in morbid fascination on and off over the course of the next fifteen minutes or so.
Oddly enough, all my muscles were failing me at about the same rate, my arms tremoring though, not only setting my body into a continual vibration as I sunk further down on the massive corn cob, but giving the appearance that I was in the throws of a huge extended orgasm while doing so. This tremoring "faux" orgasm brought on a very real and powerful one, the bound forced display and overall kink of the moment getting the best of me, as did the texture of the inanimate invader bumping ever so deeper into me one stretching kernel rank at a time. Each little kernel bumped at my special spot as it tauntly slid by, as if a lover was flicking it with his tongue, and this in combination with everything else was just too much sensory input to handle!
"Ahhh, there the little tramp goes!" the witch called over her shoulder, my debasement now complete. This was apparent proof positive to any sceptics left in the audience as to how into this I truly was, or how much of a lusty tramp I truly was as well. Once flat footed and past my bucking orgasm, one of the watching men called attention to the fact that there was still some portion of the tapered and textured vegetable that wasn't yet inside of me, although the tension in my womanly parts already felt like a guitar string about to snap. I had never been filled like this, and as a result I could already feel things obscenely stretching down there.
"I'll help the little tramp out" volunteered the woman, the same one who had angrily husked the ear of corn I was presently impaled on. She pointed out gleefully to her fellow party goers that the charity donation I was playing for was contingent on the "will it fit" premise, and as of yet they didn't know that for sure... in its entirety. This caused both the crowd to laugh at the obvious joke at my expense, and the little witch to stop counting the "donation" under the next largest harvested vegetable as if to watch, but she also failed to intercede on my behalf. This woman was more mature than the witch, perhaps thirty five or so, although apparently just as hungry for vengeance, possibly even more so judging by her enthusiasm to right this apparent wrong.
The pole the corn cob was mounted to had a turn and extend kind of mechanism, and the woman did just that, my tightly stretched womanhood twisted along with the cob and feeling anything but good while further stretching me as it did. This also caused the cob to be pulled slightly from my abused womanhood, it feeling as if I were being pulled inside out. The watching crowd couldn't help but to notice this, and the direction of their stare made me feel like a circus freak sideshow, which I was quickly becoming. I at the same time felt "empty" as the massive corn cob was pulled away from me briefly, the vengeful woman then extending the pole and burying the cob in me to it's full girth as I again groaned into my ball gag.
Hearing and seeing the anguished results of her actions, the evil woman couldn't resist the urge to torment me even further, plunging my vegetable intruder in and out of me several more times. She twisted and stretched me obscenely as the crowd watched incredulously, she in effect making rough passionless love to me with it as I swung slightly in my bonds. The sound was possibly worse yet, it sounding as if she were clearing a clogged toilet with a plunger, my juices obviously flowing from my orgasm, but the sucking sound and accompanying vacuum as it was pulled from my gaping womanhood... and then plunged back in again repeatedly, like nothing I had ever heard or felt from my body before.
This intrusion was larger than any man I had ever entertained by a fair margin too, this alone sure to intimidate any of the men actually there into leaving me alone for fear of failing to properly fill me now, but not life altering all by itself. The duration of the event was the real unknown for me, for who on earth would leave something like this inside of her for any time at all, unless presented with no other choice? If this were a man he would have already cum and been on his way, just as I obviously had, time then my real problem here, "stretching it out" as it were, not in my best interest.
With the pole once again placed on the ground and up against the hay bale, the circus freak show was over for the moment. The attention was once again on the little teenage witch, she counting out the bills under the zucchini, (I assumed) it's massive girth and length similar to the cucumber next to it, although I knew the texture of the skin of each was the easiest way to tell the difference. Each easily looked the size of a muscular man's forearm in my blurry vision, and I knew no rational woman would ordinarily want such anywhere near their more intimate places. I also thought there was no way that any woman could possibly contemplate inflicting such a thing on another against her will, but in this I was about to see my folly, and then learn the true depth of a woman's scorn.
I had also falsely assumed the little witch's earlier grammar was correct, this game of hers called "Will It Fit." This also assumed that the highest donation was for the massive ear of corn presently stretching me out like no lover ever could, the longer it stayed there, the more gaping I expected to end up. "Old breeding cow" might just be an accurate description, if the little witch elected to leave this thing inside of me all night, but I couldn't possibly imagine a woman even doing that to another.
"There is over a thousand dollars under the zucchini, two grand under the cucumber" the little witch called out, "all face up though." This fact bothered her for some reason, I could hear it in her tone, but I wouldn't have long to wait to find out exactly why either.
"Were there not some bills face down, tails one could easily say, under the corn?" the evil thirty five year old asked rhetorically.
"Yes, as a matter of fact there was" the witch answered. I couldn't tell if she was irritated with the older woman for upstaging her at her own party, or having second thoughts on all this torment she was inflicting on me. There was something in her tone though, but one of her friends then handed her something to drink, "perhaps some liquid courage?" I thought cynically.
I then watched in abject horror as two different ladies rolled a tautly stretched XXL condom onto the massive zucchini, it then mounted onto the other pole, just like the corn I was presently riding. The thing was so large that the big condom only reached to about two thirds the length of the massive green vegetable.
I was in passive shock, frozen to inaction as I watched what was being set up, but everybody there was watching too as my corn cob lover was thankfully removed from my body, I briefly left feeling the chill of being empty and gaping open down there. Several of the ladies, and at least one man, looked directly inside of me, as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing either. The zucchini was next, it again held up where I could clearly see it, and the little witch doing the honors again herself. The initial entry was easy as I was already stretched and gaping open in invitation, and she worked the massive vegetable inside me almost gently.
I relaxed to accommodate what I knew was going to happen anyway, there was just no stopping it now. My spirit felt already broken, just as if the little witch was breaking one of her new horses in the corral for a crowd, letting it run itself to exhaustion on the hot walker as she waited for the inevitable, whip in hand. I felt the massive vegetable stretch it's way inside me deeper and deeper like a wedge splitting a firelog, the gathered crowd left watching my circus-like freak show with slacked jaw morbid fascination. If there were any human empathy to be found amongst this crowd of well heeled ladies and gentlemen, it wasn't obvious that night.
With maybe a third of the thing inside of me and stretching me out further than I imagined humanly possible, short of actual childbirth, the witch inexplicably stopped, although I sensed that still more of the massive invader could be made to fit if enough effort were made. It was just touching my splayed thighs though, giving some sense of the size of what the pretty little witch had forced inside of me, all to ensure I was truly ruined for any man of theirs. It was evil, and I wondered at what brought this evil here, wondering if Halloween was more than spooky costumes and candy. There was a darkness in that barn with me that night, watching and laughing at my public torture, perhaps spurring on these otherwise well mannered people.
I may have wandered further down my semi conscious "rabbit hole" while thinking about the dark origins of Halloween itself, but there was something quite real going on behind me, although out of my sight. I felt just the slimy cold tip first, and I was slow to physically react due to my broken spirit apathy, my spread legs positioning offering access to that part of me that no man ever had. The evil thirty-five year old was doing the deed, I recognized her gloating voice, and she was relentless too. Once the relatively small tip had entered me back there I was helpless to resist, she wiggling and working the massive ear of corn into my back passage as I groaned as loudly as I could into my ball gag, I finding what little remaining strength I had to pull up and away from her though.
I couldn't last long, we all knew it, but my torturers I think prefered to see me reacting to their torments, as opposed to enduring them silently, passively. It made this dark "show" of theirs, for lack of a better word, more entertaining. Realizing this, I vowed to myself to try to react as little as possible to their further torments, although this course of action had its own follies.
I felt the corn cob slowly advance anyway, it's stretching presence totally unnatural. I also noticed the snickering and taunting woman behind me obviously enjoying herself disproportionately at my expense. "That was MY face down donation, you little tramp! I thought we should ruin this end too, just to be sure" she continued almost madly, her semi whispered and insane words for me alone.
My pulling up and away only made for a slightly more difficult moving target for each of the ladies, it was all I could do though, and born out of reflexive reaction rather than conscious thought. I felt the corn and zucchini rub each other inside of me where the one crept past the other, the membrane of skin and other things between them surely stretched tight. Could such things rupture? I wondered, and what would that feel like, assuming that I made it to the hospital in time?
Would these little monsters even take me, with all the probing questions to follow, or just let me slowly bleed out and expire as I hung before them as the ultimate dark Halloween sacrifice? I didn't think even these people could be that cruel, but I also knew that none of these wealthy people would be paying any price for any crimes they might commit either. I would be made to disappear, or what's left of me would, such things easy on a large farm.
Was I past begging for mercy, or clemency, or even a commuted sentence? Or, for that matter, was that what the bulk of these fine cultured ladies and gentlemen were waiting to hear? That was the question, but then I wondered if the other guests even knew that I was tightly gagged behind my foolish mask, perhaps this was the real prank that the girls that had abducted me had played on their own friends. I could see it now: "We'll just torment her until she begs for mercy, or apologises, and then just cut her naked ass down and tell her not to do it again, and to find her own way home." That meant that a majority of these fine people might actually think I was a willing participant in all this, or at least that I had an easy out should I want to take it and confess my crimes...
The witch and evil thirty five year old then cooperatively started sawing their pole mounted vegetables in and out of me, one went deeper, then the other, taking turns making passionless love to me with them as I bounced on my ropes and grunted. I eventually settled back down to stand flat footed out of pure exhaustion, both being left buried deep inside of me and stretching me obscenely. With the poles propped up on the ground again I'm sure I looked like an inanimate pole mounted naked decoration, I pretty much being left like that for the remainder of the party as the massive stretching vegetables did their damage.
There were apparently larger donations under still larger vegetables, but I thought collectively that my torturer's lust for vengeance had dissipated on it's own. The misshapen gourd I could somewhat see with my uncorrected eyesight was easily the size of a newborn, and had they wanted, such also could have obviously been made to fit... somehow. But, this also could have generated some human empathy for me, or even outright revolt over my treatment, the pretty young witch in the end perhaps reading her audience and seeing such herself, despite her apparent intoxication...
The guests left little by little, every one of them walking past my intrusive and embarrassing display one last time on their way out, as if to say, "that was fun." I assumed it was after midnight by the time I was alone again with the girls, (and the evil thirty five year old) my ordeal and extended display therefore lasting hours, I hanging in my bonds more than standing towards the end there, all while being propped up by the poles. I was drifting in and out though, so my recollection of the exact order of events are just a little suspect...
I found myself laying on the bench and still drifting in and out when I saw Sam walk into the barn, my mask off at that point, ball gag out, and the girls had even tenderly given me some water to drink. My wrists were still bound though, and they had also bound my ankles and knees together in similar fashion so I couldn't run off, but naked and as abused as I had been that was all but impossible anyway. My clown shoes were a wreck and unreturnable to the costume shop, but that was the least of my problems.
Both of my holes were numb and I thought at the time still likely gaping open, (as was my mouth to a lesser extent with my extended time gagged). I say "likely gaping open" due to some creative forethought on my torturers part. This again pointed toward a premeditated, planned event, but Sam's concerned and pained stare when she first saw me lying there in the condition I was gave lie to the extent of her involvement.
Both Sam and I were to learn sometime the next day, (when I had finally woken from my extended ordeal) that my torturers had actually left the massive ear of corn in place, it's purpose crudely suggestive of the cork in a bottle of wine. They had also, by some means and apparently while I was out, cut the zucchini off almost flush, the majority of the massive vegetable still inside of me and stretching me out obscenely. Neither could really go deeper without doing permanent damage to me, and neither could come out either, for reasons that I will explain.
Before the girls had bound my legs together they had fitted me with a large adult diaper, and then another over top of that one, the bulky incontinence aids almost certainly meant for seniors, but their use on me transforming me into something resembling a huge baby. I was well past caring though, I hearing the witch and the thirty-five year old explaining to Sam that unless she wanted a mess on her car's back seat, or her bed later that night, they would leave the bulky diapers in place. They had even given her the remaining box of diapers, "just in case," Sam not knowing what was concealed beneath their bulky layers, and I in no condition to tell her either.
This would turn out to be the "gift that kept giving," I needing those diapers for the next few days while I gained some control again over my abused and stretched back passage. Sam was horrified at what had been done to me, but we had even bigger problems with the witch's shared next year's Halloween party plans, her plans to "one up" herself before her wealthy friends obvious, with Sam's actual participation, this time. I listened to the witch talk to Sam as I lay comatose on the bench, (I not sure what was real, and what was a nightmare) before the girls loaded me pronely onto Sam's back seat for transport to the lake house like a trussed up old carpet...
"The clown this year was entertaining and all that Samantha, but next year a ponygirl for wagon rides for all of my friends and guests would be much more practical. Don't worry too much about the costume when you deliver it to me next year either, other than painting it up head to toe a nice chocolate brown with just a few spots, I'm certain I have enough tack here to improvise at least one functional ponygirl harness and bit."
"A PONYGIRL, that's insane! What makes you think there will ever be a 'next' year?" Sam suspiciously asked my unnaturally cheerful tormentor, her superior horse farm attitude coming through clearly. I was not able yet to speak in my defense for obvious reasons, I reduced to passive slack jawed listening, my capability for being shocked by anything conspicuously absent.
"We have dozens of pictures of your slutty big boobed clown hanging on naked display as a party decoration in my barn that could easily be printed up in color and hung all over the county, even ones UNDER that stupid smiling mask for positive identification. I'm sure there could always be some anonymous 'complaints' filed with the sheriff for indecent Halloween exposure while she was making her way here to trespass and crash my party... should either of you foolishly choose not to cooperate with me. In that case I would be obligated, as the good citizen that I am, to provide my cousin the sheriff with the evidence he needs to make his case, and the case against you as well as it's obvious that she had help in this."
"Oh" I heard Sam answer, her courage on my behalf instantly deflated, she suddenly not just arguing my case, but one of her own.
"Oh indeed" my tormentor opined smugly, her superior wealthy horse farm attitude coming through rather clearly to my ears, even though I was completely spent from my ordeal. There was something else in Sam's voice, something hidden that told me my eventual capture and torture wasn't a complete surprise to Sam, as did the circumstancial evidence itself. I was however convinced that no matter who was to blame, my body had likely been ruined for life by her and her friends many perverse intrusions, all while strung up on display to entertain them while making a point of some kind.
"Do you think, Samantha, that your slutty naked clown friend, or more accurately, MY next year's slutty naked Halloween party ponygirl, will be able to pull MY wagon for all MY friends... all by itself? Or, do you think I'll need two naked slutty ponygirls to do the deed?" Her threat left hanging in the air like the smoke from a cigarette, just exhaled in one's face as an implied rude threat.
"...I think I see your point... ma'am." I heard Sam reluctantly reply, that term of respect for this wealthy snot of a girl not even our own age nearly torn from Sam's mouth and signifying total and complete white flag surrender, for both of us.
"I think it would be prudent, Samantha, to begin training up MY little ponygirl just as soon as those gaping holes start to close back up and she can walk normally again, without leaving a shit trail behind her. I would make it a habit to run with her if I were you, maybe three times a week. You'll likely have to strap down those massive udders of hers and run her in her skin from time to time so she gets used to running like that, but I think the exercise would do both of you girls nothing but good, if you know what I mean..."
"Yes ma'am, I think I see your point" Sam's dejected voice could be heard saying, she totally defeated purely due to her association with me.
"Just to be sure you do, I want to watch both of you train, personally, at least once a week. On that subject, I think it would also be prudent for you to run in your skin then as well, just in case your friend can't be trained up well enough to pull my wagon all on her own. There's an automated hot horse walker here on the ranch that I can hook both of you up to, rain or shine, and with it I can both adjust, and monitor the speed and duration of your workouts that way. I may either watch you both perform if it so amuses me, or just come back when the machine is done with you and unhook your exhausted naked asses from it myself."
"Even you can't be that cruel and sadistic" Sam told our tormentor, although in a respectful tone that bordered on begging.
"It works just fine for my horses, and some of them are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, where you two... My trainers usually don't even have to crack the whip all that hard to get them moving on it" that evil near woman further threatened, she truly enjoying this torment of Sam, and by extension myself. "I'll make a little wager with you Samantha, you two ponygirls will run faster and longer than you could possibly imagine when trying to escape MY whip, and as bad as that sounds, it's nothing, NOTHING compared to spending a few months in the coed county lockup with my cousin the sheriff..."
"Oh indeed! Why don't you collect your friend and get your little tight ass out of here before I forget my manners and give you a little of what she just got?"
To be continued next Halloween...