Ladies' Luncheon Circle
Chapter 10: The Backyard Crucible
A week after Claire and James begged for domination, Laura's backyard became their crucible. The air pulsed with cruel anticipation of the upcoming torments. The aborted luncheon of last week was a forgotten prelude to the day's descent as the lunch group met to fulfill Claire and James's hope of domination. The mid-spring afternoon sun blazed over Laura's backyard, its harsh light slicing through the gaps in the six-foot privacy fence, where neighboring windows loomed like silent voyeurs. The patio's glass-topped table shimmered beside wrought-iron chairs, where Laura, Sarah, and Megan lounged, their chardonnay glasses glinting, phones propped to capture every twisted frame about to unfold. Daniel shuffled with more drinks nearby, stark naked. His spiked chastity cage flashing behind the piercing ring in his cock helmet, and a six-ounce weight swaying from his bruised, purpled balls with a faint clink. Another inflatable butt plug hummed inside his sore anus, his faded welts a pink tracery across his skin.
Claire and James knelt on the grass; leashes taut from their necks to the patio posts to which they were tied. Their bodies again encased in the punishing devices from James's earlier display, the spiked cage and belt, and a push-up metal bra for Claire with a toothed edge doing the "push-up." Laura rose, her smirk a razor's edge, and snatched the key to Claire's belt dangling on its chain around James's sweat-slick neck. "Time to strip you, slow and shamefully," she purred, voice thick with menace. She knelt before Claire, gripping the vicious metal chastity belt, its jagged edges had chafed her hips and the left insides of her long, smooth, white thighs, raw with angry red welts. As she turned the key in the lock, the belt sprang open with a harsh clank, and Laura tugged it free. Laura prolonged the ordeal by deliberately dragging the serrated edges of the belt across Claire's groin so that the inner ridges scraped her labia's swollen, glistening folds. Claire gasped, a sharp, choking sob, as her pierced labia flopped loose, dripping with trapped sweat, her thighs quivering. Laura tossed the belt aside, its thud on the patio a dull echo, and seized Claire's spiked bra next. The metal contraption dug into the undersides of her large, firm breasts, hoisting them grotesquely, the clamps on her ringed nipples biting deep into tender flesh. Laura unhooked it with agonizing slowness, each spike peeling away to reveal raw, chafed skin beneath, red and inflamed, prickling with sweat. Claire whimpered, a low, guttural whine, as the bra clattered to the ground, her breasts sagging slightly, flushed and ravaged.
Sarah stepped up for James, grinning wickedly, unlocked his gage, and grabbed the spiked cock tube encasing his shaft. "Let's see the goods," she taunted, twisting it off with a slow, wrenching motion. The barbs rasped against his skin, leaving faint welts and a mottled flush as it pulled free, his shaft twitching under the exposure. His foreskin caught on the last spike as the cage was pulled free. He hissed; a sharp, sucking sound through clenched teeth, as she moved to the vicious spiked ball ring. She pried it open, the heavy two-inch-thick locking ring beneath it thudding against his thighs as it stretched his scrotum downward, the skin taut and veined, a deep bruised purple. She wondered how much more he would have been pulled if his massive, heavy scrotum piercing were in place and holding a heavy weight. Having second thoughts and thinking this wouldn't impede anything they wanted to do, Sarah locked the ring back around his scrotum and gave it a harsh tug. Megan tackled the open-center plug, gripping its flared base and yanking it out with a wet, sucking pop. His asshole gaped; a raw, pink tunnel framed by bruised, striped flesh, slick with residual lube. James groaned; a deep, shuddering rumble as his body slumped forward, utterly bare.
Laura wasn't done. "Stand," she barked. Claire and James staggered upright, trembling, and she untied their leashes, forcing them to face each other, inches apart, their breaths mingling in the stifling heat. "You're now stripped bare, uncovered, showing all, now strip each other's pride." They froze, eyes darting uncertainly. Claire's hands hovered near James's chest, her fingers twitching; James's gaze flicked to her face, then down, his jaw tightening as he faltered, unsure of the vague command. A beat of silence stretched, broken by Sarah's sharp laugh. "What, too stupid to figure it out? Take turns, rape each other's mouths and talk shit. Trash each other like the pathetic married fuck-ups you are."
Megan smirked, "Yeah, rip into those bodies; every flaw, every failure. Make it nasty," Laura nodded, "Start with her, James - go."
James hesitated, then lunged, grabbing Claire's hair and yanking her head back, her yelp, a shrill, "Ow, fuck!" ringing out as he forced her to her knees. He shoved his flaccid, welted dried-cum-encrusted cock past her lips, ramming it deep until her gag reflex kicked in, a wet, choking gurgle bubbling up as her tongue flailed against him. "You worthless hag," he snarled, voice dripping with venom, "look at those saggy tits, flabby sacks drooping like a cow's udders, nipples like chewed-up raisins. No wonder you can't get me hard, you're a dried-up bitch who couldn't fuck her way out of a paper bag." His hips thrust harder, her muffled, "Mmph!" vibrating against him, drool spilling down her chin as she clawed at his thighs, her eyes watering.
Claire pulled free, gasping, and sprang up, seizing James by the neck and forcing him down. She straddled his face, grinding her sweaty and dried piss, pierced cunt into his mouth. His nose mashed against her clit as he choked, a guttural, "Gah!" his tongue thrashing under her weight. "Oh, you limp-dicked sissy," she spat, her voice a vicious hiss, "that tiny little clitty locked up in its cage; barely a nub, is useless for anything but pissing yourself. Your boi hole's the real star, gaping like a slut's, begging for cocks 'cause you're a whining enema-slut sissy whore who can't satisfy a flea." You'd be good with your tongue if you could ever find a clit." She rocked harder, his muffled grunts turning to wet, slurping coughs, his hands slapping her ass in futile protest as she smeared her musk across his face. The women roared with laughter, phones zooming in with Sarah narrating, "Look at 'em, tearing each other apart!" A lawnmower hummed faintly beyond the fence, a dog's bark punctuating the air, reminding all that their privacy wasn't a given and they may have even been discovered.