Pleasure in the Pillory

I looked down at my breasts as I stood naked in the lovely little private garden, while my employer, Patricia, and her assistant Charisma, debated how to start my next hour's punishment.

My breasts thrust out beneath me like two oversized melons, the skin taut and stretched, veins showing across their voluminous spheres. This was because they were imprisoned in a sort of gunmetal grey pillory, which Charisma had placed on my upper body.

The "pillory" – which was, in reality, a sort of breast bondage cage – consisted of two lengths of metal which were curved across my body, one length going beneath my breasts, the upper one across the top of my big boobs.

Between the two cross-wise lengths, a similar piece of metal went from top to bottom, bisecting the other two. At the bottom of this upright strip of metal was a wing nut, which Charisma, with an evil smile on her face, had tightened until my breasts were trapped and stretched bulbously in the "pillory".

Beneath the outer extremities of the lower horizontal bar, cuffs held my wrists, so my lower arms from fingers to elbows were also horizontal to the ground.

Charisma looked satisfied with my predicament. "There she is, madam, all ready for some titty torture, if you so wish," said the lovely black beauty.

"And a delightful sight, too, my dear," said Patricia, who was now naked in the strong sunlight, as was her partner in punishment. "I think you can commence the next hour of pretty Penelope's punishment with a couple of laps of the garden – assisted, of course, by the buggy whip!"

"Any nipple clamps during that, madam?" asked the 36-inch busty beauty.

My employer pondered a moment, then replied: "No, we'll start her off lightly, I think, Charisma, we can increase the pressure a little later."

And with that, the 48-year-old historical romance writer went and stretched out in luxury on the large sun lounger from where she had a perfect position to lay back to watch my next session of discipline.

Charisma walked over to the lounger and from the roof of its sun canopy plucked a long whip, which I had not noticed before, staked out, as I had been, on the rubber sheet on the ground. The whip was long – almost five feet, I guessed – and thin. It looked an evil weapon of punishment.

"Right," said Charisma, stepping beside my manacled, breast-bound body. "It's time for walkies around the garden. First we'll go for a leisurely two laps – and with every step you take, you will bring your knees up smartly so that those lush young thighs are parallel to the ground. Nice and high prancing, like a proud young pony, OK?"

I nodded, realising that such a manner of "walking" around the garden would involve quite strenuous exercise on my part.

"And don't worry about the buggy whip, slut," said Charisma, "it's mainly for show. Mainly."

And as the word "mainly" fell from her lips, Charisma stepped back and cracked the whip across my bum, sending a searing flash of pain through them. Accompanying the crack of the whip was a shouted "Get prancing!" and I set off around the garden.

The way I was ordered to march around the garden was tiring, and if I showed signs of getting some physical respite by not raising my knees high enough, Charisma was onto my failings like a flash and the whip would crack against my bouncing buttocks and a cry of "Higher" would leave me in no doubt that it was useless trying to fool her.

After two laps of this my body was pouring with sweat, my pinioned breasts were heaving and I was gasping. Thankfully, Charisma was true to her word about her use of the buggy whip – she only gave me a couple of whacks with it during my two-lap torment.

I was then brought to a halt in front of my employer, who placed her champagne flute on a table by the sun lounger and stepped up to me.

"Really, Penny," she said, "such a fuss. You must be out of condition. I can see we're going to have to toughen you up. Feet apart!"

The last two words were a snapped command, and I thrust my feet wider. My mistress's hand slipped between my thighs and her fingers traced against the underside of my nates, then ran along my sex trench.

"Just as I thought," she said, bringing her fingers to her nostrils, "the little trollop is loving it. Here, Charisma, get a whiff of this!"

The black bird inhaled the aromas from Patricia's hand. "The slut," she smiled, "she's lapping it up. Time for those titty tormentors, eh madam?"

Patricia grinned and as she placed her fingers to my mouth for me to suck, she said: "The clothes pegs, I think, Charisma, they bounce around so prettily on pilloried breasts!"

From the table, Charisma produced two bright yellow, plastic clothes pegs, then she bent and sucked my nipples into erections before placing them painfully onto my hard nubbins.

"There, don't you look just the prettiest of pictures, slut?" she said, stepping back to admire her embellishment of my bound breasts.

"Two more laps – no, make that three," ordered Mistress Patricia, "let's really get her sweating!"

And again Charisma cracked the buggy whip across my bum to order me off on the prancing route around the outer extremities of the lawn, breasts bouncing, pegs waving wildly around as I pranced, causing sharp little nips of pain in my nipples as I took every step.

Three times I panted and puffed my way around the "course", and then Charisma whipped me to a halt in front of my boss's recliner.

Patricia stepped up to me and snapped: "Part those feet!"

I obeyed and once more felt her hand caress my pussy, only this time it was no mere peremptory exploration, this was an arousing, "Let me bring you to orgasm" stroking.

"Take the left peg off, Charisma," said my author-boss as she continued to run her fingers along my sopping sex trench.

The black beauty standing off to my left unclipped the peg and then started to suck on my nipple. Little streaks of pain began to flood through the released nubbin as the blood flow resumed to my poor niplle! Still madam worked her wonderful ways at my pussy, as Charisma suckled on my teat.

Gradually I was nearing my big excitement, and sensing my nearing orgasm, Patricia called out: "Get the other peg off, quick, she's nearly there."

Charisma walked swiftly behind me and unclipped the other peg, then repeated the sucking, licking and kissing worship to my right nipple, sending more pain flooding into the extremity as the blood began to course through it once again. And as she did so, the black bitch placed her left hand on my buttocks and then pressed a forefinger into my anus until she had intruded into me almost to the knuckle.

The anal intrusion, the pleasure and pain sweeping through my nipple and the magnificent masturbation of my pussy now reached a wonderful climax and as Patricia concentrated on my clitoris, Charisma pulled her mouth from my nipple, planted a wet, smoochy kiss on my lips and chanted: "Come, bitch, come, bitch, come!"

And I did, with a bellowing roar of approval as my mistress's deft ministrations at my minge produced the most intense, satisfying climax!

As I was regaining my breath, Patricia smeared her fingers all across my pilloried breasts, then Charisma removed her finger from my arsehole and stepped in front of me to lick and kiss my bunched up globes.

"Another three laps for her, my dear," ordered my employer, once more reclining on the sun lounger. "Minus the pegs, you can put them on for the three after that."

Charisma again walked sedately around behind me as I pony pranced around the secluded garden, before once more whipping me to a halt in front of the lounger. This time, my mistress took delight in sucking my nipples to hardness and attaching the vicious plastic pegs to my nubbins.

"Give me the whip, darling," said Patricia, "I'll keep an eye on her while you lay back and enjoy a nice cooling glass of bubbly."

And as the naked black bird lay back and supped on a cold glass of Dom Perignon, I was once more set in motion around the lawn, this time by my boss, who tended to use the whip a little more often than Charisma, although her blows were, if anything, slightly more lenient.

As I pranced my poor breasts jumped up and down, but not with sufficient momentum to dislodge the pegs which punished my nipples on the three circuits.

After being slashed across my buttocks as a signal to halt, the masturbation process was, this time, reversed. As Patricia removed the peg on my left nipple and began to suck on it, Charisma's strong hand went to work between my outstretched thighs, her fingers tracing tickling little forays along the labia, into my cunt and across my clitoris, while my employer sucked at a painful nipple with her mouth, and invaded my anus with one finger.

As Patricia had done, Charisma called out the orgasm warning, and my boss walked around behind me, pulled off the other peg, and started sucking while she insinuated another forefinger up my arsehole.

Then, moments into the attack on my poor right nipple, I felt my climax soar through me and once more I shouted and shrieked my ecstasy as the Big O paid me another visit!

Once more my breasts were smeared with my sex juices – this time by Charisma – and my mistress bent to lick and lave at my stretched flesh as I calmed down from my excitement.

"Enough prancing," announced Patricia, when she had slaked herself on my taut boobs, "it's time we perked these pretty little titties up. Let's get her seated on the sun lounger, we do have two breast whips, don't we?"

Charisma grinned. "I've thought of everything, madam, I know how much you like to administer a dual breast flogging."

And Patricia led me to the lounger and sat me down in the middle of the furniture. I was glad to be able to sit down, but apprehensively aware that my comfort was going to be short-lived!

My employer then sat beside me, on my right, while Charisma picked up two little whips from the table by the side of the lounger. She handed one to Patricia. They looked like gleaming strips of liquorice, about eight inches long, no more. They also looked cruel.

When they were seated on either side of me, Patricia kissed me lovingly on the mouth and whispered: "Thighs apart, place them on ours, darling."

I obeyed, allowing my pussy to be once more totally at the disposal of my two dominas. Patricia took advantage of my wanton display by placing her fingers on my sex and gently stroking me there, not to arousal, just a slow, tender stroking.

Then she looked across at her partner in pain and smiled: "Ready, Charisma?"

The black woman placed the short little whip which was in her left hand until it was draped across my left breast. "Ready, madam," she replied.

Patricia then laid the little whip in her right hand over my swollen right breast and kissed me softly on the cheek. "Beg us for it," she whispered.

"Please Mistress Patricia," I said, giving my employer precedence, "please, Mistress Charisma, please flog my breasts."

Patricia let go a low, soft chuckle and kissed my cheek again. "It will be our pleasure, my dearest Penelope, and your pain, my dear," she said, and then they struck.

Both women timed their strokes so that each little whip cracked home on my poor, helpless boobs simultaneously. I arched my upper body, gave out a little squeal and then the twin tides of torment flashed through my breasts.

I had hardly settled down than the two women again whipped my poor boobies. Again streams of pain coursed through my breasts, again they struck, again I squealed, my breasts bouncing as the dual dominas worked on me.

The first three strokes had been across the upper expanses of my naked globes, the next three cut into my lower breasts. And for the next three – yes, you guessed it, they targeted my poor nipples, still suffering from the previous punishments of the clothes pegs.

"Aaaargh," I cried once, then twice, then three times as the electrical current-like strokes shocked my poor nipples.

And finally, I could stand no more. "Mercy mistresses, mercy," I gasped, as the pain kept shooting through my battered breasts.

Thankfully, they ceased their flagellation, but then Patricia spoke: "Normally, I'd let you off, but I'm leaving it up to Charisma, my dear. I thought it was very rude of you to name me first when you begged us both to whip your breasts, so it's her decision. You plead with her."

And, as if to underline her point, Patricia whipped her little flogger down across my right nipple once more, dragging a mewling "Unnnfffff" sound from me.

Charisma brought her whip hand up to my chin and turned my head until I was looking directly at her. "And now, my little slut, why should I stop flogging your breast? I'm thoroughly enjoying it, what can you offer me to replace that enjoyment?"

I blinked back tears, the pain still flooded through my breasts. "I'll eat you, I'll give you an orgasm, dear Mistress Charisma," I begged her.

"It's a tempting offer, you know I like your mouth," said Charisma, but she was toying with me. "But I'll need more than a nice little bout of cunnilingus. Think pussy, but think outside the square of muff diving – or maybe not. What else would you like from my pussy?"

It was blatantly obvious what she was driving at, but I hesitated. A mistake!

"Well, since you are taking your time to make up your mind, please excuse me if I continue to whip your lovely big breast while you think about it," said Charisma, her little whip cutting across my lower left globe.

The pain thrilled me again, but it was a thrill mingled with torment. The whips were small, but acutely painful on pilloried breasts.

"I've thought it over, mistress," I nearly yelled, as I saw her draw her whip hand back again. "I'll drink your pee pee!"

Charisma smiled, then kissed me full on the mouth. "You delightful slave," she said, "you just know how to please a domina, don't you?"

And then the statuesque black beauty stood and addressed our boss: "Release her wrists from those cuffs, madam, I'd like to feel her hands on my arse as I give her my amber nectar."

Patricia complied with the request from her partner in punishment, then prodded me to a standing position. Charisma walked to the rubber sheet, gleaming on the lawn, and stepped into the middle, then turned and planted her feet about a yard apart, her minge moist and shining in the sun.

"Come on, you piss-drinking slut," she laughed, "crawl over here and start worshipping my pussy. I'll let you know when I'm ready to piss and I know we're on a rubber mat, but if you spill any I'll rub your face in it and make you lick it all up, savvy?"

I went onto all fours and began to crawl across the magnificently mowed lawn to the rubber sheet. On arrival at her strongly aromatic minge, I pressed my mouth against her mons in a kiss or adoration, then lowered my lips to her labia, then her cunt, then her anus.

As I began to move up and down her pussy, Charisma spoke words of encouragement – and words of teasing.

"Ah yes, my dear little slut," she told me, "you know I like this. What a pity it has to stop soon while I piss."

I continued my word, and then, after a couple of minutes of cunnilingus, Charisma, her voice a commanding hiss, cried out: "Drink me, slut, drink me!"

And I placed my open mouth against her quim, hopefully sealing it watertight as her strong flow of salty urine gushed down my mouth.

The potent gusher must have lasted for 30 seconds, then Charisma pushed my panting face away from her minge, splatted one final burst of urine against my upturned face, then pulled my head back onto her sex.

"Now bring me off, you piss-drinking harlot," she snapped, as I resumed my licking of her divine, aromatic sex trench.

At last, as she rocked and rolled on my hard-working mouth, Charisma's orgasm started to pour through her pussy and then she was shouting "I'm coming, go for the clit, suck it, flat tongue it, bitch, bitch, bitch!"

And then, with a shuddering, grunting upheaval she came hard on my sweat-pouring face.

With a sigh of pleasure, Charisma pulled away from my kneeling body and Patricia's pussy loomed into view. "We're going to stake you out again on this mat for your final hour's pain and pleasure," my employer told me. "Won't that be nice?"

I had my doubts, but responded like a good slave should: "It will be wonderful, mistress, thank-you mistress."

"Only I've changed my mind about putting you face down on it. Your pussy and mouth are so much more accessible if you're face up. Oh, and we'll leave the titty pillory on. Your breasts look so nice in it, I think."

And then she shuffled forward until her minge was settled on my mouth. "Now, darling," she told me, "your performance then was so arousing I've decided I want you to do an encore."

Her minge smelled strongly of sex juice as I worshipped along her labia.

"Oh, and by the way," she said, as I started my oral adoration of her quim, "I'm afraid I'm busting for a piddle. Still, you won't mind that, will you, my sweet little sex slave?"

I ran one long, slow lick along her lovely pussy and then breathed in a hush, submissive whisper: "It will be my pleasure, mistress."

To be continued.