The Entertainment Pt 03

"We're going to a picnic this afternoon," Julie said. "Go get ready."

I showered, shaving off all body hair, and threw on some old clothing. As I walked back into the kitchen, Julie came in dressed smartly. She handed me two blue pills, which I obediently swallowed, and headed for the garage. I grabbed our usual bag of gear and followed her.

It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at a secluded campground. We drove to the back, where there was a pavilion in an open field. A dozen cars were already parked along the road, and a bunch of girls were setting up the grill. We parked directly in front of the pavilion.

I stepped out of the car and froze. The girls turned to see who had arrived. I had never stripped outdoors in broad daylight in front of a crowd of mostly strangers before. Julie came around to my side of the car.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" she demanded.

Ripped from my shock, I quickly stripped completely naked and threw my clothes back in the car. Sporting a full erection, I stood facing the pavilion while Julie cuffed my hands behind my back and secured a collar and gag around my head. The girls gawked as I was prepped in front of them. Then Julie pinched one of my testicles very hard.

"You know what you're supposed to do. Don't ever make me tell you again."

She attached a leash, and with a firm tug, jerked me toward the pavilion.

"Glad you could make it," Sarah said, approaching us. The girls gathered around us, staring dismayed at my full nudity. Some of them I recognized from my last experience as the entertainment. Regardless, something about being completely naked and bound with an erection in front of all of these fully clothed girls in broad daylight was still very humiliating. The girls chatted with Julie for a few minutes while I stood there submissively, unable to hide any part of my nude body.

"While we're getting dinner ready, we thought we could take turns going for rides," Kate announced as the introductions wrapped up. She gestured to a crude cart beside the pavilion. It was not much more than two wheels attached to a board with a chair mounted on top and a T-bar sticking out the front.

"Go for it," Julie said. Kate grabbed my leash and led me over to the cart. She replaced my ball gag with a bar gag that had two long ropes attached to each end. Positioning me in front of the cart, she raised the bar up and placed it in my hands. Holding the reins, she climbed into the chair. After a moment I felt a hard swat on my ass from a riding crop.

"Giddy-up," Kate called. Somewhat startled, I stepped forward. The cart was fairly heavy with Kate on it, but I adjusted my stance and started moving the cart forward. Kate kept swatting my ass until I picked up some speed, heading out across the field. As we neared the tree line, Kate pulled on the rope connected to the left side of my bit. Somehow I instinctively knew she wanted me to turn left. We followed the tree line for a while before turning to head back towards the pavilion.

The girls watched us approach, taking in the full view of my cock bouncing rhythmically with each step. Kate stepped off the cart and Sarah jumped in. Without missing a beat, she pulled my bit to the right and started swatting my ass repeatedly.

Sarah was much more erratic than Kate had been, constantly making me turn in one direction, then the other. Because of that, we didn't get very far from the pavilion, but I was quickly becoming tired. When I hesitated after Kate changed direction once again, she shoved the crop between my legs and gave my balls a swat. I started to turn, but Sarah kept fondling my balls with the crop. She turned me back towards the pavilion.

"Look at this," she called as we approached the pavilion. "I can make his nuts dance."

The girls circled around. Sarah swatted my inner thighs with the crop, and I spread my legs obediently. She returned to tapping my balls, making them bounce up and down along with my cock. The girls giggled as they watched the show.

"Who wants to go next?" Sarah asked after a few moments as she climbed out of the chair. Another girl approached. "Just pull on this one to make him go left, and this one to make him go right. Use this to make him go faster," she said handing the other girl the crop. The new girl jumped in the seat, and off we went.

After pulling a couple more girls around the field, Sarah returned.

"Let's make this more interesting. How about a game?"

The girls murmured in agreement. Sarah extracted some orange cones from a bag and placed them around the pavilion. The cones had arrows on them pointing left or right.

"The goal will be to steer our ponyboy through the course. You must stay on the correct side of the cones, as indicated by the arrows. Whoever finishes fastest, wins! You'll also have a ten second penalty for every cone you miss."

The course wasn't terribly complicated. I figured it would be pretty easy. Then Sarah walked up to me an slipped a blindfold over my eyes. Now it was nearly impossible.

I felt the last girl I took for a ride got off and a new girl get on. All I could do at this point was respond to the tugs on the bit and the crop. It was vastly more difficult to pull the cart without having any idea where I was headed or where I was stepping. I kind of knew where the pavilion was based on the cheers from the girls. It wasn't long before I tripped over a cone. I quickly got back up and started pulling again.

"Four minutes and 15 seconds," I heard someone yell after a while. The girl I was pulling yanked back on the bit and I stopped. The girl got off and a new girl got on. This girl was noticably heavier. As I strained against the bar, she smacked my ass with the crop as quickly as she could. She was also much more agressive with her pulls, and I tripped when she yanked my head around really hard.

"Get up you idiot! Don't make me lose!"

I jumped back up and kept pressing forward.

"Four minutes and 50 second," came the call. The girl stepped off the cart, muttering angrily to herself.

I pulled five or six more girls around the course before someone shouted, "Food's ready!"

The girl I had just pulled jumped off, and I stood there patiently.

"What should we do with him?" someone asked after a couple minutes.

"Bring him over here," was the reply. A couple seconds later, Kate removed my blindfold. Then she took out the bar gag, put the ball gag back in, and led me into the pavilion. Julie undid my hand cuffs and redid them in front of me.

"Up on the table," Julie said. "Lay down." I climbed up on the table and laid down, face up. Julie slipped a rope around my cuffs and tied the other end somewhere off the end of the table such that my hands were over my head. Meanwhile, someone else tied my ankles off the other end of the table.

"Make sure it's tight," Julie called. I felt a hard tug on the rope around my feet.

I was now stretched out naked on the table, unable to move, my erection pointing straight up. The other girls began bringing their food over to the table and sitting all around me. They also brought snacks and toppings. Someone put a plate of tomatoes and lettuce on my chest, a carton of cookies on my legs, and a bag of chips on my face. I, of course, got nothing to eat or drink.

The girls chatted, ate, and drank. At one point someone spilled mustard on my thigh; everyone laughed. "Who cares?" someone exclaimed to additional laughter. Later, one of the girls, who had a parasol in her drink, said, "Can I?" and gestured to my penis.

"Sure," Julie said, and the girl gingerly tried to stick the parasol into my cock while the other girls cheered. Of course it hurt badly, and I groaned loudly. The girl gave up after a few attempts, and the parasol leaned precariously off the top of my dick.

Eventually the girls finished their dinner and started to wander off. A group of girls went out into the field and started assembling something.

After a while, Sarah came back and untied me from the table. Grabbing my handcuffs, she led me out into the field. It was getting dark, but I could see that the girls had constructed a St. Andrews cross in the middle of the field and placed spotlights so it was brightly illuminated.

At the cross, Sarah undid my cuffs, and she and three other girls tied my hands and feet such that I was spread tight. I was facing the crowd of girls, but the lights were so bright I could barely see them. I lowered my head to avoid the lights, but upon seeing my brightly lit naked body, especially my hard cock pointed straight at the girls, I was reminded of the humiliating and helpless position I was in.

I listened to them discussing how to start. As the sun finished setting, I could no longer see anything around me.

After a few minutes, Sarah said, "We're going to start by demonstrating some breath control techniques."

She walked around behind me and passed a rope around my neck. At first it was loose, but she started twisting it, and it became tighter, like a tourniquet. When it was tight but not constricting she paused.

"We now have complete control over when he can and can't breathe."

She turned it a few more times, and I suddenly could barely move any air through my throat. There must have been notches in the back of the cross because she appeared in front of me even though the tourniquet stayed tight. She ran her fingers down my side, from my armpit to my hip. It tickled, and I jerked but forgot quickly as my thoughts became consumed with struggling to breathe.

My vision turned red then went black, when suddenly my lungs filled with air. Sarah had gone back behind me and undid the tourniquet. I snorted air in through my nose and back out dozens of times. The girls applauded.

As my breath returned to normal, Sarah started tightening the tourniquet again. I panicked and struggled, but my bonds were too tight to allow any significant movement.

When I reached the point where I couldn't bring in any more air, Sarah locked the tourniquet again. She came back around in front of me and this time started fondling my balls. After massaging them a couple times, she gave them a hard dominant squeeze.

My eyes were fluttering and I was blacking out again, when suddenly the tourniquet loosened, and I was snorting air again. The girls applauded more.

I had only taken a few breaths when Sarah started tightening the tourniquet again. I panicked, but Sarah stopped before my breath was completely cut off, although it was still greatly restricted. She came back around to the group.

"Kate, are you ready?"

Kate piped up, "Yep. Ok, everyone, stand back a bit. I don't want anyone to get hurt... almost anyone."

I heard shuffling, then a pause, then a hiss, and out of nowhere a streak flashed across my vision. Suddenly an intense stinging exploded on my chest. Kate was wielding a whip. The pain was intense, and I felt the need to gasp for air, but I could only take small breaths, which caused me further panic and attempts at gasping. I looked down and saw a huge red line across my chest. The girls applauded and cheered.

About a minute later, I heard another hiss, followed by a crack, and my stomach exploded in pain. I groaned as loudly as I could manage through the gag and tourniquet. The girls cheered louder.

"Feel free to grab chairs," Sarah said. I heard shuffling and unfolding, then things quieted.

Another whip, and my thigh went on fire. Then my other thigh. Then my chest again.

At about one-minute intervals, Kate whipped my chest, stomach, and thighs for what must have been an hour. My whole front side was flaming red, although I was not bleeding much.

"Alright, I'm getting tired," Kate said.

"Cool," Sarah replied. "Feel free to check out the tourniquet and anything else you want to see," she announced to the group.

Leisurely, girls began to walk up to me, first checking out the slashes on my body and praising Kate's whip control. A few girls went behind me to see the tourniquet, tightening and loosening it a couple times, though not to the level of constriction Sarah had achived.

As more girls gathered to inspect my whip marks, someone said, "These look like they could get infected," then added deviously, "maybe we should disinfect them. Does anyone have the vodka?"

"Here it is," someone replied.

A bottle of vodka appeared in front of me and was dribbled on my chest. The stinging erupted all over my chest. I cried out, and the girls laughed.

"Hey, no talking," said someone behind me drunkenly; then the tourniquet began to tighten, cutting off my muffled roar. It loosened a few seconds later.

Again, the vodka hit my chest, and I writhed in agony against my bonds, much to the girls' delight. They continued to pour the bottle down my stomach, then onto my dick, which was a new burning in its own right.

"Hey, where's that-," someone said; then I heard running off. The vodka was now being poured on my thighs. Fortunately, the bottle was running out.

"I got the hot sauce!" the last voice proclaimed a few seconds later. The girls roared in laughter.

"Hey, be careful not to let that touch your skin," someone else said.

"Oh, yeah," came the reply. "Good thinking."

"Here's a spoon," a third said.

The girl squirted the sriracha directly on my dick in a big thick line, from the base all the way to the tip. It felt like my dick had been thrust into a blast furnace. I roared through my gag again, and the tourniquet immediately tightened. Someone was back there having the time of her life.

Then the girl started spreading the sriracha all over my dick with the spoon. I was certain my dick would incinerate to ash right there. The spreading continued for what felt like an hour (but was probably actually only a minute or two). The girls howled in laughter.

"Hey, let me get a picture of that," someone said.

The girls began to back up, and through the flood lights, I could just make out a phone in each of their hands, clicking away. Then they moved in for close-ups.

Slowly, the girls finished taking photos and wandered off to chat or refill their drinks. After a while I was all alone to wallow in my pain. I could hear them up at the pavilion; it sounded like the party was subsiding. I looked down at my abused body, the floodlights still accentuating every trauma.

A while later, I heard footsteps approaching; then suddenly a blast of cold water. Julie had dumped the what was left in an ice bucket on me. She undid the restraints on my ankles and wrists, and I fell to the ground. While I lay there, she forcibly pulled my arms behind my back and recuffed my hands. Next, she clipped the leash to my collar and began to tug on it.

"It's time to leave," she instructed.

Slowly, I rose and limped toward her. She turned and headed for the car as I forced myself to hobble along. Julie opened the back door of the car, and I fell in. Then she drove us home. I didn't even get off that night.