Tough Girl Ch 04

Kinky Reader - Abandon all hope, ye who enter, for herein the shit is about to get real.

Advisory: Intense Consent/Non-Consent.

The players are 18+ in age, certified STD free, and practice birth control. No drugs or alcohol allowed.

But those are about the only safe things about the fun & games to follow.

Enjoy,

xxox Emm

TOUGH GIRL Ch. 04

by Emmalee_Strict

© 2024

Bachelor Party Stage Two: Rapey Rave.

Everyone in the room was butt-naked now, except that the groomsmen wore goggles and latex gloves -- and sported eager, straining hard-ons, most of these buried balls-deep in some slave-hole or another. In Bree's case, two.

The room reeked of floral scent and gushing pussy. As a prelude to the current round-robin of rapes, the slave-whores had all been slathered with something like baby oil, but obnoxiously scented. The cheerful fragrance was a whole different kind of torture to Bree's senses. But the greasing-up etched the slave-whores' curves and muscles with erotic definition in the jumpy light -- which, when Bree saw it on the others and herself, made them look extra-fuckably hot. So there was that. And that was all that mattered.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

The disco beat thumped out the cadence of the craziness in Bree's head and the tempo of her torment: the pump-thrusts in her rectum --

"Unh-unh-unh -- ass-slave!" the Master grunted.

-- and the whip-cracks on her cunt -- THWAK! -- underhanded flogger strokes thrashing her most intimate flesh, sounding in time with the Master's anal thrusts --

"Unh-unh-unh!"

THWAK-THWAK-THWAK!

And from the Master in front, a counterpoint of cockhead pummeling her throat, alternating with the blunt percussion of bitch-slaps to her face.

"

Gulg!-HKKKK-K-K--

"

SMAK!

The spit-roasting made her feel squeezed in like bellows between the beat-measured bookend of rapes. She perched on one tiptoe, her other leg held aloft by an arm hooked under her knee as the Master fucked her ass sideways -- and her torqued upper body was held in the other Master's grip on her throat and ponytail, as his thrusting meat invaded her mouth.

"Gulg-gulg-gulg,"

she sputtered and retched. "

HKK-K-K --

P-p-please, Master --

!

"

He pulled out to wallop her beet-red face. "Has this useless face-hole been cock-trained -- like, ever!?"

It said a lot about Bree's descent into mindless plaything that as soon as the Master's denigration of her oral talent hit her brain, by some submissive mental alchemy, she transformed her outrage at the insult into failure and shame, and the need for punishment, and transmitted that down to her anus and labia, which were already receiving it.

THWAK-THWAK-THWAK!

"Unh-unh-unh!"

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

At a different tempo, off-kilter from the house beat, strobe lights stabbed at her eyes. The disco ball whirled a kaleidoscope of laser-light stars around the room. The Masters wore special goggles and ear buds to shield their senses from the maddening techno beat and light show. All that madness fell on the slave-whores instead.

And in Bree's mind, that colossal disadvantage was a colossal turn-on. She hadn't a clue which Masters were assaulting her mouth and ass, because none of her frontal-lobe pattern recognition synapses functioned anymore. The chipper, obedient slave-whore she had been at the party's start, who'd worked hard to remember all the names, was long gone. In her place was just the mindless husk of a girl -- three wet, gaping holes, and a long stretch of exposed slave flesh -- an empty vessel to be humiliated, fucked and abused -- in other words, Tough Girl at her best.

Last seen, Emma V-206's face was the same void of any awareness except that of her carnal and sadistic use.

"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" Her squealing voice, just a few feet away, still reached Bree's ears.

The blonde was bent over a chair back, unbound, while Master Vic buggered her plump ass. Another Master stood alongside her and cracked a dog trainer's agitator-whip across her back, its impact reporting like a gunshot. Her eyes were wide as saucers and filled with an ecstatic stupor, and her gaping mouth screamed, panted and giggled.

In the middle of the room Ranjani V-215, bent seductively over the ottoman, adeptly multi-tasked her service of a cluster of cocks with her three holes and two hands. Her oiled-up sheen was especially striking on her lithe, toned dancer's build.

"Ooh-ooh-ooh," she hummed melodically. There wasn't a shover or twitch of distress in her demeanor; she seemed to be casually doing what she was built to do.

Shiva and Vishnu, pray let me be just like her!

From across the hall in the front parlor, Bree heard Ginger V-218's ceaseless begging and screaming.

"No-no-no! Please!

Noooooo...!

"

There were no corresponding sounds of impact. But then, Bree remembered when she was in there dusting this morning, seeing the electrical equipment with gauges, switches and sliders, the electrodes, alligator clamps and metal stim-eggs.

"You weak-ass bitch, that's only the 'six' setting!" The laughing, taunting voice of the wretched bride-to-be's tormentor was that of fiancé Master James --

Suddenly, Bree's world spun crazily. "Ohh!"

She felt the cock exit her mouth, the hand leave her throat and slide down to her shoulder, pressing up. In a coordinated move, the Master in back hooked his hands inside her thighs and lifted her planted foot off the floor -- turning her so that she faced ahead, airborne, jutting ahead from the shelf of his hips -- her rectum impaled on his manhood.

"

Ooooh!"

she moaned.

The Master in front, leading with his grip in her hair, hauled her torso upright until her back pressed against the other Master's front, stepped in, and rammed his cock home in her pussy with a commanding upward thrust.

"

HHH!

"

Bree's breath clotted in her chest. Her body stiffened, her hips shuddered around the sneak-attack flanking maneuver of the two cocks, and her mouth made a quivering, soundless O-shape.

"Uh-uh-ugghhh!" grunted the Master behind her as his nails raked her flanks -- and his seed exploded in her bowels.

In front, the Master rocked up off his heels and his put legs into one ferocious up-thrust, which he held, calves quivering -- then Bree felt a hard, pulsing jet of hot jizz pounding her cervix.

And for her part, she didn't have to be told what to do. Gratefully, she imploded. "AHHHH!!"

All at once, her insides were a supernova of fulfillment. A feral animal awareness that she was being used, used fruitfully well -- and used up. Which she fed back to her Masters' cocks with a clenching of her holes. A reflexive sense of duty to use every erg her inner muscular strength to suck their balls dry. And when that was accomplished, she knew, somehow she would be emptied out as well.

She screamed and screamed. Her voice a riotous mix of gulps, squeals and choking laughter, she felt herself overcome with ecstatic joy at the pleasure she gave...

...before she passed out.

#_#

When she came to, there was a face in her pussy, and a pussy in her face.

The music was turned low but the BOOM still firmly dominated the room. The floorboard strobes were off. The lurid red and purples spotlights still danced, but more slowly. If what came before was a rave, the vibe here was the chill-out room.

Bree had a dim awareness that she lay on her face-up on the rug, wrists cuffed and resting in the hollow of her back. The cum-tasting labia briefly danced away from her mouth as the slave-whore above her moved to reset herself and give her mouth better leverage on Bree's pussy.

In that moment, Bree saw the dusky tone of an inner thigh that let her know her "69" partner was Ranjani. Feeling the girl's gentle hands on her thighs, parting her legs, she realized that unlike herself, Ranjani was unbound.

Another Master crouched beside the pair, his hand in her butt cheeks, working her anal bud with two, then three fingers.

And at the tail end of that brief moment of seeing, she caught a glimpse of several Master lined up on the couch. They were leaning back into the cushions, goggles off, looking sated and stupid -- but fluffing themselves at the sight of the girlshow. Recharging for the next round.

By her headcount, Bree figured there were another four or five Masters out of sight -- but still busy. From the dining room, the sound of rhythmic moaning and high-pitched, yelping chuckles told her that Emma was still being fucked in some way.

... And with that lay of the land in place in her head, newly refreshed after recovering from her orgasmic fainting spell, she shut down the rest of the world. As the darkness of a descending pussy filled her vision, she turned her mind solely to the task at hand. Once her girlshow-partner settled in place, Bree went to work. So did Ranjani.

"Unhh!" Bree's cunt shuddered and her whole belly clenched in reverence to the mouth skills the eastern love-goddess brought to the table. "Oh Dear God!"

Oooh, girl, did I say I don't care for the taste of twat?

she mused.

Well, for you, slave-sister, and for the cum taste on your lips -- and for the joy of doing it under orders to put on a show -- tonight I'll make an exception... yummm...

...And with that blissful thought, once again Bree plunged into a sense of mindless carnal use -- as jack-off fodder for her Masters' enjoyment.

Mmmfff!

As the girl's tongue found her clit, Bree blasphemed once more, but even the Good Lord couldn't make out what she said with her mouth full of juicy slave-cunt.

Next, dimly, she heard the sound of the doorbell. A commotion in the front hall, cruel laughter and muffled bleats of terror.

And shortly, the sound of the top honcho's voice, "Enough idling about, boys," barked Master James. "Line up the bitches to greet the newcomers."

Apparently, "line up" was a set protocol, because Master Jake -- the non-groomsman party attendant -- sprang into action. He yanked Ranjani off her partner and set her up on her knees, then pulled Bree into the same position. He clipped V-215's cuffs together behind her.

Next, manipulated by Master Vic's hand on the back of her collar, Emma V-206 settled in to her right. Master Jake cuffed her as well. Then he made another pass behind the slaves, ring-gagging each of their mouths.

Now the line-up lacked only one piece: Ginger V-218. Bree looked around and saw her just inside the hallway, kneeling up beside her intended's leg.

Master James was still dressed in suit pants, dress shirt with his necktie tucked in, his starched French cuffs neatly turned up one fold, and black latex gloves. He unclipped his leash from V-218's slave-collar. "Go join your slave-sisters, whore," he cooed softly.

V-218's face was a ruin of smeared mascara, handprints and cum. She dipped her forehead to the rug and crawled toward the middle of the room, ass high.

Jake met her at the end the slave-whore row and rotated her into position, cuffing and gagging her.

That was the last thing Bree saw, though, before she was reminded of her duty. At a snarl from Master Jake, in unison the slaves bowed their faces, settled back on her haunches, spread their knees, and bared their abused, dripping pussies.

The Masters on the couch sat up, boners alert with anticipation, but eyes on their boss. Bree sensed more of them behind her, equally attentive to the man of the hour.

"We have unexpected guests," Master James announced. Bree heard the sound of two finger-snaps. "Eyes, bitches."

As one, the slave girls knelt up straight, pushing out their pelvises and tits, and raised their faces to fix their attention on the speaker.

A bearded man appeared in the doorway into the hall. He wore a leather jacket, t-shirt, blue jeans and a shit-eating grin. Two strands of rope trailed behind his left hand, leading to something unseen past the doorway.

"Fucking Mike!" yelled one of the Masters on the couch.

Bree heard Emma faintly grunt beside her, a gasp of recognition, her body tensing... and her hips wiggling. Bree remembered her saying something about a Master Mike and his love of punishing her big ass.

"Who invited you!?" A chorus of heckles erupted, "Party crasher! Party crasher!"

He raised a hand and waved, grinning merrily, "Hiya, boys."

Master James chuckled, "Let's cut him a break, gents. It's my call. I'd have turned him away if he hadn't come bearing gifts."

He held out his hand and Master Mike forked over the contracts, which he unfolded and perused.

The newcomer moved into the living room, tugging the ropes behind him, and the next moment, the gifts were revealed.

"I brought bridesmaids."

"

Uhhh--"

Bree gasped huskily at the depravity of it.

The two girls stumbled into view, tottering blindly with pillowcases tied over their heads. Roped up with their arms box-tied behind them, the captives wore satin nighties, their skirts hiked up by the crotch­-ropes that bound their panty-clad twats -- the end-strands of which led to Master Mike's hand.

"

Mmff! Mmff!

" Underneath the hoods, the fearful, garbled protests leaked out of the girls' mouth --through what Bree's seasoned ear reckoned to be ballgags.

"Whoa, shit!" The first off the couch was Master Pete the Spanker. He went for the first implement at hand -- a short-tailed flogger lying on the coffee table --

But the boss held up his finger. "Not so fast. One of the bitches, my dear fiancée's bestie... looks like she's just signed up for the one-night, three-hole service -- no corporal. Now, the

sister

... she's up for a caning. That'll be me, by the way; always did want a crack at Gina's ass. But first things first, Mike -- which is which?"

The new guy shrugged as he made his way across the living room toward the slave-whores, unzipping his fly as he went. "Fuck, I forget."

Master James grumbled.

Meanwhile, the naked groomsmen rose and closed in on the fresh meat, their boners recharged. They started positioning the captives at the back of the couch, slapping their legs apart for tying.

Bree smelt the blood in the water, same as the Masters. It smelled like every pussy in the room. Which fed back into her own gushing flood of endorphins. Her slave-cunt simmered at the sight of the abduction-rape scene playing out so swiftly, violently and primally.

It'd turn me on even more to be an object of it.

"Wait a sec, lemme see," Mike said as he inserted his penis in Emma's face-hole ring. "Okay, the one in the green negligée, that's your slut's sister... I'm pretty sure."

"

'Pretty'

sure?"

"Well, take off the pillowcases, I'll tell you," Mike snapped, obviously peeved at the Spanish Inquisition while he was busy taking his voluntary-abduction bounty, or the down payment on it, out of V-206's mouth.

"No," James replied. "The hoods stay on 'til we're done breaking in their pussies. So it can wait."

While he pumped Emma's face, Mike glanced down at Bree. "Say, this the new meat? Hmm, V-219?"

"Bruh, watch your attitude," Master Vic chimed in. "You're coming off a tad entitled."

Bree melted a little at the sound of Vic's words. To her ear, his voice sounded almost... protective? She tried convincing herself that the notion was too self-important, that she'd heard it wrong... but failed.

"Hey, I'm inside the door, aren't I?" Mike retorted.

He took a step to the side and reinserted himself into Bree's ring. There was a

fuck-you-Vic

air of arrogance to the motion. "Doesn't look like I'm too late for the

whore-d'oeuvres

," he cackled.

"You're right, the groom had his say, so you're in with him," Vic replied, not quite amicably. "I'm speaking for the rest of us. You're on the outs with us, since the thing in Boise - we know it, you know it. You wanna start mending fences, bruh, start by acting like a guest in this house."

Okay, there's a whole backstory here. Nothing to do with me... right? Still...

"Oooh, I'm chastened," Mike said, waving one mocking hand in the air. The other one clenched Bree's hair while he levered her gulping mouth on and off his cock.

"

Gulg-gulg-gulg,

" she sputtered, straining to open her throat gate, just on the cusp of succeeding or failing. Coping or puking. She felt a surge of approaching panic. This cock was new to her, she couldn't read it, and she had no sense of whether it was capable of choking her out just to make a point in an argument.

"

Glg?

" Desperately, her mind flew a flickering hope that Master Vic, her recruiter and trainer -- her

protector?

-- was going to rescue her --

Then she thought,

fuck that, I can do this on my own -- can't I?

But with the next face-fucking thrust, her eyes widened. "

GLG! HKK-K-K

!"

And after that, she was far beyond wondering about Master Vic's interest in her.

This is self-preservation time.

So she put her mind to that, and nothing else.

"Like the man said, I came bearing gifts. Well, there's one more out on the porch -- if any of you boner-boys wanna go grab it? I brought the Rotisserie."

*Pop* Gratefully, Bree snorted in air through her nostrils. As soon as her throat opened, so did her ears.

Rotisserie?

she wondered.

Next, there was a pregnant pause.

Then a mighty cheer went up, shaking the rafters. "Rotisserie! Rotisserie!"

#_#

Bachelor Party Stage Three: New Meat and New Toys.

The Rotisserie, Bree soon learned, was a masterpiece of kinky blacksmithing that came in a large rectangular steel box, like an oversized road case for a rocker's prized Stratocaster. She didn't fully appreciate what the bundle of chains, joints and parts meant until it was fully installed: Fastened to the titanium-reinforced D-rings set in the archway of the pass-through and in the floor below, between the dining and living rooms, the mechanism was a single run of heavy-linked vertical chain, with bondage fixtures up and down the length of it. The apparatus was obviously crafted with meticulous care by expert hands, all the parts hand-machined for a very specific, diabolically-imagined custom use.

No expense spared there, you sick, evil fucking sadists.

The centerpiece of the apparatus, joined by the upper and lower chain at the twelve and six o'clock points, was a large metal hoop. Large as in, large enough to fit a girl's ass through, say...

"Fuckin' boo-ya, boys!" yelled Master Jake from the entertainment center, as he threw the switch. The disco ball was back in operation, and so were the strobe lights. So was the ravehouse-level BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.

Goggles back on and earbuds in place, the Masters were a heaving cluster of muscles in motion as they reanimated for round three. Eager to play with their new toys -- the girls as well as the equipment -- they rose to the challenge with dicks straight and minds bent.

Spellbound, Bree forgot her duty to keep her eyes down, or on the focus of her task -- she just had to take it all in.

And fuck ya, out of the corner of my eye, you better believe I'm looking, boner-boys!

she thought, the SAM voice flaring in her head. She was so fired up with desire, she could hardly breathe. She took all this in, and she couldn't get enough of it. It felt mind-bendingly depraved, heartless, and hot as shit to her at the same time.

There's a reason this gig pays. It's because I'm putting own my skin in the game, and on the line. Sure, I signed up for this, but I was a free-will slut before I was enslaved as a free-use whore.