Candice In Suburbia Ch 04

I was in the exercise room doing Bulgarian split squats when my girlfriend sauntered in. I had been at it for a while, but I could have kept going a lot longer. I was sweaty but energized.

"I've found a job opportunity for you," Anna interrupted cheerfully.

"Oh?"

I grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat away from my face, and gave her my undivided attention.

"Rudolph Acosta," she elaborated. "He owns a theater in Campo Rojo, and he wants to hire you as one of his performers."

Campo Rojo is on the east side of town. It's famous for having a thriving artistic community. The most famous dancers, painters, sculptors and musicians in Fairhaven all got their start there.

"What sort of performer?" I asked, a bit anxiously. "I'm not an actress. I took drama back in high school and it was a disaster."

"He's not going to ask you to act," Anna assured me. "He's looking for nude performers. He wants a naked damsel in distress."

"What?"

"His theater is unorthodox. A lot of his artists perform in the nude. And after you showed up naked at the Fairhaven mall, you became kinda famous. People have shared photos and videos of you. When Rudolph observed your extraordinary stage presence, he immediately wanted to hire you."

"There are naked videos of me on the internet?" I asked.

"You're missing the point, darling."

"How many people have seen these videos?"

Anna shrugged her shoulders and said, "The point is, he was impressed, and he wants to put you on stage. If you're going to be naked in front of an audience, you might as well get paid for it. Don't you agree?"

* * *

Things moved fast. My first live performance at Rudolph's theater took place the week after our discussion, and it was a memorable experience. Anna parked around back, and I was taken to one of the dressing rooms where I was introduced to Marlo and Izabel.

Both women were impressively tall, and athletic in appearance. When I arrived, they were getting dressed and they asked me to help zip them up into their wetsuits.

Those black, skin-tight suits looked great on them, especially the way they showcased their long legs, flat bellies and narrow waists. Marlo and Izabel both looked deliciously svelte and sexy. I could hardly wait to get onstage with them, in spite of my performance anxieties.

None of Rudolph Acosta's performance artists used their real names when performing in his theater. Marlo's stage name was Martine. Izabel's stage name was Sigrid. Anna had picked out my stage name for me. She decided that I should be named Cinderella.

"I can see why Rudolph hired you," Martine said. "You're adorable."

"It's not just the sex appeal," Sigrid added. "You look so innocent and wholesome. You'll have no problem playing the role of a damsel in distress."

Neither Anna nor Rudolph had bothered to tell me much about what I'd be doing once I got on the stage, so it fell to my fellow performance artists to explain it to me.

"You'll be taken onto the stage, naked and in handcuffs. You'll act the part of a naked slave girl. You won't say anything, and you don't need to do anything except what we tell you to, while Sigrid and I abuse you for the entertainment of the patrons.

"What sort of abuse?" I asked, starting to wonder if I'd made a big mistake.

"Nothing you can't handle," Sigrid assured me. "We've been told about the sorts of things you've endured in the past. We'll be doing some BDSM stuff to you, but it will be mild compared to some of the stuff that's happened to you in the last three years."

"You know about my time in Verborgen?" I asked.

"We know enough. Anna took plenty of photos and videos of your time there. She sent some of them to us as email attachments."

"I saw a video of you being whipped. Nothing we're doing to you tonight will be anywhere near as painful as that."

Then Martine told me to place my hands behind my back so I could be handcuffed.

"It's part of the whole damsel in distress image we're trying to project. Our audience always enjoys that sort of thing."

I placed my hands obediently behind my back and allowed Martine to make me her helpless prisoner. Of course, she didn't stop there.

"The next wicked surprise is this thing that goes inside you."

Martine held up an object that was smooth and glossy, like a large, polished stone of black onyx.

"It's an egg vibrator with ten different speeds," Sigrid explained. "I'll have the remote control, and I'll torment you with it while the people in the audience get to enjoy watching your reactions."

"Um...," I replied inarticulately.

Martine reached between my legs and played with my pussy, trying to get my pubic lips apart. I was already wet, and it didn't take a lot of effort on Martine's part to get my vagina to open up for her.

Ohhhhh!"

Her fingers probed deep into my throbbing sex and explored the interior of my vagina. It seemed unnecessary to me for her to spend so much time with her fingers inside of me, but once I was handcuffed, my submissive tendencies took over, and I humbly submitted to everything they did to me without complaining.

After several minutes of playing with my pussy, Martine pushed the egg inside. Even before she turned it on, I could feel the smooth surface of the egg brushing against sensitive nerve endings, and my vaginal muscles reflexively contracted.

My legs felt wobbly, and I squirmed as I felt a soft, wet pulse in my loins. Just having the egg inside me stimulated my libido. How was my body going to react when the thing was vibrating?

"Good, the egg is situated," Martine said. "And it's almost showtime. Let's get you out there, on stage."

Martine and Sigrid were both clothed. I was naked, my hands bound behind my back, and every step through the corridors made me more aware of the thing inside of my vagina. I was feeling more and more like a sex slave the closer I got to the stage.

The stage wasn't quite what I was expecting. The floor was concrete and the walls surrounding me looked like they were made of limestone. The whole atmosphere was less like that of a theater stage and more like that of a dungeon.

While I was on stage the glare of the spotlight obscured my view of the audience. I never got a clear look at the people out there, but I'm sure they got a good look at me.

"This delicious morsel is named Cinderella," Martine announced to the crowd. "She's new, but you're going to love her!"

Martine ordered me to do a slow turn, so the theater patrons could view my naked body from every angle. I was stopped in mid-turn and ordered to raise my bound wrists, so the audience could have an unobstructed view of my bare buttocks.

"Isn't she adorable, folks?" Martine called out.

There were sounds of approval from the crowd. Then Martine described what was in store for me.

"Cinderella has a vibrating sex toy shoved deep in her vagina. I could be nice and remove it. Or I could put Cinderella in suspension bondage and watch her go crazy with lust as Sigrid turns the sex toy up to its highest setting."

My heart pounded urgently in my chest at those words. Martine paused dramatically before adding, "Should we be merciful? Or should we watch Cinderella whimper and writhe as she's sexually abused?"

The audience had strong opinions on that subject. Everyone shouted at once. Male and female voices overlapped and assaulted my ears. It was impossible to make sense out of the cacophony of noise, but here and there I could make out a word or two. Words like 'bondage' and 'suffer' seemed to predominate. I even heard one female voice call out, "Make her scream!"

Martine turned to me and said, "Well, Cinderella, the crowd has spoken."

Sigrid and Martine unlocked my handcuffs and proceeded to bind me a different way. There was a trapeze bar above my head. Sigrid walked over to a control panel and pushed a button, and the bar descended low enough that my wrists could be bound to it. Martine and Sigrid buckled leather straps around my wrists, securing my wrists to the bar, then Sigried pressed the button again.

The trapeze bar rose, and my body stretched taut as I was raised up as well. Sigrid didn't stop the bar from climbing until my bare feet left the floor. I looked down at my dangling legs, then up at my bound wrists. I became overwhelmed with a feeling of utter helplessness.

Aaaahhhh!"

Sigrid tapped some buttons on the remote control, and the egg began to vibrate. Its vibrations were powerful, and I couldn't keep from squirming and making shameful noises as the electronic device pulsed away deep inside me.

The egg's vibrations intensified. One agonizing wave of desire after another passed through me. My pussy throbbed with hungry spasms. My whole body stiffened, my heart pounded in my ears, and before long I was thrashing around like mad.

I was overcome with a feverish wave of lust. I thrust my pelvis uncontrollably and kicked my legs out in a licentious dance, all the while suspended naked above the stage.

"Ohhhhh! Aaahhh! Aaaahhhh! Oh God!"

I was swept away by a tidal wave of libidinous desire, hanging helplessly, twisting around in a lewd, shameless display. I gave up any semblance of dignity or self-respect as my entire existence became dominated by the intense sensations between my legs.

"Ooooohhhhh! Uuhhhhhh!!"

Sigried shut down the vibrations for a few seconds, and I went slack in my bonds. I tried to catch my breath.

I rested the side of my face against my upraised arm, but then suddenly Sigried turned the egg way back up again and I screamed out in wanton sexual desperation. My pussy began leaking fluids and my heart rate sharply increased as Sigrid manipulated the egg inside me, making it buzz and throb, making me helpless with feverish lust.

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

I danced on air, my bare feet suspended just a few inches above the stage as I shook and twisted my naked body in a frenetic display of agonized concupiscence. Fire pulsed in my loins, and I broke out in a sweat as my feverish desire became all consuming. My nipples hardened so much that they ached, and I sucked in my air through tightly clenched teeth.

I moaned so loud, I'm sure even the people in the furthest seats could hear me. My skin became tingly. I desperately wanted somebody to touch me. I suffered a powerful urge to reach between my legs and stroke my achingly hard clitoris, and I'm sure I would have if my wrists hadn't been bound.

"Our poor Cinderella is in desperate need of an orgasm," Martine said to the audience. "Should we take pity on her?"

Everyone in the audience shouted back as one.

"NO!!!"

My suffering was their entertainment. They had purchased tickets with the expectation of watching a naked girl squirm, struggle and suffer in agony, and they were getting it. They weren't about to show me any mercy.

Then the pulses abruptly stopped, just seconds before I would have reached an earth-shattering climax.

I hung there, suspended above the stage and tried to catch my breath. My breasts heaved up and down and for a few seconds I dared to believe that my torment was over.

"Oh, fuck! Aaahhh!!!!"

I gasped as the egg stimulated my g-spot with a short but extremely intense pulse. Then it died down. I was able to take one or two breaths and then the egg throbbed inside me again. I was so close to orgasm, but Sigrid seemed to have some sort of wicked intuition that allowed her to know exactly how to push me to the brink of orgasm without allowing me actually to climax.

It seemed like Sigrid tortured me for hours, bringing me right to the brink of a gyrating, boisterous, screaming orgasm, before shutting down the egg and leaving me whimpering with sexual frustration.

Then, at some point, while I was hanging there by my wrists, naked, panting and sweaty, Sigrid reached between my thighs and dug her fingers into my pussy. I whimpered, my hips swayed, and the fingers probed deep into my moist interior.

I wriggled and swiveled my hips as Sigried dug around in my vagina. Then Martine and Sigrid, both grabbed me and pulled my thighs apart, greatly reducing my ability to move. Once I could no longer swish and sway, Sigrid quickly got her fingers around the shiny device inside me.

"

Oh, God,"

I gasped as she pulled the device out of my wet sex.

Sigrid held the egg up, and Martine declared, "What a mess, Cinderella! You got your juices all over this thing!"

Indeed, the black egg was glistening with my juices. I moaned in embarrassment at the announcement, but the sound of my moans was drowned out by the sounds of laughter coming from the audience.

From stage left, a woman in an elegant black one-piece swimsuit approached, with a hose. Sigried held the egg up. The black-swimsuited woman trained the hose on it, washing my juices away.

She began to make her exit from the stage, but Martine loudly announced, "Cinderella! You're all sweaty! Let's get you cleaned up as well!"

The black-swimsuited woman turned back around and aimed the nozzle right at my helpless nude body. The first blast of cold water against my naked skin made me gasp and squirm, but it soon became bearable. After my entire body was soaking wet, she laid down the hose and attacked me with a sponge and a bar of soap.

With the massive audience watching every move, the woman in the black swimsuit lathered and rubbed and teased every nook and crevice on my body that her eager hands could find. She wasn't merely washing my body; she was also performing for the crowds.

I struggled not to show signs of embarrassment as she washed my neck, then my chest. And as hundreds of men and women watched, she lingered on my proud breasts, running her slippery hands over my nipples until they felt too sensitive to touch. I moaned and whimpered in protest, but she continued, all the while remaining behind me so that she wouldn't block the crowd's view of my naked body.

Martine and Sigrid continued to hold my legs apart, making it impossible for me to move around to evade the touch of the woman lathering me up.

Eventually her hands moved down my sides and hips, towards my swollen pubic lips. Her sponge and bar of soap worked magic on my libido. After her hands and sponge had rubbed across my clit about a dozen times, she brought me once again teetering on the edge of orgasm. But almost instantly, she moved her soapy hands further down my thighs, not allowing me to achieve release. I closed my eyes tightly and groaned with lascivious need.

"Ooooaaaahhhh!"

She hosed me down again, then she went at me once more with the sponge and her soapy hands. She took her time, leisurely soaping up my armpits, legs and vulva. I protested as she glided her fingertips across my pubic mound and rubbed against my swollen clitoris, again and again. The way she kept touching my clit was making me crazy with lust. It was all I could do to keep from screaming.

"Aimee! How did I not recognize you?"

Well, I wasn't exactly operating at peak mental capacity, was I?

I was already moaning from the red-hot sexual need in between my thighs when Aimee hosed me down for the third and final time. And it didn't help when she aimed a concentrated spray of water directly at my swollen, sensitive pubic lips.

Then, at Sigrid's urging, the jet narrowed and intensified, seeking those areas of my being where it hurt most: my nipples, my pubic lips, my anus. My body was urging me to curl up tightly in the fetal position, but that was impossible. The way my wrists were bound, the way my legs were held apart, my body was forced to remain wide open and vulnerable.

My self-preservation instincts were urging me to close my legs together tightly and protect my tender pubic lips, but Martine and Sigrid had a tight grip on my thighs and as my plump, glistening pubic lips were assaulted by the cruel spray of the hose, they worked my legs even further apart.

I screamed in helpless distress as the tall, domineering women spread my legs cruelly wide, putting my pussy pornographically on display. I felt every inch the helpless, innocent victim as the sharp, biting spray hissed and sizzled on my plump, sensitive pubic lips.

Then that wicked black-swimsuited woman I thought was my friend brought the nozzle right up to my poor, abused pink slit and forced the lips of my sex apart with the intense, narrow spray. I gasped as the water sprayed inside of me. That was painful, and yet the pain had a dark, sensual thrill of pleasure to it. The ache between my legs became a sharp, stinging pleasure, and much to my shock, an orgasm began to build deep inside my loins.

"

Aaaaahhhhh!"

As my sore pussy was abused the sexual pressure inside of me grew more powerful. I found myself moving my hips in a shameless, whorish manner as the cruel spray of the hose sharply forced my pubic lips apart.

The pleasure was painful, but the pain was a dark, sexual thrill. I gasped and moaned as my soft, pink pussy was tormented. I discovered that by angling my hips and pelvis slightly I was able to position my clitoris directly into the path of the punishing spray. I hissed and gasped at the sharp, stinging pain, but the pain rapidly coalesced into a seething cocktail of pain and pleasure.

The pleasure grew into a scalding, overwhelming need. It was so intense, I cried out in both agonizing pain and carnal pleasure. My hips bucked, my entire body shuddered, and I gave out a sob of orgasmic pleasure. I jerked and bucked and screamed as the orgasm went on and on as if it would never end. I twisted and squirmed, and surrendered to the sexual power unleashed by the cruel spray from the wicked hose.

Another deliciously intense orgasm surged through my body. I shook and shuddered spasmodically as wave after wave tore through me. I screamed my desperate, girlish screams. When it was finally over, I hung exhausted, naked, helpless, dripping wet, with my legs still spread indecently far apart. My chest heaved and I panted, unable to catch my breath, and then Martine called out to the crowds.

"Did you enjoy Cinderella's first time on stage? Would you like to see her on this stage again next week?"

Once again, the crowd was unanimous in their opinion. They screamed boisterously and demanded that I be returned next week to endure more abuse and humiliation for their entertainment.

* * *

"You were amazing," Barbara gushed. "That look on your face was so adorable! And you're the only woman I've ever known to have an orgasm from having her pubes sprayed with a hose."

Of course, Anna and Barb were in the audience while Aimee raped me with the concentrated spray from a garden hose. They delighted in my suffering, then they delighted even more in my wanton screams of orgasmic release.

"It was painful, but it was painful in a dark, delicious sort of way," I explained to my girlfriends. "I've reached a point in my conditioning where it's difficult to tell where pain stops, and pleasure begins."

"All the best slaves are like that," Anna commented. "Pain and pleasure get blended so thoroughly, they're very nearly the same thing."

Barb was fascinated by the concept of slaves getting sexually aroused by pain to the point where pain could stimulate an orgasm. The three of us got caught up in a conversation about it until Anna was inspired to demonstrate just how deeply I had been conditioned to enjoy pain.

Anna had converted one of the rooms in my house into a punishment room. It had bondage devices, and a fine collection of whips, leather straps, paddles and riding crops hanging from pegboard hooks along the north wall.

Anna ushered Barb and me into the punishment room and looked around, trying to plan out how she was going to proceed.

After several moments of silent contemplation, Anna turned to me and ordered, "Candice, place your hands behind your back and cross your wrists."