Shana had been placed to stand facing the corner; she was naked from the waist down, eyes lowered, and her hands were classed submissively behind her neck. A humiliating position for a young woman who till very recently was a highly educated, intensely ambitious executive at a giant corporation. Her small, shapely buttocks still bore the marks of the abuse delivered there by the whips and cane of the three Czechoslovakian "bitches," as Shana ruefully regarded them. She had been tied naked and steadily chastised by the three till she was blubbering like a small child. Released, she had sunk to the ground, being then obliged to obediently suck and lick each of the women's pussies till they came on her face.
Her naked vulnerability was accented by the glow that emanated from her lower regions, especially her ass. Just visible within the divide of her buttocks was the silver head of a metal stimulator that had been inserted in her rectum. It had a fat bulbous head, but a slender neck and a flat base, so it remained tightly in its intended place. Her asshole felt open and vulnerable, inside filled by the device's full shape. The thin stem of the plug prevented its falling or being pushed out. It had been placed there to render her rear passage as open and receptive as possible. It had been agreed that it was too narrow, and must be made a little larger. The intrusion of its presence was a constant reminder of the way she had squirmed and twisted. hollowing her back and thrusting out her buttocks to bring the invader's cock deep in her ass.
She had submitted suddenly, squealing with sensation as warm come spurted into her rectum. The mean striving and petty victories of her corporate life palled by contrast with the intensity of her anal orgasm; looking back, she could not remember a time when she had allowed herself to do as she pleased, to abdicate responsibility, be a fuck toy, a slave, to be used and abused, to have no protection. The threat of the whip now made her asshole tighten; if she were to diligently please her captors, her bottom might not be so savagely treated.
In recent days she had carefully licked and flicked her tongue around the members presented to it; sucking them with great care, coaxing them to erupt in her mouth so she could swallow their salty come. When she had satisfied one, she obediently moved to the next and pleasured him. As they ejaculated in turn into her throat, she gratefully kissed and licked each wilting phallus to clean it of any remaining ejaculate, which she eagerly swallowed .If it was decided that she were to be whipped anyway, she would try to embrace it in spite of the pain. She would suffer through it and again entertain their cocks in her willing mouth and anus, gripping and stimulating them in either passage. Her back passage now responded passionately to the dick that pierced it, wrapping it in velvet folds of unimaginable softness. She milked the cocks that entered her ass, squeezing them in an exciting yet wonderfully yielding grasp, fondling them with her rectal muscles. Each had spurted its essence very quickly, unable to withstand the passionate embrace of her velvety rectum for longer in addition to the passionate, ecstatic moans she could not restrain. Her abandon to the entries into her various orifices was complete; she welcomed her partners into whatever crevice they wished to enter. The alternative was, after all, the liberal application of the whip or cane to her already stinging parts.
Now she faced the wall, eyes down, her bottom burning from scrutiny. The half naked figure huddled shamefacedly in the corner, her face scrubbed clean of makeup, dark circles under her eyes, bore little resemblance to the arrogant, gleaming young executive of a fortnight earlier. Her simple white blouse and neatly folded white cotton underpants were far removed from her expensive designer wardrobe. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes cast down as she listened attentively - not daring to take her eyes from the corner of the wall - for the arrival of her captor. Next to her, two lithe canes hung from a hook. The fading stripes on her pale, soft buttocks seemed to glow reflexively as she covertly eyed the instruments of punishment. She had already been given ample evidence of their agonizing bite.
She shivered as she thought of the cane; it was probable that she had been placed here, bottom and legs naked, for further punishment. The pressure of the plug in her anus reminded her of how much rather she would like to service her captors with lovemaking, than submit to unrelenting chastisement, pursued until she lay on the floor weeping, her thighs and buttocks on fire. If she were to invite the cane's strokes with a lasciviously offered rear, perhaps they would stop the whipping to fuck her after relatively little punishment.
"Step away from the wall. Bend over and grasp your legs."
Shana started fearfully. Quickly she turned, hands still behind her head, eyes lowered before the well set up young man who, fully dressed, towered threateningly before her. Immediately she bent over and gripped her shins, while the man selected a cane; it was a twisting instrument with a curved handle, slender and strong. She could not control her trembling as he drew the cane across the pink shadow of her last chastisement. Tapping her a few times to pinpoint his intended target, he drew back his arm, and struck hard.
A sharp crack echoed in the room as Shana winced at the impact, which flared across her bottom. But she made no sound, instead bending over a little deeper to present her soft cheeks. Obediently, though fearfully, she braced herself; the whiteness of her ass contrasted vividly with the pink stripe that crossed it. The first stroke was usually bearable; but the second, landing very close to the first, drove a squeal from her lungs. She was strictly forbidden to soothe the cuts with her hands, yet her bottom swayed in pain. Collecting herself, she prepared as well as she could for the next, and the next. Soon there was no question of keeping silent under the punishment; each stroke provoked another sob. At what must have been the tenth stripe, which crossed the others and hurt very much more, she let out a short scream. Experience had taught her already that too much noise meant the gag; and with the gag in place, she could expect a larger number of stripes. Better to let out only soft moans; this excited her tormentor and sometimes shortened the ordeal. Then she would passionately accept him (or her) into whichever orifice he selected and service him with complete attention.