Melissa hated the Walk of Shame. Every Tuesday - for girls 20-22 - there was without fail a new humiliation, a new degradation. In public for all to witness. With a handful of her closest friends. In most communities girls in the "flowering decade" did what they wanted, got what they wanted, and of course, the better a girl looked, the more she ruled.
Not so in The Village Community. Quite the reverse. A girl in her flowering decade didn't do what she wanted; she did what she was told. She didn't get what she wanted; she took what she got. And the better she looked, the more she must take it like a champ.
Melissa was a superstar in the looks department. Shiny jet-black hair that hung straight down to her tailbone. A face to launch a thousand ships. Wide eyes, high cheekbones, a slender nose above a beautiful mouth. Tanned all over except for what the bikini kept white. Not a molecule of fat anywhere. You could bounce a quarter off her well-defined abs, or flip her over for a couple of well-timed swats on the butt. Or bounce the quarter. I've tried it both ways, and slapping Melissa on her firm, round butt is definitely the way to go. Easy to see why she had won a string of beauty pageants at age 18 and 19. Those who fly highest take the greatest fall.
The beautiful outfits Melissa was accustomed to wearing had been replaced by...well, nothing actually. Which made it easy to get an intimate look at Melissa as she stood nude and ready to walk hand and foot. At least she was not alone, she thought, looking to her left and her right. Today she was flanked by three blondes on either side as they stood on the starting platform. All had been high school cheerleaders accustomed to withholding their favors and tormenting their male classmates. Leading them on with suggestive remarks, getting them worked up, and then going cold. They were cold now, as the frigid air blew down on each one, until the shivering began.
The world had turned inside out, Melissa thought as she stood erect with one foot on either side of the walkway. Seven lanes for seven girls. Each had a pair of 6 inch pathways separated by a variable size water-way that could widen out to as much as 48 inches. Which will completely expose a girl's pussy pad and butthole to anyone who cares to take a look when she is bent over. Handholds stood out from whatever liquid was in the waterway. A 100 yard walk sounds like no big deal, but try it stripped raw, legs spread, sex exposed, and being groped or worse the entire way. To say nothing of the pre-walk warmup that in its own way was worse than the walk itself.
The Walk was also a race. No prizes for winning, but no girl wanted to be among the bottom three, emphasis on the word bottom. A gong sounded and six additional handlers came forward from the assembled crowd. One by one they put a stool down to the side of a girl and assumed a perch. I took up a similar position alongside Melissa. She, like the other girls, stood tall with hands clasped behind her head. Which lifted her perfectly round tits in a way that invited, practically begged for, some serious attention. Ah Melissa, be careful what you wish for.
A single gong sounded. Time for each girl to assume the position she was now commanded. I gave my girl "Attention". She put her feet on the 30" markers, threw her shoulders back and pushed out her tits. Then she reached between her legs and pulled her pussy lips as far apart as they would go. She uttered the only syllable she was allowed.
"Sir!"
Which she was only ever allowed to say when she thought she had successfully completed a task, obeyed a command, sucked a cock, taken it in the ass; that kind of stuff.
I surveyed Melissa carefully to measure her compliance. In my peripheral vision I could see variations on a theme of Let Beauty Suffer. Jason, who at 6'6" and a rock-hard 240 was a slightly larger version of myself, had lifted his girl completely off the ground. He had wrapped her long curly hair around his fist in a high ponytail to straighten her up and then pushed his arm between her legs until he gripped her crotch in the crook of his elbow. Afraid to fall she had instinctively thrown her arms over his shoulders and clasped her hands behind his neck. Instantly he shifted his top hand to the back of her head and pushed her mouth into his for a long deep kiss. Meanwhile sliding his hand up between her legs and gripping her firmly with the palm of his hand over her mound and his middle finger deep into her in the back.
I half-watched Jason go about his business and I ran my fingers gently up and down Melissa's spine. At the same time I pressed a finger against each of her nipples. It helps to have really large hands. I stood behind her, reached around and held her rib cage just below the crease of her breasts. I brushed the undersides and was rewarded with the sound of hushed breath. With my left hand over her heart I could feel her pulse increase. I palmed each breast, rubbing slow circles around and around, gradually increasing the pressure. Melissa leaned back against me. I moved my hands in a meandering motion down to where the action happens. She stood patiently pulling apart her lips. I covered her hands with mine and made her use her fingers to massage her slit.
She knew to keep working herself between her legs so I moved my hands back up. I caressed each nipple until she started liking it. I instantly pinched them between thumb and finger and twisted viciously. She gasped and shook her head from side to side, knowing better than to try and pull free.
"Good girl," I said, as I slapped her tits with alternating hands forehand and backhand. This let me pay proper attention to the insides as well as the sideboob. Soon her white untanned skin turned a beautiful shade of dark pink. Her nipples stood at attention.
The murmur of the crowd increased, even more so when I slipped two fingers of my left hand inside of her as I ground the heel of my hand into her clit. And palmed her ass with the right. She just about lifted herself off the ground when she felt my middle-finger slide deep into her butt-hole. Probably because I had slipped my hand into a glove covered in β inch rubber nubs. She started to clench. Her muscles stiffened and I could hear a low moan coming from her throat. By now she was taking quick shallow breaths. I know Melissa, and I know when Melissa is close to exploding.
I backed her off just a bit, but I maintained my position in both her holes. "Down girl," I commanded. She released her pussy and put the palms of her hands on the floor in front of her, about the width of my hips. Melissa was now on only her hands and feet. Every part of her was available.
"Show your love for the Village now," I directed.