This is a FICTICIOUS story that contains elements of non-consent, abuse, and humiliation. If such things offend you, please do not read. This story is meant to be entertainment only.
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Special thanks to TRCIII for editing this series! His efforts improve my work no end.
Thanks also to Lucy and Tammy for inspiring and assisting with this story.
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As Tammy looked past the incredibly-thick oak door into the private members room, it struck her that all the people she was here to help were men. But then, at a golf club, that probably should not be a surprise.
She was here as part of her school's community programme—all over-18's had to do at least one day volunteering. Stuart had suggested the golf club. He said they were always looking for volunteers to help the older members that didn't really play anymore, but stayed for the social side. Apparently, there was always a need to help them with paperwork and some such, but Stuart said she would spend most the day sorting out issues with their smart phones and iPads. It sounded like an easy day to Tammy, so she agreed and got it sorted with the school.
As she entered the room, she was struck by how many of the 30-or-so men in the room seemed to be younger than she expected, some looking no more than 55 and still very capable of playing golf. She would never have expected them to need help reading paperwork or, for that matter, with their phones. As she walked up to the guy behind the bar, she started to feel a little self-conscious in her school uniform; her skirt was short, mid-thigh, and she had put on her black stockings this morning. The fact that her blouse was tight and straining against her large tits really didn't help. Her mind flashed to a St. Trinian's girl, and she felt sick in her stomach.
As she got to the bar the guy behind approached her and said, "Hi! You must be Tammy?"
"Hello, yes, I am Tammy, here to help." Her voice had an air of nervousness about it, which matched the nervousness she felt. Something was not right here.
"Excellent. Stuart has told everybody here all about you, what you're good at, and we can't wait to use your skills," the volunteer behind the bar said. As he said that, she heard the big heavy door shut behind her; then panic rose as she heard a lock click.
"Look, I'm not sure what is going on, but this is not making me comfortable," she said.
Before anybody answered a hand went up her skirt and pinched her bum hard. Then from behind a voice said, "We have been told that you like to be forced to be a naughty girl, and that you take it in every hole. We have also been told you need to be punished for being such a slut and that no matter what we do to you this afternoon, you will love it because you love to be humiliated."
Tammy spun around, to find a very large man about 60 in front of her. She tried to sidestep, but he followed and then her arms were grabbed from either side. As she was dragged to a table, she thought to herself, 'There is not an untrue word in what he said. If they use me, I will love it, but I am damned if I will make it easy for them.'
She was sat on the table; it was pretty sturdy. First her blouse was removed, then her skirt, and she sat there in only her lacy black bra, her little matching thong, and stockings. It then occurred to her that she probably wouldn't make it hard for them; 30 seconds in she would be wet and want it. She knew she really was a slut.
Tammy was turned face-down and pulled down onto the table, held in place with her arse exposed, both her cheeks visible with the thong disappearing into her arse crack. Before she had time to think a slap landed on her right arse cheek, then moments later on her left. She yelped as the sting surged through her.
From somewhere in the room a voice asked, "Who is a dirty little slut that needs to be punished, before she is fucked?"
Tammy didn't even think. She responded, "I am."
Several more slaps landed. She grunted as they did, liking the sting. Then she wondered if she should mention that a while ago her pussy had been punished with slaps, and it may have hurt, but it also made her wet and she wanted somebody to do it again.
More slaps landed; she knew that her milky white bum would have a gentle pink shade now, and she felt wet. Her mind was on how many of these old gits were going to fuck her. Her thoughts were pulled back to the moment, as her knickers were pulled down and removed. The big guy that had stopped her leaving had them, and he said to her, "I'll be keeping these. You won't need them again today."
The slapping of her arse started again. She grunted with each slap, feeling the sting and warmth spread across her cheeks.
As a natural pause happened, she said, "You know, you could give my pussy a new slapping, too."
There was some hushed whispering that she could not make out, and then she was forcibly turned over onto her back. She was held on the table firmly, her arms still pulled out to the sides, but now two people held her calves and she was stretched wide, her pussy on full display, strong hands gripping her stockinged legs.
"I think you will regret that missy. My belt we destroy your little cunt and that young clit," said the big guy.
Being held as she was, Tammy could not see to be ready for the slaps. Her exposed pussy was just waiting. Then she heard a sound that was very much like a whip, then pain and fire exploded through her pussy lips; with a crack, the belt landed. It was painful and awful, and at the same time wonderful. She fought and twisted with the pain, crying out. The grip on her was strong, though, and she barely moved, despite fighting with all her strength.
Before she had calmed her breathing, the swish happened again, and again with a crack, pain exploded. My god, she had made a mistake asking for this. The sting that remained after the initial agony was worse than anything she expected. A hand came down gently onto her bald—and now very red—pussy, stroking and gently rubbing, searching out her clit. Then pressure was applied to make it pop up visible, no longer protected behind the top of her lips.
The swish and the crack. This time it was from her clit that the pain radiated out, burning, and making her twist again, but the after-effect was much more pleasurable. Her clit was warm, and bouncing—it was like it was being rubbed, even with no contact. She waited for the next slap to be delivered. For the fourth time there was a swish and then a crack, and again her clit felt like dynamite had been set off under it. She screamed out in carnal desire for more.
Another hit, her clit on fire, as she fought and twisted against the intense pain. She heard somebody shout, "Take your punishment, you devil slut," from across the room, before the hand returned, stroking so gently, almost wiping away the pain, leaving her only with the buzz from her clit.