Double-Crossed (28 page)

The woman walked around to the other side of the wheel and tugged his erect penis through the convoluted spokes.

“If you're a good boy, Mistress will let your tiny ding-a-ling get sucked off. Would my little puppy-boy like that?”

“Oh, yes, Mistress,” the man panted.

Marianne's eyes grew round as the Domme walked back to the other side of the wheel and immediately lifted the whip over her right shoulder to bring it down with a hard
thwack
on the man's back. He let out a loud moan as an angry red welt rose up across his exposed skin.

She replied from the other side with another, then another, then another. The man cried out now, the red sores on his back thick and raised. Peter leaned in hard to Marianne, and she could feel he had his own swelling erection pressed into her ass. Marianne's pussy started to respond.

The tall Domme walked to a closed door near the table of tools arranged for their entertainment. Opening the door revealed a naked woman kneeling, waiting. Leaning down, the Domme kissed her hard on the mouth, then dragged her by her leash toward the back of the wheel. Pushed to her knees, the woman immediately leaned in to suck the dick poking through the back of the apparatus. Her face pressed hard against the wood as she sucked on her fleshy lollipop, her breasts swaying under her.

Choosing a smaller whip from the table, the Domme went to the man's back again and started her whipping, at a slower, more methodical pace. The man had the woman behind him whipping his back to a delicious frenzied agony and the woman in front sucking his dick through all that wood.

I guess it can't be too bad having all these people watch, either
, Marianne thought to herself.

Just at that moment, Peter leaned in and whispered, “Next room.” Holding her hand, he led her out to the sounds of the Mistress's whippings and the delighted moans of her adoring male submissive.

In the corridor, Peter turned to her. “How do you feel? Are you okay? That was some pretty heavy stuff in there.”

Marianne thought about it. She wanted to give as honest an answer as she could.

“Yeah, a bit heavy, but I did enjoy it. It was terribly sexy.”

He leaned in for a light kiss, not wanting to ruin her lipstick.

“Let's get you into another room.”

Walking down the corridor with her hand in Peter's, Marianne felt nervous anticipation from her lack of knowledge. Would Peter expect her to play as people did at the POS? Not knowing quite how she felt about that exhilarated her. She knew not to ask Peter what his plans for her would be. That was Peter's business at this stage of the game. She'd be finding out soon enough, and until that moment, only the fear and anticipation were hers.

The door a little farther down opened as well. Marianne learned from her research that these kinds of places would lock the doors if voyeurs weren't invited, and they'd leave them open if onlookers were welcome. Unsurprisingly they walked past a couple of closed doors before they reached an open one.

As before, Peter ushered Marianne immediately toward the back, where they joined about ten other folks who watched. It wasn't until in place—toward the front of the crowd with Peter pressed in hard behind her—that she could look around the room.

This room looked like an old 1970s-style classroom. One blackboard stood up the front, covered in mathematics lessons, and a clean blackboard that stood against the back wall. Maps adorned the rest of the walls. Desks were in lines facing the mathematics lesson, and behind each desk stood a chair.

Up the front, an older man wearing tight jeans and a simple button-down shirt read from a mathematics textbook in a droning voice. He taught seven women dressed as schoolgirls, sitting in front of him at their desks. Each woman had pen, notebooks, textbooks, and a bag by her desk. The room even had a slow-turning fan in the roof. The attention to detail impressed Marianne. The role-play must have been going for some while, as a woman stood in the corner with her back to the room and a tall dunce cap on her head.

“Amy, what's the answer to number three? I've asked you twice now,” the schoolteacher demanded.

He was an attractive man. He kept his body in good condition, although he had to be a good thirty years older than the women in the room. Looking at him, Marianne's pussy began to moisten. This gave the impression of being an exciting moment.

“I'm not sure, Sir,” stammered a woman in a tartan skirt, white blouse, long socks, and black shoes.

Sir slammed the book shut and threw it on the teacher's desk. Standing with his hands on his hips, he said, “That's because you haven't been listening. None of you has. First Linda is in the corner and then came that foolish, distracting giggling.”

A brief pregnant pause came before one of the women sitting down let out half a stifled giggle, setting the teacher off again.

“What! Jasmine, are you laughing? It isn't funny! I've had it with this class today. You are all very naughty girls, and you need to be punished.”

He turned his attention to Jasmine.

“Because you giggled, you'll go first. I want the rest of you naughty girls to see what punishment you will be getting. Jasmine, come up here. I am going teach you a lesson you'll remember.”

“Oh, no, Sir, please. I'm so sorry. I'll be a good girl. I promise I won't let it happen again.”

Jasmine looked genuinely afraid. If it weren't for the sly smile she gave the woman next to her, the act would have caused a little worry for her well-being. The small crowd watching turned their eyes from the hapless Jasmine to the teacher.

“You should have thought of that before you were so silly. Come up here.”

Jasmine walked toward the front of the room, and Marianne had a moment to look at her properly. She wore the same tartan skirt with long white socks, black shoes, and the white shirt as the other girls. But Jasmine's very short skirt distracted everyone in the room. It sat slightly below the curve of her voluptuous, smooth bottom, and as she walked, tiny flashes of those warm globes appeared for the appreciative eyes of the audience.

She stood before the teacher, her hands clasped behind her back, her swelling breasts trying to push their way through the thin, white shirt.

The teacher stared at her breasts. He swallowed hard.

“You know, Jasmine, your uniform is far too short. You need to be careful of things like that.”

“Do I, Sir?” Again, Jasmine's acting made her so believable. Her wide-eyed and innocent eyes looked up at the schoolteacher naively.

“Yes, you do. Turn around so I can show the other girls how short your skirt is.”

Jasmine turned around, leaning slightly forward to exaggerate the swell of her lovely, firm ass.

The teacher stood next to her, facing the rest of the girls. Moving his hands to either side of Jasmine, he drew her skirt up her ass a little farther, to reveal she wore a thong, leaving her full cheeks to maximum exposure. The girls in the class and the small group of voyeurs all leaned in to get a better look at Jasmine's ass. From behind her, Peter reached around to fondle Marianne's extending nipple, looping his fingers into the top of her corset to do so.

The teacher ran a hand over the honey-colored ass available for all to see.

Soon Jasmine said, “Oh, Sir, it feels good when you do that.”

“You're still a naughty girl. Skirts like this give men boners, and you must be punished for that, as well as the giggling.”

He lowered her skirt and walked around his desk. Picking up the teacher's chair, he carried it to the front of the room and sat on it, his profile to the rest of the room.

“Jasmine, come here immediately,” he commanded.

Jasmine stood, and her skirt slid down her bottom. Her ass wiggled as she walked to the chair. Standing with her back to the voyeurs, the teacher pulled her down so that she lay across his knee. Her completely exposed bottom, now available for all to see, wobbled suggestively, a truly beautiful sight.

Marianne pressed her own curvy ass back into Peter, to feel his intense erection pressing into her. One of his arms trailed its way around her body and held her belly close to his torso.

“Ohhh, Sir, don't hurt me,” Jasmine squealed.

“Watch this closely, girls! Soon you will all be getting the same.” The teacher lifted Jasmine's skirt high on her ass as he spoke to the other schoolgirls who were next in line.

With Jasmine braced across his knee, the teacher pulled her legs apart to reveal the thin blue material of her thong pressed hard against her slit. The panties had a growing damp patch at her opening, and all of the audience stared, mesmerized, at the beautiful, material-clad pussy with its lips curling out on either side of the thong.

The teacher lifted his hand, and brought it down hard—
smack
—on the naughty girl's bottom. She squealed with delight, and then he smacked her again and then again.

“Oh, Sir, please stop. It hurts,” giggled Jasmine.

“By the look of your hot little pussy, you are enjoying it!”

Smac
k
! Another slap bounced down on her ass. This time, the teacher ran his hand over the rounds of her bottom and slid his fingers between her legs to caress the wet patch that all could see gathering between her legs.

“Let's get out of here,” Peter whispered in Marianne's ear.

Without a word, Marianne let herself be led out of the room, perhaps a little reluctantly, the thoughts of that lovely dark pussy aching in front of her etched in her mind.

In the corridor, Peter grabbed her and pushed her against a wall with some force. He pressed himself into her body so that she could feel the strength of his erection firm against her lower belly. Kissing her mouth, he stuck his tongue deep into her, and lifted a hand to caress her breast over the top of her corset.

Pulling his head back momentarily, he whispered to her, “I want you to come tonight, but not in that room. Unfortunately, if I left you there too long, you'd get into a place where you couldn't wait to be fucked.”

A fair comment. Marianne knew she'd be in that place fairly soon.

“I want you for myself tonight; your first orgasm will be for me. However, I have another room I want to show you, and then I have arranged some people for you to meet. Our night's not over yet, sweetheart.”

And he pulled himself off her, taking her hand, ready for the next room.

Chapter Fourteen

Peter led Marianne into the next room. It looked like a dungeon, even to a novice like Marianne.

The walls were painted black, and large black candlesticks dotted strategically about the room. They had enough light to see well, but again only by candlelight, which gave the room an eerie and romantic kind of glow. The black paint extended even to the cement floor. On the windows that formed part of the external wall hung long, black velvet curtains with huge black ropes and tassels holding them in place. Because of the stark nature of the place, the coolness made Marianne's nipples stand out hard inside her corset.

Once more, a group of about five people stood in a corner, acting as witness to the proceedings. In the middle of the room were four people wearing large, heavy robes. They prepared two tables made of thick, chunky wood. Together they pushed the tables next to one another.

Priestly chants added to the atmosphere of a kind of religious sacrifice. The whole scene looked as though a ritual would be performed.

On each table, large shackles attached to big D rings, stood out of each corner, and one of the robed people placed a rope at each end.

“What's going to happen?” Marianne asked Peter.

“Shhh…You can't stay if you talk. You have to just watch.”

Peter looked rather sternly at her, and Marianne felt ashamed for a brief moment. She looked around and saw that a few of the others were looking at her, and she reprimanded herself for shaming Peter in this way, and by extension, shaming herself. Sure, they were in a game, but the best way to play it used everything inside of her, and she wanted to play it right.

Looking back at the scene in the room, the distraction in front of her made all associated with the mistake forgotten.

Two of the four people in cloaks left the room through a small side door the size of a walk-in cupboard. They emerged straightaway with two people, a man and a woman, who were blindfolded and naked, the man sporting a huge erection. Their bonds were rope, tied chain-gang style, through the hands and the feet. They'd both been fitted with leather straps around their feet and their hands, straps that had large D rings on them.

Marianne watched wide-eyed.

They brought the two people to the tables. Due to the tightness of their bonds, they hobbled as they walked, increasing their humiliation. In a way, it amused her, although Marianne wasn't going to admit it.

Then, in an awkward, but at the same time apparently practiced move, two of the robed figures lifted the couple, one at a time and placed them on the tables. Marianne assumed they must be men. The other two figures lifted the feet at the same time and helped to get the couple in place. Now began the business of tying each of them spread-eagled to the shackles. The man's erection lurched forward, obvious to all, and every now and then some acolyte would bang against it, and it would wobble about.

With the couple tied to the table and unable to move, the chanting intensified, getting louder and faster, a tone higher now. The pleasure coming from the couple on the table filtered through the air, such that every witness envied them. The four robed people followed the music's direction and moved around the couple on the table in time with the chants. Marianne pressed into Peter's body. He had his arms around her in a protective manner, and she turned her face into his chest if it got to be a little too much. The eerie nature of this wound its way around her. Even though she knew it to be a game, its seriousness weighed heavily.

The robed people worked themselves up into frenzied dancing around the couple on the table. The man's erection strengthened and soon one of the robed people dipped his fingers into the vagina of the woman and brought them out covered with her juice. He fed them to her mouth, and she arched herself against the restraints in order to suck his fingers clean.