Official Disclaimer: All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older. No cheerleaders were harmed in the writing of this story.
* * *
Cheerleaders need exceptional cardiovascular endurance and running is a cardiovascular exercise, so I run a lot of laps each week. All the running benefits my legs too. You should see my legs. They’re amazing!
I was just starting my tenth lap when Elizabeth showed up on the athletic field. She saw me running laps and she sprinted across the field to catch up with me. She had a great deal of distance to cover to catch up with me, however she has long legs, and she has lots of energy. She caught up with me and then slowed her pace to match mine.
“Hey, Scarlett,” she said as she ran beside me, “lookin’ good.”
“Hey, Lizzie,” I said, briefly nodding in her direction. “You’re looking pretty good yourself.”
“I got a text message from Ms. Streng,” Elizabeth confided. “She wants to see us Friday night at eight.”
“Oh, God,” I exclaimed.
Ms. Streng was an older lesbian woman who, Elizabeth had informed me right before our first visit, had quite a reputation for kink. I’d only met with her once but during that introductory meeting I found her capacity for kinkiness to be exceptional indeed. My nipples stiffened and I got butterflies in my stomach just thinking about her.
We continued running laps around the track, side by side, keeping up a respectable pace as we talked. “Did she say what she’s going to do to me this time? Last time I went to her place, it was pretty intense.”
“She wants it to be a surprise,” Elizabeth explained. “She thinks it will be more fun that way.”
“Is she still planning on spanking me?” I asked.
“You have the most adorable, perfectly shaped ass she’s ever seen. What do you think?”
My heart pounded a little more insistently in my chest at the thought of being stripped naked and spanked by the imperious older woman. I’d imagined spankings being sexy, but I had no practical experience. My parents had never spanked me, and I’d never had a girlfriend or lover who was into spanking. I was uncertain just how much pain was involved, and I was worried that I might not be able to handle it.
I wasn’t the only one with a well-shaped bottom. When Elizabeth pulled ahead of me, I could see the outline of her cute, round ass in her tight running shorts. Her ass could tempt a priest or a nun to violate their holy vows. I suppose that’s part of the reason she was able to get me to go along with crazy schemes like the mysterious sex games at Ms. Streng’s house. I found myself running just fast enough to keep an eye on her admirably tempting backside for as long as we kept running.
* * *
When Friday night rolled around, Elizabeth came by my house to pick me up. I heard her familiar knock and went to answer the door. I was surprised to see that Lexi and Nikki were with her.
“Lizzie,” I said, “why are Lexi and her sister here?”
“I told Ms. Streng about how these two helped me to objectify and sexually violate you out in the woods and she wanted to meet them. She thinks that they could be a real asset at tonight’s party.”
“Yeah, we have experience objectifying you!” Lexi bragged boisterously.
“Shhh! Keep it down!” I admonished Lexi. “Do you want my step-mother to hear you talking like that?”
Lexi looked suitably chastised, and she lowered her voice.
“Are you ready to go?” Elizabeth asked. I nodded and said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.”
Lexi and her sister were exceedingly excited and extolled the idea of me being stripped naked and sexually objectified by a former teacher. “Could you imagine if a teacher did that to her in school?” Lexi asked. “I mean, just picture it, you’re in class, the teacher lectures you for not doing your homework, then she makes you strip naked, and she spanks you in front of all the other students!”
I felt an insistent throb in my sex at the prospect of such a public humiliation, but I didn’t share that information with the other women in the car. Instead, I said, “The school would never allow a teacher to do that.”
“Well, Ms. Streng is no longer a teacher,” Elizabeth replied. “She can strip you naked and she can spank you.”
Then Lexi piped in and added, “And Lizzie and I are students who can watch when she does things like that to you. Maybe it won’t be done at school, but it’s still incredibly kinky.”
* * *
When we arrived at Ms. Streng’s ostentatious home her maid Greta let us in. As per usual, she looked at me like I was an annoying stray cat that kept showing up on her front doorstep. However, she allowed my friends and me to come inside.
Lexi and Nikki hadn’t met Greta before, so I made some quick introductions. Greta didn’t seem at all interested in meeting my friends, then she turned to me and said, “You must undress now.”
“What?” I asked, thinking I must have heard her incorrectly.
“Ms. Streng has instituted a new household rule,” Greta explained. “She will not see you until you are completely naked, so I will not take you back to see her until you strip.”
I turned to Elizabeth, hoping for some sort of support or compassion, but she just gave me a look of surrender and said, “Hey, don’t look at me! You knew she was kinky before you agreed to meet with her!”
So, there was no help from Elizabeth, and Lexi said that she wholeheartedly approved of Ms. Streng’s new rule. With a heavy sigh I bent over, untied my shoes, and took them off. I handed my shoes over to Greta, and she dumped them into a nearby laundry hamper.
“You’ll get your clothes back when it’s time for you to go home,” Greta informed me.
All four women watched with rapt attention as I stripped. My jeans were nearly skintight and when I pulled them down, my panties were dragged down slightly with them. Lexi stared at my nearly naked body with a predatory look, and I wondered how long she had thought of me as a sex object. Was it only just since Elizabeth invited her into our kinky lesbian sex games? Or had she secretly lusted after me for years?
By the time I was down to just my panties, I felt defeated and submissive to all four of the clothed women watching me. I sighed in resignation as I hooked my thumbs into the elastic waistband of my delicate panties and pushed them all the way down. I felt a surge of shame as I bent down and picked my panties off the floor, and I handed them to Greta without making eye contact.
While I was waiting for Greta to lead me to her boss, Lexi grabbed my ass from behind and gave it a squeeze. “Hey!” I yelped and jerked away from her. Then Nikki slapped me hard across my buttocks and said, “Don’t yell at my sister like that! You’re here tonight to be sexually objectified. Lexi should be able to fondle your ass as much as she wants.”
Lexi, Elizabeth and Greta all chimed in and agreed with Nikki’s assessment of the situation and when Lexi placed her hands on my naked buttocks once more, I held my tongue and passively allowed her to touch me as much as she wanted.
After Lexi was done feeling me up, the authoritarian maid marched me naked down the hall to meet with her employer. I was made to walk in front, so the other women could stare at my ass as we walked. I was ordered to walk into Ms. Streng’s office just as she was finishing up a zoom meeting. Greta pressed her hand firmly into the small of my back and pushed me forward.
When Ms. Streng saw me enter, she looked up from her computer, eyed me up and down and said, “Scarlett, it’s so nice you could join me this evening. You’re looking lovely as always.”
I was looking naked, and I could feel my face burn hot as my naked body was the center of attention and now there were five women staring intensely at my naked body. It was both scary and exciting to be so naked and sexually objectified by such strong, authoritarian women.
“When you invited me, it never even occurred to me to refuse,” I said, feeling self-conscious about being the only naked one in the room.
“Of course, it didn’t,” Ms. Streng replied. “You crave the approval of dominant women like me. It’s part of your submissive nature. It’s one of the things about you I find so endearing.”
Ms. Streng got up from her desk and closed the distance between us. She was taller than me and I felt immediately intimidated by her as she stood intimately close.
“Clasp your hands behind your back, dear,” Ms. Streng ordered, and I immediately obeyed. I suppose that’s an example of the submissive nature Ms. Streng was talking about.
With my hands behind my back, I felt like a naked prisoner. My shoulders were pulled back and my breasts were thrust forward. The imperious older woman took advantage of my vulnerable breasts and grasped my nipples between her thumbs and index fingers. She knew exactly how to play with a girl’s nipples to drive her to exalted heights of excitement. By the time my nipples were released, I was panting, my nipples were embarrassingly erect, and my sex throbbed with hungry spasms.
“Are you glad that you accepted my invitation?” Ms. Streng asked, and my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears I could barely make out the words that she had said.
“Oh, yes,” I replied breathlessly.
“I’ve invited several other dominant women to participate in tonight’s libidinous activities,” Ms. Streng informed me. “Does that frighten you?”
The thought of having my naked body ogled and sexually objectified by an even larger crowd than the one currently in Ms. Streng’s office made my feelings of anxiety surge. My breathing quickened and my body suddenly felt feverishly hot. I felt the beginnings of a panic attack, but then my surge of anxiety was accompanied by an equally powerful surge of sexual arousal.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “It frightens me, but I think I should do this. The idea of being naked and objectified by total strangers is thrilling. If I chicken out, I’ll spend the rest of my life thinking about the spectacularly erotic scene I missed by not being here.”
“Good girl,” Ms. Streng said and then she turned me around and patted me affectionately on the bottom. “I’m proud of you.”
That tiny compliment from Ms. Streng filled my heart with pride. It was about as satisfying as an A+ on an exam. I desperately wanted her approval for reasons I didn’t want to think too hard about, so that one little compliment meant a lot to me.
“Greta will take you down to the basement and prepare you for the evening’s festivities,” Ms. Streng explained. “Until I join you downstairs, Greta is in charge. Please do everything she tells you to do, or else I shall be very disappointed.”
I felt very uncomfortable about being placed under the authority of Ms. Streng’s maid, however, I wanted Ms. Streng to be happy with me, so I reluctantly agreed to follow all of Greta’s orders.
Naked and barefoot, I was made to walk down the dark, shadowy stairs into the basement and directed to a sturdy wooden table, upholstered on top with leather. Greta ordered me to lie across it, face up. She watched me coldly as I crawled up onto the table. Once I was up, on my hands and knees, Greta slapped my butt and snapped, “Turn over. I need you face up.”
I silently glowered at her as I arranged my naked body on the table the way I’d been ordered. I didn’t like Ms. Streng’s maid Greta, and I was sure she didn’t like me, but Ms. Streng had made it very clear I was to obey her orders.
“Spread your legs far apart and raise your arms above your head,” Greta commanded, and I felt twice as naked and vulnerable splaying myself out like that for her, but I did it anyway. She buckled leather restraints around my ankles and wrists and hooked the wrist and ankle restraints to chains. In seconds I was chained spread-eagle to the table.
Ms. Streng’s maid had already rendered me remarkably helpless and exposed, however, she wasn’t finished yet. Next she took a pillow and shoved it under my ass, forcing me to raise my pelvis and put my shaved pubic lips indecently on display.
When Greta was finally satisfied with the way my body was stretched and spread wide open, she roughly pinched one of my nipples and informed me that Ms. Streng’s guests should be arriving soon and that they’d be escorted down in an hour or so.
“What?” You’re going to leave me chained up like this for an hour?” I asked, suddenly feeling much more helpless as I strained reflexively against the chains that held me.
“You’ll be chained up like this until midnight,” Greta replied calmly, “however, you’ll only be alone for an hour. You can use that time for quiet contemplation.”
Quiet contemplation was a bad idea. Naked, helpless and alone with my thoughts, I considered all the things that could go wrong with tonight. My mind was reeling with worst-case scenarios. There were all sorts of agonizingly painful things Ms. Streng’s people could do to a helpless, naked girl.
My fears were probably irrational, but I’d just been chained up naked in a dark, shadowy basement in an unfamiliar house by a household servant who didn’t like me. Feeling panicky when I was so helpless and vulnerable and alone was probably a normal human reaction.
I fought with all my strength against the leather cuffs holding my wrists and ankles, but my frantic struggles accomplished absolutely nothing. When I finally gave up, I was panting and knew for sure I could never free myself. I settled down and fluctuated between hating Greta and enjoying my feelings of helplessness and vulnerability.
I had no way of knowing time, and Greta had left me utterly, completely, alone. How long was an hour? Sixty minutes…or three thousand six hundred seconds. I hypothesized that I could keep track of how much longer I’d have to be alone down there by counting to three thousand six hundred, however, I soon found that a naked girl, chained up in a dark, spooky basement is easily distracted by every unexpected noise she hears. I was so startled by every obscure sound that I heard down there, I kept losing track of how far I’d counted and had to start over again.
That night I discovered that not knowing the time can be a sort of psychological torture. It unsettles you and leaves you not knowing what to think or judge. It doubles the impact of captivity. At a certain point I became worried enough that I was seriously considering calling out for Elizabeth, and to keep on calling until she came down.
As luck would have it, right before I began to scream my head off, I heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and then the stairs creaking as people walked down them. The way I was chained down, I couldn’t see anyone unless they were standing directly over me, however, I assumed that it was Ms. Streng and her guests who had entered the basement.
“A virgin?” I heard an unfamiliar voice ask.
“Very nearly,” I heard Elizabeth respond. “She lost her virginity to me earlier this month.”
“She’s still quite inexperienced,” Ms. Streng added. “There are so many things she has yet to learn. I’m looking forward to initiating her into some of the more alluring activities a young woman can undertake.”
“You’re going to be the mentor to an eighteen-year-old lesbian novice?” another female voice asked.
“Medina, you sound jealous!” Ms. Streng said playfully.
“Damn right I’m jealous,” the female voice responded. “Where do I find an eager teenage lesbian I can train to be my sex slave?”
The women approached me and when they were close enough, I counted nine of them. Elizabeth, Greta, Ms. Streng, Nikki and Lexi were in front. And slightly behind them were four women I’d never seen before. They all looked polished; well-dressed and older than me, probably in their mid-thirties. Their eyes roamed over my naked body with obvious enthusiasm.
I felt so exposed, so trapped, and so vulnerable. I was nervous about the position I was in, but I felt a familiar stirring in my loins as my body was examined with prurient interest. Being only eighteen, naked, and bound spread-eagle in front of lustful strangers, some of whom were twice my age was so kinky it heated my libido intensely. I felt my heart absolutely racing. I had never in my life been so filled with anticipation.
Almost a dozen women hovered over me, examining my bound, naked body–my arousal seemed to intensify in direct proportion to the number of women who studied my bound nudity. One or two women staring at my naked body lit a sexual heat inside of me. But nine fully clothed, prurient women staring at my naked body?
That was like detonating a shamelessly wanton incendiary bomb inside of me.
What a remarkable feeling to be spread wide open, in chains, completely unable to close my legs, with everyone standing over me just like in my notebook fantasies. I was so exposed and helpless, a perfect little target. My skin felt feverish and there was an urgent, wet throbbing in my sex. I desperately wanted someone to touch me.
The nine clothed women were soaking in every detail. I’d experienced excitement at being sexually objectified before, but this was taking the sensation to a whole new level. My entire body felt tingly, as if it had been charged with electricity. I really was naked, chained spread-eagle to a table and being studied by a gathering of prurient onlookers. My breathing became ragged, and I felt a delicious shiver of fear run through me as I wondered what these women would do to me now that I was their helpless captive.
“This lovely, charming young woman was kind enough to willingly surrender herself to all of us tonight,” announced Ms. Streng. “We are all so fortunate to have such a beautiful eighteen-year-old here, so naked and helpless. She will be lying here throughout the party, completely naked and completely helpless. All of you are free to look at her and touch her whenever you want. You may also touch her anywhere you want. So, I encourage all of you to take advantage of her while she is in this position. I want you to violate this young girl however you please. Touch her wherever you want, but make sure that her gorgeous pussy gets a lot of attention. I want to hear this girl moan a lot tonight.”
There was enthusiastic agreement among the women who surrounded me. I already felt thoroughly sexually objectified, but suddenly that feeling was hugely amplified. Ms. Streng’s words sent my arousal levels into the thermosphere.
My heart thudded with anticipation, but there was a long pause where nobody moved. It seemed that nobody wanted to be the first to reach out and touch my naked body. My skin tingled with eager anticipation and Ms. Streng insisted that somebody had to be the first. And then maid Greta reached for me and roughly groped both my breasts.
“Aaahhh!” I gasped as my boobs suffered under such rough treatment. “Greta, that hurts!”
“Tonight, you’re a sex object,” Ms. Streng insisted. “Tonight, your body belongs to us. We can gently caress your naked body or abuse it with stinging slaps and pinches. The rules of polite society don’t apply.”
Then, as if to emphasize her employer’s point, Greta pinched one of my nipples and tugged on it forcefully until I cried out in pain.
“Aaaahhhh!”
That broke the ice. Once the assembled women saw that it was acceptable to inflict pain upon my naked body, gently feeling me up seemed tame in comparison.
With my legs open wide, my chest, belly and vulva on display as much as humanly possible, I felt deliciously vulnerable and excited. A small army of clothed women took advantage of how open and exposed I was and leisurely examined every inch of my naked body. I felt their hands touching me all over.
My skin felt feverishly hot, and my pussy throbbed as everyone grabbed me, squeezed me and stroked me. I could feel moisture seeping from my wet sex and I felt humbled and shamed that my sexual arousal would be obvious to all the woman inspecting my bound nudity. Then, as if to confirm this in the most indelicate way possible, a dapper woman dressed in grey commented, “Look at her pink slit! Her sex is so wet, her juices are overflowing!”
I moaned with embarrassment and closed my eyes tightly. I wallowed in my feelings of debasement and objectification, however, I had to play the role of the wounded party. There was a ritual to this sort of thing. I couldn’t tell these strong, authoritarian women that I found pleasure in being humiliated by them. It was important that I be forced into this humiliation and be the damsel in distress. Yes, on a certain level, I was suffering. However, it was the sort of suffering that flooded my body with sexual excitement.
When I opened my eyes, Lexi was rolling my left nipple with one hand and stroking my abdomen with the other. A lithe, redheaded woman with high cheekbones was on the other side of the bondage table, toying with my right nipple. I sighed and panted as I felt my hard, sensitive nipples being expertly stimulated. It was fueling my already thrumming libido in an unprecedented way. Meanwhile a middle-aged blonde with a pretty face felt up one of my thighs while Ms. Streng felt up the other.
Female hands were touching me everywhere and I made token attempts at struggling against my bonds as my breathing became heavier and waves of agonizing desire spread across my entire body. And then a tall woman with auburn red hair smiled wickedly and reached between my legs. She stroked my pink slit up and down before locating my swollen clit and she gently brushed her thumb across my throbbing pink nub.
At that point, so many women were touching me, it was difficult to separate the sensation of one woman’s hand from any of the others. Almost every part of my body was being touched and caressed. I wasn’t sure how many hands were taking possession of my naked body. I only knew that it felt incredibly erotic to be caressed by so many women all at once.
Hands on my breasts, hands cupping my buttocks, hands on my inner thighs, fingers on my nipples, hands on my flat belly; I gasped as I felt my clit being rubbed slowly and gently in circles. I made a series of inarticulate vowel-sounds as the attention being paid to my swollen clit demanded most of my attention even though the rest of her body was receiving plenty of attention as well. My clit throbbed and my legs trembled as waves of desire between my legs became more and more intense.
Having so many women caressing me served perfectly to amplify the delicious sensation emanating from my wet, pulsing sex. My whole body was electric and tingling with sexual energy. I was so feverish with sexual heat that beads of sweat began to form on my brow and torso.
“Oh, God,” I panted. “Oh, Aaahhh, Aaaahhhh, Aaaaahhhhh!”
The middle-aged blonde woman started rubbing my clit a little faster and my breathing became more labored. I jerked reflexively against my bonds and the delicious throbbing in my sex became even more intense.
It was all so lewd and indecent. I was naked, bound spread-eagle and being touched and violated by my friends as well as by older women, all with pornographic intentions. I savored the knowledge that I was the only one naked while I was being violated by almost a dozen respectably clothed women. This thought served to heighten my arousal even more. The wicked blonde began to rub my needy clit even harder
“Aaaaahhhhh,” I moaned, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer before I panted and spasmed my way to an orgasm with all these women watching. It was mortifying to think that such an intimate experience would be shared with my close friends as well as total strangers. I blushed at the mere thought of such an embarrassing spectacle,
My body was suffused with heat and my chest rose up and down as I panted. I was unable to suppress a moan. And that moan was followed by a series of others as wave after wave of intense desire crashed through my helpless, sexually abused body.
“Don’t stop, Medina,” Ms. Streng said to the blonde, “she’s almost there.”
I had utterly lost control of my body. These women had taken over and my physical responses were all controlled by them. I writhed and my hips moved in a lewd, shameful way as the hands all over my body forced me to experience the most powerful orgasm of my young life.
In my erotic delirium I caught images in a blur. Elizabeth pulled out her phone and made a video recording of my impending orgasm. Greta placed a hand between my widespread legs and pinched my slick, swollen labia. Nikki leaned across the table and kissed me on the mouth.
I felt so vulnerable and so sexy. So many women were all working together to induce me to orgasm. I lay there, bound and helpless. I was completely at the mercy of all those women, and it was the most intense experience of my life. I wished that it could go on and on forever.
I had no control over my own body as the blonde woman vigorously rubbed my swollen clitoris while simultaneously thrusting fingers into my wet sex. I bit my lower lip and tried not to cry out, but the sensations were just too intense. I was completely helpless, with no control over what my body was doing. My friends and Ms. Streng’s accomplices had taken control of my body. I felt my muscles tighten, my movements more and more involuntary as I was forced toward climax. The leather restraints drastically limited my writhing. I jerked and shuddered in my bonds, spread-eagle with my arms and legs held wide open against my desperate bucking.
My body was flooded with a dark, erotic hunger and a feverish, sexual delirium robbed me of my capacity for rational thought. I was helpless, dazed and filled with sexual fever. My naked body was obscenely on display for a crowd of fully clothed, authoritarian women who wanted to take advantage of my helpless state, but all of this seemed to pale in significance to the sexual tidal wave that had swept me up and was carrying me away to a place of carnal ecstasy.
I felt myself cumming in wave after wave of ecstasy. I screamed in uncontrollable passion and my body twisted, squirmed and strained against the leather restraints. My pussy contracted so many times I lost count. Then after what seemed like hours, the orgasm began to subside. I continued to moan and pant, but my moans gradually became softer and more subdued. Fingers were withdrawn from my wet sex and one by one the hands that were grabbing onto me released their grips and I just lay there, slowly catching my breath.
“Oh God,” [SC1][SC2]I moaned as I luxuriated in post-orgasmic bliss. I think I may have drifted into unconsciousness for a few moments, but when I opened my eyes, Ms. Streng and her associates were all still there. They were all smiling, although Greta’s smile had an evil, mischievous quality to it.
I felt so intensely alive at that moment. I felt so exposed, so naked, so vulnerable. Sure, a lot of that was because I was naked, but it went much deeper than that. Being naked while under the control of all these fully clothed women intensified my feelings of nakedness. And not only was I naked in front of so many clothed women, but I was bound and unable to cover myself. The women were able to see almost every inch of my toned, slender, young body, especially the most intimate parts of my female anatomy.
My nipples were still erect and still on display. My legs were still spread apart, allowing the women to soak in every small detail of my plump, glistening pubic lips. Then on top of that, all the women there had watched as I’d experienced a very intense, boisterous orgasm. It was an incredibly powerful, intimate experience that I had shared with complete strangers. My most erotic emotions had been on display, and they’d all watched closely as it unfolded. Every form of modesty and dignity I’d had up to then had been stripped away. Every secret I’d had had been witnessed up close and personal. I was as vulnerable as I could possibly be. To me, that vulnerability felt so, so intensely erotic.
“She’s a screamer,” said the lithe redhead who had played with my nipples. “I love it when a woman screams during orgasm.”
“And what a voice,” said the blonde woman who’d fingered me. “Her screams were so passionate, like opera.”
“And the way she squirmed her cute little body,” added the tall woman with auburn red hair. “She seemed shameless and adorable at the same time.”
The middle-aged blonde held up her hand and I saw that her fingers were still slick with my juices. Rather than using a towel or a cloth to wipe them off her hand, she slid her fingers into her mouth and enthusiastically sucked my juices off her fingers.
“She tastes incredible! You all need to try her!” the blonde woman exclaimed, and the other women in the room were all spurred into action.
They all lined up at the juncture of my thighs to get a taste of my sexual fluids. Everyone had their moment where they reached between my legs and stroked my sensitive pink slit, so they could get their fingers slick with my juices. I felt so vulnerable having my legs bound wide open as a multitude of women touched my swollen labia and dragged their fingertips across it until their fingers were glistening.
I couldn’t believe how violated I felt. The most intimate part of my body was being touched by women twice my age. The fact that the most secret and protected part of my body was being touched by everyone there was generating deliciously intense emotions that made my heart race and gave me funny feelings in my stomach. My skin felt tingly and hypersensitive. It was such an erotic feeling knowing that all the women there were touching me, and I panted as I embraced the feelings of being violated by total strangers.
Of course, when Greta reached between my legs, she felt compelled to pinch my swollen labia or my sensitive inner thighs. She enjoyed inflicting pain on my young, naked body and would have a wicked smirk on her face any time I whimpered in pain.
And even though I’d just experienced an earth-shattering orgasm, my body was still thrumming with sexual energy. My fantasy of being the only one naked and being sexually violated while helpless by a crowd of wicked, imperious females had just come true and my head was reeling at the potency of it all. I felt intoxicated by the experience of being so objectified by so many clothed older women. Being only eighteen and naked while most of the women there were twice my age, and all of them fully clothed, made my skin feel tingly all over.
The woman named Alex turned to Elizabeth and said, “I am so thrilled that you brought Scarlett for us to play with! She is so adorable! I mean, with her firm breasts, flat stomach, tight ass and her adorable, Disney princess face, I feel like we’ve sexually violated Sleeping Beauty! I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun!”
I gasped at the lewd compliments directed at me. Yes, I was being sexually objectified, but the idea of me being a naked, bound and sexually abused Sleeping Beauty sounded deliciously kinky and magical to me. My heart went pitter pat at the idea that I looked like a Disney Princess.
“The fun isn’t over yet,” Ms. Streng told Alex. “I promised our adorable, blonde teenager that I would spank her perfectly shaped buttocks, and I’m not letting her leave until I make good on that promise.”
“Um, are you sure this is the right time for that?” I asked, straining to lift my head up from the table so I could make eye contact with Ms. Streng. “I’ve never been spanked before and I’m thinking the first time my poor bottom gets paddled it shouldn’t be in front of a large audience.”
I found the prospect of being spanked to be both daunting and intimate. With Greta, my friends, and Ms. Streng’s friends all in the room, there would be eight women to witness my ass being reddened, and I felt especially uncomfortable at the prospect of Greta watching as my innocent bottom was spanked. She enjoyed seeing me in pain far too much.
“Oh, hush, Scarlett,” Ms. Streng admonished me. “The decision has already been made. It’s far too late for you to weigh in on the subject.”
I felt both outraged and sexually excited that Ms. Streng was making decisions about when pain could be inflicted on my naked body without consulting me. It was like I was a naked damsel in distress from one of my lesbian femdom stories.
Turning to her friends, Ms. Streng said, “Medina, Layne, Yvonne, Alex, help me undo these straps and flip her over. Now she should be bound with her buttocks exposed and raised up for her spanking.”
I had some time to think about resisting Ms. Streng’s plans, however, I was outnumbered five to one. Even if I struggled, Ms. Streng and her friends could easily overwhelm me with superior numbers and strap me down against my will. As it was, I submissively allowed them to flip me over and buckle the leather restraints around my ankles and wrists to render me helpless once again. As I was being rebound Greta took a pillow and shoved it under my pelvis, forcing me to raise my hips and put my ass indecently on display.
After I was repositioned one of Ms. Streng’s friends pointed out how my anus and bald pubes were enticingly on display, all pink and swollen as if they were inviting everyone to touch them. Ms. Streng took the hint and reached between my legs. I gasped as I felt her talented fingers stroke my bare pubes and stimulate me to leak more fluids. My sex throbbed wetly, and I squirmed helplessly in my bondage.
“Oooooohh,” I moaned. “Are you going to make me cum again so soon?”
“No, dear,” Ms. Streng replied. “I just want you feverish with sexual heat before your spanking begins.”
“She’s a very naughty girl,” Greta commented as Ms. Streng made me tremble and moan. “Just look at how wet she is. She’s a libidinous slut.”
“She’s been in need of a spanking for a very long time,” Lexi added. “Every time I see her with her panties off, she’s dripping wet.”
“It would seem that you brought her to me not a moment too soon,” Ms. Streng commented. “I’ll show her how we handle bad girls in my home.”
I was naked, bound helplessly wide open with my wet sex shamelessly exposed and the women around me were talking about me like I was some sort of shameless wench. I was so focused on how demeaning it was to be talked about like that, that I was totally taken by surprise when Ms. Streng painfully smacked my defenseless ass.
The first slap was a surprise. The impact of Ms. Streng’s hand made a surprisingly loud sound and hurt far more than I was expecting. At a casual glance, Ms. Streng seemed like a typical middle-aged woman. She also didn’t look all that strong. She was a lithe woman with soft hands and unimpressive-looking biceps. She didn’t look like the sort that would be an expert at inflicting stinging pain and abusing innocent bottoms.
“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!” I exclaimed as Ms. Streng assaulted my bare buttocks. I strained against the leather straps that held me and my hips squirmed, however, the chains and the leather cuffs easily held me in place and no matter how much I struggled there was no hope of me breaking free.
There was a brief pause as Ms. Streng stopped spanking me and I tried to catch my breath. While I tried to deal with the stinging pain in my bottom, Ms. Streng very calmly said, “Scarlett, dear, I just wanted to let you know, I’m very much enjoying your girlish screams and the way that you squirm as you’re spanked. You look quite delicious the way that you’re writhing. It’s a shame you can’t see it from my perspective.”
I groaned and then one of Ms. Streng’s accomplices reached between my legs and stroked my pubic lips. I squirmed on the bondage table, feeling a potent orgasm building inside me. I panted, whimpered and writhed, feeling an intense surge of delicious, feverish lust claim my body and drive me right to the edge of climax.
And then the fingers withdrew from my wet sex.
I moaned in sexual distress and begged Ms. Streng or Elizabeth or any of the women there to play with my pussy for just a few seconds longer, but instead of providing me with sexual relief, Ms. Streng began spanking me again.
“Aaaaahhhhh!” I screamed as I resumed writhing, for a totally different reason.
My bottom was on fire, and I was focused on the red-hot pain. And then the spanking stopped, and I felt wise fingers once again, brushing across my swollen pubic lips.
“Aahhhh,” I gasped as female fingers touched my sensitive labia. Those bewitching fingers were skilled at finding the most responsive spots, and I continued to gasp and pant as wave after wave of desire passed through me.
My hips writhed involuntarily, and I panted and yelped. I tried to spread my legs even wider, feeling all wanton and shameless.
Then, suddenly, once more my poor, innocent buttocks were being swatted and I screamed out in pain. My innocent bottom was mercilessly spanked until my eyes welled up with tears and I was delirious with red-hot agony.
They repeated this process again and again, forcing my sexual arousal up to incandescent levels and then just as I was about to climax, the stinging swats across my poor bottom would begin anew. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, my sex pulsed with urgent need, my buttocks felt scorched, and my body became slick with my own sweat. I screamed and moaned mindlessly, but the women ignored my cries of distress and continued to abuse me for what seemed like hours. By the time I was allowed to explode into orgasm, my bottom was all red and my body was all confused. My nervous system had a hard time separating my red-hot sexual climax from the red-hot agony of my abused backside. It was as if extreme pain and extreme pleasure were the same thing.
* * *
It was four or five days later that Elizabeth and I got summoned again by Ms. Streng. The night I was chained up down in her basement was a huge success, but she wanted to try something different this time.
“Having you naked in my house was one thing,” Ms. Streng explained to me, and to two of her friends who appeared to be there to join in the day’s activity. “But Elizabeth tells me you have fantasies about being naked in public. Today I intend to make that fantasy of yours a reality.”
I felt a surge of fear, accompanied by a soft, wet pulse in my sex. I loved the idea of exposing my naked body in public, but I was also frightened that such an event could backfire terribly.
“I’m frightened,” I said. “What if somebody I know sees me?”
“I’m taking you a hundred miles north of Fairhaven,” Ms. Streng explained. “None of your friends, neighbors or classmates will be there. Nobody who knows you will be around when we strip you naked.”
“I hope you’re right,” I replied nervously. “It’s scary enough getting naked in public. If anybody I know sees me, I just might die from embarrassment.”
“Do you know anybody who goes to Bidwell?” Ms. Streng’s friend Alex asked.
“Where?” I asked. I had never heard of a place called Bidwell.
“Anne Bidwell University is an institution for female students,” Alex explained. “I was a student there years ago, and the students did some crazy things sometimes. It’s an excellent location to indulge in your fetish for public nudity.”
“At a school?” I asked dubiously. “Schools are for learning. The teachers would never let the students get away with public nudity.”
“The atmosphere on a college campus is very different from the atmosphere at a high school,” Ms. Streng interjected. “Most college campuses are gathering places for thousands of young people who are on their own for the first time in their life. They have a chance to experiment and reinvent themselves. This results in students engaging in some truly eccentric behavior.”
“Some of the sororities there are famous for hazing their pledges,” Alex added. “Sigma Iota Sigma and Lambda Epsilon Zeta are both infamous for forcing their pledges to get naked out on the athletic field in the cafeteria and other common areas. The professors and campus administration have gotten used to bumping into naked students in the most unlikely of places.”
“So, if anyone sees me naked?” I asked.
“You tell them you were stripped by your sorority sisters,” Ms. Streng replied. “You’re the right age to be a student, and there are at least three different sororities who have a reputation for trying to embarrass students by stripping them naked in public.”
Ms. Streng wheeled the car into the parking lot behind the back row of dorms on the quad, chose a space at the farthest end of the lot, killed the engine and said, “Scarlett, get out of the car. The time has come for you to strip completely naked and follow me.”
It was a bizarre, unfathomable moment, but I surrendered to Ms. Streng’s voice of authority and stripped naked without hesitation. I was only wearing a minidress and shoes. Once I was naked, I tossed my clothes in the car and Ms. Streng took my hand.
She led me along the right side of the quad. Alex, Elizabeth and Medina followed closely behind.
The campus grounds had dormitories on the three sides to our left. To our right was a tall, thick hedge, running the length of the quad and, about fifty feet inside it, a long row of young cherry trees. About halfway along the dimly lit quad, Ms. Streng, still holding my hand, stopped and said, “This is the location I’ve chosen. We’ll prepare you now.”
She pulled my right arm over my head and out to the side and tied a length of rope securely around my wrist. She did it neatly and efficiently; the other end of the rope had already been tied securely to a tree limb above my head.
“Ms. Streng!” I gasped.
Ms. Streng ignored my protests and tied my left wrist in a similar manner, stretching it to the adjacent tree. Alex and Medina tied my ankles to the slender trunks of the saplings, leaving me spread-eagle, my legs as far apart as possible without it being painful. Of course, for a young, flexible cheerleader like myself, that meant my ankles were spread indecently far apart.
I also noted that the way my ankles were tied, they were pushed farther forward than my wrists. So, by necessity my arms were pulled backward. That meant I was forced to thrust my pelvis forward, placing my pink slit lewdly on display. I guarantee you that was intentional and probably Elizabeth’s idea. That was exactly the sort of thing that happened to the main characters in my stories and Elizabeth had been reading every story I’d written in my notebook.
The way I was bound, I was facing the quad in a state of lewd, pornographic exposure, and the sun was just beginning to rise, so students would be up and about soon.
“Ms. Streng! Elizabeth!” I protested. “Don’t leave me like this! This is going too far!”
“Nonsense,” Elizabeth replied calmly. “You’ll be fine. Things like this happen to the characters in your stories all the time, and things always work out for them.”
“Those are works of fiction!” I insisted. “An outrageous situation like this isn’t going to work out the same way in real life!”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Elizabeth replied imperiously, and she and her cohorts went trotting off.
It’s hard to describe what happened to me next. I may have been experiencing real, clinical shock. My heart was pounding so hard and fast that I thought it would burst. My adrenal glands must have dumped all their adrenaline into my bloodstream.
My legs began to tremble as I grasped the inevitability of what was about to happen. Someone would come out of one of the dorms or look out a window, and a great hue and cry would arise. Shouts of “Naked woman on the quad.” Students pouring out of the dorms and racing across the grass. Followed by my excruciating humiliation. The only question was when. The anticipation was agonizing.
To have called my position compromising would have been the mother of all understatements. Displayed there helplessly, I tried to sort through my conflicting thoughts, but I couldn’t get a handle on them. They were all over the place. All I could be sure of was that I regretted shaving my pubes every day. My utter lack of pubic hair meant that my swollen pubic lips had no covering whatsoever and were brazenly on display.
At first, I was outraged at Elizabeth for doing this to me, but I had to admit that I’d done it to myself. I’d written down my fantasies in my notebook, outlining scenarios exactly like this one. But there is such a world of difference between the fantasy and the reality.
Here I was forced to accept my fate with no hope of rescue. I was forced to accept my helplessness and vulnerability. And despite my trembling and my fear, I felt a soft, wet pulse in my vagina.
And then it happened. Someone shouted exactly, “Naked woman on the quad,” and it was quickly repeated throughout the dorms.
Within a minute they all began to empty. The initial trickle soon became a flood as, like the tributaries of a great river, they began to merge as they flowed in my direction. Somehow, the fact that they were all right around my own age made this even more shaming. Those first to arrive in front of me reached some imaginary line that stopped them about twelve feet away, and the crowd started to build behind them.
A few students did circle around behind me with their cameras. That struck me as particularly erotic. I visualized myself as seen from the rear, my arms and legs splayed so widely, my body exhibited so explicitly but the crowd now visible in all those shots. Something about that image, all those eyes staring at my widespread legs and my bare buttocks. It was all so kinky and profoundly humiliating. I wished that I could have asked them to send me copies of the photos they were taking.
And, as I certainly should have expected, they weren’t the only ones with cameras. Almost all the students were brandishing them, taking snapshots or, far more likely, making videos of the scene. I had expected one or two dozen students would show up to witness my humiliation, but there were hundreds of them, clapping and cheering and spreading out before me. The kids near me even began kneeling or sitting after those behind them starting shouting, “Down in front.” Mindlessly, I labored against my restraints but quickly discovered that it only resulted in gyrating hips, thrusting breasts and more cheers.
Finally, someone mercifully shouted, “Who did this to you?” I remembered Ms. Streng’s words of advice and replied, “My sorority sisters stripped me naked.”
Apparently, I didn’t say it loud enough and one of the women moved forward, stood intimately close and asked me to repeat my answer. She was tall and athletic looking with toned abs, lean muscle and legs like an Olympic sprinter. The reason I was able to see her sexy abdominal muscles was because her athletic attire was very revealing: a sports bra, running shoes and very tight running shorts.
I repeated my response, and then she shouted to the crowd, “She’s being hazed by her sorority sisters!” This elicited another cheer from the crowd, and I understood that Greek hazing, no matter how extreme, was acceptable, even admirable, for this crowd.
“Please help me,” I said.
“How?” she asked.
“Untie me,” I suggested. “I can’t squirm free from these ropes. Surely you, or one of your hundreds of friends must know how to undo knots.”
“Well, I could do that,” the athletic student replied, “but I’m not certain I should. I mean your sorority sisters obviously had some fun planned when they stripped you naked and tied you up out here in a public place. If I untie you right away, I’ll feel like I’d be interfering with their fun. Your sorority sisters would be upset with me if I released you before you’d been appropriately humiliated. And the women who run the sororities are at the top of a social hierarchy. I don’t want them pissed off at me.”
I groaned with both embarrassment and frustration. And I saw more students holding up their phones, no doubt taking pictures or videos of my bound nudity.
“I’m already naked and every student who lives on campus has photos of the most private parts of my anatomy,” I protested. “How much more humiliation could my sorority sisters possibly want from me?”
“I pledged to a sorority when I was a freshman,” the student replied, “and they were big fans of forced lesbianism. Let me show you the sort of things they did to some of us.”
Suddenly, she stepped forward and placed her mouth on mine. I was shocked and stiffened at the unexpected physical contact as she kissed me.
There were cheers from the many students surrounding us. Then she broke from the kiss and said, “If you want me to untie you, you’re going to have to be more cooperative. When I kiss you, I expect you to kiss me back.”
“Oh God,” I groaned as the magnitude of my situation began to dawn upon me and then the lithe, female student reacted to my groaning by saying, “Hey, if I’m too repulsive for you to kiss, I’m sure I could get another student to step up and kiss you instead. I see a bull dyke over there with broad shoulders and a whole mess of tattoos. Want me to call her over?”
I looked over to where she was pointing, and I saw a broad shouldered, square jawed woman in the crowd. She had tattoos on her muscular arms and when I spent more than a few seconds focusing on her, she blew kisses in my direction.
“Oh God, no,” I replied emphatically.
“Her or me,” the athletic woman in the running gear said. “Who do you choose?”
When she put it that way, it was an easy choice to make. I was attracted to all kinds of women, but that broad shouldered, tattooed lady looked far too masculine for my tastes. I chose the lithe student with the toned abs and the running shorts.
“Good choice,” she said and then with hundreds of college students watching, she pressed her clothed body yearningly into my naked one and kissed me again. Her hand slid behind me to cradle the back of my head and her lips pressed firmly against mine. As we kissed, her other hand drifted down, grabbed my buttocks and enthusiastically gave them a squeeze.
I strained against the ropes that held me, but my struggles were futile once again. I felt mortified to be naked and fondled as hundreds of college students gawked at my predicament and then I felt that woman’s tongue probing at my lips, as she tried to gain entrance to my mouth.
“Mmmmmff,” I moaned and allowed her tongue inside of me. Her tongue merged with mine and our tongues danced together in a passionate and delicate dance that made me forget about the hundreds of mean girls who were enjoying watching me suffer.
I melted into the kiss and got lost in how enjoyable it felt. My eyes were closed, and her tongue felt exquisite in my mouth. I moaned and enjoyed the sensations of this strange girl’s mouth and hands and even her breasts as they rubbed up against mine. Her breasts were considerably larger than my adorable A-cup boobs. They were full and soft and felt delightful pressed up against my naked body.
My loins were throbbing; my heart was pounding loud enough that I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and my chest felt tight as this athletic girl had her way with me. I responded to her every touch eagerly and then I moaned with indignation and disappointment when she pulled away from me.
I gave her a sullen look and petulantly exclaimed, “Hey! Where are you going?”
The impish woman in the running gear refused to answer my question and instead walked around behind me. The way I was bound it was difficult to see what she was doing after that, however, I had no difficulty feeling the sting when she slapped my naked buttocks or hearing her cheerfully say, “Hmm, nice ass.”
“Hey!” I whined irritably, but my whining only provided entertainment for the gathered crowd watching my humiliating dilemma. Then a raucous cheer went up and the crowd began chanting, “Smack that ass! Smack that ass! Smack that ass!”
The athletic woman stood in front of me for a moment or two and said, “Well, we’re in the entertainment business now. I guess we should give our public what they want.”
“What? No!” I protested, but she disappeared behind me once again and there was another sting as she slapped my other butt cheek.
The mischievous woman proceeded to smack my naked butt methodically, first my right cheek, then my left, then my right again and she continued to spank my defenseless buttocks until the crowd stopped chanting. When the enthusiastic spanking finally ceased, my ass felt so hot and tender I was certain that it must be covered with angry red handprints.
“You’re being mean!” I complained petulantly and she chuckled in response.
“This is how sorority hazing works,” the woman explained. “There’s always suffering involved when you try to get into a sorority. But once you’re in, you get to be mean to the new girls.”
I tried to think of a defiant response to that, but before I could formulate the appropriate words she had her hand between my legs. She felt around until she located my clitoris and then rubbed her fingertips up and down, stroking my hard, pink nub enthusiastically.
I opened my mouth to moan, but suddenly she was kissing me again. Her lips covered mine as fingertips rubbed my swollen clit. I trembled and moaned helplessly; my whole body began to surge with heat as wanton desire built up inside of me.
The crowd roared as the female university student rubbed, kissed and shamelessly stimulated my naked body. My body strained against the ropes that held me, but I succeeded only in straining my muscles and working up a sweat. The ropes and the trees that held me were far too sturdy and no matter how I strained and struggled I had no hope of breaking free.
Then, just as I sagged in my bonds and resigned myself to whatever humiliations this girl and her college friends had in store, she got down on her knees and began to lick my indecently exposed pink slit.
“Hey! What are you doing?” I blurted out, but she ignored my protests and spread my pubic lips apart with her fingers. Her tongue lapped at my swollen, hypersensitive clitoris and I trembled as a deep, rich flood of libidinous pleasure surged through every inch of my body. My hips reflexively bucked forward in a shameless, wanton display, immortalized by scores of phones held up by smiling university students eager to witness my humiliation
I was thoroughly defeated. I couldn’t even voice any words of protest. The woman between my legs licked harder and faster and there was nothing I could do to halt my impending orgasm. Hundreds of eyes watched and waited; I cried out as my entire body was consumed with feverish desire
My pelvis gyrated frantically against the pink tongue licking my clit and my body trembled and shook. And when I felt the entire spectacle couldn’t get any more graphic, the seductress between my legs trapped my swollen clit delicately between her teeth and sucked on it, softly and rhythmically.
“Aaahhh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaaahhhhh!” I gasped as one of her fingers pushed up into my wet sex and began fucking me. Her tongue circled my clitoris and then she thrust a second finger into me. My thighs trembled as my sex throbbed with hungry spasms.
The fingers probing my vagina were aggressive, sliding up and down, twisting, turning, pushing in all the way to the knuckles. Her tongue swept across my swollen, pink nub while her fingers thrusted into and out, pumping against my g-spot.
She began to lick even more vigorously. The sensations in my sex intensified and with hundreds of university students watching me intently I exploded into a fierce, impassioned orgasm.
“Aaaaahhhhhhh!”
My hips writhed as the mischievous university student licked me and fucked me with her wicked fingers. I was delirious, my head reeled, and my mind very nearly shut down. I was incapable of coherent thought as the entirety of my being was swept away on a feverish tidal wave of lust and I was incapable of doing anything other than experiencing the all-consuming rush of sexual euphoria. I cried out and panted and writhed in shameless sexual fervor.
At some point I must have passed out, because next thing I remember I was hanging utterly limp and the only reason I wasn’t lying on the ground was because I was being held up by the ropes around my wrists. When I regained consciousness, two students were untying me and telling me that I was free to go and suggesting I go back to my dorm and get dressed.