Message-ID: <36544asstr$1021763405@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20020518100801.696.qmail@web20002.mail.yahoo.com> From: Don Winslow X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 18 May 2002 03:08:01 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} RP {Winslow} "Six Days, Seven Nights" (Part 3) (D/s, MMMM/F, Humil., nc?) Date: Sat, 18 May 2002 19:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? LAUNCH - Your Yahoo! Music Experience http://launch.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "Six Days 3.txt" begin> Six Days, Seven Nights By Don Winslow Part 3: Sunday To the passenger stretched out on the floor of the van, the long ride which she spent laying flat on her back, seemed interminable. Before they started again someone pulled a canvas bag down over her head. It increased her feelings of helplessness, and of course she couldn't see when one, or more, of the men might take a notion to feel her up. Spread-eagled as she was, she was acutely aware of her vulnerability. She had been shamelessly used, although so far no one had actually fucked her. They taunted her that they would auction off her golden cunt to the highest bidder, with the losers getting "sloppy seconds." But for all their talk, her captors had confined themselves to toying with her, feeling her up, sending their hands to roam freely all over her warm, squirming body and dipping into the most intimate places. The fear and excitement welled up in her; all this male attention was definitely making her hot. Much as she tried to steel herself against this unrelenting stimulation, her healthy, needy body betrayed her. She could feel herself moistening, her panties getting wet. And when an unexpected hand slipped between her legs to suddenly grab her crotch and play with her pussy, she couldn't keep her hips from bucking in obscene pelvic thrusts, nor could she stop the plaintive moans she made into the gag when some man's hand clamped her mounded breasts, squeezing and fondling her sweaty tits through the thin silky bra. So far, it had all gone according to plan. The arrogant bitch had been adducted without a hitch, stripped down to bra and panties, tied down, and humiliated...and her ordeal had only just begun. This was beyond their wildest dreams! Candace would have been horrified had she known about what they had planned for her. During the next few days they intended to see Miz Candy Ass buck naked, forced to crawl on hands and knees, her big jugs hanging down, made to shake her ample butt at them, and beg to be fucked, just like the whore she was. They would see the haughty, conceited, Vice President for Sales, bare assed naked and kept that way, without a stitch of clothes on, a prisoner in the remote mountain cabin. She would be made to perform for them: a mere fuck toy, a play doll, a party girl, a naked sex slave kept solely for their entertainment and amusement. They knew she had no choice but to submit, but would she cooperate? Still in her underwear, her head covered by the canvas bag, Candace was hauled out of the van, slung over Crowley's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The braying she gave out with to protest this undignified delivery, earned her nothing but a sharp slap on her upturned buttocks, and the laughter of the raucous gang. They plunked her down in a wooden kitchen chair, and when they took off her sack, it was apparent from her sullen look and the hostility in her blazing eyes that she had decided that though they might take her -- they damn well weren't going to enjoy it! Now they crowded around their prize as she sat on the wooden chair, her handcuffed arms behind her. Glaring at them over the top of the ballgag that effectively stoppered her gaping mouth. Lewis stood before her in a widened stance, his arms folded across his chest, looking down at their prisoner. "Well now Boss Lady, how do you like your new home? Not much to look at but it's got all the conveniences." "Uuuumph," came the muffled reply. "What's that? You don't like it? Whadya think boys, should we get the lady's opinion on the d cor?." Lewis reached out for her; she flinched, but he only unbuckled the straps around her head and removed the hated gag, for which she was exceedingly grateful, although she wouldn't give the grinning apes the satisfaction of showing it. She worked her jaws and licked her lips before replying in low, controlled voice. "Ok boys, you've had you fun, now let me go, and maybe I won't charge you with kidnapping." Lewis took in the sight of the pretty girl seated before him, glaring at him defiantly, with hostile blue eyes. For moment he stood admiring her heaving chest, the taut bulges that threatened to spill out of the tightly-packed bra, and then he slowly shook his head. "No can do, Miz Candy Ass. Not till you've kept up your end of the bargain. You're gonna be here for a solid week, so you might as well settle in. We got everything we need here: food, shelter, clothing, -- well, you won't be needing much in the way of clothing. It's a bit primitive, but the cabin's well-equipped. Kitchen. Indoor plumbing, but only one bathroom; guess we'll have to share. And, oh yeah, you're going to have your very own bedroom, though I don't imagine you'll be getting very much sleep. And don't worry about the neighbors; none around for miles. No pesky cell phones, no computers, nothing to interfere with our "honeymoon." And don't worry about being bored. We'll just have to think of something to provide our own entertainment. That'll be your job. You're gonna be the entertainment." This speech got another round of laughter, while the reddening woman fought to control herself. "Listen to me, Lewis. This has all been a mistake. We've all made mistakes, but it's time to stop this before it goes too far. Let me go, and we'll pretend none of this has ever happened. You get rid of those files you have, and I'll resign, and not say a word about this to anyone. That's what you want isn't it?" "You still don't get it, do you, Miz Candy Ass? You behave, and do what you're told, and no one will get hurt. Now get up and drop your drawers, you know, do a little dance for us? Jack, get her cuffs off. Ben, find us a little music. Something slow and easy, strip tease music." "You're crazy. You're all crazy," she yelled, as Jack worked to undo her cuffs. And the minute she was freed, she bolted for the door. Of course the door was locked. And as she fumbled with it, Crowley grabbed her and wrapped her up in a bear hug, enjoying every minute of it as she squirmed against him. "You can't force me to have sex with you. That's rape," she screamed, twisting and struggling in the arms of the big man, who only grinned at her. "Let me tell you something, Candy Ass. Before we're through with you, you're gonna do a lot more than 'have sex.' You're gonna beg me to fuck you in that big, beautiful ass of yours!" ***** The poker game wasn't going well for Lewis. Both Jack and Ben were the big winners, having gathered an impressive piles of chips. From time to time, they heard a moan coming from the bedroom, but they ignored the mournful cries. But as the game went on, the moaning became more insistent, a muted caterwauling that finally drove Lewis to throw down his hand in disgust, and announce that it was time to see if Candy Ass was ready to be more cooperative. The woman, still in her bra and panties, hung from the bedroom ceiling, suspended by her wrists from a massive wooden cross beam. The cord was short enough to keep her up on the very tips of her pointed toes. They had strung her up to give her time to reconsider her refusal to dance for them. It was hoped that, upon reflection, the Boss Lady might become more cooperative. "Put her in a better mood," was how Lewis put it. After a couple of hours of hanging by her wrists and the desperate woman would have done anything, but since the gag was back in place, she couldn't tell them that -- though she certainly tried her best. The gang crowded around her where she hung in the bedroom. Lewis stepped up to the suspended girl and slowly ran a hand up her stretched contoured lines from a pantied hip to the pad of soft stubble he found on her exposed underarm. "Nnummeeee!" The muffled sound had the plaintive sound of an urgent plea. He removed the gag, and the captive began babbling, pleading to be let down, promising she would do anything they wanted. ****** Her relief upon being released was so great that Candace readily agreed to do a little dance for the boys. They left her alone in the bedroom to pull herself together, and prepare for her performance. Ben kindly offered her a drink of scotch, which she eagerly downed, immediately asking for a re-fill, which was granted. Thus fortified, she began to dress. The men had gone through her suitcase and found the black evening dress Lewis had ordered her to pack. He called it her "office party dress." She knew which one he meant. Lewis had actually given her a list of detailed instructions, specifying what she was to bring with her. To go with the dress she was to bring all black accessories: sexy underwear and thigh-high stockings, and a pair of high heeled pumps. It was the outfit she was now told to put on for her dance. Sitting before the small vanity, Candace studied herself in the mirror, taking in her pale image in the low cut dress which left her shoulders bare and provided a generous view of her neck and upperchest. She released her hair from its pony tail, combed it out, let it fall in loose waves to caress her shoulders. Then she began applying the makeup they insisted on; more makeup than she ever used, eye shadow and liner, a thickening of the lashes, some blush for her cheeks, and then the scarlet lipstick, a thick glossy red. Looking at herself in the mirror, the words "painted whore" came to mind. She stood up, tugged down on the hem of the short skirt, ran her hands down her curvy body, over the thin, snugly-fitted dress, adjusting the tight fit. Then she took a quick swig of scotch, draining off the glass, before she turned to do what she had to do. Her hesitant emergence from the bedroom in her high heels and the little sexy dress was greeted with a round of applause, raunchy cat calls, and whistles. They had cleared a circle in the middle of the wood floor, and their chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. A single floor lamp was aimed like a spotlight, into which she now stepped, with head lowered, eyes on the floor. Someone started a stereo, a slow jazz piece with a boozy sax, sleazy snare drums and a crashing symbol that punctuated a bump and grind. Candace, acutely embarrassed and feeling totally awkward, slowly started to move her hips in time to the raunchy music. She closed her eyes to block out the humiliation, but Lewis would have none of that. "No! Open your eyes! You're not dancin' in some ballroom, Candy Ass, let's get a little life into it!" She took a deep breath and wiggled her shoulders, getting a hoots and hollers from her male audience. "Take it off! Take it off!" The rhythmic chant grew louder; the male voices, more insistent. She forced herself to reach up behind her back to work open the dress's zipper; leaning forward, she let the loosened bodice fall away, to eager cheers that burned her ears. The fallen dress uncovered a bra that was made of black mesh with lacy embroidered cups. It was the sexiest lingerie she had, underwear she saved for special occasions. Turning her head to one side, she gathered up handfuls of the dress and shoved the bunched fabric down her hips, wiggling in a little slither that brought the dress sliding down to her knees. Bringing her legs together, she let gravity take over. The displaced dress collapsed straight down to ring her ankles in a black puddle, earning her another round of hearty cheers. Now the shocking realization came to her that Ben, standing behind the row of chairs, held a camera in his hands! The picture of her standing in her underwear and sexy black stockings with her fallen dress around her ankles, was being captured for posterity! She closed her eyes and shuddered. She knew there was no way she could stop them. She'd have to worry about getting those pictures back later. "Hey, what'd we tell you about keeping your eyes open? Come on, Candy Ass, give us one of those great big smiles, like you do for old man Fennerman! Show us how much you love it. You know you love it, don't you? Sticking out those big tits of yours. Showing them off to all the guys. You love it, you whore you." Their taunts deepened the woman's profound sense of humiliation, but she managed a brittle smile as she wiggled her hips and shuffled her feet awkwardly in a poor parody of a strip tease. "Now get that bra off. Get with it, Candy Ass, we don't have all night!" Leaning forward, she reached up behind her, found the bra strap, blindly worked open the tiny catch. The tight bra popped free, abruptly releasing her voluptuous tits to spill out and judder into place, dangling freely, to the great delight of her all-male audience. The breasts were firm and generous, with just the slightest sag to them, twin mounds of bountiful feminine pulchritude, capped with the wide flattened disks of dark brown aureolae. "Godamned! Lookat them torpedoes!" the voices exclaimed in hushed admiration. "YEAH! Shake those things!" someone demanded. Candace swallowed down her indignation and closing her eyes wiggled her shoulders, causing the jellied mounds to wobble back and forth to a chorus of whistles followed by raucous cheers of enthusiastic approval. "What did I tell you, guys, our Miz Candy Ass here is a natural...a born slut. Come on slut, lean over and cup those cans of yours, lift them up to show the boys, you know, kinda offer them to the camera." Candace moved as in a trance, cupping her hefty breasts, cradling them in her palms, then throwing back her shoulders to stick her chest out, all the while watching the cameraman snapping off a rapid series of shots. "Now I want you to look right at the camera and feel yourself up. I'll bet you have a lot of fun with those puppies, don't you, Candy Ass? Go on, play with them," Lewis ordered. By now she felt displaced -- detached from what she had been ordered to do. But her body was definitely responding. She felt her face burning with heat and embarrassment; her body, flushed and warmed with sexual excitement. A shiver of raw lust went through her at the sound of his words, the lewdness of the incredibly erotic experience. Vaguely she heard the clicking of the camera's shutter. By now, she had stopped moving to the music. She stood in place under the single light, fondling her breasts, cupping the full mounds, squeezing the spongy flesh, moving the pliant swells in circular massage, until she had to close her eyes. She swayed, stumbling on her high heels before them. She heard the words: "Oh, yeah, that's nice. But we ain't got all night. Let's get on with it. Drop your pants, Candy. We want to see what you got." Her movements were dream-like. The hands that released her tingling breasts went immediately for her panties. Those lovely breasts that hung free now sported semi-erected nipples "No wait!" he stopped her with her thumbs hooked in the front of the black panties. "That's not the way you do it. We've waited a long time to see that sweet candy ass of yours, so turn around and peel them down, nice and slow. Go on, let us see that big, fat ass! Candace obediently turned in place on her high heels. She tilted forward just slightly, reached back and slipped her thumbs into the lacy elastic waistband and began to lower her panties over the rounded curves of her full-fleshed, shapely bottom. The music had stopped. The room was perfectly quiet as Candace Ashbee bared her buttocks for the suddenly silent audience of randy men. For a moment they sat entranced, visually caressing those taut white cheeks with the narrow crack that tightened reflexively with the lewd exposure. The panties were down, spanning her thighs, and she was about to slide them all the way down when one again she was stopped. "No, leave 'em there!" Jack Crowley cried out: "Shake that thing!" And the thoroughly humiliated woman did it, she wiggled her bare ass at the flushed and eager men who sat behind her. They applauded and demanded more. She was made to bend down and stick out her butt and rotate it in lewd pantomime of a bump and grind, much to the enthusiastic response of the excited men. "Now turn around Candy Ass. Show us your cunt!" She straightened, turned to face her audience: breasts exposed, her panties displaced, stretched across her thighs at half mast -- a wanton pose that offered a gently mounded, black furred pussy for their inspection. She heard the furious click of the camera , and closed her eyes. "NO! Open your eyes!" Her blue eyes flew open wide to stare unseeingly straight into the camera. "Now, get rid of the panties. Then spread your legs." Obediently the woman ran her panties down her legs, bending over, breasts swaying heavily under her bent torso, as she stepped out of her fallen underpants and tossed them aside. Now reduced to her high heels and the wickedly gleaming black stockings that encased her glamorous legs, she straightened up and spread her legs, setting her heels wide part, to stand facing the camera with her arms loosely at her side. "Hands on your hips!" She took up the pose with arms akimbo, held the wicked pose for a series of rapid-fire photos, just standing perfectly still, the thick wedge of a fleshy pubic mound exposed: the slight bulge of the labia, and the darker center cleft, all dimly visible through the haze of dark pubic hair. Every man in the room suffered from an aching, intolerable erection. The all had one thing in mind: to lay into this juicy piece. "Damn, this is great! Let's get her to play with herself," a voice cried out. The shouted suggestion was immediately joined with a rousing chorus of assent. Someone pushed a low-backed easy chair over to the center of the room, and the erotically-clad woman sat down, and let herself be arranged, limp and unresisting, as though she had fallen into a trance. She was pulled to the front edge of the cushioned seat, her head and shoulders lolling back into the thickly padded back of the chair. They tossed open her slack, nyloned legs, draped them over the arms of the chair so that she lay back with furry crotch opened, her pussy brazenly exposed to the men, and their ubiquitous camera. They made her put her hands on her cunt, spread open the labia, to show the glistening inner pink as she looked up at the camera. They insisted she smile, grinning, in the wanton pose of a slatternly whore showing herself in lewd invitation. "Go on, slut. Play with yourself. Show us how you do it!" The men shifted their chairs closer, leaned forward, eager and alert, to watch with fascinated interest while the Boss Lady pleasured herself. Candace lay with head thrown back, staring at the ceiling, moving a hand that seemed disembodied as it cupped her vagina and curled fingers pressed into the bulging softness of her cuntlips. They watched her playing with the rubbery lips, fingering herself. Fluttering fingers brushed over her labia, circled her clitoris. And when she was good and wet they saw her stick a finger up her hot squirming vagina. Hot and bothered, she was caught up in raging lust now, the sex juices flowing copiously, pussylips slick and flushed a dark pink. "Come on...do it! FUCK YOURSELF!" A male voice commanded, crackling with impatience. The eyes of the passion-drugged woman fluttered closed, and she obediently inserted her stiffened middle finger up her cunt. She gave herself a stab of pleasure, then slipped a second finger into place, and with two joined fingers in her cunt, she began to jiggle her wrist. The men applauded. The hand in her crotch pumped faster, the girl finger fucking herself with increasing fury as she arched back in the thickly-padded chair. The room was perfectly silent except for the tiny squishy sounds her jiggling fingers were making in her well-lubricated cunt. Then she started to moan. A low breathy moan; they strained forward, eager to see it all as the lust-driven girl neared her impending climax. The moan turned into a high pitched keening sound; her body stiffened and she tossed her thick mane from side to side, caught up in the rapture of ecstatic delight. They watched her orgasm; no one said a word. As she lay in the afterglow, panting and depleted, they tied her to the rounded chair so she was left that way, with legs obscenely opened. As a final touch, someone inserted a whisky bottle up her gapping, drooling cunt. The protruding bottle was left in place for a few more photos. Then they turned back to the interrupted poker game. End of Part 3 <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+