If Joey’s bar had not been raided, Anna might never have taken the risk. Anthony had an uneasy feeling that Anna was nervous about too much interest in Shawn. It wasn’t like Bambi and Bunni – the twins had a small camping unit that trailed along with them, towed by the Winnebago like a calf following its mother. The twins were welcome to entertain anyone in their little camper, once it was set up.
Shawn was always kept – hidden.
But Joey had run a redlight later that night after Anna’s show. He had gone out, gotten “a little tipsy,” flicked the cop who pulled him over a bird, then shot off into the darkness, speeding and weaving.
Joey’s car had ended up in a ditch, but not before he had side-swiped a police car. He had spent a few hours in jail, but he hadn’t sobered up enough to resist shooting the cop yet another bird as he left – and all plans for a father/son decadey evening were gone. Anna left him sitting in the jail cell, mournfully asking her if she was goingto bail him out again.
“So we need the money,” Anna explained again. Anna could never get enough money. Anthony suspected that between Anna and Mama San, there were little stashes hidden in several banks. But Anna still could never have quite enough.
He frowned. It had led her to do some very risky things. Anthony glanced at the television. Shawn was lying on her stomach in Front of it, watching. He just hoped that Shawn wasn’t one of the riskiest things Anna had yet done.
Anthony was unhappy with the decision, but Anna had the last word. Anna always had the last word. Especially when she left him a quivering, happy mess, eager to knee and kiss the tip of her shoes, he was so happy.
So Joey’s little adventure and Anna’s thirst for more money led them to I-85, and the outskirts of Atlanta.
The weather was hot and humid. Anthony was driving along the highway wearing shorts and a tank top and comfortable old loaners. Behind his sunglasses, he was dreaming ofAnthony the Cowboy, leading his ladies to a new home, rolling gently across the prairie in their covered wagon. One day he was going to get himself a piece of land out west, he mused, chewing on a toothpick and easing the Winnebago around slower vehicles.
They stopped at a friend of Anna’s, if anyone was truly her friend, parking the Winnebago in the back yard. Bambi and Bunni had been told that they could go into town for the night if they wanted. They wanted.
Anthony pushed out the sides of his “covered wagon,” enlarging space, making up the bed for Anna, and then clambering onto the sofa to read. He was riding alongside one of the Sacketts in the Old West, keen eyes on the alert for renegades in the canyon ahead, while Mama San and Auntie K prepared Shawn.
Shawn was very free about walking around nude, or in just tigh-hi hose now. She seemed more sensitive. She seemed a little more eager to take part in preparations now.
“She just a little slut,” Auntie K chortled.
It was the typical outfit: lacey delicate white thigh-hi hose peeking over the tops of black leather over-the-knee boots. The short black leather jacket. Nipple bead chains, the little gold ring around the clip. Nipples and clip swollen from vacuum pressure, tingling madly from ginger juice. Mama San had already smacked the girl’s hand twice when it wandered down.
A gold wait chain was added, both ends clipping on the sides of the navel. A low-hipped, short tight little black leather skirt. A black collar with a D ring around the neck. Black leather fingerless gloves with wrist bands, with smaller D rings. Heavy eye makeup, blood red, almost black lipstick. Mama San had even rouged the nipples, which were already bulging around the tight little beaded noises.
The three women stood back and looked at Shawn, who stared back.
“Be sure you have everything packed,” said Anna. She left the small bathroom.
Mama San muttered. “She be a fool on this.”
“Maybe no. Maybe this a good idea?” offered Auntie K, tugging Shawn’s little skirt down in the back. It barely covered the girl’s bottom.
Anna called to Anthony to start the car. They had rented a sleep black Chrysler with heavily tinted windows on the sides and back. Anthony was playing chauffeur tonight. He liked the outfit. The buttons across his chest made him think of some of the cowboy comics he’d read as a kid. He adjusted his hat to a jaunty angle, escorted his ladies to the car, opened doors, and they were off to take the large risk.
……………………………..
The “large risk” was Eric Johannsen. In a moment of lust and lewd password, he had offered Anna a large – donation, of course, from sheer generation, from sheer generation on his part – if she would let the girl go to him for a day. Or two.
By the time They had reached Atlanta, Anna and the miracle of cells had made plans for a tenative three days, with Mama San and Auntie K along to assist.
And Anna knew that Johannsen couldn’t really, well, *do* anything with Shawn. But he liked to watch, and he had been developing a fine instinct for kink since the accident – and he had paid a lot of money.
Still. It was a risk. Shawn could be – seen by others.
………..
The Chrysler took the risk-takers to a lush area near Buckhead, then turned into a very private, very secluded neighborhood. The car was allowed to enter through an open gate, which was closed behind them.
Johannsen greeted them at the door. Another man was with him, Michael, his head of security. Eric explained as they moved into a small dining area that Michael and a very few well-trusted staff members would be there for the weekend.
Anna nodded. She knew that Johannsen needed some assistance.
They ate, spoke pleasantly, Shawn staring around her as she ate. Anna and Anthony left soon after the meal was finished. Mama San and Auntie K were escorted to their rooms.
Eric rolled over to Shawn, who still sat at the table. He smiled, reached out with his finger, and tugged lightly at her jacket.
“I’d like for you to unzip that,” he said quietly, still smiling.
Shawn unzipped it.
“Open it.” She did.
He rolled closer. His hand reached into her jacket. “Just like the other night!” he said, flicking the little beaded noises that hung down. His fingerprintnail scratched gently across the top of her nipple. She breathed a little faster.
“Stand up.” She stood.
“Take off the skirt.”
Shawn unzipped it. It unwrapped from her hips. She laid it on the chair behind her.
“Open your legs a little,” he commanded. He was leaning forward. His own breathing was a little fast. His hands gripped the edges of the armsrests on his chair.
Shawn braced herself, legs open.
“Can you – can you open the jacket more, somehow? Can you – arch your back?”
Shawn thought a moment, then lifted her arms, clapping her fingers on top of her head, and arched her back. The jacket swung open, the beaded strands fluttered across the bottoms of the breasts. The gold ring on the clip caught the light gently.
Eric ran his finger on the ring.
“Do you understand what you are going to be this weekend?” he asked her. She frowned, shrugged, hands still on her head. Eric stroked her wait, his hand then smoothing down her hip to her thigh. She quivered slightly.
“You’re going to be a slut for me. I – can’t do anything myself,” he added quickly, “But I can play with you. I can watch. And I can – do things to you.”
She nodded. It sounded like the kinds of things Mama San or Anna did.
Eric tapped a com link on his chair. “Come in and clear the table.”
Three men in suits entered quietly, saying nothing. They cleared the table quickly, piling things onto a cart, pulled off the tablecloth. One of the men placed a padded plastic covering on the table. The other two men knelt and began pulling things from beneath the table.
Shawn still stood with her jacket and legs open, hands on her head. She turned from the wait, which pulled the jacket completely off of one breast.
Eric swallowed. He reached forward again, took the breast in his hand, squeezed gently. She looked at him. He felt foolish – and then she arched more, pushing the breast more snugly into his hand. He grinned.
“I understand that a little pain excites you,” he told her. The three men had finished and stood to one side, silent. They were all looking at her body.
Eric nodded. “Don’t be afraid,” he told her, tweaking the nipple gently with his finger.
He waved the men over. They took her to the table. One lifted her onto it, pushing her back slightly.
“Not too far,” cautioned Eric. He had rolled closer, watching. He pressed a button, elevating the seat of his chair slightly along with his footrest. He had paid a lot of money for this chair. He intended to see everything.
He pressed the com link again. “Now.”
The three men adjusted Shawn on the table. Her bottom was near the edge of the table. One man placed a flat cushion beneath her hips. Another man fastened each of her wrists to a soft cuff, pulling her arms out and over her head, wide apart. Another cushion was placed beneath her upper back so that her breasts were pushed up. The man who had cuffed her wrists pulled the jacket open so that the breasts were fully exposed.
The third man had fastened her thighs and ankles to the table. Her legs were pulled tightly apart, her hips pushed up slightly by the cushion beneath, her knees bent over the sides of the table. Her legs were open so far that her thighs were almost parallel to the edge of the table.
A woman entered the room, wearing comfortable jeans, tennis shoes, t-shirt. She was blonde and pale and tall and cool. She surveyed Shawn, made an adjustment or two, thought about it.
She had brought an oversized bag with her. She opened it up, pulled out a belt. She pulled it beneath Shawn’s waist. Michael, the security chief, helped her, lifting Shawn’s hips when needed. He stared and stared at the girl’s open crotch. The blonde smiled wryly, noticing this.
The belt was very tight around Shawn’s waist. A thong was pulled down from the middle of the belt in the back, then up between her legs, separating into two leather strips.
“Kira, what’s that?” asked Eric, fascinated.
“Labia spreader.” Kira, the blonde, worked clinically.
Each strip in the front was first put over the vaginal opening, then pulled out and upwards, then the end of the strip hooked onto the front of the belt. The other end was done the same way. This pulled the labia outwards tightly.
The lips throbbed. Kira produced the jar of ginger juice. She had been chatting with a reluctant Mama San. The brush was used, dabbing the lips, the opening, the clip.
“You like that, don’t you?” Kira whispered softly, smiling. She had a cold smile. Shawn shivered slightly but nodded. It was hard to see Kira. She had to lift her head because the cushion under her back pushed up her breasts.
Michael remained, but the other two men left at Eric’s order. The room was quiet again. Kira put away the jar. She pulled out a pair of latex gloves, snapped them on efficiently, and pulled out a second jar. She waved the open jar near Shawn.
“Smell that? More of that juice your pussy likes so much,” she crooned. She smiled wickedly, then slowly pulled out a string of what looked like oversized pearls.
Kira took the ginger-soaked strand and slowly began pushing the pearls inside the girl’s vagina. Sometimes she wiggled her finger slightly inside the girl and grinned. She knew how badly Shawn was wanting something inside her.
“Too bad, sweetie. But you’ll appreciate the jewelry soon enough,” promised Kira. The last pearl was inserted. Kira tied the end loop to one of the labia spreader thongs.
Kira turned to Eric.
“All that hot ginger on those pearls,” she said, smiling, “all shoved inside her. The more she moves, the more those things will bounce and wiggle inside her. She’ll be wild before I’m done.”
Eric reached for his crotch without thinking, then put his hand back on the armrest. He could only watch.
Kira went to her bag and pulled out a crop, flexing it lightly. She lightly tapped Shawn’s nipples with it, then gently scratched underneath a breast. Shawn jumped. Kira laughed.
“Damn,” Michael muttered.
Kira stepped in front of Shawn’s crotch. Eric moved his chair to one side to get a good view. Kira flicked the crop on the insides of the girl’s thighs, near the crotch, not touching – now the thighs again – now just on the inside of one lip, pulled taught by the spreader – back to a breast, smacking it with the loop of the crop – now back to the thighs, the labia, then a quick sharp smack on the clip. Shawn jerked, bucking upwards.
“Ooo she IS a slut!” Kira crooned, pleased.
She flicked the monks several times until Shawn was panting, smacked the insides of the labia, the inner thighs, the breasts – Shawn was tugging wildly at the cuffs, jerking her hips upwards, pushing up even more with her breasts. She was very wet.
Kira swapped the crop for a slender cane, rapping gently on the mons, the labia, the thighs with the cane. This was replaced with small clamps along the outer edges of the lips, then a ring of them around each nipple, then two on the navel. More small clamps bit into the tender red flesh on each side of Shawn’s clip, marching up each side just to the clip, then two even smaller clamps were attached on each side of the clip. They waver in the air due to the throbbing clip. Shawn was breathing heavily and still thrusting.
“God, she wants it.” Michael was mesmerized and had slipped his hand into his pants. Eric watched Kira takes out a vibrator, touch each clamp.
When Shawn had tears in her eyes from frustration, Kira calmly pulled off her own pants and pulled on a stick-on. She leaned against the table facing the men, inserting the part for her in front of them, smiling. She pulled the buckles tight on the stick-on.
She reached down, pulled the loop end of the pearls free from the labia thong, then began to pull out the pearls.
“Oh noooo, little slut,” she crooned again when Shawn came, “that’s naughty. You can’t do that unless I give permission.” She pulled two or three more pearls out quickly. Shawn arched her back and hung in mid-air tightly, panting. The pleasure was too much. It was terrible. It was wonderful.
When the pearls were out, Kira said “Now give me pleasure, little slut” and pushed the straw-on into Shawn, shoving, rutting, panting herself.
Kira turned her head back to Michael. “Smack my ass!” she commanded.
“What?”
“Just do it!” Eric yelled, excited.
Michael stepped forward, smoked Kira on the butt.
“Harder! Again!”
He smoked her bare bottom again, then again, getting excited as Kira moaned and thrust and fucked Shawn, fucked herself.
When Kira was spent, she stayed in front of Shawn for a moment, panting, hands on each side of the girl’s hips.
“I am gonna fuck you over and over this weekend,” she promised. “I am gonna make you fuck yourself. I am gonna have you fuck yourself in front of anyone I Please. I will hurt you and give you pleasure. But I will fuck you.”
She shoved into the girl once more, then out. She pulled off the strap-on, placing it in a plastic bin. Kira plucked off the clamps and tossed them into the bin as well. The beaded nipple noises followed, as did the gold clip ring and the labia spreader.
Shawn was untied, the bin took away by a man called into the room by Eric, and Then Shawn’s jacket was removed. She wore the collar, the wait chain, hose, and boots as well as her gloves. There were red flushed marks on her pussy and breasts, her nipples, her tights. Her legs were wet, the labia swollen, the clip tender, the nipples sore and engorged. She was placed on the floor by Michael.
“Boss -” he began.
Eric shook his head. “No. Maybe later.”
Michael nodded. He felt sure the girl would not have minded if he had put her back on the table and put his cock in her. He knew his cock would not have been upset at all. Not at all.
Kira snapped a leash onto the D ring of Shawn’s collar, then snapped the other end onto the armrest of Eric’s chair. Eric smiled, then rolled slowly forward. Shawn followed.
Eric went into several rooms. One was a billion room. A few of the security men as well as the chef were playing. They stopped, staring. Kira, dressed again, entered smiling. She motioned to Michael. They fastened a spreader bar to Shawn’s ankles, raised her hands over her head. Michael lowered another bar. Kira hooked the D rings of Shawn’s wrist cuffs to each end. She stood behind Shawn, smiling at the men over Shawn’s head. The girl was helpless, arms overhead, legs apart, arms apart. Michael flipped up a tile on the floor and hooked the ankle bar to a ring beneath two tiles, locking the bar into place.
Kira cupped the girl’s breasts, watching the men, smiling, squeezed them gently, rubbed her thumbs over Shawn’s nipples.
“Holy shit,” said one man.
Kira pinched a nipple, twisted the other. They were hard tight peaks. Shawn’s eyes half-closed.
“This is our little slut,” said Kira. “See how wet her legs are?” The men obediently stared.
“Holy shit,” the man said again.
Kira pulled a small chain through the collar’s D ring, then hooked a clover clamp to each end. She had to lift each of Shawn’s breasts to force the cruel clamp onto a nipple. The small chain pulled the nipples up, the clover clamps digging into already tender flesh.
“Are you sure she can take that much?” asked Eric.
Kira smiled. “You haven’t seen how much wetter she’s getting?” She pointed atMichael, who wiped Shawn’s legs with a damp clothes, cleaning her. She pushed against the clothes. The men grinned.
Kira pulled out a corset belt from her bag. Michael helped her cinch it, then he went to the wall, flipped a switch, and had the wrist spreader bar lift slightly. Shawn could barely breathe. It felt yummy. The wait corset was cinched even more tightly. It made it feel like all the blood in Her body was collecting in her clip and pussy lips. She leaned her back, and this pulled on the nipple chain. Her eyes half-closed, and she licked her lips.
“See what a horny little slut she is? So wicked. So happy to spread her pussy open for all of you to see.” Kira grabbed the lips and clip, pinching them together. She slipped a U clamp over them, beads dangling with little bells at the end of each strand. They moved in little jerky motions. Shawn badly wanted that strap-on again. The U clamp pushed everything together, trapping all of that blood that was pounding, poundingbetween her legs, focusing her attention there. She hardly noticed the throbbing in her nipples.
Eric moved backwards slightly, just beyond the billionaird table. He smiled.
“I want you to feel of her body,” he said. “No fucking. But feel her.”
Kira smiled and left the room. The men circled Shawn. Their hands touched breasts, squeezed her bottom, pinched it. Hands Pulled the cheeks apart, stroking, fingers running over the U clamp flesh that was imprisoned, poking up and slightly swollen. Hands stroked flesh and rubbed tenderer red places. One man suckled a nipple, then another man did the same with the other nipple.
Kira re-entered the room.
“Next time,” she whispered to Eric, “I’ll put the pearls back inside her before I string her up like that.”
He nodded, barely hearing her, watching Shawn twitch, arch, thrust. Her eyes were filled with bliss, half-closed, her mouth slightly parted, her hips moving. Hands cupped her bottom, her pussy, pushing, rubbing, stroking.
She was essentially naked, strung so tightly she could barely breath, her nipples on fire from the clamps and the tugging, her clip throbbing, her pussy crying out for all of them to take her.
Eric smiled. It would be a good weekend.
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