CHAPTER EIGHT
They bound Brenda in a contraption of chains. Four of the lengths of the heavy metal links reached down from the ceiling to within about three feet from the floor. There the chains held a criss-crossed lacework of smaller links that suspended Brenda with her back toward the floor. The damps that held her wrists and ankles were walked up the main supporting chains, spreading her hands and feet and holding them high. At one end, the last small string of links was positioned at her waist, causing her ass to dangle off the end. Pulleys high overhead caused the whole contraption to raise or lower, controlled by a small switch on a nearby stand.
The poor, naked Brenda, tortured and abused, was virtually immobile, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what new horrors would be forced upon her now.
She had glanced around, looking desperately for Bill, but her husband was nowhere to be seen. And she wasn't given an opportunity to look further through the house or to even ask questions about where he might have been. Immediately, she had been locked onto the interlocking chains and raised up from the floor. Then the two pairs of brutal, bondage-loving neighbors had left her alone in the monstrous room, to worry and be frightened alone.
By straining her neck and shoulders, Brenda could raise her head and look around. What she saw didn't tell her a lot except that she wished frantically that she wasn't there. Near her, circled around like a nook, were heavy backless couches. The way they were positioned left no doubt that the person in the chains in which she new swung was certain to be the center of attention.
Outside that small group of divans, there were other sets of chains and unusual wooden devices. One of the devices looked like the framework to a doorway, and another appeared to be some sort of electrically wired chat. In a couple of places on the walls were pegged boards where strange things were arranged. Brenda gulped when she saw that one whole section was a collection of whips, all neatly coiled and suspended from the pegs. There were thin ones and thick ones, long and short, but the thing that stood out was that all of them were black. Her skin burned from the memory of earlier agony and she ripped her gaze away from the whips.
Another set of pegs held up the whole assortment of tubular devices, and she had to strain her eyes to see that most of them were shaped like pricks. But heavens, what variety! There were a few thin, short ones but most of them were obscenely bulky, ranging from six inches long to one that was almost two feet in length. That one had a thick rubber cockhead on both ends, and in the middle was a collar of heavy rubber. She realized that two women could be fucked with that rubber prick at the same time.
Brenda groaned and allowed her head to fall back. "My God!" the tormented woman moaned to herself. "What have I gotten myself into here?"
She felt like she had somehow fallen into an old Vincent Price movie. But, deep down inside, Brenda knew that the end to all this wouldn't come so easily as a director calling the finish to the scene. All of what was happening now, instead of pretend, was brutally and harshly real.
Not even her husband could save Brenda now, since he must also be locked up somewhere in a set of his own chains.
Brenda knew that whatever would come would now happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. And her lonely time to worry about it was almost over as she heard the click of the unlocking of the door.
Before she saw the people, she heard the shuffle of their bare feet, and it sounded like a whole crowd was walking in the room. Cursing herself for even making the effort, Brenda raised her head, and she could see the whole group approaching.
They were all naked – bare tits, asses, and cocks swinging all over the place. Every one of the neighbors who had tormented Brenda before was back for another try. There were the Stones, Laura and Jim – firm, beautiful tits and the big cock that had fucked Brenda's ass. The Wymans were next, Tom and Carla – fiery haired bitch and the masculine man who had first pushed Brenda down onto her face. At the back were Hank and Sally Moore, looking almost like kids, but Brenda knew they were also committed members of the bunch. It had been Sally who had almost smothered Brenda with juicy pussy, then Hank had fucked the long cock clear down into the young newlywed's throat.
No, Brenda could expect no mercy from any of the six, who seemed determined to cause her pain and agony while working out their own lusts. She glanced through the collection of eager faces, searching for her husband, but this time apparently Bill wouldn't be there. That frightened Brenda even more, but perhaps it was for the best since he, at least, wouldn't see what she knew would be more degradation and shame for her.
"Well, well," Carla Wyman laughed as she walked up beside the suspended naked girl. "It's seemed like a long time since I got a look at this little bitch's pussy, although I guess it's only been twenty-four hours."
A motion on the other side of Brenda's body caught her attention and she rolled her head that way. Laura Stone had also stepped up to her side and was looking down at Brenda's naked body.
"It looks almost good enough to eat, doesn't it?" Laura said, her voice brimming with lust.
"I guess so," Carla snarled, "but I prefer my meat both tenderized and hot."
"Then why don't we both do our own thing?" Laura purred. "There are plenty of tenderizing instruments over there on the wall. I'm sure any of them would cook this delicious skin."
"Me, too!" Sally Moore chimed in, and she left the couches where all three of the men had sat down. "If this is a women's party, I don't want to be left out!"
Brenda was aghast. All around her now was hairy cunt. She raised her head and stared at fiery-haired, chestnut-colored and lightly golden-fleeced pussy. The three vertical cunt gashes, inner cuntlips glistening with hot moisture already, were like mouths eager to attack her body.
The pack of panting pussies split up, circling like predators on the prowl. The brown cunt silt moved down until it was between Brenda's upraised legs and it pressed its own lips against Brenda's tender pussy. The big, red-haired pussy monster disappeared for a minute or two, as the smaller golden one came toward Brenda's face. Then Brenda heard footsteps to her right and she glanced over to see the fiery-haired pussy gyrating back toward her between the walking legs of Carla Wyman. Pussies were everywhere, attacking Brenda from every direction, and a crazy panic began to pound in her mind.
Her head leaped up and she looked down and could see that it was Laura's mouth that was plastered to her pussy. She could see the woman's brown head, then the top of her face down to where her long, satiny red tongue was licking into the pink little pussy slit.
Brenda groaned as her head was pulled back down by fingers in her hair. As soon as her face was tilted backward, Sally Moore stood on tip toes and moved forward, then rocked back onto her heels with her cunt smothering into Brenda's face. The frightened newlywed woman's eyes bulged then focused and she realized that she was staring directly at Sally's ass cheeks and shithole from just an inch or two away. Her whole visual world was now confined to a sea of pink skin and the brown bud of an asshole. The smell of pussy and the muskiness of shitter both swirled into Brenda's nose, as the flavor of cunt flooded through her mouth.
And then her tits exploded in pain. Carla had lashed a thin riding crop right down across the nipples. The tit mounds leaped from the blow and danced all over the young captive's chest. A scarlet line was etched across the top of both tits, broken by the cleavage, but crossing both of the aching nipples.
Brenda tried to shriek, but her sounds were muffled by the young blonde's cunt. Sally giggled when she felt her pussy balloon inside from the slave's efforts to scream. In response, she wiggled her cunt gash even more firmly down onto Brenda's mouth, wishing she could force the captive's whole head inside.