index


Message-ID: <36544asstr$1021763405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
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: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
 

__________________________________________________
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: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+