The kitchen clock ticked above her. She couldn’t see it, but knew from its quarterly strikes that they had left her like this for almost an hour now. She ached all over. Her muscles felt tight. The thick rope that held her, trussed like a turkey, bit into her skin, and her jaw clicked as she tried to adjust the position of the apple which was silencing her as efficiently as any ball gag.
She desperately wanted them to return, but at the same time she didn’t.
Bess had spent the early part of the morning in the kitchen. She hadn’t been with Jon long, and, as this was to be the first time he’d introduced her to his friends, Bess had suggested she cook for them. A roast chicken perhaps? Something warm and welcoming to greet them on their return from the club meeting they were to attend?
Jon had smiled his sexy smile, and agreed that a trussed-up-bird sounded exactly what they’d all appreciate. Bess had been thrilled when he congratulated her idea by fucking her against the kitchen door.
She’d never met anyone like him before. Jon seemed consumed by lust, and Bess found it hard to believe she was the focus of his attention. Obviously a dominant man, she was quickly awarded the role of submissive, and to her surprise, and perhaps aided by her natural reticence; she had discovered that she rather liked it.
Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen as he brought his mates into the house. Bess swallowed down her nerves and went to greet them.
“Here she is,” Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend. “Bess, meet Jack and Ed, my mates from the club.”
“Hello,” she spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the way they looked at her.
“Most lovely,” Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.
“She’ll do well.” Ed’s eyes assessed Bess as he spoke.
Bess felt confused. Do well for what?
Jon ushered them into the living room, whilst Bess gratefully fled to the safety of the vast, stainless steel kitchen. She was so preoccupied by the image of Ed’s hungry eyes, that when Jon quietly returned and touched her shoulder, she jumped in surprise.
“Meeting good?” Bess asked as she checked the vegetables.
“Excellent. We’ve organised a photography competition.” Jon ran a hand under her skirt, and stroked a finger between her naked legs. “Good girl, you remembered the no underwear rule.”
Bess looked towards the door in alarm. “Jon, don’t. Someone might come in.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want them to see.”
“Why not?”
“Jon!” Bess’s face colored, but her body responded, as a finger rubbed against her clit.
“Bend over.” Jon patted one of the kitchen stools.
“What?”
“Do as you’re told.” Jon’s face darkened, and his voice went dangerously soft, “I don’t want to raise my voice and attract attention, do I?”
Bess shook slightly as she bent over the stool’s padded seat, aware that despite her fear of discovery, the situation was turning her on.
Jon flipped up her skirt and began to smooth Bess’s tight arse with his palms. He grabbed a wooden spoon from the worktop, and tapped it against her backside, soft at first, then harder.
“Jon, stop it,” Bess squirmed against the stool, her attempts to rise thwarted by Jon’s other hand pressing firmly into the small of her back. “Jon, please!”
“Now, Bess, I know you like it, really.”
“But Jon, our guests, what will they think?”
“They’ll think,” Ed spoke from the doorway, where he’d been silently watching, a knowing smile across his weathered face, “that Jon is a very lucky man.”
Bess froze, her heart thudding against the stool. She knew in an instant that Jon must have planned this, probably with his friends. It all seemed blindingly obvious now. Her face flushed, and goose pimples of uncertainty shot across her flesh.
Jon was speaking to Ed, but the sound of their voices seemed to be coming from very far away. Bess felt sick and excited at the same time. Confusion ran around her brain. Her chest was tight with expectation, but this didn’t square in her mind with the humiliation that Jon, the man she thought cared for her, was causing.
Ed came closer. Jon passed him the spoon. “Perhaps you’d keep her warmed up for me whilst I see if Jack is ready to proceed.”
What the hell did “proceed” mean? Bess gulped back a cry as Ed hit the rounded spoon against her rump, his large, sweaty hand replacing Jon’s cool skin. She didn’t have time to think, all her efforts went into not screaming, as Ed continued his work with enthusiasm.
“Nicely tenderized?” A new voice cut through Bess’s concentration.
“Yes. Thanks, Jack.” Ed paused in his work, and slid a hand across Bess’s reddened arse. She flinched at his touch.
“Enough I think,” said and pulled Bess up right. She hung onto him as the blood drained from her head back to her body. She wanted to say, “How could you? What are you doing?” But a look at his face, all their faces, prevented her.
“Serve up the dinner. There’s a good girl. Just three plates.”
As she obeyed, her legs shaking slightly, her rear still smarting from the recent assault, Bess slopped the dinner onto the plates, rather than arranging it in her usual careful manner. She didn’t register that she was only serving for three when there were four of them.
“Good girl. Come here. Now, as quickly as you can, we would like you to take off your clothes,” Jon said.
Bess felt a new wave of panic rise in her gullet. “But I, Jon...”
“If you don’t strip now then I will ask you to leave, and we will be finished. I’ll not stop you going if that is your wish.” Bess dared a look at his face as he continued, deadly serious: “But what a shame it would be. You are such a sexual creature, Bess, with so much delicious submission to offer me. To offer us.”
The six eyes never left her. To them, she was already undressed. They’d seen her arse and, as Jon forbade her to wear a bra, the outline of her chest, with its hard ripe nipples, was no secret. Her whole being screamed at her to leave, to walk out, to go. Yet something kept her from running across to the door. The burn across her backside had spread to between her legs, and her tits ached for some attention of their own. If she stayed, she was sure they’d get it.
Without looking at them, trying to ignore the scarlet blush that bloomed across her face, Bess yanked off her blouse and shed her skirt before she had time to question her own actions.
Ed and Jack let out their held in breath as they admired her smooth, pale skin. Her shoulder length, red hair framed her small face, and her rounded chest pointed at them invitingly.
“Good girl.” Jon took hold of her waist and kissed her greedily. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” He gestured towards Jack. “If you’re ready Jack, we’ll prepare our feast.”
Bound at the wrists and ankles, pushed up, crouched, like a bird to be roasted. A stick of celery wedged between her pussy lips and an apple in her mouth. Bess was stuffed and hog-tied.
Surely they had finished their meal by now. The delicious smell of her own cooking had taunted Bess’s empty stomach at first, but that aroma had long since dissipated. What the hell were they doing in there?
Bess shuddered as she heard the door between the dining room and hall close. They must be on their way. She bit harder into the apple, waiting. At last their footsteps became louder and, finally, the three men appeared.
Bess could hardly believe her eyes, and her gag stifled a sigh of longing. Each man stood before her, naked, confident, erect, and already sheathed. Her mind seethed with images of what they might have been doing to each other to get so rigid. They seemed so relaxed together. Bess felt a rush of jealousy as Jon tenderly caressed the cocks of the two men who stood on either side of him, realizing that they were as much his slaves as she was.
“A delicious meal, my love,” Jon fixed his eyes into hers, whilst his hands remained busy, “although the bird wasn’t as beautifully stuffed as you are.”
Bess’s eyes filmed over with threatening tears as he continued. “Ed, the camera, if you please.”
Although obviously reluctant to leave his master’s hand, Ed did as he was told.
“You don’t mind if I take a few photographs, do you?” Jon smiled his most charming smile. Bess watched, wide eyed, as he began to flash pictures of her restrained body from every possible angle.
Ed returned to his position next to Jon, and was rewarded with a small kiss on the very tip of his dick, which sent visible shivers across his body.
“Time to feast on our second meal of the day, I think, gentlemen. Jack, would you be so kind as to ease that apple out of her mouth. I’m sure Bess would appreciate it, wouldn’t you darling?”
She nodded the best she could, yelping in pain as Jack freed her mouth, causing her jawbone to click alarmingly as it returned to its normal position.
“And now you’d like to show Jack your gratitude, wouldn’t you, my love?”
Bess nodded again. It seemed to be what she was supposed to do. Anyway, he’d called her “my love.” Without hesitation, Jack pushed his thick cock between her dry lips. Manoeuvring his shaft around her mouth with her tongue, easing the ache in her jaw and moistening her lips, Bess began to gobble at its length.
“I told you she was good at that, didn’t I?” Jon was looking proudly down at her, and Bess felt herself swell beneath his gaze. The bizarre nature of her position diminished in her delight at pleasing him.
“I think an easing of the lower bindings would also be appropriate.”
Stepping forward, Ed undid the ropes that had kept Bess’s legs snapped beneath her stomach. Easing each limb out slowly, Jon nodded with encouragement as her cramped legs were spread wide across the cold kitchen table. The celery, wet from her damp snatch, fell out as Bess was gently stretched into the new position.
“Excellent.” Jon took more pictures as he signalled for Ed to climb aboard the table and push his dick into her now vacant hole.
Bess groaned as the new intruder sank against her body. Still unable to use her hands, frustration welled up inside her. Two men had impaled her in the basest of ways, two deliciously hard bodies, yet she was unable to touch them. She longed to feel their firm skin, stroke her fingers through their hair, and grab their semi-stubbled faces.
A crunch alerted her attention. From the corner of her eye Bess saw Jon watching her, camera in one hand, and half eaten stick of celery in the other. He brandished the latter towards her. “This tastes wonderful, all the better for its hour marinating.”
She hadn’t had Jon down as a voyeur before, but as his friends continued to fuck both her face and her pussy, she felt what was beyond surprise.
Ed was beginning to quicken his pace and soft moans were emanating from his lips.
“Out!” Jon’s shout was sharp, and was certainly not to be disobeyed. Ed reluctantly withdrew, the tension across his body sagging slightly on being denied the orgasm that had been only seconds away.
Jack was ordered to pull away too, and Bess was left panting hard, her own body dangerously near release, her still trapped breasts aching for attention, and her arms bruised under her own weight.
“Undo the remaining ropes.”
Both of Jon’s men began to attack her bindings, their hands less steady than they had been before. Bess found herself rolled over, the cool sterile air of the kitchen caressing her hot, squashed tits and crunched stomach.
More photos were taken as she was left, sprawled on the stainless steel surface, to rub some circulation back into her aching limbs.
“To me.”
Ed and Jack returned to their master’s side.
Bess looked at them, observing the blotched areas of skin across their chests, which illustrated just how close to coming they had both been. This was far from over.
Jon spoke: “You may stand up.”
Bess rose carefully, not wanting to jar her already pulled muscles. Her legs quaked as she stood before them, and she rested against the table for support.
“Turn around.” She did as she was told, showing them as she did so, that the marks from her previous beating had already faded to faint bruises.
“I think,” Jon announced, “that after such a delicious first course, we would all enjoy some pudding.” He pointed to the freezer. “Ed, please go and get the ice-cream, it’s on the bottom shelf.”
Although Bess couldn’t see what they were doing, her insides were already recoiling at the thought of what was going to happen next. Her imagination didn’t disappoint. Returned to the table, this time placed on her back, knees bent, legs spread, and her arms tied to the table legs, she braced herself.
“Now, as you can see, Bess, my boys each have a spoon and some ice-cream. I think you would make an excellent bowl.” He turned back to his friends, “Jack, you take the muff this time, and Ed, I imagine that Bess would very much like it if her tits received some attention.”
Aware she was actually enjoying being talked about like a mere object, a thing to use and play with, Bess’s cheeks coloured with renewed shame. The men moved quickly, each scooping tiny balls of hard, cold ice cream from the tub. She watched them, her eyes wide with anticipation and fear.
Bess screamed, unsure if it was agony or sensation overload that made her yell as, simultaneously, a lump of ice cream was mashed against her right nipple and another was poked, spoon and all, up inside her heaving body. Searing cold flashed through her system, turning her numb both inside and out.
She couldn’t keep still. The men took scoop after scoop of frozen desert and, completely ignoring her reactions, smeared the melting substance against and into her, engulfing Bess in an all-consuming chill.
As Bess’s squirming became manic, Jon intervened. “Enough.” He pressed a firm hand against Bess’s stomach to stop her moving. “It’s time to eat.”
Like starving men, Ed and Jack fell upon her. Licking, sucking, and scraping up the ice cream from her tethered body. Even when Bess shuddered out a pent up orgasm beneath their busy mouths, they continued, blind and deaf to anything but their own needs.
Jon watched, his own erection stiff, but miraculously under control. He took more photographs.
Bess was no longer aware of anything other than the feelings which engulfed her. Colors, bright and vivid, danced behind her closed eyes as she was lapped to oblivion; a second orgasm overtook and overwhelmed the first.
“To me.” Again Jon’s voice cracked against the men’s involved silence. Instantly, they obeyed him, watching as Bess, suddenly untouched, writhed and groaned against the table, her hands still tied, unable to do anything but let them move away.
“Thank you, Bess,” Jon spoke calmly, “that was a truly beautiful sight.” He bent to her and stroked her sweat-covered hair. “You will be the star of the club’s photo competition.”
Bess opened her mouth to protest, but Jon held up a warning hand. “I think, once you’ve seen the photographs, you’ll agree that they are far too good to keep to ourselves. I intend to call my display, Dinner with Bess. What do you think?”
She couldn’t speak; she just blinked at him, not knowing what to say.
“I’m sure to win first prize, don’t you agree?”
Bess nodded. Still silent.
“I’ve had a lovely time watching you amuse my friends Bess, but sadly, play-time is nearly over.”
Without waiting for a reaction, he signalled to the men, who quickly adopted an obviously already discussed position.
Ed placed a stool so that it was in Bess’s direct range of vision, before bending over it. Jack pulled on a fresh condom, smeared it with lube, and thrust himself between his companion’s waiting arse cheeks, moving swiftly back and forth, until Ed roared out in release, shooting his spunk across the tiled kitchen floor.
Bess had never seen two men together before. She caught her breath, fascinated, as she witnessed their rough coupling. What about Jon, though? What would he do? She realized, that, despite her previous pleasures, she desperately wanted him between her legs, not deep in some bloke’s backside.
As Jack pulled away, his cock still rigid, Jon smiled at Bess. “We drew lots. Ed lost.” As he spoke, he climbed astride her, and buried his blissfully hard dick between her waiting legs. Bess whimpered thankfully as he sank into her, only to be winded slightly by an increase in weight, as Jack climbed up, parted Jon’s buttocks and eased into him.
As the two men blasted against her, Bess felt she’d be crushed beneath them, her ribs broken, her chest bruised. But the thought and feel of them, of Jon’s doubled fucked body above her, was so incredible that she soon found her discomfort dissolved by a third dose of mind-blowing ecstasy.
An hour later and their guests had gone. Bess stood in the shower, wondering how she’d gone from “shy, coy Bess,” to “Bess – Jon’s secret submissive,” to “Bess – the submissive to be shared,” in such a short space of time.
The hot water bounced off her body, as some forgotten ice cream escaped and ran down her leg. Jon came in, his face still flushed from the success of his dinner party. “I’ve just printed out the pictures. Come and see.”
Wrapping a towel around her dripping body, Bess followed him to the kitchen. The photos had been laid out on the table. Her eyes widened as she looked from picture to picture. Was that really her? Her face creased with lust, her body trapped in impossible positions?
“I don’t know about you?” Jon said as he picked the wooden spoon back up off the kitchen side, “But those photographs have put me in mind for some supper.”
Originally published July, 2008