“Go to hell,” Hunt replied. He looked down again at the helpless quivering figure of the girl. “We’re not going to hurt you. Now just relax. I’m even going to give you some music to relax by.” He grinned and walked out of sight. Sylvia struggled to find release from her bonds, but it was hopeless. She was a captured butterfly, impaled on a collector’s display board.
A second later, she thought she was becoming sick, for the room seemed to be going around. It wasn’t though; she was the one going around. The divan was beginning to revolve slowly, and as it moved a music box-like affair began to play, “The Music Goes Around and Around.”
Hunt reappeared alongside her. “This is the initiation. We call this first part, The Compass Game’. All you have to do is relax.”
She heard Sam cackle and as the divan revolved, he came into sight. “I’m South,” he explained, and held up a long peacock’s feather. Sylvia saw his shoulder dip, and then she felt the feather tickling her vaginal lips. She jerked against her bonds and said, “No… no!” As the divan moved the feather could no longer reach her cuntal lips, and it stroked the outer part of her thigh.
“I’m West,” Jack said, grinning lewdly, and showing his feather. Sylvia jumped again as the feather caressed her vulva and inner thighs. The touch of the thing was electrifying.
“I’m North,” Hunt said, gruffly. He bent over and his feather just barely flicked at her clitoris. A jolt of pleasure shot through her. “Ahhhh,” she squirmed. “Don’t…”
Hunt’s cruelly grinning face swirled out of sight to be replaced by Tony’s, who stared affectionately down at her. “I’m East, as you might have surmised.” He smiled, and his feather traced an electric erotic path from her cuntal lips down to her tiny quivering anus. “Ugggh! Please… “ she begged. “Let me up. Not this way.”
The feather touches started coming faster and lasting longer as the men began taking two or three strides keeping up with the revolving divan.
Sylvia pleaded with them, a pleading that became more and more urgent as the feathers started bringing an unwanted life to her vagina. It was torment. It felt… it felt horrible… horrible! No. No! Beautiful! Sylvia fought against the sensations to no avail; she fought against her own rebellious muscles wanting to respond to the delightful titillation they were receiving. The low moans of distress began changing, almost imperceptibly, to tiny mewls of unwanted pleasure.
Sylvia felt an almost overpowering sense of shame as she realized what was happening to her. Those feathers, that tickling, were fanning the banked fires deep within her womb. She knew she was losing the battle for control of her body knew it with a certainty when, without volition, her pelvis raised eagerly and sought out the continuing delightful touch of one feather. Her breath was coming faster, and she began whipping her body around not in an effort to escape, but to keep the sensation constant.
She barely heard Hunt’s short snort of contemptuous laughter and his voice, hoarse with a desire of his own, “Jesus… look at the machinery going to work. I’ll bet she’s got a Rolls marine engine working that cunt.”
Sylvia’s head bounced from side to side and her eyes were beginning to glaze in passion. The tickling was driving her insane. She had to make them stop. She screamed and her body thrashed against the confining leather straps. The wildly sensual flicking and caressing from the feathers didn’t stop; if anything, it grew in intensity and tempo. One of them, she didn’t know which one, was concentrating on her tiny defensively clenching rectal mouth. Another on her clitoris. Her body grew used to the routine; her anus, clitoris; vagina and inner thighs, all eagerly looked forward to their own feather, and each of them lunged wantonly upward when its time for caressing came. The lascivious stroking against her moist pink slit had caused a flood of lubricant to pour out; it ran like a tiny silver river down to her anus.
She was going out of her mind; her body had cast off all her mental and emotional restraints. Now it buckled and gamboled as though it had never had an inhibition in its life.
It was her voice, she recognized it even though it was a guttural croak that cried out, “Oh… no. Please, stop it. Please! I… I can’t stand it. Pluu-eezz.”
One of them was it Tony? Yes… Tony! used his feather to tantalizingly play with the soft, tender area under her arms. Sam, noting this, used his feather on her breasts. And, in spite of her raging torment, she felt a disappointment that the feather at her anus had gone on to another part of her body.
That one teasing feather working at her clitoris stayed, however, and made its appointed rounds. It circled the engorged little column of flesh; it created its own electricity. Sylvia could hear Hunt’s cruel laughter as she pumped her body eagerly against that tormenting feather. She knew that she was beginning to weep from shame, from degradation… and from the knowledge that she no longer was master of her own body or mind. Against her will, her proud, full breasts had peaked to a mottled hardness as the feather drew imaginary halos around the areolae. And then, as if by some signal, all the feathers went to work on her cunt. She heard their exclamations as her body writhed; she heard their laughter as her pelvis strained up toward the ceiling in desperate effort to prolong the contact. She was close to cumming; the insane torment and teasing had caused her to reach a trembling plateau of pleasure. She held her breath. Yes… she was almost there. She reached for it, throwing her head back against the mattress and willing her orgasm to come. And reached for it… and reached… Then, with an absolute feeling of disbelief, she realized they were no longer using the feathers! Her voice, like a shrill scream of agony, cried out, “You can’t stop now.” She sobbed and pleaded, “Please.
don’t stop.”
Hunt and Sam both laughed like hyenas; Jack looked amused. Tony was the only one who seemed to feel empathy toward her.
She turned to him, pleading, “Tony… “and could go no further, for her body was quivering and she was sobbing so loudly that it was impossible to speak any longer.
Sam said loudly, “My God. Look at her! I’ve never seen a cunt so hot for it before. I’m going to fuck it right now.”
Through a haze of lust and frustration, Sylvia heard Hunt’s impatient snarl, “Oh, no you don’t. Not until I give the word. And then we roll dice for first go at it.”
Oh God! How low could she sink? Here she was, spread-eagled and crying to be fucked, while men fought over her like dogs around a bitch in heat. This had to be the bottom of the pit of depravity, for she knew instinctively that the true reason she wanted the fighting and snarling to end, was so the fucking could begin.
Somewhere over to the right, Tony’s voice came. “I’m going to eat it.” This was echoed by Jack’s, “I’d like a little eating pussy, too.”
Sylvia felt the divan jerk to a stop; the room still revolved in her mind, but she couldn’t tell for sure because her eyes were closed. Her body shook with unsuppressed shudders, and her breath came in rasping uneven whistles from her lust-constricted throat.
Then there was someone between her legs. She opened her eyes, but they could not focus properly at first. That someone was kneeling, and even as she watched, she saw the head drop, and a wet quivering tongue begin to probe the starved, impatient lips of her vagina.
Her body responded automatically, convulsively jerking, and a loud moan spewed from her lips as, at first, she sought to avoid this perverted wickedness in public. “Aaaagghhhh… God! You mustn’t…” But even as her words bubbled to her lips, that wonderfully hot and talented tongue unmercifully scoured her defenseless cunt. She wailed like a banshee as his voracious mouth clamped like a wet suction cup on her vaginal lips, and the tongue flickered like heat lightning in and out of her pussy.
Straining, she stared around her. She saw Hunt, Sam, and Jack. Then it must be Tony, she thought, “Tony…” and it was a cry of ecstasy as she felt her body begin to reverberate. Suddenly she fell back and gave herself completely to his perverted licking. Tony licked on and on, moving from clitoris to vagina to anus. He was bringing her release, she could feel it coming… and her body cried out for fulfillment. She raised her desire-heavy pelvis up to his face, and she groaned and bubbled with each swipe of his tongue.