Some had their hands on my head and were burying themselves in my silky ringlets, others were fascinated by the bright pink ball in my mouth. A few ladies found my pink knee-high socks very entertaining, especially when they pinged the elastic around my thighs. A group of men behind me had their mitts all over the mesh crop-top I wore, and were trying their hardest to get their hands on my boobs. All these actions I could just about cope with. There were plenty more that I found a whole lot more challenging. These would be the fingers that were flicking my nipples through the heavy silver clamps I wore, and the ones that were tugging at the straps of my gag and getting tangled in my hair. Then there were the fingernails digging into my inner thighs as they scraped a path upwards, and the ones that were squeezing my clit repeatedly.
If that wasn't enough, someone had almost buried their hand inside my pussy, and yet another had gotten hold of my tail and was having enormous fun pushing and pulling the damn thing. I didn't know whether I wanted to scream or beg for more. The pleasure/pain aspect was all-consuming, and if someone had asked me to recite my name, I think I'd have drawn a blank. There wasn't much I could do, really. I rattled about in my wrist cuffs, testing each strip of leather to its limit, but nothing budged. Trying to rock the cage had little effect because I'd been placed in an indented, rectangular groove upon my pedestal, and that meant I was going nowhere. There was little left to do except submit to all these people and let them have their way with me.
As soon as that thought entered my mind my body did its best to consciously relax, and that was when I started having fun. My discomfort at being surrounded and swarmed upon morphed into something else, and that was desire. Earth-moving, mind-shattering, brain-numbing desire, and it exploded in shocking waves all around me. Suddenly the fingers that had been so obtrusive only a second ago were now adored friends, actively doing my body's bidding. I'd gone from being repulsed to entranced, and all I wanted was more - much, much more.
Thankfully the fingers obliged. If there had been only one or two pairs of them, maybe they would have just teased me, but there were honestly too many to count, and they were insistent, working me over with great enthusiasm and vigour. My first orgasm crashed over me within three minutes, and the second didn't take much longer. Three, four, five and six were all achieved within forty minutes, and after that I was crying for mercy because I couldn't take any more.
"Ladies and gentlemen, move aside please. The honourable judge, Gordon Watters is required to examine this pet for the next few minutes, so please stand back and give him some room." This was good news, on the whole. It would give me a few precious minutes of respite in which to hope and pray that Mark would rescue me from this monstrous onslaught. If I didn't know better, I'd bet my husband was watching me from afar and laughing his head off. What he didn't know, was that I would have the last laugh. After I'd been made to climax ten times, there was no way he was getting any of the goods later.
Gordon Watters was a portly man, probably in his mid-sixties, and judging by the smell of his breath, he was very fond of beer. The gentleman wore an expensive suit, an even more expensive watch, and his left eye had a slight twitch that was slightly unnerving. I assumed he enjoyed his job around these parts because he showed no hesitation about getting his hands on my body, and when they were there, it seemed almost impossible to get them off again. Already well aware that I probably wouldn't like what he had to say about me, I tried to hum a little tune silently in my head to ignore him. That worked for about the first five seconds, and then there was no blotting him out. His voice got louder and louder until I was almost wincing at each new word, and each sentence was worse than the last.
"Well, what have we here, gentlemen? A fine specimen, this one, methinks. Quite young. I'd say she was probably the right side of thirty." I nearly choked beneath my gag. He was out by a few years, and I was not amused. Initially his hands began examining me from the top of my neck, all the way down to the curve of my spine, in long sweeping motions, but this was just the start of his examination. His hands were hot, clammy, and a little stiff in their movements, which I didn't much like, so I straightened my spine and pretended to ignore them.
"Not particularly responsive, although quite smooth and finely toned. Her owner obviously takes her out for regular exercise." I bristled a little, and swayed my hips in annoyance, not that it had any effect. "Reasonable muscle definition, lots of enthusiasm," he said, as he reached my nipple and gave it a fierce tweak that elicited a loud groan from me, "and very nice to look at if you like that kind of thing." Charmed, I was sure.
A finger was inserted underneath my top lip, pulling it up sharply. "Nice teeth, full lips, she's the kind of pet that would always look better gagged." A sarcastic glare crossed my features, and I couldn't wait to hear what he had to say next, and oh joy, I didn't have to wait long. "I'd say she probably has a feisty temperament, is often difficult to handle, and rarely does what she's told."
Had this man been talking to my husband? Either that or he was a Clairvoyant, which seemed extremely unlikely.
Mr Watters then began sauntering around my cage, examining me from every angle, which for some reason made me extremely nervous.
"Reasonably nice outfit, acceptable ass, and good presentation overall. This puts her in the top twenty percent. Are you writing this all down, Mrs Dennison?"
A lady in the background who wore a big pair of tortoiseshell spectacles suddenly jumped half a mile into the air, and her mousy brown hair went flying in all directions. The clipboard she had been holding fluttered in her hands, but she somehow managed to catch it, to the detriment of her glasses which were now somewhat crooked. Taking a finger and propping them back securely where they belonged, she said, "Yes, Sir. It's all here."
Mr Watters barely noticed. He was nodding to himself absently, his eyes glued to my body, and we all sat there wondering what on earth was going to happen next. Thankfully, Mrs Dennison helped us out.
"Are you going to spank her next, Sir? There's a box here for that." There was a slight wobble at the end of her sentence, and I couldn't help but wonder what kind of power this man held over her. She appeared to be scared witless of him, and I suspect she had good reason - although what that was, I had no idea.
"Yes. What a good idea. Could I have the paddle, please?" It was no sooner said than done. Mrs Dennison had the paddle in his hand before I could blink, and the back of my cage was being yanked off soon after.
"Push that backside out, kittykat. Show us how much you enjoy a good spanking. We always add a few extra points for the most enthusiastic pets."
I did as I was told. There was still a spark of competitiveness inside me that insisted I beat Johanna, and I was guessing I probably hadn't done very well so far.
"That's it. Lovely work. Nice pert buttocks there, gentlemen, wouldn't you say?" There was a chorus of mumbled agreement from behind me, but I just wished they'd get on with the job at hand.
"She's still wearing quite a pretty rosy blush from earlier, too. We like that, Mrs Dennison; note it down, darling." There was some furious scribbling going on as Mr Watters began examining my ass in detail. "Tail in the proper place, firmly wedged," I squeaked at that point, "and she's a lot more responsive down this end." Rolling my eyes at his assistant, she quickly looked away from me and continued scrawling with her pen.
"Well, enough of that. Let's begin." Mr Watters didn't believe in warm-ups, and the first ten smacks of the paddle had my eyes smarting with tears. I then got ten seconds of recovery time before he started the next round. This was nothing compared to what Mark usually doled out, but tiredness was probably getting the better of me. When he started his third round of spanks I wanted to mewl out loud in protest, but I managed to restrain myself.
"You can make some noise, kittykat. We like that. It means extra points." I would have slammed my head into the bottom of my cage had there been room. As it was, when Watters started round four I made as much noise as possible. It felt good.
Yelling helped channel the pain, in a weird and wonderful way - even through a gag.
"Lovely. We're done here. Oh, wait, just one more thing." Watters slowly sauntered around to the front of my cage, and peered down at me with a smile on his face. I hoped that was a good thing. Then he put his fingers in the bars in front of my face, and I nearly broke both my wrists and ankles trying to move backwards as fast as humanly possible.
"Calm down, kittykat. I just need a 'meow' before I move on. Rules are rules." He needed what? Seriously? The gag on the back of my head was unbuckled, and the ball removed. It seemed he was serious after all. Everyone waited expectantly for me to say something. I decided to step up to the occasion and after swallowing a couple of times, came up with a very cat-like "meow" that any feline would be proud of. I then decided to up my acting skills by adding a bit of a purr. The gag was reinserted, and I had no idea whether I'd performed adequately or not.
"Lovely. Let's move on, Mrs Dennison."
My five minutes of stardom was short-lived. The fingers were slowly coming back, and I wasn't at all sure I could cope with a second round. As it turned out I was being pessimistic. This time I didn't draw in large crowds like before. They must have been following the judge. Now it was mostly couples or small groups that had come to gawk at me, and most of them had no interest in making me orgasm - quite the opposite in fact. These people were out to torment, tease and terrify, and they were doing a reasonable job of it, in my opinion. In less than ten minutes my clit was on fire, my nipples felt like they had done ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer, and I couldn't remember the number of times I'd been spanked. Whilst Watters had refitted both ends of my cage after he'd examined me, everyone now knew how easy they were to remove, and several opportunistic souls had done precisely that to get much better access to my ass. This meant I was receiving regular spankings, usually at the same time my clit was being played with. Now I don't know about everyone, but I find it extremely difficult to come while being spanked. I can't relax. So it didn't take long for me to become extremely frustrated, and irritated with everyone and everything. If I'd had the use of my mouth I would have let someone know, but unfortunately there wasn't much I could do, tied down as I was, except swing my hips from side to side, which generally amused everyone, and let out the occasional grunt. Although I didn't regret my earlier decision in entering the competition, I made a mental note to get more details about what I was letting myself in for in future.
"Ah, there you are." My head snapped round instantly. Holy hell, I recognised that voice. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I watched Carlisle come round to stand in front of me. Oh shit. Having just discovered how awful the man was, I didn't feel very comfortable with him anywhere near me. It didn't help that I was virtually nailed down to the bottom of my cage.
"Do you recognise me, Petal?" Oh, no, no, no. That had my attention. Petal had been my name when I'd been transformed into a pony girl at Albrecht stables, against my will, I might add. Trying to escape from its confines had been one of the most horrible ordeals I had ever experienced, and by the looks of it, the fun and games weren't over yet. Unless I was much mistaken, Kyle Levison was standing in front of me. He'd swapped his English accent for his native American drawl, and the sound chilled my blood. My eyes flared when he squatted down to peer over me, and I hoped to hell Mark had figured out who he was and would come running. It was a slim chance, though. I'd only figured it out because he'd practically thrown his identity in my face.
"What a shame you can't talk, Petal. Don't get me wrong, you look awesome caged up like that, but I'd love to hear what you thought about my artwork on your back. I can still see the scar, although it's healed up rather nicely. What a shame. The next time I get my hands on you I'll do a much better job. You have my word." The beast winked at me, and I nearly lost the contents of my stomach then and there. "Yep, that's right. I'm coming for you. We've had to wait a while for the heat to die down, but now that it has, you're mine. Dad sends his regards by the way. He says I can do pretty much whatever I want with you when I snatch you."
Why was he telling me this? To scare me witless? If that was the case, it was working. Kyle Levison was never getting his hands on me, though. Now I knew he was after me I was staying in Fountaine Bleu under lock and key with a whole army of armed guards around me until the bastard had been caught.
Kyle moved slowly around my cage, leering at my body from all angles, and my insides churned. What was he up to now? His hand reached underneath me, pinching a swollen nipple, and I yelped. I couldn't help it.
"A bit sore, are we?" The other nipple received the same harsh treatment, and it brought tears to my eyes. When his hands reached the scar on my back, I winced, and it was all I could do to stop myself from trembling madly. I didn't want him to feel my fear, but there wasn't much I could do to stop him. When his fingernails dug into the scar tissue I squawked loudly, but there was no one around to witness the noise. They were all further up the line, hanging on Watters' every word. Kyle had timed his moment perfectly. Fantastic. I was stuck with a sociopath/psychopath, and I couldn't do a thing about it. There was a nip on the inside of my right thigh, a pause, and then another nip on my left, which was even more painful. My eyes watered as I craned my neck, trying to see what the bastard was up to.
"Don't get all agitated on me. I'm nearly finished, Petal." His fingers snaked between my legs and caught my throbbing clit. Bile climbed up my throat once more, as I felt him squeeze the poor nub between his knuckles. "Oh, the things I want to do to you, Petal. The things I want to do..."
I did make retching sounds then. I couldn't help myself. I began trembling like a forest in a storm force gale, and once the shakes were upon me I couldn't stop them. Surely he'd go now. If anyone walked around and saw me like this he was going to be in trouble. But Kyle didn't worry about things like that. Pulling off the end of the cage, he slowly caressed the bright pink globes of my ass, as if admiring the damage. He then gave each cheek five, unbearably hard spanks, which did reduce me to tears, before quickly placing the cage back together and almost sprinting off.
"Just remember I'll be back before you know it. There's no way you can escape me, Petal." I screamed my head off at his retreating back, trying my best to attract someone's attention, but there wasn't a soul around to hear. As soon as Kyle was out of sight I dissolved into fits of tears and waited for someone to rescue me. Coming here tonight had been a bad idea, and all I wanted was to go home. Right now.
It didn't take long to discover why Kyle had scarpered. When Mark came running around the corner, only a minute or two later, my relief must have been immediately evident in my eyes because I've never seen him move so fast. He got the cage door off, speedily removed my gag, and then demanded to know what had happened.
"Were you watching?" My voice was wobbly, but it worked, thank God.
"Yes. When you started to shake all over I knew something was wrong. You looked like you wanted to vomit at one point. Was it because of what had happened in the auditorium? I recognised Carlisle." Mark was making short work of releasing the padlocks on my cuffs, and I couldn't wait to be free of my awful prison.
"Carlisle wasn't who he appeared to be," I choked out. "He was American." My nerves still had the better of me, and there was no point trying to form long sentences yet, but I knew Mark would be quick on the uptake.
"You've just seen Kyle? Holy shit. I knew there was something off about the guy. How on earth did that bastard get past security?" Mark looked like he was about to murder someone. His eyes had gone black, and there was a tense air about him. I felt exactly the same way. This was terrible news for both of us.
"He says he plans to kidnap me." Another short sentence, but it got straight to the point.
"Over my dead body." Mark freed the last of the cuffs and pulled me from the cage, encircling his arms around me. It was exactly what I needed. Now I could breathe again the tears began pouring in earnest, and I couldn't stop them.
"Shh. We won't let him win. He just wants to scare you. You're safe now. You're with me. I will never let anything happen to you." I looked up into my husband's eyes, and I wanted to believe him. There was plenty of conviction in his expression, and I knew he meant every word he said. The trouble was that Kyle was a loose cannon, with plenty of funds at his disposal. He had no scruples, was more mentally unbalanced than Willy Wonka, and just as crazy. That man was the type of person who would never give up, and there was no question that both of our lives were going to be made miserable until someone caught him and put him where he belonged - behind bars.
Mark held me for what seemed like an age, but when I could finally speak again, all I said was, "I want to go home."
Chapter Thirteen - Mark
As soon as Jennifer had calmed down enough to sit on her own, I rang security. Describing Carlisle to the best of my ability, I gave them an adequate description but was well aware that Kyle would have changed out of that costume by now. The man wasn't completely stupid. Then I rang Khalil and told him about the incident. He wasn't surprised. Thankfully, he was already way ahead of me and assured me extra security would be waiting for us on our return home, and that Jen's security detail would also be upgraded. Promising to do all he could to find Kyle's whereabouts, I left it at that.
"Let's get you home." I reached my hand out to Jen who was now sitting at a table in one of the French bistro's that lined the main street. She was wearing my dinner jacket while carefully sipping a large glass of red wine. I figured she needed it.
"No."
That was not the response I'd expected. Her voice had a mutinous tinge to it, and I wondered what was up now. "A few minutes ago, you told me you wanted to go home." Unless I was going crazy she had just changed her mind. Women. You can't live with them, and you can't live without them.
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