All good things have to come to an end however, even the tormenting of a lovely naked girl strapped helplessly into a gynaecological stand, her genitals and anus presented for whatever delights the operator's twisted mind could dream up. Though prominent in their ginger glory, the russet hairs around the shyly sunken anus were not as numerous as Greta could have wished and soon she was all business again, her brief diversion over. With busy fingers she stuffed a generous portion of greasy lubricant into the now denuded anus, thrusting it deep into the rectal tube with rubber covered fingers.
"Time to rim you," she announced.
Once again curiosity got the better of her fear of knowing what might be coming.
"What are you going to do to me?" she wanted to know.
"Make you perfect for a man," Greta replied, "and, in the process, mark you as a Sexton wife."
"Yes, but how?"
"It's all to do with buggery," Greta explained. "It's the most positive way a man can have a woman. There's no question of it having anything to do with procreation, so she can't hide behind any such disguise for her actions and it goes against all the deepest taboos she's been taught since childhood. By handing over control and use of her anus she really does give herself."
"I can see that," the potential 'rimmee' replied, "but exactly what are you going to do, and why?"
"The point is," Greta told her, "that a healthy young woman like yourself has a very powerful sphincter muscle, and all her training ensures that even when she tries hard to relax, it will still close with considerable force on anything that penetrates it. That includes a man's penis, and that's not the most exciting sensation for him. The man likes to be gripped and 'milked' along the whole length of his prick, not just at the root. What we are going to do is stretch the outer part of your sphincter muscle permanently, so that the grip is more evenly distributed along the length of a prick put up your rectum. Once we've done that, your exercises at the villa will ensure that you learn to grip properly all the way along your rectal tube and give any man who has you that way the maximum of pleasure, your destiny as a true woman."
She slapped the stretched pale buttock cheek nearest to her as if to signal the conversation was at an end, at least for now, and took up her tools. Gleaming chrome glistened with oily lubricant on a shorter version of the speculum she had used earlier to inspect the vagina, as she presented it to the grease-packed opening of the furled anus. The flesh seemed to shrink from it as she pressed it home, the wrinkled tissues turning inwards and opening under the wedging action of the pointed nose. Inexorably she increased the pressure, setting her victim to puffing and blowing as she felt herself forced and violated in her most secret place by unfeeling steel. Soon the sphincter had been forced enough that the bulk of the instrument could follow, and it sank deeply into the opened passage. A strangled grunt greeted its reception.
"Now we can start the stretching process," Greta announced with satisfaction.
"But I'm stretched to bursting already," the impaled girl protested. "You can't make it any bigger. You'll split me open."
"Nonsense girl," the sadistic doctor replied, "we haven't even started yet," and her helpless victim lay back with a small wail of despair.
The instrument differed from a conventional speculum in having more than just a pair of jaws. In fact there were six in the set, and their upper parts were enclosed in a flexible rubber jacket, now firmly embedded in the plundered sphincter. Adjustments to the screws that controlled the steel jaws expanded the ring, stretching the anal sphincter further and further to low moans and incipient rebellion from the patient.
"Stop being so silly," Greta commanded, emphasising her words with a heavy slap on a bottom cheek already carrying the outline of her handprint in red. "A girl can be stretched way beyond this. You're young and elastic and can easily take much more. You will too before your month is up, but we'll pause here for now."
The relentless extension of her overwrought anus certainly paused but her processing was far from over. A sharp prick announced the presence of a needle at her anal ring, now stretched out of all recognition from the tiny winking rose that had adorned the deep divide of her trim buttocks only minutes before. She winced as it was plunged into the stressed tissue, then opened her mouth in a 'yah' of protest as she felt something injected into the muscle, something that stung like a hornet.
"Relax," Greta counselled her. "Nobody's going to kill you. It's just a muscle relaxant. If the sphincter is treated while it's fully stretched it doesn't go back to its former shape when the plug is removed. This injection I invented myself. It partially dissolves the fibres, so that they can't restore their former strength entirely."
"But it hurts," her patient protested. "It feels like I've been stung in the bum by a hornet."
"Hmm. I expect so," Greta admitted. "Actually it isn't surprising, seeing that it's prepared from the sting of an Amazonian insect. It paralyses its prey by weakening its muscles. Don't worry though; it's been thoroughly tested over the years. You don't see your friends in any trouble, do you?"
She had to admit that Renee and Laura had come through unscathed and took what comfort she could from that, although her present state was far from comfortable. Greta was completing a ring of six equally spaced injections around the whole circuit of her drum tight anal ring and she was in agony.
"Don't worry," Greta said cheerfully as she put away her syringe and bottles. "It'll pass and you'll be as right as rain. Mind you," she added, to her victim's dismay, "you have to come back for a repeat dose every other day for the next fortnight if the job's to be done properly. By then you'll find your rectal tube can still close as tightly as before but the outer part of your sphincter can't fully contract and it'll stand out in a rim, like your friends' and the other Swives from Sexton."
"It doesn't feel as if it'll ever close again," the girl complained bitterly.
"Oh nonsense. In a month you'll be as good as new. Well," she admitted, "there could be some slight difficulty if you go in for too much drink and rich food but a panty liner should take care of the occasional seepage, and just think how much more pleasure you'll be able to give your Henry."
As the stinging smart died to a mere burning sensation, Greta seemed to think she had accomplished enough for one day. She removed the external levers from the stretcher and placed a plastic cap to seal the opened anal aperture. She undid the restraints, one by one, and allowed the girl to clamber painfully off the table, stiff and sore, and stand on unsteady feet while she fastened a leather belt around her waist and connected light chains, fixed to it front and back, to hold the anal plug firmly in place. Satisfied, she replaced the collar and lead and fastened the cuffs behind her back once more. Reminding her that she would be seeing her again in two days and with some advice on the care of the wounds in her nipples and labia, not to speak of the tormented clitoris, she led her to the door by which she had entered and left her with her leash hooked on the wall, just as she had been when she had first arrived. Some twenty minutes later the housekeeper appeared to walk her home.
Until that time she had given no thought as to how she might manage with her newly applied decorations and the monstrous plug in her anus but as they set out to walk the half mile of rough track back to the villa, she was made acutely aware of their presence. Her nipples presented no problem, indeed, diverted as she was by the protests of other parts of her abused anatomy, she was able to ignore them, but the motion of her walking disturbed the swollen clitoris and, pierced both lengthwise and crosswise, it made itself felt in a mixture of throbbing soreness and unwelcome sexual stimulation. As for the plug in her anus! Every swing of her thigh rocked the unyielding metal intruder in her sore stretched sphincter, rubbing on the inflamed inner cheeks of her bottom, straining at the tender lining of her rectum, playing havoc in her bottom. She found she was waddling with the humiliating gait of an egg-bound duc
k, her body bent, her bottom thrust up into the air behind her. The walk over that morning seemed a carefree amble in the country compared with the agony and shame of her return. At least she had no time to think of the spectacle she presented, a bound naked girl led like a dog on a lead.
That evening she was given her usual bread and water diet for supper and returned to her cage early, to sleep off the excitement of the day.
But the next morning there was no respite from the stark regime to which she was now subject. Dawn brought the housekeeper, and another humiliating visit to the sand-pile, the only difference now being that the woman removed the cap from her stretcher to allow her to empty her bowels, and did not replace it until after the bruising shower, when she took particular care to direct the freezing jet into the open rectum, causing the girl to shriek out in shocked protest as the icy torrent entered the very core of her being.
Breakfast came as a relief, with titbits from her trainers to supplement the adequate, but deadly dull, diet of bread and water and the revolting 'high protein' liquid lunch she had had to suckle in Greta's domain.
"Well you've got the medals," Renee observed, after a close inspection of her charge's rings, and the monstrous plug in her bottom, "so it's time you did something to earn them. Let's go and see the Marindorra donkey."
Not wishing to credit the horrendous possibilities the suggestion opened - for she could believe anything could happen here - she followed her trainers into a large room, whose forbidding furnishings seemed expressly designed to make the most alarming impact on a bare and helpless girl. For a start the walls were lined with every instrument of correction known to man, and restraints to match. The floor carried what could only be a whipping post, with its black iron rings set into a gnarled and greasy upright baulk of timber. Several other pieces looked like frames for holding a girl to be caned or birched and overhead bars and ropes threatened the possibility of suspension.
She thought at first she had solved the mystery of the Marindorra donkey, when she spotted a large trestle-like structure, with a crosspiece of triangular timber, the sharp edge upwards. There had been hints of riding the wooden pony from several of her friends in Sexton, when drink had loosened female lips and rendered female bottoms liable to corrective silencing, and she cringed from the thought of being put up on it with her clit and labia still so sore from their recent piercing.
But it was to something quite different that Laura led her. The machine with which she was confronted was low on the ground, a black box from which a short squat arm projected, and which carried several dials and buttons to control it. In front it extended to form a long narrow platform adorned with a variety of rings and straps. At the far end of the platform a short vertical arm carried another dial or counter and a pair of indicator lights. There seemed to be some sort of mechanism to adjust the relative angles and positions of box and platform.
"Meet your new friend... the Marindorra donkey," Renee said, with a grin. "He's a girl's best friend, always ready and willing, a neat fit for every vagina and back passage, the most tireless and accommodating lover you will ever find. Neddy here will never go off prematurely, or fail to come up to scratch. Give him a nice kiss."
She was horrified.
"You mean I'm to be raped by a mechanical monster?" she protested.
"Now, now! Where're your manners," Renee cautioned her. "I didn't hear you ask to speak. Well, I'll overlook it this time but if it happens again...!" and she let her hand fall significantly onto the short plaited whip she wore on her belt.
"I'm sorry... Ma'am," the girl said apologetically, "but, please, what's it all about?"
"Training. That training to be a woman we were speaking about," Renee told her. "Here you will learn to use your mouth and cunt to give the absolute maximum of pleasure to any man to whom you are given, in other words, to be the perfect sexual woman. Once Greta's done her work, you can include your arse in that as well."
"But having that thing rape me won't achieve that," she protested again "Besides, everyone tells me I'm very enthusiastic in bed. All the men I've had, sorry, that have had me, seemed to go away satisfied."
"That's because they're too polite, even too grateful, to say differently," Renee reproved her. "Nearly all men, even the strong ones like the men who own us, are brought up not to insult women and, in the most recent generations, in an atmosphere where women's satisfaction and pleasure is put first, second and third. Nobody seems to give a damn if the man is satisfied. What Neddy is going to help you achieve is the perfect working cunt, the most elegant mouth, the best educated anus. We'll start with the basics today, so we'll just select a nice fat prick for your greedy cunt and show you the ropes."
She opened a locker under the black box and removed a tray of very life-like replicas of erect penises of all shapes and sizes.
"Here, take your pick. Which do you think is most like Henry's?"
She hesitated a moment at the unusual request then said, "The thick one, third from the left on the bottom row, I think."
"Then he's not far off Tom's, I'd say," Renee replied, lifting out the named member and offering it to the end of the stumpy arm projecting from the box.
When Laura had released her from the cuffs that had held her arms behind her up to now, she was directed to lave the prick with her mouth, letting her saliva wet it thoroughly.
"Make a good job of it girl," Renee advised, "it's the only lubricant it gets before it goes up you."
Obediently she complied, letting her tongue coat the soft plastic moulding with her saliva but, privately, she could feel the warmth rising in her belly as she imagined this dead phallus was her beloved Henry's loving bone, and she knew that lubrication would soon be superfluous. It was three nights now since she had had the benefit of a hot prick in her belly, and a girl has her needs.
Her task completed to Renee's satisfaction, she was directed to turn around and place herself on her hands and knees on the platform, where cuffs around her wrists, and straps tightened over her calves, held her securely in place. A hum of motors and she found herself moved back and her height adjusted until the tip of the prepared phallus just nosed the opening of her slightly gaping vagina, now becoming engorged and moist as she continued to think of Henry and sex. It seemed her reaction to possible danger or distress was to moisten, rather than freeze up. Well, she thought, I'm not the first to react that way in Sexton.
More adjustments to the platform, aided by her own wriggles and squirms as the cold replica teased her rapidly warming cunt, and she found herself impaled by four inches of man-sized plastic lying in her sopping love tunnel.
"You're ready to start work," Renee told her, "here's how it goes. The arm that dildo up your belly is attached to has very sensitive sensors. It can measure the force required to push it into you, and the force to drag it out of your greedy quim. It does this whether you are passive and it is raping you, as you so elegantly put it, although I doubt if anyone watching you juice right now would call it rape, or if it is stationary and you are working on it with your bottom sliding back and forth."
There was a click and the prick slid all the way into her, its ten inches filling her belly and making her gasp, then it pulled out until only the nose rested just within the vestibule to her vagina.
"You see how it goes," Renee said, stopping the machine again, "straight in and out. We can vary the speed and the rhythm of the strokes to replicate any masculine mood from violent passion to contemplative relaxation, and it's up to you to fall in with his mood and pump him gently or suck on him like a vacuum cleaner, as appropriate. Now you see those little indicator lights in front of you?"
She did.
"When the green light comes on, you've gripped the prong just right and the man will be happy and satisfied. A red light, and you've boobed. Gripped him when he wanted to be allowed to go on quietly soaking, without provoking
ejaculation, left him slack when he wanted his neck wrung; timed it wrong, so that you interrupted his rhythm, or some other sin."
"But how will I know which it is?" the crouching student wanted to know.
"The same way you would if you were in bed with a man; feminine intuition," Laura explained. "It'll be up to you to try and gauge where you went wrong, and try and correct it on the next stroke."
"And just to help your mental processes, you'll be judged on your performance at the end of the session and, just like old time schools, you'll have the lesson written on your bottom with this," and she indicated her dangling badge of office. "That counter you see in front of you registers your valid strokes. It goes up for every green light you get but," she added warningly, "it goes down for every red. Be warned. It's up to you how long the session lasts, so make sure those green lights keep coming. For starters we'll set your target at 100, just to let you get the feel of it."
There was the click of levers and whirr of motors behind her and the rod in her belly stirred into life. It thrust deep into her, moving slowly to touch her cervix, then equally slowly, slide backwards in the slick passage until only the nose was lodged in her female tract. The green light blinked approvingly on the inward thrust but was immediately cancelled by a flash of red as the monster phallus completed its withdrawal.
She'd forgotten what she was there for as she tried to master the strange sensation of being ridden by an inert machine, but a slash from Laura's quirt brought her sharply back to reality. She'd done nothing as the plastic prick had penetrated her, and had got a green light but equal inattention on the way out had cost her a red and a rapidly thickening purple welt across her bent bare buttocks. With this slow rhythm to the simulated copulation it didn't take a genius to work out that her virtual sexual partner, who existed only in the ingenious machine's built-in computer, was looking for a nice comfortable session, with an easy slide into her hot depths, but a firm milking grip on the way out. Still mindful of the sting in her bottom from Laura's sharp reminder, she set herself to relax her belly on the next in stroke, then call on the muscles of her vaginal wall to bear down on the intruder all through the out stroke, as if she couldn't bear to let it go.
Painful Prize Page 16
