Wicked Spin


Views: 502 Created: 2007.09.28 Updated: 2007.09.28

A tale out of Africa

Chapter 7

A month went by, but it felt like an eternity. Every day I was whipped, forced to dress in a ridiculous maids outfit to clean the house from top to bottom, while my asshole was filled with increasingly larger butt plugs. The ballet boots were applied every night, though during the day my feet were pressed into leather pumps with four-inch heels, to match the maid's dress. All this time I was not allowed to speak and was kept gag most of the time. I'd pretty much given-up on solid foods, as my appetite was lost due to the constriction of the corset, and I didn't have any teeth anyway. So what I got looked (and probably tasted) like baby food, but at least it kept my energy level up.

The pipeline workers returned, with plenty of 'friends'. Fastened into the stocks again, this time for a whole weekend. I was forced to take them all on at least two or three times each. I had lost count of how many had reamed my asshole or came in my mouth, but in the end it had cost me over five thousand dollars.

I had been forced to retain the cum in my asshole, and obviously what I'd swallowed, until Monday morning, and only then was I given a thorough cleaning and several enemas.

By the end of the next month, I was getting more than concerned by the way my tits were shaping up. The special nipple trainers had been removed and thick rings affixed through the now distended nipples. More surprising was how I thought that my breasts had grown. At first I thought it was the effect of the corset, but I was later told that I was being given special hormones that would, in time, 'soften me up' and give me a much more "acceptable shape".

My breast were, of course, still very small, but obvious nerveless. I had no doubt that they would continue to expand, if the hormone treatment continued. They also seemingly made for more tempting targets for Pane and Maria's small whips. My ass didn't escape the continued torment, as I was whipped or paddles constantly.

They now thought I was ready to return to work, something about keeping the money flowing. The thought of going to work was mixture of both joy and consternation. I would be happy to stop the daily humiliation of the maid's duties and the constant abuse, but what kind of freak would I look like. The answers came quickly enough.

When I was told to change into my 'work cloth', I was first given underwear comprised of a full size diaper covered by a tight fitting pair of rubber panties. With the butt plug removed, my now extended asshole would have no way of retaining anything.

The next item looked like a one-piece white women's aerobic suit, with the top part looking like a tight T-shirt; this only served to highlight my budding breasts and nipples. The material was thick, with just enough stretchiness to get over my ass and up to where my arms would go. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was meant to hug my body from my crotch area to the bottom of my neck.

I was next given a pair of thick, black and opaque pantyhose (they didn't what me to wear socks, so the tights would serve that purpose).

The pants came next. They were sort of loose fitting around the butt and crotch area, but were tapered at the top to fit against my corseted waist. The normal fly front was inoperable, as they felt it was not required, so instead a zipper on the right side, hidden in the seam, would keep the pants up. Belts loops were not required either, as the tapered fit was enough, though a locking belt was put through the unnecessary loops to make sure that only they could remove them.

I was finally given a loose fitting cotton shirt that would hang over the top of the pants to just below my hips. Adding the shoes completed the ensemble and I was almost 'ready for work'.

The cunt-shaped dental prosthetic was replaced by a denture that looked like my real teeth, without some of the former defects. My head would stay completely bald, and I was thankful that they'd taken the time to have me work outside over the past few months so that my head had taken a 'healthy' glow.

I was getting used to the constriction of the corset and had been able to move around quite freely. The addition of the diaper, 'underwear and stocking did feel rather unusual, though.

Just before sending me off on my first day of work in over two months, they issued their final warnings about telling anybody of my new standing in life or about wandering off beyond the range of my work area.

My secretary had been with me from the start. I had hired her locally and she was very efficient and, though not a hiring criteria, very good looking. Pamela Drucker.

She greeted me with a smile and asked if I was well rested and ready for the mountain of work that had piled up. Though probably a little flush, I told her that I was glad to be back and that I would work through the day to catch up. I had had to have several meetings, always very conscious of whether anyone could see the transformation that I wore under my normal looking clothe. I had to pee several times and would go to the bathroom in one of the stalls, to piss into my diaper. The wetness was somewhat uncomfortable, but with the added material I couldn't feel a whole lot.

At about five o'clock, my secretary came into my office, as she'd often done in the past, to get an update on my plans and schedule. Closing the door behind her (it was a very noisy office), she walked over to stand in front of my desk.

"Have you caught-up on everything, " she asked.

"Hardly, " I answered, "but I did make a dent in the pile of stuff that'd been left for me.

"That's good, " she said, "cause I have something else for you to do".

"Sure, " I responded, lifting my head to look at her.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that, because, slut, I want you to first come here on you hands and knees, and kiss my feet."

"What!" I quickly said.

"That's 'What, Mistress', you filthy whore", as she reach over the desk and slapped my face, hard. "Word had gotten around about your new role in life. As a worthless slut you will obey or you will be further punished and publicly humiliated. Is that what you want?"

"No, Mistress."

"So, what are you waiting for, or do I have to repeat myself?"

I got down on my knees and crawled to where she stood, my head bowed.

"May I kiss you feet, Mistress?" I 'begged'.

"That's better, but you're not quite ready for my feet yet. First I want to lick my shoes. I want the top to be free of dust, and the underside as well."

She sat down and presented me her right foot. I licked the top till the patent leather was gleaming, then the sole and heels. I did the same with the other shoe. It was disgusting.

As if that wasn't enough, before letting me leave for the day, she had me lean against the desk and gave me twenty whacks on the ass with a long, thick ruler. The ride back to my (their) house was painful indeed, as my stinging ass bumped against the seat on the irregular roads.

When I got home, I was unceremoniously stripped of my outer and underwear, told to clean myself up then to put on the rubber maids outfit with four-inch pumps; there was dinner to make and a house to clean. It was past midnight by the time I was strapped down to my bed, uncomfortable as it was, my butt plugged again, and forced to wear the cunt-like dental prosthetic along with a long penis gag (with breathing hole, of course).

The next six months was more of the same. The corset had been changed for a smaller one with a narrower waist and my breasts had grown out more, looking less and less like budding breasts and, I thought, much more obvious.

My poor cock had been imprisoned for over eight months. While the belt had been removed on a monthly basis for inspection, I had been kept blindfolded during the process and a local anaesthetic had been applied to the area to ensure that I felt absolutely nothing.

Maria had become my hosts' very pliable slave, never hesitating to administer whatever punishment they had conceived for me.

The pipeline workers now had a monthly fuck-o-thon, with me as their 'willing' whore. I was always masked and kept in some sort of restrictive bondage during their well-paid sessions. Productivity was up, but my bankbook was down.

My secretary now expected (and received) a daily tongue-job from me, except for four days a month when I would spend the time giving her a head-to-toe tongue bath, while I was blindfolded, with both hands tied behind my back.

A year after my ordeal had begun, my breasts had now grown out to about a B cup and becoming next to impossible to conceal. My waist was down to a trim sixty centimetres (a little less than twenty-four inches), while the hormones had had the effect of adding additional flesh to my butt and hips. I still wore the rubber corset, and the chastity belt was a constant reminder of my chaste condition.

I had begun noticing slight changes to my voice; I was beginning to sound like a teenage boy who's voice is changing. The exercise regime had trimmed most of the excess fat from my arms and legs, and my muscle tone had become decidedly less robust.

Every weekday I'd be transformed into an oil company executive, making the tough decisions, raking in the money (for them), while the evenings and weekends I was their maid, fuck-hole and general whipping boy/girl.

On one particular occasion, Pane had dragged me to a fetish party attended by many of my office colleagues. With my face hidden behind a thick rubber hood, my lower body squeezed into a long, rubber hobble-skirt to match my corset and my growing naked breasts simply adorned by the permanent rings piercing my nipples, I was to be part of the evening's entertainment. With the thick skirt wrapped tightly around my butt, the 'guests' took great pleasure in paddling my ass. If I'd been able to speak, I'd have begged and pleaded for them to stop after fifty whacks, but instead had to suffer while they administered a hundred. Several of the male guests demanded blowjobs, so my unwilling, but suitably equipped mouth was pressed into service.

At the end of the evening, Pane offered to auction my services for a full weekend to the highest bidder, either male or female, to do as they pleased. The auction raised a considerable sum of money, ostensibly to be used to help defray the costs of these parties. In the end, my services were purchased by a rather, let's call her, large boned woman. Not really grossly overweight, but it was clear that the very tight leather clothing she wore, served not only to project a clear fetish for this second skin but to hold-in what looked like two hundred pounds or so of a mean, tough-looking, fuck-men-over-anytime-you-can, bitch.

She was told that I would be delivered the following Friday night and, save for returning me in one piece, without any permanent injury, anything and everything was possible.

I just stood there, arms tied tightly behind me, cum drooling from my still open mouth, from my earlier service duties, trying to blank-out what this leather-bitch might do to me. I knew that the ass paddling would make sitting-down very painful for a week to come, but hopefully it would ok by the next weekend.

At the end of the evening's festivities, I was thrown into the trunk of the car for the trip back. The cock-sucking prosthesis had been left in place, which made breathing easy, but I still tasted the thick, salty cum that had been deposited in my mouth.

When we arrived back at the house, I was escorted into my room and spent the rest of the night bound in the same way. The binding around my arms had been loosened a bit, though still behind my back. The hood, skirt and killer heels were left on, and I was saved from the usual night time bondage ritual, though I did have to sleep (so to speak) on the floor. In order to prevent me from moving around too much, my nipple rings were locked onto a short chain that was attached to the wall. The chain was just long enough to allow me to rest on one side, any other movement causing my nipple to painfully stretch out. The cum inside the prosthesis was now mixed with my saliva, creating a pool below where my head rested; I knew I'd have to clean that up the next morning anyway.

I had not been allowed to relieve myself, so that by the next morning, my diaper was soaked. My jaw ached from the unnatural opening caused by the "gag", and my arms were numb from the bindings.

With everything but the corset and chastity belt removed, I was allowed to clean myself. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I couldn't help but be shocked (still) by the transformation my body was going through. The tattoos were clearly noticeable, both at the front and back, the "WHIP ME" and "FUCK ME" on my ass, now framed by the bright red skin earned from the previous night's paddling.

Surprisingly, the dildo was not reinserted up my ass, as was the usual morning custom. I was told that the pipeline workers were complaining that their favourite "fuck-hole" was getting as loose as an over-the-hill whore's cunt. My hole was to be allowed to regain some of its elasticity, through it would take a few weeks, so in the meantime I still had to wear a diaper.

I then spent a gruelling four hours completely licking my room's tile floor, then each inch of the bathrooms, including sink, bath and toilet. I had been allowed to eat and drink throughout that time from a dog dish placed in one corner of the room. Maria, who had been monitoring my activities, took great pleasure in opening the can of sticky, gooey dog food in front of me, so as to make sure I saw what was to be my "nutrition" for the day.

On the following Friday, as soon as I returned from work, I was surprised as Pane's ordered Maria remove my corset; it had become a permanent fixture. I was to be left completely nude except for the chastity belt, as per the instructions from the previous weekend's auction winner and my "hostess" for the next two and a half days.

Metal ankle and wrist cuffs were locked on, as was a wide metal collar. D-rings on each of these were used to attach my wrists to the front of the chastity belt, while a short chain linked my ankles, forcing me to make very small steps. My normal "working teeth" had been removed, replaced by a large ball gag with a breathing hole and a tight blindfold had been applied. Combined with the white-noise filling my ears, I was deaf, dumb and blind and was now almost ready for whatever my "weekend Mistress" had in mind.

The final touch was to be placed into what appeared to be a large trunk of some kind. Lying on my back, my knees bend, my feet touching the other end of the box. Straps were tightened around my arms, chest and waist. A metal bar, fed through what must have been hole on one side of the trunk, was secured under my knees, while a similar bar was placed at my ankles, trapping my legs in a bent position. A final bar must have been fed through the bottom, as I was then impaled onto a short but wide dildo.

Unable to hear or see anything, I could only guess that the cover had been closed, as the air inside got warmer, though there must have been some holes at the top or side of the trunk.

The jostling of the trunk and a move to a vertical position, told me that I was on the move. The lack of sight and sound was disorienting, but I could feel every movement, every bump from what must have been the stairs, as the dildo pounded my asshole, moving in and out, stretching it with every bounce.