The Photographer's Party

Author: Rilawild

Natasha was running late. She'd promised to be at the gallery at seven and it was already six forty-five. She looked at her watch; there was no way she'd be on time and Angela was going to be mad. She hated disappointing her friend.

Natasha had been caught up looking at the positions vacant pages of the paper and time had got away from her. She needed a job; she was behind on her rent and had loan repayments to make. If she didn't find something soon she'd be out on the streets; and she'd really need a friend like Angela then.

She'd left university three years ago and been offered a great job at an advertising agency. She'd thought that she was set up, but the agency “downsized” her six months ago and now she was having to pick up temporary work wherever she could get it, whilst she looked for another full-time job.

She'd known Angela at college, they hadn't been close friends then and had lost contact soon after graduation. It had been a surprise when she'd walked into the gallery a couple of months ago and there had been Angela. She'd just been recruited as the gallery manager. They'd gone for a drink, and then a meal and all of a sudden they were best friends, closer than they'd ever been at college.

Natasha checked herself in the mirror. She was pleased with what she saw: shoulder-length, straight, honey-coloured hair, hazel eyes and a cute nose, or at least that's what her last boyfriend had told her. She was proud of her shapely five foot four figure and her thirty-six inch C-cup breasts.

She slammed the door behind her and jumped into her car. She thought that she'd be about ten minutes late and hopefully a quick text to Angela would let her know. Natasha prayed that Angela wouldn't mind too much.

Thankfully, there was a free parking space outside the gallery and as expected Angela was waiting for her. Her blonde hair glowed in the evening sun. She was a couple of inches taller than Natasha and another cup size larger. Both were beautiful and when they were out on the town they almost had to fight the men off with sticks. Natasha locked her car and greeted her friend with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

She didn't know anything about the exhibition that was opening at the gallery, except that Angela had had a mischievous smile when she'd invited Natasha to a private preview showing and told her it was not for feint hearted.

“OK, let see what's so special about this exhibition,” Natasha said as Angela unlocked and pushed open the door.

“Now, prepare yourself, it's pretty shocking but I just know you're going to find this a great hoot.”

The gallery lights flickered on and Natasha was suddenly confronted by the black and white image of an amazing woman. The large photograph showed her in tight leather, she looked just as Natasha thought a Dominatrix should. She was stunningly attractive, long dark hair and penetrating eyes. She had an almost impish smile on her face, perhaps a private joke with the photographer. It was clear though that she would not take any crap from anyone. Her costume didn't reveal a lot of skin, but hinted at the delights to be found underneath, and she carried what looked like a riding crop in her right hand.

Natasha was gob smacked, she had not been prepared for this.

“Stunning isn't she”, said Angela breaking Natasha's trance. “She's the artist and this is her self portrait for the exhibition.”

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Natasha, “Can you show this? Won't the council close you down?”

“This is just for starters, wait until you see the rest. We're OK, the exhibition is not going to be open to the public, it's invitation only – which is why I wanted to sneak you in tonight. Now I doubt that you've noticed the best thing about this picture, I know I didn't at first. Look at her crotch.”

‘What! Oh my God!' Natasha thought and then, trying to sound casual, asked Angela, “Is that a ... you-know-what?” The woman in the picture appeared to have a black cock protruding from her crotch.

“Yeap, it's a strap-on dildo. That's the amazing thing about this photo, it's black against a black background. The lighting doesn't highlight it, but once you see it, it's so obvious. It's like one of those optical illusions. It's things like that that make her work sell for a fortune – but only to the ‘discrete buyer' if you know what I mean.”

Natasha just stood staring at the photo, her eyes kept switching between the woman's eyes and the monster dildo. It took Angela, slipping her arm through hers to pull her away and into the gallery itself proper.

“She said she wanted to make an impression on her audience by placing that picture there, and it's clear from you that she's succeeded. Come on let's have a look at the rest.”

Angela led her into the main room. All around there were black and white photographs of all shapes and sizes. These however were not of the dominatrix. No, these were of her ‘victims'. Each and every photograph showed a young woman in various states of undress in submissive poses. Each one was beautiful and oozed class, they were top quality pieces of artwork, but Natasha couldn't help thinking that they were just downright pornographic.

Some of the women shown were bound, others gagged, a few even hooded, but each one was clearly aroused and each one obviously submitting to either the camera or an off-picture lover.

‘These pictures are absolutely disgusting, perverted and filthy' thought Natasha. ‘What sort of woman would allow herself to be photographed like this? Certainly no normal woman would want to be displayed like this, only sluts, tramps or whores...; but oh they're sexy' .

She was transfixed and found it hard to look away. She was fascinated by the images. A woman here lying on her back, her hands and feet fastened to a bar in front of her exposed vagina, her feet wide apart and knees spread wide. The woman had a wide collar around her neck as her only ‘clothing'. Her eyes appeared pleading. Natasha wondered what she was thinking, what did she want, and why had she agreed to be photographed in such a compromising position.

She felt herself becoming a little flushed. Her jeans and top felt altogether too tight, and she was embarrassed when she realised that her nipples had hardened. Looking down she could see them making bumps in her t-shirt through her bra.

‘I hope that Angela doesn't notice' and with that thought she looked across at her friend only to find her smiling back. ‘Oh no, she knows that I'm getting turned on by this. What will she think of me?' These thought just caused her to blush, and that in turn made her even more turned on. She felt a familiar tingling growing in her belly.

‘Why am I aroused by this, I'm not a pervert?' Natasha, confused by her emotions, tried to convince herself that it was just because they were attractive and sexy pictures rather than the content. Part of her wanted to run, to get away from these perverted pictures. Another part needed to look more closely to see into the souls of these women and find out if they were really any different from herself.

It felt weird to be aroused by these pictures of helpless women. She found herself drinking in the images, each more amazing than the previous one. They were all women; after a moment's thought, Natasha found that she couldn't imagine being aroused by pictures of men in similar situations, and that disturbed her even more. With each new image, Natasha found herself wondering about the story behind the picture, she imagined herself there taking the photograph or even worse being the model! And she knew it was fuelling a terrible, fantastic feeling deep in her pussy. She was frightened that she was being turned on by pictures of women, and yet she knew that she was heterosexual. Well, she thought, she didn't really count that time at university with her best friend and room-mate Jayne. After all, nothing had happened ... really.

Her mind wandering back to her college days...

They'd been out to a club and were drunk. They'd seen a couple of women kissing passionately in the darkness, and they'd giggled about it for the rest of the evening. She hadn't felt particularly comfortable about it, but she'd wanted to laugh it off with Jayne.

They'd got back to the room they shared on campus and had more shots of tequila, laughing and chatted about nothing in particular; the subject of the lesbians had come up again and they'd giggled, again perhaps a little more uncomfortably this time. They hugged each other and Jayne gave her a kiss goodnight on the cheek. Natasha had then turned to kiss her back. Somehow they ended up with their lips touching and then they were french kissing. Natasha felt Jayne's tongue gently probing between her lips. After a moment, they broke apart, both clearly very embarrassed. Quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, they'd laughed it off as joke and had gone to their own beds turning off the light.

Natasha found that she couldn't sleep. Images of the two girls from the nightclub kept passing across her mind's eye together with her passionate kiss with her best friend. She'd felt so horny. She tried to distract herself by thinking about her favourite fantasy. She imagined herself going to an interview with a young business executive, who just happened to look like Brad Pitt. Typically it would end with him ravishing her across his desk. She'd sometimes spiced it up imagining that his secretary was just outside the door and might come in at any minute. Other times when she was feeling especially horny, the secretary would be sitting shocked in the same room. That night though her mind betrayed her, the secretary and ‘Brad' were lovers and invited her to join them. Whilst she made love with him, the other woman was caressing and kissing them both. As the fantasy continued the secretary had come more and more into the story.

She'd been building herself to a major orgasm, trying to keep herself quiet so as not to wake Jayne, she'd buried her face into her pillow as her breathing had become heavy. Her fingers worked hard against her clit.

The secretary would normally be a ‘generic' faceless blonde, but that night Natasha had wickedly thought of her as Jayne and that had spurred her arousal to another level. The fantasy had twisted and she'd imagined ‘Jayne' kissing her more and more and ‘Brad' had begun to be relegated to bit-part. Then, in her fantasy ‘Jayne' had touched her pussy and she'd come in both her fantasy and in her bed. It had been an amazing orgasm, and as she calmed down she wasn't sure but she thought she heard heavy breathing coming from across the room, but since her own breath was thundering in her head she couldn't be sure. Part of her wanted to think that Jayne had had a similar fantasy and part of her was absolutely disgusted about what she'd fantasized about.

They hadn't talk about it the next morning. Natasha had been a little sheepish, expecting Jayne to be angry and disgusted with her, but nothing was said and over the next few days Natasha had relaxed and they'd gone back to how they'd been before. New boys came on the scene and they'd never discussed lesbian relationships again. Natasha had purposefully made sure that none of her fantasies included girls, almost afraid of what she might find out.

She was a little surprised that these photographs had brought back that memory, and she hoped that her blush was not any deeper. She pulled her eyes away from the bound and gagged blonde in front of her and allowed Angela to lead her further around the room. Her panties were getting decidedly damp. She found she couldn't concentrate properly and all that kept running through her mind were thoughts about how these women must have felt as they allowed themselves to bound and then photographed.

It took her a few moments to realise that Angela was talking to her. She blushed again, tore her eyes away from the photo she was studying and listened to her friend.

“The artist, Trudy, is holding a party on Saturday night to celebrate this exhibition. She's asked me to come, and I really need to go to represent the galley. It should be great; she knows lots of people. She said I could bring a friend and I thought of you. Would you like to come along? Given all this, the party should be interesting.”she said spreading her arm out wide to indicate the photos.

“Erm, I'm not sure...”

“Oh, come on. Don't be such a prude. It'll be fun, and you never know there might be someone there who'll be able to solve your money problems! Besides I need to take someone, and I just have to go. You wouldn't want to let me down, would you?”

The look that Angela gave her made sure that Natasha could not possibly decline. When reluctantly she said “OK, I'll come,” Angela's smile beamed and she hugged Natasha.

“Great, I'll pick you up at eight.”

Angela hooked her arm in Natasha's once more and led her from the gallery. She was still distracted by the pictures and without Angela's intervention, probably would have continued to stand there transfixed by the pictures until the lights were turned off. She thought, rather embarrassingly, she might have still stood there even then. She wasn't really sure why the exhibition had affected her so much.

“Stunning wasn't it?” Angela broke the spell. “She's such an brilliant photographer.”

“Yeah,” Natasha hesitated, “her composition and lighting are excellent.” ‘and her subject matter is certainly breathtaking,' she added to herself. ‘I'll have to pretend to Angela that the reason I was so distracted was Trudy's artistic technique and not what she's portraying.'

Angela just smiled and replied, “I just knew that her talent would get your creative juices flowing.” ‘And not just my creative juices.' Natasha had to admit to herself.

Natasha sat in her car outside the gallery, she needed to collect her thoughts. Now that she was out of the close atmosphere, she could try to think. ‘I'm so horny. Those pictures were so sexy! No, it's just a reaction to some very erotic pictures. There's nothing more to it than that. It's natural for a healthy young woman like me to be aroused by pictures so sexually charged.' She did her best to convince herself but didn't do a very good job of it.

She couldn't help it, she slipped her hand down between her thighs and squeezed her hand against her overheated pussy. ‘Oh, I need to get home.'

Natasha slammed the door to her flat, almost surprised that she hadn't had an accident on her journey home in her distracted state. She quickly shed her clothes in her bedroom and in a moment she was standing under the shower. Natasha stood for a few seconds under the water, wetting her hair, trying to refresh herself. She wanted to touch herself, but knew that she'd prolong her pleasure by waiting. Then she began to soap herself, at first cleaning her body, arms and legs and finally she washed the soap over her breasts. ‘Oh yes, that's good'. She teased herself, caressing her tits. She grazed her hard nipples, taking a sharp breath, and next circled them. She relished the electrifying sensation.

Then she began to stroke and pull on her distended nipples. She needed to touch her pussy, and her breath shortened as her excitement grew. She began to squeeze her rock hard nubs and pressed her legs together as she fought to control herself. And then she couldn't wait any longer, opening her legs she slid her right hand down to her pubic hair and beyond.

Her fingers traced her mound and then found her slit, feeling how hot she was, and she knew that much of the wetness was from her own juices and not the shower. Natasha sank her middle finger into herself and gasped.

Having held herself back, now she wanted to push the accelerator. She knew exactly what she needed. She thought back the gallery and one of the pictures that had particularly held her transfixed.

The woman had been naked except for her bondage. She was kneeling as if facing an unseen person to left of the photographer. Her legs were spread wide and her shaved pussy on display and glistened, clearly wet. Her hands were bound behind her back and from the angle it looked like her elbows must also be tied together, forcing her large breasts out. She had a painfully wide collar tight around her neck and a belt was buckled around her waist.

What had caught Natasha's eye though was the woman face. Her ash blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail. Most of her face though was concealed by a harness for a strange gag. She had never seen anything like it. From the girl's mouth extended a shiny black rubber dildo.

And above the gag were the woman's eyes. They stared straight out at the viewer. The look in those eyes was captivating. The photographer had captured something very special: Natasha had seen a gamut of emotions in those deep pools. There was adoration like one might see from a faithful pet and overlaying that was a begging, pleading gaze.

Natasha couldn't help but wonder how the woman had come to be in that compromising position, and for what was she pleading?

Natasha began to concentrate then on her clitoris as she imagined what the woman must have been feeling. She imagined being in the same position, imagined her jaw stretched by the strange gag. ‘Oh god, how embarrassing to be so exposed, to be made to kneel helplessly.' She'd sometimes fantasised about being a damsel in distress, but nothing this intense.

Her fingers worked furiously at her clitoris.

Her fantasy placed her kneeling and pleading with her captor and this brought her very close. She tried to hold herself back for a moment, but as she imagined herself as a kneeling submissive slut she could hold back no longer. ‘Oh yes, please use me, fuck me, Oh yes! Take me! Oh god, Oooohhh yesssss!' Natasha's orgasm took her and she felt it build deep in her pussy and suddenly overwhelm her. She threw her head back and let out a primal scream.

She panted, her outstretched arms held her up away from the wall of shower and the water cascaded down her heaving back.

Once she had recovered some what, she felt a wave of embarrassment sweep over her as she thought about the degrading things she'd contemplated as she orgasmed. She knew that it was the thought of herself pleading in the submissive position that had finally spurred her over the edge.

The bizarre evening and the powerful orgasm had drained her and when she had dried herself she just collapsed onto her bed naked and was asleep in seconds.

Her sleep was troubled by dreams of bondage and submission and she awoke feeling exhausted but still very aroused. Natasha was a little disturbed by her reaction and tried to put it down to the fact that she'd been without a boyfriend for a while now, but she failed to convince herself totally.

Over the next couple of days she often found herself thinking about the exhibition. She'd suddenly find herself snapping out of a day-dream, realising that she'd been thinking about pictures in the exhibition and perhaps worse of all that she was aroused by her day-dream. Luckily she only had these day-dreams when she was alone at home. The thought that someone else would catch her in these ‘dirty' fantasies mortified her. Sometimes she'd find she had to slip into her bedroom and masturbate before she could get back to what she'd been doing, then she felt more embarrassed and guilty than before and then more aroused. It was like a vicious circle.

When Angela came to pick her up on Saturday evening for the party, Natasha was having mixed thoughts about going. She was still disturbed by her reaction to the exhibition and wasn't sure how she'd respond to the photographer in person. She knew though that this party was important to her best friend, and she remembered the happy look on Angela's face when she'd agreed to come. No matter how nervous she felt about this party, she couldn't let her friend down.

The dress that she'd chosen to wear was her favourite ‘posh frock', well in fact her only ‘posh frock'. It was a long, thin and clingy black evening dress. The dress flowed up from a hem just a few centimetres above her strappy high-heeled shoes up her long legs. It curved over her shapely buttocks, over her flat tummy and up and over her jutting unfettered breasts to fasten behind her neck. It left her back uncovered from her shoulder blades to the small of her back. It had a couple of slits up each side that showed some of her stockinged legs as she walked. She'd chosen a pair a silk bikini panties and hold-up stockings as her only underwear. She finished off her outfit with a matching wrap to cover her bare shoulders.

Angela jokingly wolf-whistled her when Natasha opened her door. She wolf-whistled back, “to you too!” and smiled at her close friend. She thought though that Angela did look stunning in her dress. It was a high-necked red silk ‘oriental' styled knee-length dress. She was wearing high-heeled boots and black tights or stockings. ‘She looked startling and confident' , Natasha thought, ‘just the impression she'd want to make as the new up-and-coming gallery manager. At least we'll make a statement, I'm sure that we'll make the right impression with this influential photographer that Angela needs to impress.' Then feeling a little tingle down her spine she thought, ‘I wonder if there'll be any nice men there?'

The party was held at an expensive loft apartment in a very exclusive part of town. Angela parked her car in the secure underground car-park and they took the lift up to the loft.

“She sell her pictures for a packet, and I'm told that she's independently wealthy.” Angela explained when Natasha wondered how an artist could afford such a wonderful place.

The apartment door was opened promptly and Natasha was stopped in her tracks. The woman who had opened the door was a live apparition straight from the exhibition. She was slightly smaller than Natasha and appeared to be a parody of a maid. Her black satin ‘dress' exposed her breasts and was very tight around her slim waist. From there it fluffed out into a tiny micro-skirt that left her completely exposed ‘down there'. She had on a little maid's hat, a petite white apron, and she tottered on impossibly high heels.

Natasha was shocked, she just hadn't been prepared to see this vision of pure sex appeal. She realised that she was staring and probably had her mouth wide-open in shock but couldn't bring herself to snap out of it until Angela gently took her by the hand and led her inside the apartment.

‘How could a woman display herself so wantonly? She was there in the doorway – anyone could see her.' Natasha though, ‘She must be a strip-a-gram or something, but why would she open the door in her state of undress? She must be terribly embarrassed!'

She was still stunned when the maid closed the door and took her wrap from her. Angela led her deeper into the apartment and whispered conspiratorially “The party must be themed after the exhibition.”

Natasha couldn't take her eyes off the maid as they entered a room; she'd picked up a tray loaded with glasses of champagne that she offered to the two newcomers. Natasha took a swift drink, feeling that her mouth was quite dry. Then the maid began to walk the room passing out drinks to those who wanted them. Natasha's eyes continued to run over her smooth buttock as they swayed beneath her frilly skirt, her bare jiggling breasts above her tray of glasses and, when she turned back towards them, her exposed mound of Venus.

She took a gulp of champagne and chastised herself for staring at the ‘strip-a-gram', and consciously looked around the room at the other guests and furnishings. Around the walls were photos, she realised that they were prints of those from the exhibition, and Natasha thought that she must not get drawn into looking too closely in case she went off into day-dream land and embarrassed herself and worse ruined Angela's evening.

The guests were a strange bunch, most looked very elegant in their expensive clothes and jewellery. Natasha realised that everyone in this room was a woman, dashing her hopes of meeting a nice man here. Many of the guests' clothes were very daring and revealing. A couple appeared to be wearing skin-tight shiny latex or PVC and another was completely topless! She saw that some wore leather collars or metal chokers, and though she couldn't tell from where she was standing, Natasha thought that perhaps one of the collared women had her hands fastened behind her back. Natasha watched her for a few moments and she never brought her hands around in front of her.

‘Angela's right, it must be a themed party. Why would anyone want to come along so exposed? It must be so embarrassing. They must really respect Trudy and appreciate her work to put up with it all.'

The temperature in the apartment seemed quite warm and she took another sip of champagne. ‘Of course, if you're going to have the hired help and some guests exposing this much flesh then you're going to need to have the heating on,' Natasha mused to herself. ‘That'll be why the maid took my wrap. I'd planned to keep it on this evening, without it, my shoulders and back feel so unprotected, but then again in this company I'm positively overdressed!' She giggled to herself under her breath, and then decided: ‘She was probably just thinking about my comfort.'

Natasha found that she couldn't look anywhere in the room without seeing some form of exposed flesh: photographs, guests or the disturbing maid. She was a bit shocked by it all, and felt herself blushing in embarrassment, even though they were showing themselves off and not her.

She felt a little strange, a little light-headed and almost overwhelmed by it all. She took another drink from her glass and realised that she'd already emptied it.

“Here, have mine, I'm driving after all.” Angela said as she handed her her full glass.

“Thanks.” she replied and took a long drink from the fresh glass as she continued to nervously look around the room trying not to blush too much.

Natasha felt a little unsteady, and Angela took her arm, like the good friend that she was. ‘We'll support each other, that's a good idea,” Natasha thought. ‘Angela's probably just as shocked as I am. What have we let ourselves in for coming to this party? We should have realised that it would be strange place having seen the exhibition.'

Angela led the confused woman across the room. It was the most bizarre party that Natasha had ever been to, and she wasn't sure she could handle it. Part of her wanted to flee as fast and as far away as possible from the strange people; part of her couldn't take her eyes from the naked legs, backs and breasts all on blatant display before her and this confused her even more. Finally, she knew that she had to stay: this party was especially important to Angela who had to prove herself as the manager of the gallery. She couldn't let her best friend down and knew that she had to keep her confused emotions under control; she had to do her best to help Angela present a great image to this supposedly important artist. A successful exhibition and recommendation from the artist could do wonders for her career. If Natasha blew it for her, Angela would never forgive her and Natasha would feel so terrible. So she had to soldier on, no matter how strange the party was.

She knew that she was still blushing from all the exposed flesh she saw and hoped that no one would notice. If they did, that would just make her blush even more. Everyone here was clearly taking all of this in their stride and she didn't want to announce the fact that she was not as ‘sophisticated' as the other guests. ‘How could they be so calm?' She just couldn't work it out.

Then Natasha realised that Angela was talking with a couple of women: a statuesque redhead and a slim brunette. She forced herself to look away from all the exposed flesh in the room, to try and concentrate on the conversation in front of her. She couldn't afford to let her daydreams take hold here, she would die of embarrassment, and she'd let Angela down.

Natasha looked at the woman who was speaking, the redhead; she looked to be in her thirties and was wearing quite a conservative dress, which was a relief. ‘Perhaps that's why Angela had chosen her to talk with, more comfortable than trying to talk with a semi-naked woman.' She had an air of confidence about her; she was relaxed and comfortable, which was more than Natasha could say about herself. She had a smooth Irish accent, which Natasha found beautifully lyrical and almost hypnotic. The Irish woman was talking about the exhibition and pointing out some of the pictures around the room. “And there are some of Trudy's more interesting works in the big room, it's a shame that she didn't include them in the exhibition if you ask me. Too shocking perhaps for general display?” she asked rhetorically. ‘Too shocking!' thought Natasha, ‘has she seen what's in the exhibition? If that's tame then I'm dreading these other photographs.' Angela then took up the conversation and moved onto talking about her work at the gallery.

Natasha must have missed the introductions whilst she'd been pre-occupied and was too embarrassed with herself to ask for women's names. ‘I'll just see if I can bluff my way through.' She thought. However, it didn't seem like it was going to be a problem since Angela and Irish woman didn't seem to include her in the conversation and left no convenient pauses for her join in.

‘Oh, please say that I haven't embarrassed Angela already and she is ignoring me.'

She realised though that the forth woman wasn't talking either. Natasha thought about striking up a conversation with her and looked at her for the first time for more than a glance.

The brunette was looking down at the floor, perhaps looking at Natasha's shoes, so she couldn't catch her eyes to draw her into a conversation. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that fell down her back, and so her face was not hidden, Natasha could see that her pale skin had a slight tint, perhaps a blush. ‘She's probably just as embarrassed as I am about this whole ‘naked' party thing.' She wore a beautiful gauzy, short, pale-blue dress, and like some of the other women wore a leather collar around her neck.

Natasha, shifted her weight, hoping to distract the woman so that she'd have an opportunity to sympathise with her about the strange party. When she didn't lift her eyes, Natasha looked downwards to see if there was something wrong with her feet. As she did her gaze fell across the woman's chest, and she realised that the brunette was not wearing a bra and that her breasts could be seen through the semi-transparent material of her dress. ‘Oh! No wonder she's embarrassed, perhaps she hadn't realised how transparent the dress was and now she's stuck here. Obviously, it's her gesture towards the theme of the exhibition, and perhaps she's gone further than she thought. I wonder why she doesn't find a safe spot hide herself where she can cover her chest?'

Then Natasha's eyes were drawn further down and she hoped she didn't let out a gasp as she saw that the woman had no knickers on either. Her hairless mound could be seen through the dress with no difficulty, and to Natasha's own embarrassment she could just make out her slit below. It was an intriguing dress, at first glance, nothing looked out of place, but on closer examination, one could easily make out that she was naked beneath it. It would have been even worse if she'd had any pubic hair – ‘perhaps that's why she's removed it?' Natasha wondered.

As Natasha flushed, she decided that it would probably be best not talk with this woman after all. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to keep the trembling from her voice and, no doubt, the woman wouldn't want to have her humiliating situation drawn to any more attention.

‘She seems a little shy to be wearing such a daring dress in public, I'd normally expect that it would be an outgoing flirtatious woman who'd be willing to cause a stir with a striking outfit.'

Natasha's eyes just kept flitting from the woman's breasts to her crotch, as if she couldn't believe what her eyes were telling her, and as she did so, she was embarrassed once more to find that her own levels of arousal were building. She could feel that her nipples were hard beneath the material of her dress and worst of all that her arousal would be obvious to anyone who looked at her. It was no consolation for her to realise that one could tell the arousal of the semi-naked women as well even more easily. She knew that they'd dressed to show off their bodies, it had been their choice. She didn't really consider the fact it was her own choice of dress that led to her own predicament.

A pair of naked breasts suddenly confronted Natasha and snapped her out of her thoughts. The maid was swapping her empty glass for a fresh one. Then realising that she was staring she quickly looked up at the woman's face. She'd berated enough people for staring at her own breasts in the past that she didn't want to be found guilty of the same offence. For a moment, she was confused when she didn't recognise the face, and then it dawned on her that this was a different woman. ‘How many of these maids are there at this party?'

The maid moved on and Natasha tried to bring her breathing under control. She realised that she was a little breathless, she was hot, ‘thank God I'm not wearing my wrap‘ she thought, and she knew that her nipples were painfully hard and rubbing against the material of her dress. She just needed a few minutes to calm down and recover.

Unfortunately for Natasha she didn't to get that wish.

She thought that she'd seen just about everything now, but the couple who had just arrived made her realise just how wrong she could be. The first woman through the door looked to be in her forties. She was dressed from floor to breasts in black leather: tight bustier, enhancing her large breasts, a knee length form fitting skirt and thigh-high boots. Her light brown hair tied in a neat bun on her head. Her make-up and jewellery was subtle and elegant. She looked like she could have been a successful executive or lawyer, if only her outfit wasn't so outlandish. However, Natasha's eyes were not fixed on her. Instead they were on the woman behind her, in fact the woman being led by her on a leash!

The maid who'd opened the door for them had taken a long black velvet hooded cloak from the second woman. Underneath she was essentially naked. Natasha was absolutely flabbergasted. She looked much younger than her companion, probably late teens or early twenties. She had her blonde hair tied in two pigtails at the side of her head. Her face was stretched due to the large red ball filling her mouth, a strap cutting into her cheeks and fastened behind her head. Her leash was attached to the black leather collar tight around her neck. A harness of straps criss-crossed her upper body accentuating her proud breasts. They were thrust forward since her arms were fastened behind her back. Each hand was strapped to the opposite elbow. Her nipples were pierced by gold rings and from these hung long weights that swayed as she was led into the room, stimulating her.

Around her waist was a thick leather belt that was cinched tightly and dug deeply into her flesh. From this belt a strap descended down to her crotch, dividing her labia as the leather was pulled tightly into her pussy. The strap continued up between her buttocks until it was fastened once more the belt at her back. More straps surrounded her legs, once more criss-crossing down to her severely high heeled boots.

She was a vision of submission straight from the exhibition photographs. Natasha didn't know how to act when confronted by this sexual animal. ‘How can she come here dressed like that? How can she allow herself to give up all control and be led around by another person? She couldn't stop anyone doing anything to her, being gagged she couldn't even complain if it was something she didn't want to happen. Oh god, the idea of it, it would be just too humiliating, I could never do that, I would never do that! It is just too dirty and perverse.' But, as she thought that, she couldn't help imaging herself in that position, naked in front of all these people, with no control, being led around like a lamb to the slaughter. This caused her head to spin, her heart to pound and her pussy to throb within her now decidedly moist knickers.

She just didn't want to admit that the thought of being humiliated was turning her on; deep down though she was having difficulty denying it. Absent mindedly she began to reach up to caress her breast, but found that Angela's arm was looped through hers. Instead she gulped down the rest of her drink, all without taking her eyes off the naked woman. In her befuddled state, she could only think that the woman must be a prostitute hired by the other woman as a joke to shock everyone there, but no-one else seemed to be remotely shocked. A few woman passed some quiet comments that Natasha couldn't hear, but no-one seemed taken aback in the slightest, except for her. ‘What crazy people are these?'

Angela drew her closer and whispered in her ear, “She's gorgeous isn't she? Can you imagine what must be going though her mind right now?”Natasha thought she could, and all of it seemed too much for her to take in. Her mind was going around in circles, from how sexy she looked, to how embarrassed she'd feel if it was her, and how that thought was just making her feel more and more aroused and how that just made her feel more embarrassed as so on and so on. And her mind kept flashing her images of herself being led around by a leash, naked, and that just made everything ten times worse. Natasha's nipples were very hard and pressing against the material of her dress, and she just wanted to touch herself.

Angela saved her from slipping into fantasy land completely, “Let's go and meet our hostess, it would be rude to wait too much longer before paying our respects.”

‘Oh, bless you Angela, yes, let's try and bring some sanity back. That prostitute has really got to me.'

Angela, led her through into another room, this time larger and clearly the main living room of the apartment. The first thing she notice here were to her horror more naked women. This time there were two woman either side a chair where a third fully dressed woman sat.

Both were kneeling, with their knees spread apart. The first was a very sexy redhead with pale skin and sprinkling of freckles, and the other looked like an Indian with long shining black hair and flawless coffee coloured skin. Both wore collars around their necks with leashes trailing to the seated woman's hands. Natasha felt very embarrassed as she eyed their bodies, their breasts, and mostly their hairless pussies. The redhead had her hands on her thighs and the other girl kept her hands behind her back. Natasha felt the material of her dress moving against her nipples as she thought, ‘I wonder if her hands are tied behind her too' , and realised what a depraved thought she'd just had. ‘Oh god what am I thinking? I'm not one of these kinky perverts wanting to tie other women up! At least I hope not, I just feel so confused about this whole party. I think I've drunk too much, I never could drink Champagne, it always goes straight to my head.' She tried to count how many glasses of the sparkling wine she'd had, and remembered that Angela had been handing her her glasses whenever Natasha's was empty and the maids too had kept plying her with full glasses. She never drank this much normally, ‘It must be this party, it's hot and it's just got me on edge. Well perhaps I'll be OK if I stop now and just stick with soft drinks from now on.'

Natasha, trailing behind Angela, suddenly stopped, rooted to the floor. Across the room was an apparition straight from an erotic wet dream. Their hostess was seated on a large leather arm chair, Natasha thought it was almost throne like. She radiated style and class and Natasha thought that she was perhaps the most attractive woman in the room. Her costume was striking and completely in fitting with the party's theme. Like so many others in the room, her breasts were bare, but for her it seemed a statement of authority, or power, rather than being whorish or dirty. She wore a leather corset that set off her naked breasts wonderfully. Her legs were encased in patterned self-supporting stockings under knee length spike-heeled boots. Her lower arms and hands were encased in skin-tight leather gloves. However, she was not the most striking part of the image. For trailing from her hand was a leash to naked woman at her feet.

Natasha couldn't see much of the prostitute, for what else could such a blatant slut be. She was facing away from them, her head against the floor at their hostess's boots. Natasha's vision was filled with her writhing naked buttocks, which were thrust up in air above her very wide spread knees. The whore's vagina was clearly visible and even worse it was very obviously wet! Natasha could even see that her labia were pierced with golden rings.

‘How could someone earn their living like that? It is so demeaning; no self-respecting woman could ever parade herself like that! And she's not just exposing herself, she's clearly enjoying it, she wants everyone to see her shame,' Natasha thought, but as she did, she knew what it was doing to her insides. Butterflies were swarming in her tummy and she could feel the throbbing in her vagina as her arousal took hold. ‘Oh imagine what it must be like to so displayed. What if it were me? How could I cope?'

Natasha realised that whore must be licking Trudy's boots. ‘It just gets worse and worse' she thought. She looked back to their hostess and found herself captivated. She was confident, sexy and perhaps above all powerful, like a queen surveying all she commands.

“Ah, Angela. It's so good of you to come and in time for the main event; and you've brought a little friend.” Trudy shot Natasha a stunning smile, and looked Natasha up and down with piercing, gleaming eyes.

“She's lovely Angela.” Trudy stated, after her evaluating gaze finished looking Natasha over.

Natasha almost whispered a thank-you, unsure how to react to the strange complement. ‘Why can't I talk properly? After all she's only a woman, but what a woman? She sits there regally with a naked girl licking her boots. I can almost understand why this dirty whore would want to do that. I feel so small in her presence. And the way she looked at me, was she trying to imagine what I would look like naked and collared at her feet?'

It set her heart a flutter and drove her confused mind into overdrive. She felt light-headed and hot, almost faint. It was only after a few moments that she realised that Trudy had paid the complement to Angela and not herself directly. It was like she wasn't there, or perhaps even worse that she didn't expect Natasha to be able to understand or be able to respond. ‘Well, maybe she's right? I having a little difficulty concentrating and speaking at the moment.'

“That's enough now my pet.” Trudy said to the naked whore. Then to a wider audience, she continued. “Today's a very special day. We've a double celebration. The exhibition of course, but it's also my little pet's first time out in public. She's going to show everyone how much she loves me, aren't you little one?”

Natasha looked at the naked girl as she knelt up from her prostrated position and shook her long blonde hair down her bare back.

‘Oh!' Natasha thought in complete shock and alarm. ‘She looks just like Jayne! It can't be, can it? She not a prostitute, she'd never be a prostitute!' She thought firmly. Then she considered what Trudy has said, ‘wait, it sounded like they were lovers, even so Jayne isn't a lesbian!'

Natasha was just stunned, and all she could say was a very tentative, nervous question, “Jayne?”

The nude, looked briefly towards Trudy who gave the slightest of nods, and then the girl replied using the strangest of idioms that Natasha had heard.

“This slut was previously known as Jayne, Ma'am.” she confirmed.

“Oh God, Jayne it me. It's Natasha!”

“Yes Ma'am, this slut remembers you.”

Natasha's safe little world fell apart. Angela had to hold her around the waist to prevent her from falling over. Her mind couldn't rationalise this bizarre situation. ‘She wasn't gay, or into any of this sick perverted stuff at university. We were so alike, people almost thought we were sisters; we even ended each other's sentences. This is just too much, it must be a sick joke, but still she's naked, aroused and has all those piercing.'

Angela held her closely and reassured her.

“It's OK. You didn't know that Jayne is a submissive? Don't worry, it's what she wants, isn't it?

“Yes Mistress Angela. This slut has found her true self. Now it is clear that she was made to be lesbian slave slut. Mistress has taught this slut what she really is, and this slut is very happy.”

Natasha just didn't know what to do, how to handle the situation. She was confused and she was disgusted. She didn't understand why Jayne wasn't mortified and deeply embarrassed to be parading herself in this way in front of so many people. She didn't know why no-one else at the party wasn't as outraged as she was.

It felt like it was boiling in the room. She needed a drink to calm her frayed nerves and she was grateful when Angela handed her a soft drink, but as she downed it quickly she knew that it was mistake, the orange juice was laced with very strong vodka! ‘Oh, Angela must have thought that I'd need a stiff drink to get over the shock – she's such a good friend.' She found herself holding on to Angela for dear life, she was her only anchor in this crazy place.

‘Oh no!' she thought to herself, ‘I'm just as bad! I'm aroused by all this. I can feel my nipples are rock hard and my panties feel too tight and are wet.'

Trudy stood up from her throne-like chair and announced to the room: “Now, I think that we should move onto the main event.”

Angela, supporting Natasha, moved aside and the couple moved back away toward a wall.

Angela reassured Natasha: “It's alright, I'm right here with you, you'll be safe here with me.” Natasha was thankful that her friend hadn't abandoned her whilst she tried to recover from the awful shock of seeing what had become of her old college room-mate.

Trudy clipped a leash onto Jayne's collar. “Now my dear pet, it's your time to show us all what you're made of.”

A space was cleared in the centre of the room and a strange contraption of chrome, leather padding and straps was brought from somewhere into the open area by the two maids. The lights were dimmed and Natasha was glad that she and Angela were now in the shadows, no-one would be concentrating on her whilst she did what she could to calm down and try to pull herself together.

Trudy led Jayne to the frame, which she mounted, knowing where to place herself. She was mostly side on to Natasha, but facing slightly away meaning that she couldn't really see her friend's face. A pad supported her belly, but left her breasts uncovered and dangling unfettered from her horizontal upper body. Her shoulders and neck rested in a support, her arms angled forwards and her hands fell onto hand grips. Her knees and shins were placed onto two lower supports that spread her legs obscenely wide. From where Natasha stood still shaking slightly, she had a view of Jayne's buttocks and her wet pouch prominently displayed between her legs. The golden rings in her labia glinting in the spot-lights that shone on the naked girl.

When she was in position, Trudy began to fix the straps that would hold Jayne firmly in place. Starting at her feet, she buckled a strap over each ankle, another just behind each knee. A heavy belt held her solidly in place over the small of her back. A harness was fitted over her shoulders to hold her to the front of the frame and finally straps held her elbows and wrists.

Natasha, head spinning, watched as a couple of video cameras on tripods were placed to capture what was to going to be done to Jayne. ‘Oh no, poor Jayne. What has happened to her? Why is she letting this happen? She can't seriously be into this stuff, can she? It's humiliating. Oh, what would it feel like to have those tight straps binding and securing me, holding me in their strong embrace, to know that there is nothing I can do to protect myself.' She found her mind driving her on into a fantasy land, the alcohol in her system breaking down her inhibitions and resistance; and her arousal clouding her mind and driving her crazy.

Then Angela said, “Look at her. She's beautiful isn't she? I bet you're wondering how she feels.”

Natasha felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realised that that was exactly what she'd just been thinking. ‘Can she read my mind? Am I that transparent to her? God, I hope that she doesn't realise just how all this is affecting me.'

Angela was holding her closely, giving her the support that she needed, trying to calm her down, but her body was so close to Natasha that it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Her arm was tightly around Natasha's waist, and her hand was firmly holding her hip.

She felt so grateful and found herself muttering, “thank you, thank you, I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I here to help you, you're safe with me.” Angela cooed soothingly and began to gently stroke her hip. She continued to whisper calming words, almost as one would to calm down a nervous horse.

Angela's, “you're safe”, and “I'm here with you” changed as she caressed her young friend to “You know it's what she wants”, and “she craves this”. “You can tell how aroused she is. She's do anything for Trudy.” Angela tried to reassure Natasha, but Natasha couldn't concentrate properly. ‘Is that right? Is this what she wants? I can't really imagine anyone wanting that! But Angela must be right. The alternatives are just impossible. In that case though ...' Her thoughts trailed off as she tried to reconcile her jumbled up thoughts and emotions.

She did feel safe though with Angela besides her. They were in the shadows, at the edge of the room and no-one was paying any attention to them, she was thankful for that at least.

Angela's caressing fingertips began to move more widely from her hip, across the small of her back and tracing spirals up her bare spine. Natasha realised that Angela must be as nervous as she was, and she put her own arm around Angela's waist. She wanted Angela to know that she was there for her too, mutually supporting each other.

As the final straps with tightened around the nude woman in the spotlight, Natasha tried to come to a decision to leave. ‘No, this is wrong, it's disgusting, I should get out of here; No, Jayne is my friend, I can't just leave her here like this. I need to take her with me, but she wants this, Angela said so and she wouldn't lie to me. She's friends with Jayne too. If she thinks it OK maybe it is.'

She was just too confused, her mind flip-flopping around between staying and going. ‘It's wrong and perverted. Let me get my breath properly and then I'll go; but the door's on the other side of the room. I'd have to walk through of all these people. They'd know that I can't take this and what would they think of me running off in humiliation, and what would Angela say, it would embarrass her and ruin her chances at the gallery. Oh, but I can't take my eyes off Jayne. She's so hot, so sexy. What must it feel like being fastened to that frame, knowing that you're at someone else's mercy? Oh! What's Angela's hand doing? She's touching my bum – I should stop her. She's my friend though and I don't want to insult her. She's just nervous, like me, and probably doesn't realise what she's doing. It would be embarrassing for both of us if I brought it to her attention. Hopefully she'll stop soon... It feels quite nice actually. It's just all so confusing.'

Her mind reeled and she just couldn't manage to concentrate properly. In front of her was her friend Jayne bound tightly to a frame, and behind her was her friend Angela gently caressing her buttocks; and all around the room in other shadows she knew that there were other mostly naked woman watching her friend's humiliation.

Trudy was now in front of Jayne and was fastening something in front of her face. ‘Oh God! It looks like a cock. She can't be, she is... She's pushing it into her mouth. It's so evil and degrading, how can she put up with this?' Then she felt herself blushing again. ‘It's no worse than when I do that with my dildo at home Natasha.' She admonished herself, ‘No, it is worse, all these people are watching her; when I do it I'm alone. Oh, but when I suck on my dildo I'm fantasising that I'm being watched and made to do it like she is. Natasha, get a grip girl, that's just a fantasy, this is real.' The conflict raged within her body as she thought about her fantasy of being naked in front of the bosses in her old office and made to suck on all their cocks as she begged to keep her job.

Angela's hand continued to caress her, her bare back, her arm and more frequently over her thinly covered buttocks. Wherever Angela touched her, it felt like her touch was electric or burning hot. She could feel the goosebumps rising on her exposed skin and a shiver ran down her spine.

Trudy, now finished binding and gagging Jayne, began to trace her fingers over the exposed skin of Jayne's back and she announced her intentions to the watching audience.

“Now my pet, you know that I'm going to have to give you a spanking, don't you? I believe that a public spanking is very important for a new slave, it teaches her both humility and that she no longer owns her body.”

‘She called her a slave' , Natasha realised. ‘It feels so surreal. There's no such thing as slavery, is there? It must be all part of their fantasy role playing. Oh I'd be too afraid to play out my fantasy in the privacy of my bedroom, let alone in public like this.' Some of her disgust for the scene in front of her melted away and she felt a little grudging respect for Trudy and Jayne, being brave enough to do this where she never could.

As Trudy caressed Jayne's back, Angela's hand followed a similar route across Natasha's. Then, when Trudy's hand came to rest on Jayne's right buttock, Angela's came to rest on Natasha's.

Trudy rested her palm on the naked bum in front of her, caressing the bare flesh slowly in a circular motion. Then smiling at her audience and the cameras she raised her hand and suddenly brought it down with a loud crack. At the moment of impact, Angela's hand lightly squeezed Natasha's bum, who drew in her breath sharply.

‘Jayne is being spanked in public! It's unbelievable.' Natasha was just dazed, the whole tableau being played out just couldn't sink into her mind. It was terrible for her, she was awfully embarrassed to realise that she was getting excited by it all on top of the strange arousal she'd felt since arriving at the apartment. ‘Oh my nipples are so hard. I need to rub them, but I can't – not with everyone here, not with Angela so close. Oh, and Angela's still touching my bottom. What must she be thinking?'

Trudy then began to spank Jayne in earnest, and with each strike Natasha felt Angela's hand tense on her own buttock. Angela was obviously distracted and confused too, Natasha thought, as the squeezes became firmer. Then the squeezes became gentle pats and then light spanks, each always in time with Trudy's tattoo on Jayne's reddening bum.

Crack!

Two buttocks felt the strike, one hard on bare flesh in the bright lights, under the eyes of the cameras; the other a soft tap, almost a caress, through a gown, seen only by the blatant pictures on the wall behind Natasha. ‘Angela's spanking me! It can't be true, she must be as caught up in this bizarre episode as me.' “Angela, please...” she pleaded in a whisper hoping for Angela to stop her absent minded abuse of her bum, and only later realised that it could be taken as a request for more. Angela just moved closer and spanked her other buttock as Trudy landed another one on Jayne's.

“It's alight, you're safe here with me.” Angela reassured Natasha. “Just watch Jayne, it's her night. She'd want you to wish her well wouldn't she?” Another spank struck home. Natasha distracted from her own predicament obeyed Angela and watched Jayne. ‘She would want me to support her. If this is her choice, I'll just have to stand by her, no matter how strange it seems to me. Oh, but does Angela have to do that? My arse is getting hot.'

The spanking continued for a few minutes, with Angela's gentle pats in time with Trudy's harder ones. Jayne was grunting to her gag, and Natasha, feeling very distant, heard Angela telling her about how the gag was fucking Jayne's face every time that she was pushed forward by the swats. Natasha wanted to tell Angela to stop, but part of her didn't want Angela to stop. She couldn't take her eyes from Jayne, she wanted to understand what her friend was feeling, but at the same time was frightened to understand it. She could feel a hidden, forbidden pleasure building within her. She'd never experienced anything remotely like this and only a very few, precious, fantasies had come even close. She thought she was a good girl, she didn't have fantasies like that, but she knew that at times she felt she was a bad girl with dirty thoughts.

Angela's spanks slowly increased in force, and Natasha had to admit to herself that her panties were wet with her arousal, ‘At least I don't have a problem with people smelling my honey – there are so many aroused women here that one more isn't going to cause a problem.' She watched as Jayne jerked forward on each slap, her tits bouncing back and forth beneath her. Natasha felt her own breasts rubbing infuriatingly against the material of her dress every time that Angela's hand landed on her bum, causing her to bounce slightly herself.

Angela was whispering to her all the time, “Isn't she beautiful? A sexy woman, no-one can resist her. She's everything a woman could every want to be isn't she? You can see how sexy and aroused she is. She wants this, she's enjoying this, you want her to be happy don't you? You want this to happen don't you?” The ambiguous question hung in the air as Angela once again brought her hand down on Natasha's bottom. “You can see that she's so excited being spanked by her mistress. A slave loves to be spanked by her mistress doesn't she? Everyone can see that. You can feel it can't you? A slave wants to be spanked by her mistress.” Natasha, her mind spinning could barely manage to croak a reply. “Yes...” she breathed.

“You can see that Trudy loves to spank her, and that's part of the reason why Jayne loves to be spanked. She loves to give her mistress pleasure. A mistress loves to spank her slave, and a slave will enjoy her spanking because she knows that it pleases her mistress. You know that a mistress loves to spank her slave don't you?”

Natasha nodded briefly as she whispered, “Yes...”

Trudy finished the spanking and caressed Jayne's red bum, and Angela did the same to Natasha.

“Isn't it a beautiful sight. The slave's red bottom a testament of her love for her mistress. Her bottom must feel hot, it will remind her how much she has given to her mistress.”

Natasha felt the warmth in her own bottom from Angela's attention. Her mind couldn't concentrate and she wasn't completely sure that Angela was just talking about Jayne and Trudy.

‘Why did Angela have to do that? I'm not a slave, or one of these sluts, but oh! It almost feels delightful now that she's stopped spanking me. Oh and my panties feel so wet. I almost wish that Angela hadn't stopped. What am I thinking? Oh I'm so hot and flustered, I really should leave, but I can't, I have no car and my keys are locked in Angela's car with my handbag.'

Trudy then began to caress her slave, massaging her red buttocks, down her widespread thighs and up over her back, never going near her hot, wet, wide-open cunt. Angela slid behind Natasha and gently hugged her from behind, whispering into her ear.

“Look at her, watch her caress her slave.”

Natasha hugged her hands in front of herself and began to stroke her hands up and down her bare arms, almost like she was trying to warm herself on a winter's day, her forearms rubbing gently across her sensitive nipples.

“She's in control and she knows what Jayne needs, a mistress always knows what her slave really needs. Jayne is so turned on she desperately wants to touch herself. Slaves are easily excited, they give themselves over to their sexual inner being, slaves find it hard not to touch themselves, you can understand that can't you?”

‘Oh yes, it must be so hard not to give in. My breasts ache to be touched and I so want to slip my hand down to my crotch, but I can't, not here in public.' Natasha almost couldn't contain herself. She rubbed her arms even more, not thinking that she was really rubbing her own breasts.

“Slaves are nothing but sexual beasts, they need their mistresses to guide them. Jayne would rub and rut herself selfishly to an orgasm now if she could, even though she knows that if she waits, if she allows her mistress to guide her, that when her orgasm eventually comes it will be so much better.” Angela paused for a few moments and then continued, “You'd want your orgasm to be delayed so that it was stronger and harder wouldn't you?”

“Yes...” Natasha could just feel herself buzzing as she drove herself on.

“That's why she's restrained, so that she can't stop her mistress delaying her orgasm, because her mistress loves her and wants her to have the best orgasm possible.”

Everything that Angela said seemed to make sense to Natasha, but she knew that there was something wrong – she just couldn't put her finger on it. The alcohol she'd drunk and the overwhelming arousal seemed to have turned her brain to mush.

Angela wrapped her arms around Natasha and took hold of her wrists. She gently pulled them behind Natasha and folded her forearms across the small of her back, hand to elbow. “Remember that woman earlier with her hand tied behind her back like this. Imagine what that must have felt like, unable to use her hands. If you grasp your forearms now you'll be able to feel what she felt. Imagine that they are tied and you can't undo them.”

Natasha could imagine what it like, she thought about the straps holding her wrists to her elbows, and could almost feel the leather straps.

“That's it, you'll be safe with me, no-one can see us, you can feel it now can't you. You can feel a little of what that woman was feeling, a little of what Jayne is feeling.”

She was right, Natasha's mind swam with the amazing thoughts and her body burned with the raw emotion. ‘Oh what am I doing? Why is Angela doing this? It feels so good though, and my pussy is flowing. I want to touch myself, I need to touch myself – it would be too humiliating though to give in to that. With my hands ‘tied' behind my back though, there is nothing I can do, I can't touch myself. I must concentrate on my hands, they're tied, that way I can't humiliate myself. Angela's right, someone who's bound can't embarrass themselves with their disgusting “rutting”.'

Natasha, her head swimming, lent against Angela, who continued to whisper reassurances into her ear.

Trudy had moved to massage Jayne's upper back and was moving towards her shoulders. Angela, moved her hands from Natasha's wrists, leaving the honey haired beauty to grasp her elbows, and moved them up to her shoulders. Angela began to rub the tense shoulders of her friend. “Relax, I know that this is a lot to experience, but you're doing very well. Doesn't it feel good?”

Trudy's caresses then moved under her slave, and began to tease her dangling breasts.

“Oh how her tits must crave that touch, her teats are so distended. You can see that can't you?” As Angela whispers her own hands slid down over the front of Natasha's dress, grazing the sides of her breasts. She was gently touching and teasing Natasha and she whispered, “You need it don't you? You can't touch yourself because your hands are bound. No-one is watching.” Natasha gasped as Angela hand cupped both of her full breasts. Her breathing was coming in short pants and she was in ecstasy. Her eyelids drooped and her head fell forwards as she was overwhelmed. Angela wouldn't let her get away though, bringing her back, “No, keep your eyes open, watch what is happening to Jayne, she's your friend and you can't abandon her.”

Angela's hands now returned to her shoulders and her neck, and Natasha felt both relief and disappointment. Then she realised why Angela had stopped caressing her as she felt the clasp of her dress being undone. “No!” she breathed, but Angela didn't stop, sliding her hand down over the loose material to caress and cup her breasts once more through the thin material.

“Everyone is concentrating on Jayne, no-one will notice you, you're safe.” She said softly, once more using her reassuring, cooing voice. “You need this don't you?” Angela asked as she lightly squeezed Natasha's hard nipples between her fingers. The befuddled woman knew that she was lost as the sensations from her sensitive nipples drove all remaining rational thought from her brain, and she heard herself gasping “Yes, yes.”

On the second “yes”, Angela allowed the material of the dress to drop, gathering around Natasha's waist. She felt her breasts being held and cupped by her friends hands, ‘She's touching my naked breasts.' She felt stunned and could only hold the bizarre thought in her mind that with Angela's hands on her breasts that at least no-one in the room could see her exposed, but even that thought was banished as Angela began to roll her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.

Trudy moves away from Jayne for a few seconds, leaving her slave panting behind the gag. She returned after a few seconds with a box and some tubes, but she blocked Natasha's view as she knelt beside the bound girl. They heard Jayne grunt through her gag and finally when Trudy moved around to Jayne's other side they could see what had been done. A clear plastic cup and pipe had been attached to her breast. It had sucked a portion of the flesh into the cup, but mostly it appeared to have made her nipple extend even more and redden further.

“It's a milking machine.” Angela confirmed Natasha's fears. ‘Oh god, not more humiliation, how can she stand it? Oh what would that feel like?' As she thought that, Angela began a different caress. Instead of rolling her nipples, she began to to gentle stroke and pull on both her nipples.

Angela said, “Trudy is going to milk her.” The machine hissed to life with a rhythmic sucking and releasing sound, Jayne's nipples expanded and contracted with the action of the vacuum pump. “Can you imagine it, sucking away mercilessly, there is no escape.” Angela moaned, obviously excited as well.

Natasha could feel Angela's fingers stroking her teats in time to the machine's relentless action on Jayne's tits. Angela's body was pressed against Natasha and her breasts pushed into her back, Natasha's arms pressed against her belly. ‘It's driving me crazy, I'm so horny, I can't stand it. It feels so good,' she thought, and without realising it she breathed out “don't stop.”

“That's it, feel it, feel the machine sucking your milk from you. A slave gives her all for her mistress, even her milk if that's what her mistress wants. Do you think Trudy will milk Jayne regularly? Will she give her hormone injections to get her to express milk? Would you like to see Jayne being milked for real? Can you imagine the machine sucking on these lovely teats?” She gave a firm squeeze of Natasha's nipples to emphasise her words.

‘Yes, oh yes. Oh don't stop, please I'm getting close, oh yes!' Natasha could hardly contain herself. She was panting and moaning as her breasts were mercilessly manipulated, she was nearly there, she knew that she couldn't take much more, and then she watched Trudy flip off the switch and the machine died, at the same time Angela's ministrations stopped. Natasha could only plead, “Please?”

“Yes, I know little one, but you know you must wait. This is Jayne's night and we must think of her.” Natasha was disappointed and frustrated, and then felt guilty that she hadn't been thinking of Jayne. She was glad that Angela had stopped her from stealing Jayne's moment.

Trudy removed the cups from Jayne's tits and slid her hands down over her body, to her lower back, hips and her still red bottom. Her hands began to caress her swollen buttocks once more, lightly teasing her and keeping her on edge. Angela hands meanwhile had also descended, away from Natasha's over-sensitive breasts, over her flat stomach to her hips. Her fingertips lightly sought out the edge of the dress still hanging from Natasha's waist. They slid beneath the material as Trudy's caresses reach Jayne's inner thigh.

Natasha watched her college friend and listened to her moaning through the gag, obviously eager for Trudy to go further. Angela's finger slid to either side of her waist and with a little pressure she began to push the material down over Natasha's hips. ‘My hands are tied behind me, there's nothing I can do to stop her,' she told herself, ‘Snap out of this Natasha, this fantasy is dangerous, I should stop her, I could stop her, but I don't want to.'

Angela slid down with the dress, her body caressing Natasha's naked skin, as her dress puddled on the floor around her ankles. She carefully helped her to step out of it and then her dress was gone somewhere behind her. ‘Oh! I'm naked but for my knickers and stockings. Oh it's so embarrassed, how have I let myself be undressed like this in front of all these strangers? Oh but I want it, I'm hungry for it, I crave it,' she admitted finally to herself.

Rising once more, Angela caressed her hands up Natasha's stockinged calves and then her thighs until her hands rested on the bare skin of her upper thighs, her fingers burning into Natasha's flesh. She pressed her body once more against Natasha's back and resumed her whispering. “Watch her, she's teasing Jayne, waiting for the right moment before she possesses her.”

Fingers caressed both Jayne and Natasha, getting ever closer to the centres of their passion. The fingers of Angela's right hand slipped over Natasha's quivering belly, her left hand seeking our her breasts again. The near naked woman was now frozen with fear as she thought, ‘Oh no! She's going to find out just how wet I am. Why does this humiliation burn so strongly? I can't stop it. Oh Angela, please, you've got to touch me.'

“Please...”, she couldn't put voice to her feelings, her needs, and she knew it was pathetic.

“Not yet little one, watch for Jayne, she's our guide.”

Trudy's fingers slipped into the moist crotch of her slave, they slid around the edge of her peach bringing a little shiver from the bound woman, her breasts quivering with her desire.

At the same time, Angela's hand slid down to the top of the brief material, then onto it, feeling how damp it was, feeling the pubic hair beneath and soaking material between Natasha's legs.

“My you are a wet one aren't you?” Angela exclaimed and Natasha thought that her humiliation was complete.

Jayne let out a loud grunt through her gag as Trudy's fingers sank into her honey-pot and Angela fingers pressed closer, slipping her fingers right over Natasha's slit.

“Oooohhhh, mmmmmm, that's it, that's it,” gasped Natasha encouragingly.

She could feel Angela's fingers dig in, push the material between her lips. She only realised that she was drifting off when Angela's voice admonished her.

“Keep your eyes open, watch the slave, savour the moment. Slaves love to be played with, they can't get enough of fingers in their pussies can they?”

“No...”, Natasha moaned, realising what answer Angela wanted.

“That's right, slaves are always wet and ready for their mistresses, they're hot and horny,” Angela said as she slid her hand down the front of Natasha's wet panties, touching her bare cunt for the first time. Natasha couldn't help herself from letting out a loud gasp, her breath coming in short raspy pants.

“You're so wet, and you're hot and horny aren't you.”

“Yes...”

“Slaves say ‘Yes Mistress', don't they?” Angela's fingers pushed in between her lips.

“Yes Mistress.” Natasha couldn't help herself answering.

In reply, Angela's fingers circled and finally grazed Natasha's clitoris for the first time and at that moment she said, “Good girl!”

“That's it my pet, you're almost there aren't you.”

“Oh yes.... mistress,” she panted back.

Trudy, having brought Jayne to the verge of orgasm stopped her teasing and moved to Jayne's head. She removed the cock gag from her mouth, and as she did, Angela pulled her hand from Natasha's wet cunt. Natasha moaned in frustration, but Angela had only stopped to grasp the sopping panties and push them down her legs. She bent to help Natasha out of them and slid back up balling them into her right hand whilst her left hand returned to Natasha's crotch and began to caress her once more, though not returning to her aching clitoris, to Natasha's intense disappointment.

Trudy stepped into a harness with a huge black plastic cock thrusting up from its centre, and moved its head right up to Jayne's mouth.

“Now my pet, suck on my nice cock. You want it in you don't you?”

Moaning, Natasha begged, “please don't stop, I'm so close”, and then she adds, “mistress,” hoping that she'll please Angela enough that she'll touch her button once more.

“Now, now, pet, calm down, you're making too much noise. You don't want to distract Jayne's audience on her special day do you? Now open your mouth.” Angela ordered, and when she did, Angela pushed Natasha's own soaking, musky panties into her mouth.

“There, that should keep you quiet, now no spitting out.”

‘Oh! This is disgusting, I don't think I can take this. How did I get into this predicament? Oh, but I need her to finish me off, I can't stand it.' For a moment she contemplated taking her own hand and touching herself, but something stopped her. She knew it would disappoint Angela and spoil their game, beside she knew that the longer she waited the better it would be.

With the cock jutting obscenely in front of her, Trudy positioned herself behind Jayne, ready to penetrate her with the gleaming fake penis covered in her own saliva.

Angela, her fingers working inside Natasha's cunt, said “Now wait for it pet, can you see Trudy getting ready to spear your old college friend with that monster. You know what's going to happen don't you?”

Then Trudy lunged forward and sunk her plastic pal straight into Jayne's ready cunt and began pumping away. As she started fucking her slave, she told Jayne to tell everyone what she was.

The ungagged slave began to grunt: “This girl is a slut, a dirty whore. She's a lesbian slavegirl bimbo. She's filthy. This slut is not good enough to lick her mistresses boots...”

Angela then began to pump her fingers in and out of Natasha's cunt. To Natasha's distress, she still stayed clear of her clit, and Natasha could only grunt her frustration through her balled up panties. She was very close to her orgasm, but she needed a touch on her clitoris, even a brief graze would be enough.

Jayne had clearly been right on the edge, and was going wild, shouting out her disgusting litany of derogatory terms for herself, as her orgasm crashed over her. Natasha, hoping that Jayne's orgasm would signal her own release begged Angela through her makeshift gag.

“Eeezzze”, she begged, ‘I need an orgasm, please Angela let me finish, I'm desperate.'

“Good girl, you're doing so well.” Angela congratulated Natasha, as she stopped her hand and just held Natasha's swollen pussy, and Natasha almost burst in to tears of frustration.

“You've waited for Mistress Trudy to finish with her slave, so now it's your turn. You're so hot and wet, you're such a good little pet aren't you? Your my little pet aren't you.”

All Natasha could do was nod her head.

“You want an orgasm, don't you pet?”

Another nod.

“But, mistresses only give their slaves orgasms. So you see the problem don't you?”

Natasha cautiously nodded.

“Look down at the floor,” she said, gently caressing Natasha's breasts as she whispered over her shoulder. “Yes, it's a collar. It's my collar! Now kneel down.” Angela removed her hands from the naked woman's body, and watched as she dropped to her knees.

“You're such a good girl. Slaves should spread their knees shouldn't they?”

“If you want me to give you your orgasm then you should pick up the collar, fasten it around your neck and submit to me as my slavegirl. You'd like that wouldn't you, we both know how wet and hungry your naughty little pussy is don't we?”

‘Oh! Can I do it? I need an orgasm so badly, and this is just a fantasy game, isn't it? I'm so desperate. What will it feel like to submit? Angela is my friend, she wouldn't do anything that I don't want would she?'

Reaching out, Natasha tentatively picked up the leather strap. ‘It feels strange, a little heavier than I thought.' She looked briefly at Angela, who just smiled back encouragingly. Natasha raised the collar, wrapped it around her neck and finally fastened the buckle. ‘Oh! What a feeling!' Her pussy was flowing freely now, ‘I'm so aroused, I've never felt like this. I need to come so badly.'

She looked plaintively at Angela.

“Good slave, now I think it's time for you to have your orgasm. Look, Jayne has vacated her spot, it's ready for you.” Angela, clipped a leash onto the new collar, “Come along.”

‘Oh! It's so embarrassing, everyone is now looking at me, but I'm so horny. I don't care, I just need Angela to finish what she started and then we can go home.'

She found herself climbing up onto the weird frame, settling her belly onto the pad, still warm and slick from Jayne body and sweat. She had a little difficulty getting her legs into their place. ‘Oh! I'm spread so wide. Everyone can see my pussy, they know how wet and horny I am, just as we did Jayne.'

Natasha grasped the hand rests and felt Angela beginning to buckle the straps into place.

‘There's no way I can get free now until Angela releases me. What I have got myself into to? Please, please let me come!'

Then she watched as Angela slid out of her red dress, she was wearing clinging latex underwear. She smiled at Natasha as she stepped into a strap-on harness with another huge looking cock.

“Now pet, open wide and let me remove those nasty panties – you won't be needing them again will you?” Angela pulled the soiled panties from her mouth, and Natasha wondered if she'd meant that she wouldn't need the panties again that night, or maybe she'd meant that she wouldn't need panties again ever! The thought drove her on and she eagerly opened her mouth to accept the head of the dildo.

“And now I want you to suck my marvellous cock before I use it to give you your orgasm.”

Natasha began to lick the plastic cock. Angela pushed it further in and she had to take it into her mouth.

“That's it, suck that cock, it will soon be in your filthy cunt. Before then, I want you to deep throat it, you can do that can't you?” Natasha's eyes filled with fear, but there was nothing she could do. “Open your throat, it's going in.” Angela pushed a little further and the head pushed into her throat and Natasha gagged, coughing as the cock was quickly withdrawn.

“That's a good girl, it wasn't so bad now was it?”

Then the cock was back in her mouth and Natasha was licking again, trying to get as much saliva on the plastic as she could. Angela forced the cock into Natasha's throat another couple of times, each time the new slave ended up gagging, coughing and spluttering, but no worse for wear.

“Now, I think you're ready, but we need something to occupy that slutty mouth of yours.” Angela announced as she bent down to raise the poll holding the penis gag that Jayne had been sucking on whilst she'd been spanked. She eased it into Natasha's willing mouth and tightened the bracket so that she couldn't expel it.

Angela moved behind her new slave. “Are you ready slut?” Of course, she couldn't answer with the gag filling her mouth, and she found that with it fixed she couldn't nod her head either. Angela reached out and spread Natasha's lips and put the head of the cock at her entrance. Then with an easy pressure the dildo slid into her well lubricated pussy and began to fuck the gorgeous honey haired slut that she'd just enslaved.

‘Oh! Oh! This is what I need, fuck me, fuck me hard! I need to come... Yes, Yes, I'm nearly there, nearly there.' With each thrust, she was forced onto the cock in front so that it felt like she was being fucked from both ends at once.

Angela slid her hands under Natasha as she fucked her slavegirl. One began squeezing and teasing a tit and the other sought out and found the girl's clitoris. They began to work their magic, driving Natasha back to the threshold of the orgasm that Angela had been teasing her to all evening.

‘Oh fuck! Fuck! This is it, I can't believe it. I'm fastened to a frame in a strange apartment, strangers are watching me, there are cameras recording my humiliation and Angela my friend is fucking me with a massive dildo, and I'm going to come. There, yes, I'm there, that's it, YESSSSS.' Angela's rubbing of her clit together with the sawing of the cock in and out of her cunt had done its job, and Natasha's orgasm burst within her, it was the most amazing event of her life, no orgasm had ever been remotely like this. It just went on and on as Angela continued to fuck her and play with her clitoris. She was in heaven, and knew that she could never go back to her old life.

On and on she came, her orgasm prolonged by Angela's ministrations, flashes of cameras highlighting it.

At last it was over and she was exhausted and woozy, her body and mind drained from the overwhelming evening and the sex. She had never experienced anything like this before in her life but she thought as she came back to her senses, ‘is the price worth it?'