Maid for a Night (Part 25 posted 4/27)

[HankHill33]

Very excited to see what Taylor will be dressed in and doing now post shower! I hope she has to put some little kid panties on for a while and deal with the constant riding up. I’m sure she won’t be able to pick that wedgie all the time though.

[jastes22]

Very excited to see what Taylor will be dressed in and doing now post shower! I hope she has to put some little kid panties on for a while and deal with the constant riding up. I’m sure she won’t be able to pick that wedgie all the time though.

Thanks for the suggestion!

[jastes22]

I blushed. Now that she couldn’t threaten me with taking my clothes, she had moved to promising rewards for good behavior, and somehow that was worse than the threats. She had completely flipped my desires. Only a few hours ago I would’ve been horrified by the thought of orgasming in front of the boys, but now I would do anything to let my fingers plunge into my pussy, boys or no boys.

As a tease, she slipped her finger in one more time, and the promise of the forbidden amplified the pangs of pleasure that shot through me like lightning. I keeled over in an attempt to stay upright.

“Time for your tits, pet,” Lindsay said. She grabbed my leash and pulled me upright. My hands instinctively reached up to relieve the pressure, but I stopped myself.

Unfortunately, Lindsay noticed. “No resistance, remember?”

“I-I remember.”

“Good.” She reached around and tweaked a very sensitive nipple, sighing at the squeal I made. Her other hand snuck around my chest and both hands enveloped my orbs, rolling my rock-hard tits with her fingers and squeezing.

I tried not to look, tried not to think about how my best friend had torn me down so thoroughly as to put me in a position to fondle my tits with almost no resistance. It was worse than that, though. I was leaning back, giving Lindsay even more ease of access to my body, a fact to which she took advantage of by swallowing my tits with her hands and rolling them like dodgeballs.\

“Turn around,” she said.

I swallowed, but obeyed. I had a strange relationship with my back. While some girls were super sensitive about their feet, I had issues with people seeing my back. I just felt so exposed. It hadn’t been as bad downstairs crawling since I had something to occupy my mind, but now, here, with my thoughts more inward, all I could think about was how the boys were getting an unfettered view of my completely bare back. And, to make matters worse, they could see the entirety of my crack and the bottom of my pussy that hung between my legs.

“Hands up,”

I obeyed, but the awkward angle of my hands bound behind me made it difficult to go up more than a few feet.

Thankfully, that seemed to be enough for Lindsay. She started at my shoulders, slathering my skin with the same peach lotion she had used on my legs and crotch, and then letting it drip before moving down, methodically covering every inch of my body. I would never be able to use peach lotion again.

She pushed on the small of my back, holding my bound wrists up while she forced me to bend and spread my legs. She slid her fingers inside my slick and soapy butt, spreading my cheeks and holding it, presumably to give the boys a good look inside me.

I couldn’t think. I was so close to exploding that I was using all my energy to stay upright. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend how violated I was at the moment, never mind the fact that I was providing no resistance. And it was that same lack of resistance that had led to this, Lindsay taking it further and further. If there was a boundary, Taylor would find it.

I just wasn’t sure there was a boundary.

“Almost done,” Lindsay said. “One last thing…” She turned me around again so I was facing the boys. Their eyes were glazed over, fixated on my pussy and chest.

Without warning, she pushed me against the class. I gasped as my rock-hard nipples were pressed against the cold glass. The boys’ eyes widened at the sight of my tits splayed out like rocks on a display.

Fingers started to comb through my hair. Lindsay cleaned my hair, taking her sweet time dragging her fingers through my long blonde-brown hair. Every time I thought she was done, she would start with another shampoo or conditioner. How many types were there? I stood there for what felt like ten minutes, tits pressed against the glass, as my tormentor cleaned my hair.

Her fingers retreated, and I hoped beyond hope that she was done.

I whimpered as she snaked her fingers around and started to squeeze, slathering soap between my tits, spreading and squeezing them. I moaned. Sometimes I played with my tits, but never this roughly, and the feeling of someone else doing it just made it that much more stimulating.

“T-touch…touch my pussy,” I begged. I needed release. I needed it so badly, and her hands on my tits only brought me to the edge without actually going over, and it was driving me crazy.

“Soon,” Lindsay said. “Soon.”

Her fingers stopped caressing my tits, but did not move, instead just resting on them. “Boys? Do you want to help clean our pet here?”

They hurried over, both to take up Lindsay on her offer and to get a closer look at me.

She stepped away. I gasped, having become so accustomed to her body heat that the sudden coolness was startling.

“Clean her pretty little tits,” Lindsay said. “We’ll keep it at a minute. Don’t touch her pussy…for now.”

Kyle was first. I gasped at his touch. Thomas had spanked me, yes, but this was the first time that a boy was really touching me, and just a reminder that these were my friends using me as their plaything.

I hadn’t realized it in the moment, but Lindsay’s hands were soft like the lotion she applied. Kyle, on the other hand, liked working with cars, and his hands were much much rougher. Not only that, I realized that when it felt like Lindsay was holding my whole breasts, she was really only grabbing the sides. Meanwhile, Kyle with his bigger hands really was groping the entirety of my breasts.

Despite his rough hands, he was surprisingly gentle, caressing my tits and gently rolling them in his palms. A purr escaped my mouth before I realized what I was doing.

Lindsay giggled as I blushed. “Listen to our little kitty purring! I think she likes it! Thomas? I think you’re next.”

Having already slapped my bare bottom, Thomas was more focused on exploring the rest of my body, his hands sliding up and down my chest and ribcage, slick with soap and dragging his fingers across my skin.

“Okay. Minute’s up,” Lindsay said. I realized that she knew that giving the boys permission to touch opened up a whole new slew of options, and she was still trying to keep control to make sure things didn’t go too far. Not that I could see how much further this could go. “Jackson? You’re up.”

He looked me up and down, and I felt myself blush. He paused for a moment before speaking. “Actually, I had an idea. Instead of just cleaning her tits, I thought we maybe we could shave her hair.”

“What? No way!” My hair was nice and long, and was one of my best attributes.

“Taylor!”

I whimpered.

Jackson chuckled. “Not up there,” he said. “Down there.” He pointed to my hairy pussy.

[jastes22]

A thousand different emotions.

At first, relief when I realized that Jackon didn’t mean shaving my long, brown hair.

Then, horror at the realization that he meant my pussy hair.

Followed quickly with the slightest twinge of excitement at the realization that fingers would be all over my privates, and I might be able to get relief.

Then, finally, horror at the thought that I was actually aroused at the thought of my friends touching my naked body all over. Again, not for the first time of the night, I marveled at how quickly—and easily—Lindsay had turned me into a promiscuous little slut literally begging for release.

“What do you think of that, pet?” Lindsay asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Would you like that?”

Why did she have to phrase it like that? Of course I wouldn’t like that!

But I couldn’t say that. Some part of me, the primal, survival instinct inside, prevented me from fighting. The equivalent of shrinking into a ball and playing dead was to agree with everything and anything my tormentor said, even if it would make things worse.

“Y-yes,” I said. I groaned—audibly or inaudibly, I wasn’t sure.

She grabbed my chin, squeezing lightly. The gesture made me feel like a little girl. “Say it correctly, pet.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes. I would like you to shave my pussy clean.”

Normally conservative with my swimwear, I opted to keep a neat triangle trim of pubic hair. It had been a few days, and the hair had expanded a little, but not to the extent that it could be considered “hairy.” But now it felt like way too much as the boys examined my nether regions with peering eyes.

After having been naked for a while and then fondled in the shower, I was beginning to be numb to my current state. But this renewed focus on my pussy sent a new wave of embarrassment through me. Despite Lindsay’s rules, my wrist reflectively pulled against my handcuffs before I stopped myself. The water was making my wrists chafe against the cold metal of the handcuffs, making them more uncomfortable than just the awkward position they put me in.

“Good girl,” Lindsay said. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Wait…” I started.

Lindsay’s palm crashed down on my left tit. A pathetic yowl escaped my lips, and I fell quiet. Tears started to well up in my eyes, and I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. My tits were super sensitive after the treatment they had been given, and Lindsay’s strike had not only been painful, but a reminder of how exposed and helpless I was.

“My patience with you is getting thin, pet,” Lindsay warned. “No more complaining or questioning commands. Understood?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, instead just nodding vigorously.

Lindsay looked at me, trying to decide if she wanted me to say it verbally or if my head motions were enough.

“Oh, pet,” Lindsay said. She reached forward and placed her palm on my right tit, rolling the nipple with her fingers. “I know this is scary and new. We’re just doing what’s best for you.”

She gave my tit another slap, lighter this time. A soft, inaudible gasp escaped my lips.

She grabbed my leash close to the collar, pulling it taut. She pulled on it, firmly enough to indicate a direction, but not so firm as to coerce me into movement.

She was going to make me walk of my own volition, I realized. It wasn’t enough to literally shave my most private area. No…she was going to make me choose willingly to walk to my humiliation.

Not that I really had a choice, I reasoned. If I hesitated too long, she would find some way to embarrass me in front of my friends further. I’m not sure how she could go much further, but I had no doubt she could. An absolute stranger would have been bound by implicit standards of interactions, but a friend tormenting a friend had no such boundaries.

I stepped forward and out of the shower. I glanced at the nearby towel longingly, but didn’t dare ask for a covering. Instead, my hair and bare skin dripped with water, my nipples hard from the cold water evaporating on my skin.

Lindsay continued to pull. I hoped that Lindsay would just start to pull forcefully and I wouldn’t have to bear the shame of willfully going into what would be an utterly humiliating event. Unfortunately, I didn’t have such luck, and Lindsay made me take each step willingly, first out of the bathroom, then through the upstairs hallway, and then finally down the stairs, each step just as painful as the first. Entirely focused on the step in front of me, I lost track of the boys, though I could only imagine they were checking out every inch of my exposed back and butt. As I got closer to the bottom of the stairs, I picked up the pace, deciding that I had come too far and just wanted to get it over with.

I rolled my shoulders, whimpering a little at the sensation of the handcuffs digging into my wrists.

Lindsay frowned, but didn’t say anything, instead pulling a little harder as we entered the kitchen.

The openness of the kitchen was shocking after the smaller confines of the bathroom, and being naked only served to making that space seem daunting.

“On the table,” Lindsay said. “Legs open.”

W-what? By some miracle, I kept my surprise from escaping my mouth. On the table? Like some kind of animal?

It was shameful how quickly I accepted it. Yes. On the table. It only made sense for a pet like me.

Despite accepting it, I realized that getting on the table was not going to be an easy feat with bound arms. I crawled onto a nearby chair, getting steady on it and then sitting up. I was grateful for the brief moment of crouching and how it blocked my pussy ever so slightly from the boys’ view, even though my tits were swinging freely and openly from the movement.

Knowing that hesitating would just make things worse, I started working my way onto the table, slinking my way around so my head was at one side of the table. My wrists continued to contort against the handcuffs, more out of natural movement than an actual attempt to escape. I wish I could get them off.

“Spread your legs.”

I obeyed, forcing my legs to open. I looked up and the sight of the three boys with their eyes glued on the sight beneath me was almost enough for me to slam my legs closed. But I pushed through. It was too late, anyway. They had seen everything, what was denying them the sight of my pussy going to gain me, if not the wrath of Lindsay?

“Now keep them open while we shave you,” Lindsay. “Don’t close up, or you’ll be punished.”

“Y-you’re not going to hold me down?” I asked.

“Why would we need to hold you down? Aren’t you a good pet that can stay still?”

I whimpered and nodded. With all four of them touching me, it would take every ounce of willpower not to close my legs. I would have to actively choose to keep my legs open, yet another way Lindsay was coercing a twisted version of consent out of me.

“One more thing,” Lindsay said. “Before we begin, since you’re so nervous about your shaving, I think we should cover your eyes. I know it helps some pets calm down when their owners put something over their eyes.”

Before I could ask what she meant, she was slipping something over my head, a black sleeping mask that fit snugly over my head. Suddenly. I was plunged into darkness.

Bound, naked, collared, blindfolded, and completely vulnerable on a dining room table like a prized pig at a banquet.

And I had a feeling the night was far from over.

[a21345155]

Best story!!!!

[jastes22]

Best story!!!!

Thanks!

[jastes22]

The humiliating thing was that the mask did calm me down quite a bit, just like Lindsay said it would, serving to solidify in my mind that I really was her pet. The sudden plunge into darkness made me not want to move as much for fear of falling off the table. The darkness also shut off some of the screeching alarms in my head as nothing visually could set me off, especially the sight of the boys ravishing me with their eyes.

It also served to draw my thoughts to other embarrassing things that I hadn’t thought about before, being so focused on getting into my humiliating position and trying not to think about my imminent shaving.

My body, still dripping from my shower, reeked with peach lotion, and my wet hair draped across my bare shoulders. The wood table underneath my butt felt very cold, and very hard, much more than I had anticipated. Nobody just sat on their table for no reason, and nobody especially just sat—or laid—on their table completely naked. The firmness of the table and the unnaturalness of my bare butt on such a common and public feature of a home served to amplify the sensation that I was completely and utterly naked. My body was never going to let me become numb to the idea that I was not only naked, but naked in front of my friends.

To make matters worse, my handcuffed hands were directly underneath me, laying just above my waist. I had laced my fingers together a long time ago into a ball to stop my hands from wringing each other out of embarrassment, but now I could feel my ball of fingers pressing up against my back. That forced me to arch my spine, which served to raise my pussy to a higher level and give a better vantage point to the boys. Sitting directly on top of my hands, however, I could start to feel my fingers going numb as the circulation was cut off.

My legs felt unnatural in their position, completely splayed out like a starfish. I shut my eyes, even with the sleeping mask, trying not to think about how exposed I was. I was beginning to appreciate—if not despise—Lindsay’s decision to make me spread my legs willingly rather than tie me or hold me down. Not only did it imply consent on my part for the boys to shave me, like I had already realized, but it also forced me to be an active participant. I wouldn’t be able to shut off my mind so I could shut off my brain as I was groped. And, as icing on the cake, the slightest movement could be construed as misbehaving and give Lindsay all the fodder she needed for more punishment.

At that thought, my legs twitched, fighting every instinct to clamp back together. I jerked my shin, moving my foot without hopefully moving my crotch. Unsure if they saw my movement but desperately trying to avoid another punishment, I took in a deep breath and strained to spread my legs as wide as possible. Anything not to give Lindsay another reason to embarrass me. It was a stupid reason, given how far into the thick sludge of humiliation I had already come—what more could she do to me?—but I was more scared of Lindsay punishing me than the punishment itself, if that made any sense. Honestly, the buzzing in my head was so loud it was impressive I was having any coherent thoughts.

Lindsay giggled. “Look, she’s spreading her legs more. She’s just dying to get cleaned properly.”

A furious blush washed over me. Somehow, Lindsay had turned my attempt to not be further humiliated into just more proof that I was really just the slutty maid/pet she was making me out to be. I couldn’t win.

“Are you ready, pet?” I flinched. I had gotten so used to hearing those words in Lindsay’s voice that hearing Jackson say it just served to remind me that this was all happening in front of boys. Jackson and I grew up on the same street before he moved to a nearby neighborhood. Thomas and I were lab partners in 7th grade biology, and Kyle I knew had a boy crush on me in elementary school that fizzled before middle school when we both hit puberty.

None of them had I ever had a real romantic relationship with went further than a friendly tease, but now they were getting a up front and center show to my body

“Y-yes, Mister Jackson. I’m ready.”

There was a long, empty pause as they all drank me in as I willingly gave them full view of my pussy. I squirmed, biting my lip in an attempt to stifle my legs from moving. My wrists pulled against the handcuffs again, only serving to make me even more uncomfortable. This wasn’t fair! They could just make me lay there for hours, and there was nothing I could do about it!

Why were they taking so long? I thought about trying to ask them to start so I—

A hand touched my crotch. Despite knowing it was coming, the anticipation and buildup was enough that the sudden touch of fingers made me yelp.

“Taylor!”

Lindsay’s hand crashed down on my inner thighs. I squealed, but somehow managed to keep my legs open.

Whoever was touching me continued to do so, moving his fingernails down the folds of my pussy and spreading it wide. Another hand joined, applying the cold shaving cream to my crotch liberally. Another touched my waist, caressing my butt and pinching it. While their hands had seemed so distinctive when they were fondling my tits, without my sight I couldn’t tell who was touching me where. I could only tell that there were definitely four pairs of hands exploring my body more intimately than I had ever done to myself.

Unable to squeeze my legs and too scared to move anything else, my wrists, hidden by my body, were the only safe outlet, and they yanked and pulled against my cuffs, to no avail, of course, instead just bruising my wrists even more.

Lindsay could see I was struggling. “You are allowed to show your appreciation, pet.” she said. “You are allowed to moan.”

I blushed, not because I was embarrassed to admit that I was enjoying this—I had passed that point in the shower—but because Lindsay had to give me permission to do so, and by moaning, I would accept her ability to give me permission to do the most embarrassing of things. Everything she did or said was engineered to obtain even more control over me.

It didn’t stop me, though, from moaning, groaning, and whimpering as someone took a razor to my crotch. I shuddered at each swipe. Even though it was hardly much hair to begin with, the feeling of being completely bald on my crotch left me feeling like I was freezing and exposed. My one last inch of protection was gone.

The hands retreated, and I let out a single groan. They had all taken advantage of touching me in my crotch, but they had stayed away from outright penetrating my pussy, apparently following Lindsay’s instructions from the shower. I was on the cliff of the most intense orgasm I would ever experience, but Lindsay was still denying me that pleasure.

My lungs were in fire, the mask and the cuffs felt uncomfortable, and I was covered in sweat. The leash had gotten in front of me and lay draped across my chest between my cleavage and down in between my legs. The fabric felt odd on my bare crotch.

“P-please,” I gasped. I winced at the sudden outburst.

Thankfully, Lindsay didn’t use it as an excuse for punishment. “What is it, pet? What do you want?” I turned in her direction, but with the mask, I couldn’t see anything

I knew what she wanted me to say. I knew what she was expecting me to say. And I almost said it. I almost asked them to take me, right there, on the table, to ravish me until I screamed.

But I held my tongue. No, I couldn’t do that. Despite everything, despite every humiliating, slutty thing I had done, that would be the final straw, the ultimate display of sluttiness. At this point, there was no changing what the boys thought of me, or what they would think every time they saw me in the hallway. But if I asked them to do this, I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror the same way again.

Instead, the words that came out were different. A compromise. “My-my handcuffs. I would like them off,” I said. “Please, Miss Lindsay.” The handcuffs were killing me from all the wringing and pulling against them. The last time that I had felt remotely in control was the brief moment I had them off.

I heard her shuffle. She wasn’t expecting that. And for a moment, I felt a moment of victory. I had done something unexpected. Done something out of the control of my master.

“I see,” Lindsay said. “That’s quite the ask. Those cuffs are part of your outfit as a pet.”

I groaned. She couldn’t seriously—

“How about a deal? We’ll take those lovely cuffs off if you let each of us take a picture of you in whatever pose we ask.”

[jastes22]

Absolutely not.

Pictures?

She couldn’t be serious.

It was one of the reasons why I had let the night go as far as it had gone, the fact that the events of the night wouldn’t go further than tonight. The boys could talk about it as witnesses, yes, but with no proof, who would believe them?

But with pictures, everything changed. They could share them, show them to people. If it got shown to the wrong person, it could ruin my image permanently. I would be that girl, that girl who stripped naked and allowed herself to be leashed like an animal.

“Relax,” Lindsay said. “We promise we won’t share them with anyone. They’ll stay right here.” She ran her thumbnail across my pussy, still easily accessible between my spread legs.

“And with your mask, no one will be able to tell who you are.”

That was true, but it was hardly a comfort, knowing that the entirety of my body would be available on their phones forever. As my friends, I trusted all of them not to do anything with them, but they were boys. It was like giving someone one of those party poppers and telling them not to pop it for the rest of their lives. Something was bound to happen eventually.

So…what do you say?” Lindsay asked. “Your handcuffs for pictures.”

I swallowed, my throat very dry. It wasn’t a fair bargain, and she knew it. Pictures just to remove my handcuffs? Pictures should have been a night-ending deal, not something to make me marginally more comfortable.

That’s it, I thought. I should just decline it. Just deal with the handcuffs and leave my privacy—what little remained—intact.

As I thought it, though, I realized I had no choice. Lindsay wasn’t making an offer. She was telling me what was to happen. They were going to take pictures regardless, and it was up to me to accept her terms and get my handcuffs removed, or to maintain some dignity by refusing the conditions but still being submitted to pictures and handcuffs for the rest of the night.

To make matters worse, even if Lindsay did hold off on pictures if I refused, there was nothing to stop her or the boys from taking pictures anyway later in the night. For all I knew, they could have been taking pictures—or even filming— all this time, documenting my pussy being shaved in all its glory while I laid there naked on the table.

I formulated the words in my mind and tried to speak, but the words choked in my mouth. Was I really going to do this?

“Taylor?”

Lindsay’s words inspired enough fear and panic to spur me into action. If I were honest, I had already made a decision long before. “Y-yes. O-one picture each.” I tried to make my compromise sound more resolute, but it came out as a gasp, more of a suggestion than a counteroffer.

“No,” Lindsay said. “One pose each, but we get to take as many pictures as we please.”

That was worse than having a single picture of me on their phones. I imagined them snapping pictures like I was some sort of celebrity on the red carpet, shooting me from all different angles. Instead of a single picture, they would have a whole gallery.

Before I could say anything, Lindsay was sitting me up and releasing my wrists from my handcuffs. I groaned as my hands finally came free. I brought them in front of me, casually draping them across me in a feeble attempt to cover myself without looking like I was doing it deliberately.

“Kyle? Do you want to start us off?”

Not giving me any chance to breathe, Kyle started giving me directions. “Hands on your head.”

I whimpered, wishing I had just a moment longer with my hands as a covering. However, I knew if I hesitated I would get into trouble. I brought my hands away from my tits and onto my head, lacing my fingers together.

“Sit up on your legs and stretch out your stomach.”

I moved slowly and deliberately, trying to delay showing off my pussy as much as possible without angering my masters.

Eventually, though, there was no more I could do than to rest my bottom on the heels of my feet and stretch out my body with my tits and pussy in full view.

“Jut out your chest,” he said.

I whimpered, but complied, leaning my back to thrust out my chest. More than just the obvious effect of making my tits more prominent. It also served to arch my back in a way that I was sure was more sexy—and thus more embarrassing— than just sitting up straight.

There was a brief pause, then there was a loud *click* of a camera shutter.

My heart fell. It was really happening. The reality of it all had been enough for me to believe that maybe this was all just a feint from Lindsay. But now there was proof. Undeniable proof that I was a slut. Proof that could be shared, circulated, and used to control me. My only shield was a mask that was literally the last shred of clothing I had.

More clicks of cameras going off, moving around me to get different angles. I tried to count the clicks, but I lost count. Why did they have to do that, to let me know each and every time they took a picture to immortalize this moment?

It was eerily silent as the four of them captured every bit of me. The silence coupled with my blindness was deafening, like a horde of bees.

“Okay, Thomas. Your turn.”

Out of all the boys, Thomas had been the most hesitant to participate in my humiliation. I had no illusions that he wouldn’t take full advantage of this unique position he was in, but maybe he would let me off easy.

“On your back,” he said, taking the same commanding tone as Kyle.

I moved into the position, grateful to at least be able to move my hands.

“Now spread your legs. Wide as you can,” he said.

I had already been in that position for a while during my shaving, but doing it again seemed daunting. The first time Lindsay had made me do it, but now following the commands of a boy making me do it seemed even more humiliating.

Maybe he just wanted pictures of the position I had been in for the last half hour. At least it wasn’t something new, like Kyle’s. This wasn’t so bad.

“Now take your fingers and spread your pussy.”

I held in a groan. No, this was worse. Rather than a static pose, I would actively have to embarrass myself in a way to be captured forever.

My fingers slid down my body towards my crotch.

“Don’t go down the center. Keep your arms to the side. Keep your tits in view.”

I complied, moving my arms and moving my arms in an awkward bowl-shaped movement before reaching the folds of my pussy.

This was the closest I had gotten to touching myself the entire night. Part of me desperately wanted to plunge my fingers and throw caution to the wind.

“Don’t even think about it,” Lindsay said. “Or I’ll take your mask off.”

That was enough to keep me obedient. Not only the thought of her taking off my mask and revealing my identity in their pictures, but also the thought of her recording me orgasming on the table.

I grabbed the edges of my pussy and spread them, holding in a soft groan at the feeling of me exposing myself even more.

As the camera started going off, I imagined the type of pictures they could take. While Kyle’s pose was more static and simple, Thomas’s pose allowed for more creativity. A blown up shot of my pussy. A shot that ran down my body, captured my pussy, and my exposed tits in the background.

“I like the face that she’s making,” Lindsay said.

I whimpered, forgetting that my face was still visible and that they could see the grimaces of me fighting every instinct to cover up or pleasure myself.

She dragged her fingers down my stomach. I gasped, the sensation of her fingers on my skin so close to my pussy eliciting a soft purr that I couldn't hide.

Lindsay giggled. “Tell you what, Taylor, I’ll give you a choice.”

I perked up. Where was she going with this?

“You have two options. We can keep going as we have been, with your identity protected, but I guarantee you will be naked for the rest of the night and we’ll take as many pictures as we want.”

I swallowed an objection. More pictures? That wasn’t the deal. I only had two more poses left, and then…to be honest, I wasn’t sure. I had no delusions that we wouldn’t continue on like this for the rest of the night, but I thought at least pictures would be off the table, as they hadn’t been allowed all night until this moment. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

“Or…” Lindsay continued. “You do two more poses for me and Jackson, and we stop for the night. You get your clothes back, everything. We’ll even delete some of the more…promiscuous pictures of you.”

It almost seemed too good to be true. A way to end the night and get rid of some pictures?? I doubted she would let me delete all the pictures they’ve taken, but at least I could have some control over the pictures. I tried to keep my voice balanced. “W-what’s the catch?”

“Oh, nothing too serious,” she said. “For your last two poses, you won’t have your mask, so everyone who gets these pictures will know exactly who you are.”

[jastes22]

*POLL CLOSED*

[jastes22]

*Thanks to everyone who voted on the poll!*

Everyone held their breath as thoughts raced through my head. My stomach was churning into painful knots, a strange sensation when naked, deliberating over the impossible choices. It was shocking how tempting the offer was. I was getting too tired, both physically and emotionally, to fight back, and part of me wanted to do anything to make the night go quicker, no matter the cost. Not only that, but even if I refused, Lindsay had already snuck in the additional caveat that pictures were no longer prohibited, even after I was done posing. Everything from this moment would be recorded.

But my mask…that was too much. I doubted I would ever be able to get rid of those pictures that they had already taken, but if only one of them had my face uncovered…it would poison the whole batch. Everyone who saw just the one picture would know that the slut underneath rhe mask was yours truly, the good girl, the straight-A student with aspirations to get on the honor roll and go to a good college to study, of all things…veterinary medicine.

Again, despite everything that the boys participated in, I trusted them not to share the pictures with others. Those pictures wouldn’t go outside this room, so what did it matter if my identity was apparent in them? The boys already knew who it was under the mask. Other people might have called me crazy for actually believing that any boy wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to share nudes of a girl they knew with their other friends, but my boys were different than that. We had a rapport with each other, a kind of pact that bonded us together. But I also knew that it would only take one incident, one mistake, for those floodgates to break and for everything that had happened tonight to come flooding into my public life.

No. I couldn’t risk it. I had to keep the mask on. I would submit myself to whatever Lindsay told me, but I was going to keep my identity a secret.

Still…I hesitated. I wondered for a moment if this was one of those choices, like my handcuffs and the pictures, that I had no choice to accept, and that Lindsay was going to take my mask off regardless of my choice, and I would lose any benefit of doing so willingly.

But I couldn’t take that chance and actually agree to it. “N-No,” I said. “I want to keep my mask.”

A moment, a pause. I knew Lindsay was thinking. I knew she was considering taking my mask as proof of her ownership of me. That no matter what I said, she was ultimately in control.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally said. Panic raced through my veins. Had I made a bad choice that I was about to regret? “But I respect your decision. Looks like we have you all night.”

Right. All night.

A pause. “Jackson? I believe it’s your turn.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Deep relief for only a moment before a new sense of dread filled me. Right. I was still paying for my handcuffs, and I was only halfway through my end of the bargain. Jackson hadn’t been so overt as Lindsay was about my humiliation, but he had definitely orchestrated some of the more embarrassing moments of the night that had opened new possibilities for my exposure. What kind of pose would he come up with?

Rather than starting to give me commands like the other two had done, I felt fingers grab my leash and start to tug. A hand reached out, touched my side. I squeaked, instinctively expecting for another hand to grab at my tits or my pussy. I realized that it was Lindsay who was touching me, helping me down from the table.

The simple touch was surprisingly calming. It was a reminder that Lindsay was still here. It made no sense, considering how Lindsay had orchestrated or encouraged every piece of humiliation I had gone through tonight, and yet…it was good knowing she was here.

Whoever was holding my leash—I assumed it was Jackson—continued to tug firmly, and I followed promptly, moving to the center of the room. The fear that the boys would think I was an eager slut ready to be controlled wasn’t as strong as my fear of further punishment. I realized that now they could hold the threat of removing my mask over me for the rest of the night to keep me submissive.

A hand pulled down on my shoulder. “On all fours, pet,” Jackson said.

I flinched at the use of the word “pet.” It felt different than when Lindsay would use it. Lindsay used it as a tease, as a way of reminding me that I was in a humiliated, compromising position. Jackson used it as a reminder of control, that he was my master and I was subservient to him and the others.

All of this went through my mind in an instant, but I obeyed. There was no way to rest on the floor comfortably, and the odd angles of my limbs on the floor felt unnatural. The leash was still held taut.

There was some shuffling and whispered giggling as Jackson moved my unseen photographers around.

“Make sure you can see my feet, but nothing else, and make sure you can see her leash.”

I blushed at the thought of a leash being “my” leash, like this was a permanent thing.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Taylor,” Lindsay said. “Look at me and give us a pout.”

What? Confused but not wanting to hesitate, I turned in the direction of her voice. Pouting wasn’t difficult—I was already struggling to keep it together—so I curled my lips and squinted my eyes, as if I was going to cry, though I guess they couldn’t see that, anyway.

The phone cameras started to go off, and only then did I realize what Jackson was doing. Unlike Kyle’s and Thomas’ poses, which were designed to maximize the amount of exposed skin and privates, Jackson’s pose really emphasized how I was a subservient little pet, with an emphasis on the leash and collar. No self-respecting girl would ever be caught in this position. Only a girl who actually wanted it.

I was suddenly very glad that I had kept my mask on. I suspected that Jackson’s plan was to put me in this position regardless if I was wearing the mask or not. The thought of me, unmasked, and posing like a dog who had been caught doing something bad would have scarred me for life, even if no one saw it.

Even with the position I was in protecting me from giving a full frontal, there was still a lot of skin exposed. The entirety of my back and butt were uncovered, and I could hear cameras going off in that direction.

“Bend over,” Jackson said. “Stick up your butt.”

I swallowed, knowing that such a position would spread my cheeks and provide no cover for my holes. Even with the mask, the more pictures they took, the more likely that someone else would be able to piece together who the girl underneath the mask was. A butt was hardly enough for anyone to make a positive ID, but it was a part of my body that hadn’t been thoroughly documented yet, and would be another piece to the puzzle of my identity.

But I obeyed, seeing no other option. I tucked my hands to my chest and bent down, sticking my butt up. I squeaked as fingers spread my cheeks. I tried to open my mouth to stop them, but a deep, pleasurable moan escaped, effectively undermining any resistance I could muster. I laid there, trying to keep quiet as they explored and documented everything. Someone discovered that playing with my overly-stimulated pussy would consistently elicit a gasp or a squeak from me, and they each took turns exploring their new toy.

I willed them to go deeper, to give me release, but they never penetrated deeply enough to trigger an orgasm. The refusal to let me relieve myself only served to stimulate my body even more. Every touch felt like fire.

“Okay,” Jackson said. “That’s enough.”

I collapsed on the floor, breathing hard. Not only had their exploring been exhausting, but holding an awkward position like that made my stomach sore. For a moment, I worried that Lindsay or Jackson would jump on the fact that I had broken the pose without express permission, but thankfully, they said nothing.

I don’t know how long I laid there, but I was tempted to drift off into sleep. My eyes even started to droop before I realized that Lindsay was speaking to me.

“Okay, pet. Time for your last pose.”