But Max has an interesting 'initiation' method . . . involving metal clamps, a hard shaft, some mysterious nozzles, and the most creative double penetration Gina will ever scream to. That is . . . until she progresses to Level Two.
WARNING: Not to be read at work!
He is standing very close to me, so close that if I take one step forward, I would slam against his chest. His arm muscles are magnificently contoured and his bronzed skin is silky smooth and tight. I wonder how he would look like oiled. I can smell the sweet scent of his aftershave, mingled with sweat. Goose bumps gather on the backs of my thighs.
He seizes my right wrist and holds it up. "Would you do everything I tell you to?"
His grasp on my flesh is tight. I feel tears springing to my eyes.
"Good," he says.
My knees are starting to buckle. He jerks his sculptured chin to the direction of the bidet.
"Now go over there and squat on the rim."
He lets go of me as abruptly as he has seized me. I almost fall backward, but regain my balance in time. My thumping heart is in my throat. It would not do to appear graceless in front of Max Devlin.
I trot to the bidet, studying the bewildering array of taps and nozzles circling its perimeter and dotting the generous bowl. It is complex, I decide, more torture instrument than sanitary device. The rim is fairly wide with the seat down; through it would be precarious to balance upon it on my heels.
Devlin rasps, "What are you waiting for, freshman?"
Warmth floods my cheeks as I climb onto the bidet. It is easier to sit upon it first, my bare buttocks circling its oval aperture, and then to gingerly hoist my slipper-shod feet onto its broad seat. I'm terrified of appearing clumsy. Devlin never takes his eyes off my crotch, revealed now and then - I'm sure - by the betraying hem of my short, short dress. A flush suffuses my breasts and spreads all the way down to my belly.
I finally face him - eyes downcast and cheeks aflame - in my squatting position. My legs are wide apart. My dress has ridden up my thighs to reveal the shaven area between them. My wet pussy lips are finally exposed to Devlin's hot gaze. My slender nub throbs and quivers in cool air of the bathroom. The moist hole of my vulva gapes above the deep basin of the bidet, and just behind it, separated by only a thin sliver of flesh, my anus puckers wide open.
Gina must now play a guessing game with her mouth and other lovely holes . . . involving a blindfold, a salami and the three very huge and rock-hard cocks of Max's friends.
This is Book Two of the Initiation series.
"Who do we have here?" the black youth growls softly.
All three roam their eyes over my protuberant nipples and the lines of my tight skirt.
"A freshman in need of initiation." Devlin grins, squeezing my right buttock underneath the slithery material of my skirt. "Her name is Gina but I prefer to call her Gia. Gia, meet Thomas . . . "
The goateed man nods, smiling lasciviously.
" . . . Santos . . . and Grady."
Thomas scoots into the far end of his berth while Santos and Grady continue to lounge on the other side, grinning.
"Surely you don't need an invitation." Thomas pats the empty seat beside him.
Devlin motions at me to sit. My pulse hammers my throat as I slide my buttocks across the hard seat. Devlin gets in after me. I'm hemmed in by Thomas on my right and Devlin on the other. The beads of my clit clamp click softly like miniature castanets.
"That's not how you sit, freshman." Devlin's voice is suddenly hard.
He makes me raise my buttocks. Then he lifts the back of my skirt and makes me sit down again. This time, my entire ass and pussy are in contact with the torn and dirty seat. A particularly sharp edge of a peeling hole, sprouting old and yellowed foam, digs into the skin of my anus.
"Open your legs," Devlin commands.
I hasten to obey. The grins on the faces of the youths spread wider. Thomas grabs my right thigh as it brushes against him.
"Put it right here, baby," he whispers. He vaults my right leg across his lap so that it is hooked around his left knee. His hand rests on the soft underside of my right thigh.
"So smooth," he murmurs, stroking my silky, milk-white skin, "so virginal."
A shudder ripples through me.
Devlin repeats this with my left leg, so that I'm spread-eagled in the middle between them. The berth is placed a fair distance from the table, so that whatever wares I'm displaying can be clearly seen by Santos and Grady from across. The overhead lamp is yellow and stark. The light throws my mount into relief. My pussy - soaking in its own juices - is once again exposed . . . to three strangers this time, not just Devlin.
WARNING: Contains BDSM acts and psychological elements that may be offensive to some.
Tied up and cruelly displayed, Gina must wait out her punishment . . . until two gardeners come along. But what mysterious things do they have in their wheelbarrow to further tease and probe into Gina's moist aching pussy?
This is Volume Three of the Initiation series.
Grinning, Devlin grabs a protuberant outcrop in the middle of the bark. It's a very knobbed piece of wood, about four inches long and one-and-the-half inches in diameter. It is shaped like a lifted finger. It juts out from the tree like a small Saguaro cactus stem.
"Come here, Gia."
In bewilderment, I trot over to the woody piece. It is level to my stomach.
"Touch it. Feel it."
I curl my fist around the stem, feeling its rough whorls and ridges. Apprehension creeps into every pore of my body. Devlin explores my ass as I do so, pinching my cheeks and prodding the soft flesh.
"Now stand against the tree and raise your hands above your head."
The fear rises to my throat as I obey. The woody knob presses against the small of my back like the barrel of a gun. From behind, Devlin lowers the topmost restraints. Then he slips my wrists through the loops and secures them snugly with the ratchets. When he finishes, my arms are pulled so tightly above my head that I'm almost standing on tiptoe.
I whimper softly.
"Hush, now, hush."
He strokes my breasts as he lifts my right leg and posits my ankle into the loop of the right sling. Once again, he secures it tightly. I'm in a very awkward position, with my right leg thrust high up and my left leg still dangling down, pulled by gravity. My angled pussy is wide open and very moist.
Devlin repeats this with my left leg into the opposing sling, so that when he is finished, I'm securely fastened to the tree, with both my legs hiked up in a 'V' formation above me. The bonds are tight and uncomfortable.
My entire vagina and asshole area are cruelly displayed. If I look down, I can see my very prominent pink labia and my quivering clit just above the gaping black hole of my pussy.
But Devlin is not finished with me.
He goes to the back of the tree and begins to further play with my bonds. He hauls the ones securing my wrists up so that I am lifted even higher. Then he comes to my front. My open pussy is at the level of his extremely hard cock.
"Now easy does it, baby."
He grabs hold of both my buttocks and the undersides of my thighs. The muscles on his arms and shoulders bulging, he lifts me up by the hips and posits my asshole - which is rapidly contracting and puckering from my obvious distress - above the woody stem of the tree.
But the handsome Dean Whitehouse is deliciously cruel, and he shows Gina exactly what he would do to her . . . involving a long pointer, a dangling metal ball, a birch cane, and the largest dildo Gina has ever seen.
Now Gina must be the main exhibit of a mysterious class, attended by three of the dean's special students.
This is Book Four of the Initiation series.
The desk is quite high, and so I have to clamber on a chair to vault myself onto its top.
"Squat facing me with your legs open and your hands squeezing your teats."
I obey. I'm nervous of my glistening pussy lips - and what he would perceive of me when he sees how wet I am. From a drawer, Dean Whitehouse removes a long contraption made from metal and tiny chains. It's shaped in a Y. All three of its ends flare into crocodile-like clamps.
"See these?" He demonstrates how tight the clamps are - like clothespins - by clicking them softly. I begin to tremble.
He places two clamps on both my protruding nipples. Unlike the ones that Devlin has clipped me with before, the blunted teeth on these ones bite down on my skin so that it actually hurts.
"Now, now, surely you're not a soft girl. You'll be able to take a little pain."
He moves the third crocodile clamp to my pussy. He regards my terrified face as, with his huge thumb and index finger, he seizes my moist clit.
"Please, sir, no!" I cry.
The clamp snares almost the entire flesh of my sensitive hood and nips down on it firmly. Tears of pain flood my eyes. A stinging sensation of deep, intimate pain immediately flares in my clitoris.
My trapped nipples and clit are now connected to one another by the Y filigree chain.
Dean Whitehouse grabs my chin. "Do not call me 'sir'. From now on, you'll refer to me as 'teacher', understand?"
He makes me nod. "Yes, teacher."
"Good. Now I want you to stand up on the table with your legs apart."
Uncurling my knees, I attempt to straighten myself. The chains of the clamps become taut, pulling my nipples downward and lifting my clit painfully.
"Now pinch both your earlobes with your fingers. I want you to pull yourself down by the ears into a squat. Then stand up again. Do this fifty times."
The tears are running down my cheeks. Fifty times! Surely he does not mean to humiliate me thus!
I seize my earlobes and pull myself down, bending my legs at the knees.
"Count," Dean Whitehouse commands me.
"One." As I descend into a squat, the tension of the clamps on my nipples and clit lessens. But when I raise myself again, the tautness returns, and my intimate parts are once again cruelly tugged together. My embarrassment is extreme.
She must undergo the rituals and pleasures that await her in this mysterious last stage . . . involving Japanese rope bondage, a strange statue, and dozens of semi-naked and hedonistic revelers in a party that she will remember forever.
This is the final volume of the Initiation series.
The room is crowded. And what a crowd it is.
Young people mill with cocktail glasses in their hands - talking, laughing, kissing, groping one another. They are barely dressed in apparel designed to show off their breasts, buttocks and genitalia as much as possible. Heads look up as I make my entrance.
Murmurs all around:
"Ah, the new initiate."
"Lovely, isn't she?"
"Come, let's take a closer look."
I swivel my head this way and that, trying to take in as much as possible in my supine position. My heart beats rapidly within my chest. A woman is fellating a man in the middle of the floor. Bodies flit in and out, hiding them. Another couple is fucking - the woman slammed against a wall with her thighs around a man's waist.
Oh! The pleasures!
A woman walks by in string bikini. It is exactly that - a bikini one string thick. Three narrow strings run down each of her enormous tits, while her clit is covered (if it can be called that) by one red strand. Her labia are completely exposed.
She stops by me.
"And who is this?" she asks. Her lips are very red and plump, and her dark eyes are thickly lined with multicolored mascara.
"Gina Wesley, the initiate," Greg replies.
"And may we take a look at her?"
The youths carrying my legs lower my body so that I'm now held upright. My thighs are still spread open at an almost one hundred-and-eighty degree angle. My vagina and anus gape, the drawstrings dangling from the latter like two shaky tails.
Two men join the bikini woman. One of them wears an owl mask and a black cape which envelops his entire body except for his cock. The other has a pleasant, smiling face. I recognize him from around campus. He is one of the professors. His cock too is exposed, and he wears a peacock tail which sprouts from his ass in a striking fan. I reckon it's probably held there by a dildo.
The woman plucks at my red nipples. "They look delicious. My compliments, Greg."
Greg nods, obviously pleased.
The men painstakingly examine my vulva. They separate my pussy lips, pulling them apart and letting them spring back again. Their fingers stroke and tease my clit, and explore my vaginal passage. I close my eyes, savoring the sensations. I am no longer a prude concerning public display. I have recently found out that I quite enjoy it in fact.
"Still tight," says the Peacock of my pussy. "Where are the tokens?"
"Here, sir." Greg produces a small bag.
Its contents clink and roll - the sounds of something metallic.
OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:
THE INITIATION 2: Open Your Legs for my Family, Bend Over for my Family, Publicly Display Yourself for Me, Sex Slave at Sea, Paraded before the Billionaires, Sex Slave at the Auction
THE INITIATION 3: Sex Slave to the Dictator, Shackled by the Dictator, Punished by the Dictator's Daughter, Bartering the Sex Slave's Freedom
THE ALICE BDSM SERIES: Alice: Opening my Legs at your Wedding, Alice: Slave at the Farm, Alice: Slave at the Marketplace (NEW!)