The next boy took off my sock and, just as I lifted my leg up to have the last one removed, Sharon interrupted: “Perhaps one of the girls would like the pleasure of stripping you completely naked for us.”
I still could not believe how keen she was to increase my humiliation at every opportunity. I cringed with shame as I asked a girl to take off my sock and she obliged with a curt “All right, you kinky bitch,” which brought more laughter to the room.
Greg made me stand in the middle of the room once more, but this time I was made to open my legs as wide as I could and do a series of “twirls” for my audience. Then the final embarrassment was for me to bend over with my legs as far apart as I could get them and reach behind me to pull open my own bum cheeks to expose my anus to their gaze.
Greg then told me he had one last task for me, and I was stunned to the spot when he told me that I was not yet “stark bollock naked” as he had promised me, and I had no idea what he meant. The cruel bastard told me that naughty little girls don’t have the privilege of wearing jewellery and began to unfasten the gold chain around my neck. With a grin as big as a Cheshire cat he took two rings off my fingers and then stood like the lord and master as I took my earrings out. He put them in a bag and gave them to James to look after, and then I was finally made to thank him for stripping me and showing all his friends how to make me behave.
But it was not over yet, as Sharon said how she thought the boy’s suggestion that a “schoolgirl” shouldn’t have pubic hair should be carried out. Hoots of delight erupted from everyone and Greg went eagerly to get his razor. I was put on the table on my back and two volunteers were asked to hold my legs as wide apart as possible. Mocking faces surrounded me as first of all he used a pair of scissors to clip away at my pubes and then the cold steel of the razor went to work on my mound. There were gasps of amazement as slowly he removed every last hair from my sex and even got two boys to pull apart my bum cheeks so he could shave around my bum hole. It was now blatantly obvious to everyone how aroused I was, and he gave his grinning audience a treat by opening my wet pussy lips with his hand to let them all see right inside me.
His fingers were wet with my juices and he put them to my mouth. “Lick them clean, bitch,” he taunted. The taste of my own sex gave me an even bigger thrill and I reached down to feel my bare pussy.
“The dirty cow wants to play with herself,” I heard a girl say in disgust, and my masturbation was encouraged. It did not take me long to explode to an orgasm and, still laid over the table, everyone came to feel my wet sex on their way out. Each one put their fingers in my mouth as they left and called me all kinds of names, but I didn’t care anymore.
I was relieved that at least I did not have to go to the pub with them and once again James led me upstairs. The following day everyone was at home and it was raining heavily outside. We all seemed bored and I couldn’t get Greg out of my mind; all the time I thought about the thrill of doing anything he told me. We were watching the television and Sharon suggested that we should keep our “naughty little girl” amused with something. I was sent upstairs and told to put on my school uniform and, when I returned, Greg was ready for me. He told me that they had just had a quick chat about me and they had come up with something really humiliating for me to do. Sharon went to turn on the video recorder and a “keep fit” tape was playing, and while they sat and watched I had to exercise to the programme. Gradually each item of clothing came off and at the end of an hour I was exhausted and covered in sweat.
“Now for real fun,” exclaimed Greg, and he made me do a shoulder stand on the floor with my feet high in the air. He made me do some upside-down bicycle exercises; after ten solid minutes of imaginary pedalling I was allowed a rest. Now Greg came up to me and, with me still on my shoulders, he manoeuvred my legs so that they hung limply at the side of my head and my bum was the highest part of my body. In this position my bum cheeks were wide apart and I could hear Greg in the kitchen. He knelt beside me and then, to my acute embarrassment, began to rub something along the crease of my bum. His fingers almost penetrated my anus and I realised that he must be planning to insert something inside me.
“Please, Greg, no,” I whimpered as he liberally coated my bum hole with margarine. Then I saw Sharon kneel next to my face and she showed me a large candle. It was about ten inches long and at least two inches across. “We were wondering if you might like this up your arse,” she said with such a sweet smile across her gloating face.
Then as Greg took the candle he told me it had actually been Sharon’s idea and she had dared him to see if he could get it up my bum. He gently teased the candle around my gaping bum hole and soon I could feel him start to push it inside me. Never in all my life had I had anything inside my bottom and it felt enormous as he eased it further inside me. I looked between my legs and I could see about half the candle stuck obscenely out of my backside.
Then Sharon came to have a closer look and sounded excited as she told Greg to finish it off properly. I thought he was going to push it deeper in me, but a real jolt of fear shot through me—he had a box of matches in his hand. “Please, please, you can’t,” I implored them, but I heard the match strike and the smell of sulphur as my grinning tormentor lit the candle. Sharon gave Greg a hug and enthusiastically congratulated him on his success, and James came to take a closer look.
“This is more entertaining than watching the TV,” he laughed.
I could see the flame flickering and wondered if there was no end to their wicked imagination and total disregard for my modesty. Greg told me that by the time the wax reached the bottom of the candle it would be cool and wouldn’t burn my bum hole, and then he told me to be a good girl and see how long I could maintain my position. I was uncomfortable but imagined I could last about ten minutes or so, and then to my surprise they went to sit at the table and left me at the other side of the room. I could hear a muttered conversation and I saw them writing something down.
Every few minutes one of them would walk over to me and remind me to stay still and praise me for being a “good girl”. Despite Greg’s assurance, I could feel the wax run down the candle and, although not unbearable, it was still hot. Now they were cutting up the pieces of paper and putting them in envelopes amid a show of secrecy.
Gradually I could remain in position no longer and begged someone to come and remove the candle. They all gathered around me and then Greg told me I had to blow out the candle myself before he would remove it. From my ludicrous position it was almost impossible and, after enduring their mocking laughter for a few attempts, Greg wet his fingers and snubbed the flame.
I gave a moan of relief as he slowly took the candle from my anus and I could feel my bum hole remain open even after it was completely out, a fact that delighted Sharon. I rolled onto my side and gratefully stretched my legs. It was such a weird sensation looking at the candle and knowing where it had just been, and without thinking I began to slide it in and out of my mouth. “You dirty cow!” shrieked Sharon, but I couldn’t stop humiliating myself more and I played with myself with the candle in my mouth, savouring the taste of my bum.
That night in the pub constant references were made to beer bottles and where they should be put, and I was itching to get to bed to let James take care of me. At last it was Saturday and, after a pretty uneventful day, it was time for me to sample the delights of my “toys”. I was informed that all three of them were going to help in my thrashing tonight and to make sure I had plenty to drink because I would be doing plenty of crying. Just the thought sent my head in a daze—I really wanted them to be cruel to me, as if they weren’t already.
Each of my toys had been given a number from one to four and then they had allocated a particular part of my body a number as well. They had written down three numbers on pieces of paper and put them in a bowl for me to pick out. I was told that luck would determine how much I would be given tonight. The first number would indicate the person who would be required to thrash me, the second number was the implement, and the final number was the part of my body to be dealt with. Despite knowing how much it was going to hurt, I couldn’t wait.
