Chapter 2

The recently supposedly raped and sodomized Heather was carried carefully to the main stage and she was gently placed onto the training horse with careful attention to not bruising her ankles or her wrists using the padded restraints.

She was still fully dressed and looked particularly appetizing in her short skirt that did not manage to hide her risqué French knickers with the lace on the edges. Her boobs were swinging with delicious invitation inside her freely flowing blouse that did little to hide her tantalizing nipples hardened by her recent adventures.

Heather slowly came out of her nightmare of being transported to the very gates of hell by a dark-skinned giant of a man with the roughness of attitude that always drove her to insane bouts of misbehavior. She only knew her front and back portals of pleasure were still tingling with excitement and a wetness that was all too familiar for her liking. She had no doubt that the driver had taken advantage of her unconscious condition whilst transporting her to this place that was poorly lit and filled with characters of suspect appearance.

She had anticipated the driver's rough treatment because she had suggested it to him verbally and then later in writing to give him legal coverage when they met at the BDSM Matchmaker's convention the previous week. She was in a state of delightful euphoria after taking on a trio of Bulgarian wrestlers with not a single word of English between them at the time but her demands were explicit and now this staged exhibition was the final part of her much desired fantasy humiliation in public. She had insisted on careful attention to not causing any marks or bruises because of her television commitments and not wanting to be a subject of mockery on network television.

Her cuffs were locked down with audible "snicks" that brought laughter and shouts of an obscene nature from the onlookers. The all pulled their chairs a bit closer to see her facial expressions when they really got down to business on the lighted stage. The spotlight was pointed right at her glorious backside pointed straight up to the roof like some signal of the festivities to follow.

She was pretty much alert now and aware of everything happening to her. It was just as she had pictured. She was bound up snugly on the "humping" horse and had very little give to wiggle or squirm to get away from the degrading things that were certain to test her resolve not to shout out the "Safe" word.

She could hear some of them making lewd remarks about the white cream leaking from her twin holes of passion now displayed like collector's items on top of the padded table of despair.

Heather was stripped completely naked on the thing with her backside pushed up in obscene sacrificial offering to some unseen God. It was a man and female team that removed all of her clothing with the exception of her earrings and her ankle bracelet and her expensive heels that seemed part of her now and completed the presentation of her long beautiful legs bound tightly in the ankle restraints attached to the long table of pain and passion.

Her beautiful face was still in its fully painted glory with her mascara only running on one corner slightly due to some tearing from her recent introduction to Midnight's huge tool in her defenseless buttocks. Her only regret was that she had not actually seen the thing in person but her lower body could attest to its size and power.

They all recognized her from her television appearances and a few of them even moved forward to take liberties with her famous breasts that hung down waiting for the action to begin. One inspired elderly man wrapped his lips and almost toothless mouth around one of her nipples and sucked her so loudly that the audience applauded his relentless audacity.

She shuddered at the affront to her dignity but knew it was only a small sample of what she was certain to face in the hours ahead.

All of the onlookers were there on personal invitation from Heather because she wanted her humiliation to be seen by her fellow practitioners of the unusual fetish of degrading oneself in front of people that you knew personally and not merely complete strangers. They all were acquainted with Heather. Some were closer than others having joined with her in mutual acts of perverted kink. This was sort of her "graduation party" in the group of depraved overachievers looking for the ultimate thrill of a lifetime.

A pair of middle-aged weather girls with years of kink behind them started her off with their brand of humiliation. They were both blond and were nicely built despite both having breast augmentation that boosted their ratings a full five points. In the spirit of festivity, they had both dressed like Japanese schoolgirls and wore their mini-skirts and white panties with pride and confident bearing. They each lowered their panties below their knees and introduced the famous newscaster's face to their closely shaven slits. One of the women even laughed and turned her back to Heather forcing her to accept her smelly crack right on her delicate and sensuously turned up nose.

Heather had the scent of both pussy and ass up her nostrils now and she knew it was only the beginning.

The muscle-bound secret service agent with the devilish look in his eyes mounted her in front of one and all and shoved his long thick dick right up her Hershey highway without a single comment to warn her of his intent. She howled like a frightened banshee lost in a strange place and struggled so hard that the table actually moved an inch or two on the stage floor.