Chapter 7

I must admit after that remarkable weekend at Jason's school became a very mundane thing. I faithfully trooped off to classes, took notes, filled books with facts, figures and information. But none of it meant much to me.

For some reason my entire world consisted of Jason, my relationship with him, his staff and our hopes and plans for the future. By midweek the pictures Jason had taken of me were developed and we eagerly selected the best to ship out to his family. Not only his parents, but to my surprise an aunt and uncle, too.

Asking Jason about the additional set going to his aunt and uncle, I learned a startling piece of information. His aunt and uncle own something called Chattle Castle. A highly expensive retreat that catters to the practitioners of physical pain during sex acts. He even showed me brochures that listed various rates for attendees. Rates of how much whipping tits, asses, pussies or any other part of a body, both male and female, costs.

To say that Chattle Castle captured my attention would be putting it mildly. Jason, being the understanding man that he is, told me all about it, in glowing details. After the discussion.I got a firm commitment from him that one day soon we would visit it, along with his aunt and uncle.

He said that we might even be married there, if I approved upon seeing it.

I gave it very serious consideration. After all, how many people got married in a real castle now days? A castle that catered to our style of sex? Not many, but perhaps we would. But that was in the future. We had much better things to do in the mean while.

Things like the monthly staff get-together planned for Saturday night.

I must confess to being slightly nervous as Jason led me to the dinning room Saturday night where the other female staff and I would wait for the men's arrival. It was quite an understandable reaction considering what he told me to expect.

The theme for the night was escape convicts had captured a bevy of gals their first night of freedom and after years of dreaming what they would do when they finally got some females, they were ready to act out all of their dreams. Dreams, which naturally, included the infliction of pain for the wrongs society had done to them. Not to mention the built-up sex drives they had developed.

Prior to arriving Jason had explained that I, like the other females, could deny specific things done to us. I was also granted the choice of joining in or not. I could be strictly a watcher or a participator as I so chose. But for me there really was no choice. I knew I would more than join in. The extent of which I hadn't yet determined.

Leaving me in the dinning room with the other gals, I took the opportunity to become better acquainted with them. I was surprised at their willingness to talk to me about their chosen sex style. As we chatted I learned some of their history and why they had made such a choice.

None had come from deprived homes. All had freely chosen their submissive role, granted for different reasons. But the most common theme was very similar to mine. Dream-related before actual experience.

That surprised me. I had long thought myself a bit unique, especially in these times of women's lib and equality and all that. But it seemed that there were still those of us who dreamed of being dominated by powerful partners.

That, I must admit, was comforting to me to hear. After all, no one wants to be totally odd in ones desires.

As we sat and chatted I also noticed a difference in their dress. None were in their uniforms. I soon learned that they never were on these special nights. They always dressed according to the plan of the night. Tonight the plan was that the gals, me included, were at a get-together enjoying each others company.

I also learned that upon the arrival of the men, each of us could act as we chose. Going either willingly or unwillingly. We could scratch and jab, fight and claw, or go meekly without a struggle. It seemed that the group was evenly divided in their choice in that category.

It also came to light that they had asked their partners for specific things. Betsy explained to me that it was their opportunity to experiment, too, and they took advantage of that fact. At other times it was left exclusively to the males on how they were treated. It was on these nights that the gals could request certain treatment, and most did.

Betsy informed me that she had requested a thorough ass strapping to be followed by a sandwich.

Maggie, of the previous gang rape, said she had requested only mild abuse, owing to the fact that she was hardly healed.

Susan had again requested weights being suspended from her nipple rings, along with a toasty ass and her favorite buggering.

Carol had consented to Barry's request that she submit to heated implements applied to various parts of her body. She also got him to agree to tight tit bondage, a favorite of hers as a reward.

Karen informed all that she was to finally get her own set of nipple rings, something she had wanted for ages. Thomas had agreed.

After all of their stories were told, they naturally turned to me for mine. I didn't have the faintest idea of how to answer them. I still wasn't all that sure that I'd even participate, but I knew I would.

But their stories did start my brain working along that line. Sitting back, sipping my coffee, thinking about what I might like to try, the door was slammed open and the men burst in like a raging volcano erupting.

Instantly the room was filled with screaming voices. Bodies became blurs as they ran from here to there as the men captured us one at a time. Too stunned to even move, I was easily captured by Jason. A Jason wearing grey shirt and pants, both with numbers stenciled on them. Before I could read his number, my hands were tied off behind me with a coarse rope that chaffed my wrists.

There were couples on the floor, across the table and dodging around chairs as screams and threats filled the room. Clothing was torn. Skin was exposed. Bodies were draped over shoulders and hauled away. It was pandemonium in all directions as Jason flung me over his shoulder and smashed his hand into my upturned ass as we made our way down the stairs and the spacious rooms below.

As I was carried meekly along I looked at the others. Betsy was fighting like a demon and Charles even sported a few scratch marks on his arms to attest to her fighting ability. Maggie, unlike the other night, was playing the total submissive. It seems she was serious on not being overtly harmed.

Susan was kicking atop Johnny's shoulder and even managed to get a good kick in his stomach. Carol, being drug by Barry, was a twisting tornado all the way down. While Karen walked bare breasted in front of Thomas. It seems she got bared tits real soon for the installation of her rings.

In one manner or another we all managed to congregate in the rooms at the same time. I was still unsure of lust how I was going to participate and it seemed that Jason knew that as he took me over to one of many chairs and proceeded to bind me to it. Ropes around my legs, chest and waist were snug but not all that uncomfortable as I surveyed the scene around us.

Without any preliminaries Barry tossed Carol over a table and proceeded to fuck her good and hard. Right beside Thomas and Karen who were doing the same. While across the room Betsy and Charles were still struggling as he tied her to one of the many posts around the room. Stan and Maggie were off in a corner doing their OWN version of a mild rape. Susan got another good kick to Johnny as he bound her to yet another posts and ripped off her clothes as she twisted and screamed.

Really! It was too much to take in all at once. My eyes were flashing here, then there, then over to them, I did, however, pick up on the fact that all were arranged according to normal couples, at least for the opening scene. I was sure that later they would trade off, it was one of the joys of such nights. But they did start off together.

As I was thinking that, Jason leaned over and whispered in my ear. "They usually start off in normal sets. It is the last time for the gals to change their minds about what is to happen. If you look close you will see that all are whispering to each other."

"We learned long ago that things change. It may be thrilling to you when you chose something, but by the time it rolls around you may change your mind. One day a blistered ass may sound fantastic, but another it may be less appealing and another thing take precedence."

"So," he paused to tip my head up, "what is your decision? Want to join in or not? To what extent? What would you like to happen tonight?"

As his words flashed across my mind, and without even stopping to contemplate my words, I blurted out, "I want a hot ass, nipple rings and a double fuck. In that order."

I'm not real sure where those thoughts came from, but having spoken them I knew they were true. My ass, I my opinion, had been neglected far too long and ever since I'd seen Susan's rings I had coveted a set of my own. As for the double luck, that had long been something I wanted to experience. So, to me, it all made perfect sense.

Jason didn't even blink an eye at my statement. But he did smile. One of those magnificent smiles that sets my blood to rushing. It was obvious that he approved of my choices. And having stated the basics, I left the execution up to him. After all, he had his own fantasies to fulfill, now didn't he.

But for the moment he was content to settle for slowly tearing my clothing away. Quite a feat considering all the yards of ropes that I was encased in as we savored what was going on around us.

There is no way I could accurately describe all that occurred that night without taking them one at a time. They did not occur one at a time. They occurred simultaneously around the room, but I will relate them in a whole.

Knowing Betsy and Charles the best, I will start with their story first.

Tied to a post, her hands stretched above her head, Charles dodged her kicking feet to tear off her clothing. That accomplished, he turned her around and shackled her ankles to bands attached to the floor. Unable to turn around without making a pretzel out of herself, Betsy's ass was more than available for the requested ass strapping.

From the night that I truly got to know Betsy I was aware of her delight in getting her ass beat. After all, she had stood between my legs and accepted one as she licked me out. What I hadn't anticipated was the inclusion of her clit ring being used to hold her in place.

Taking a slender golden chain from the vast selection available to chose from, Charles clipped it to Betsy's clit ring as she screamed at him and all others who cared to listen. It did her no good, for in a matter of seconds the other end of the chain was snapped into place connecting her body via the chain to the post she was bond to.

A very short chain, I might add. If she moved even the slightest bit her clit would be pulled unmercifully. Somehow I knew that along the way it would be more than pulled. No one who had a, clit ring would not use it for stimulation, and I'm sure that the upcoming ass strapping would prove more than adequate in that department. Especially when I saw the strap Charles selected.

It was a bruiser of a leather strap. It had to be at least two feet long and a good half inch thick. Then there was the fact that it was actually two hunks of leather in one, connected by one handle. Not only would she get a double whammy with each stroke delivered, she would get the added thrill of the massive cracking sound the layered strap would make.

Being the sensual person that I am, I appreciated his selection. Being somewhat familiar with Charles laying into an ass, mine, I watched him deliver stroke after stroke to his wife. He was no slouch. Betsy's ass was a bright red by application number one. Her screams filled the air, but as I watched I didn't miss her actions either.

Her hips made rhythmic movements back and forth, causing the chain to her clit ring to pull her with each move. She rubbed her tits back and forth against the post, and I just knew that they were highly stimulated as Charles applied the strap with a steady procession of one well accustomed to using one. Not one inch of ass flesh was left unharmed as her ass turned redder and redder.

As her hips moved faster and faster with each stroke, her chain became a golden blur. Even from my distance I could see several bruises beginning to form, right along with Charles' cock that grew to its fullest. Her flopping tits scraped the wooden post and appeared to do their own growing as the strap landed again and again.

Viewing Charlie's handy work, I thought I'd request that he help administer my ass strapping along with Jason. But that thought was set aside as Charles dropped the strap and replaced his cock with the, tool working away at his wife.