Bound For The Tour 2: Inside The Ropes Read online

  “I don’t want you to think I like girls, Dana,” Kit whispered. “I’m completely straight. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Dana did not know what to make of this, but as Kit showed no signs of stopping what she was doing (at that moment, she was doing wonderful things to Dana’s nipple with her fingers), she decided not to worry about it. She sighed, and said, “It’s very nice, though, isn’t it, Kit?” Then she tightened her grip on the other girl’s delightfully springy ass, and pressed their bellies together.

  Considering that Kit’s knowledge of girl-girl sex was very limited (and what little there was of it was purely theoretical), and that Dana was almost totally ignorant on the subject, they managed very well. Dana, in her naivety, was the less inhibited of the pair, and tended to follow her instincts without hesitation. She very much liked the look of Kit’s aroused, long, rigid nipples, the way they felt in her fingers and how Kit’s body moved against hers when she caressed them, so she decided to take them in her mouth.

  Dana ducked down, and sucked one of the stiff, pink nubs into her mouth, and held it there, flicking it with her tongue. She was not displeased when the other girl made a low purring sound deep in her throat, and crooned, “Oh, Dana, that feels wonderful. Do that to my other one, please.”

  Obligingly, Dana shifted to the other distended little head and drew it between her lips. This time, she deliberately allowed the sensitive flesh to scrape lightly against her teeth as she moved it in and out. This effort was rewarded when Kit threw her head back, wrapped her thighs around Dana, and moaned with abandon, “Fuck that’s good. That’s good! Touch me, Dana,” she said in a strange, hoarse voice. “Please touch my pussy, won’t you please touch me?”

  Dana slid a hand over Kit’s stomach, and Kit relaxed her legs enough to allow the hand to reach her mound. Dana had never even masturbated before, so she was not sure exactly what she was supposed to do. She stroked uncertainly, and asked, “Like this?”

  “Higher,” Kit urged, “rub me there.” She gripped Dana's hand with her thighs. “Yes, there!” she cried out when a questing finger found the right spot. “Rub it faster, pinch it… ohhhh!” Kit took Dana’s head in her hands, and bent to meet her upturned face. “Kiss me, kiss me, Dana,” she moaned, and fastened her mouth over the other girl’s lips again. When she came, her naked body ground itself against Dana’s uninhibitedly.

  “That was so exciting, Kit!” Dana said. “Was it… I mean, did I do it right? Was I as good as Mr. Traynor?”

  The mention of Traynor reminded Kit of how she had felt when she entered the room, which now seemed such a long time ago. She no longer felt like a cheap, used sex toy. She felt good; better than she had in a long time. She smiled at Dana.

  “He’s no comparison, Dana,” she said. “With him, it’s just sex, but with you…” she trailed off, unsure what to say next.

  “Yes?” Dana prompted.

  “I think we’re going to be really good friends, you and me,” Kit said. “I’d like to try something. Lay on your back, and tell me how you like this.” She extricated herself from Dana’s arms, and moved to position her face over her friend’s mound, gently pushing her thighs apart.

  Kit lowered her mouth to the fragrant opening, and inserted her tongue. Kit was not bothered very much by the smell or taste, and she was able to concentrate on pleasing her partner.

  When Kit’s tongue found Dana’s hard little sex-knob, she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness, Kit! What are you doing to me?”

  Kit lifted her head to gaze up at her new lover. “Does it hurt? Should I stop?” she asked anxiously.

  “No, no, it’s great,” Dana answered. “I never felt anything like it before. Don’t stop, please.”

  Thus reassured, Kit returned enthusiastically to her self-imposed task. She put her hands under Dana’s buttocks and lifted them from the bed to bring her sex closer, and then she sucked passionately.

  Kit hoped that she was pleasing her friend, but she was surprised when she felt the other girl’s hands on her head, driving her face deeper into Dana’s crotch and her thighs wrapping around her neck to hold her in place. “Oh, Kit, Kit, Kit!” she babbled, the last word rising to a scream. Her hips bucked, and the pressure from behind was making it a little difficult for Kit to breathe, but Dana’s obvious pleasure more than made up for any discomfort.

  Dana’s orgasm was almost explosive. “Kit, Kit, I love you!” she shouted, squeezing Kit’s head in her powerful thighs.

  Afterwards, they lay together, side-by-side on the bed, smiling at each other. Then Dana frowned when she recalled something her friend had said, just as they had started. “Kit, you said something about not liking girls. Does that mean we can’t… you know… do this again?” she asked hesitantly.

  Kit leaned in to kiss her on the mouth. “Just forget you ever heard that, Dana,” Kit said, smiling reassuringly. “It was just nonsense. It didn’t mean anything, nothing at all.”

  * * * * *

  The next day was much like the first. The girls spent three hours in the morning and four more in the afternoon hitting balls in the simulators. The only other activity during the day was attending Traynor at meals, where he played with their nipples and toyed with them until the girls pleaded piteously for him to relieve them by allowing them to come.

  “You will come when it suits me, you horny little sluts, not before,” he told them. “Your turn tonight, Watson, and don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to show me what a hot bitch you are,” he promised.

  Dana appeared at Traynor’s “playroom” at nine o’clock sharp. She had already grown so used to nudity during her three days at the academy that she had become quite un-selfconscious about exposing her body.

  But her embarrassment returned when he put her in a particularly revealing and quite uncomfortable position. Dana was ordered to stand with her legs straight and four feet apart, then to bend at the waist and hold her ankles. Not only did this cause her to prominently display herself to Traynor’s gaze, but it also made Dana feel exceptionally vulnerable.

  Traynor stood behind her, and began to casually toy with her sex. “I suppose you’re wondering when I’m going to fuck you, hmm?” he asked, as his fingers caressed her, exciting her with off-hand expertise. “I’ll bet you can’t wait for your first fuck. Am I right?”

  On the very first day, Dana had discovered that Traynor could utterly dominate her whenever he wished. While it would be wrong to call her “weak”, Dana had been raised by her father, a man whose personality was as forceful as Traynor’s (although he was very different in almost every other way), and she had grown accustomed to automatically giving Mr. Watson obedience and deference. Traynor had simply replaced her father as the controlling male figure in her life, and she was incapable of opposing him in even the smallest things.

  Dana’s father had brought her up on the precepts of his conservative Protestant sect, which taught that sex was permissible only within the confines of marriage. Submitting to Traynor on that first day had been the hardest thing she had ever done, and she was very much not looking forward to giving her virginity to this cruel man.

  “Yes, Master,” she answered miserably, looking back at him between her legs.

  “ ‘Yes’, what?” Traynor insisted. “ ‘Yes’, you were wondering when you’ll be fucked, or ‘yes’, you can’t wait for it?”

  “Both, sir,” she answered.

  “Say the whole thing,” Traynor ordered. “Say ‘Yes, master, I was wondering when you would fuck me’, and ‘I can’t wait for my first fuck, sir’.”

  This was hard, harder even than taking him in her mouth, or standing quietly while he played with her, because it required her to do more than passively obey. She would have to speak aloud words that she did not even permit herself to think. Her instinct to obey her father-substitute ran directly into an equally strong taboo against the use of such language.

  Dana’s face, which was already somewhat darker than usual due to he
r inverted condition, reddened further. Hesitantly, she began. “Yes, Master, I was won… dering when you… you would… would…” She stopped, and suddenly burst into tears. “I can’t! I just can’t say it, Master!” she wailed.

  “We’ll see about that, cunt,” Traynor growled, bending to pull her upright by her hair. “Come along with me.” He led her across the room, her hair still clutched in his powerful grip. Dana was forced to bound alongside him, squealing with pain, and in constant fear that her hair was about to be torn out by the roots.

  He bent her over a horizontal metal bar, which was mounted on a stand three feet above the floor. “Put the straps in back on your feet, then put your hands in the front ones,” he snapped. Dana saw that behind her on the floor was a pair of leather cuffs attached to a metal slide set in the floor parallel to the bar. The cuffs could be adjusted to whatever width Traynor desired, and then locked in place.

  Dana obediently reached down to close the loops around her ankles, stretched out over the bar to put her wrists in an identical set of cuffs on the other side, and then waited patiently while Traynor knelt to close the restraints around her hands. He went behind her and set the rear cuffs as far apart as the slide permitted, leaving Dana splayed even wider than before. Then he went to one side of the support that held the bar, and flicked a switch. There was the soft hum of an electric motor and the bar began to rise beneath Dana’s midsection. In a few seconds, she found herself being raised up until only her fingertips and toes were in contact with the ground and the metal bar was sinking deep into her midsection. “Stop! Please stop!” she screamed. “You’re pulling me apart!”

  Traynor flicked the switch again, the hum died, and the bar stopped moving. “Are you telling me what to do now?” he asked. He turned away for a moment, then came back wielding a nasty-looking, two-bladed strap of heavy leather, called a ‘tawse’. He raised the tawse and snapped it down into the wide-open valley between Dana’s rear hemispheres. One blade caught the inside of her left cheek, but the other landed squarely in the very center between them.

  The pain was extraordinary, worse even than the shocks from the cattle prod. Dana was impelled to leap forward with all her might, and if she had not been bound so securely, the effort might have launched her halfway across the room. As it was, there was only a slight creaking of metal, as the bar gave a fraction of an inch under her, followed by a rapid, involuntary wagging of her bottom. The stroke of the tawse was so sudden and shocking that it took a second or two for her diaphragm and chest to unfreeze enough to allow her to scream. But when she did, she produced a mighty, ear-splitting shriek that went on and on. When Dana’s lungs were empty, she drew another breath and continued as loudly as before. When she was able to stop at last, her throat was noticeably raw and sore.

  “You have a hell of a set of pipes, kid,” Traynor told her. “A couple more like that and I’d be ready for a hearing aid.” He produced a black cylinder of some flexible material, rubber or plastic, two inches in diameter and four inches long. “Open wide,” he ordered, and shoved the gag in her mouth, then strapped it in place at the base of her neck.

  “You will let me know when you’re ready to follow my orders, won’t you?” he asked, stepping back.

  “Now! I’m ready now!” she tried to say, but the mouth-filling gag allowed no more than a muffled, “Ahhhgh! Ahhhhgh!”

  The tawse had originally been invented to tan the comparatively tough backsides of misbehaving upper-grade Scottish schoolboys. It had never been intended to punish young women on the mound between their legs or the softness of their breasts, but this was where Traynor used it on the vulnerable body of Dana Watson. She was under such tension that she could not even writhe in agony when one of the tails found the most delicate part of her sex or smacked across her nipples, leaving a broad mark of angry red and making her sweet mammaries jiggle.

  Traynor took his time, selecting his targets to get the maximum effect with the minimum number of strokes. He was planning a long night of pleasure, and he did not want to use up the girl too quickly.

  After a dozen strokes, he estimated that the girl was ready to follow any command he chose to give her. Dana’s head hung low and strands of saliva dangled from her chin. Her chest was heaving violently. He pulled her head up by a handful of hair and asked, “Will you obey me?”

  She nodded feebly. He unstrapped the gag and pulled it out. “Say ‘I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Master’,” he ordered.

  “I… can’t… wait… for… you… to… fuck… me… Master,” she panted, gulping a breath after each word.

  “That is some improvement,” he said. “Now I want you make me believe it.” He released Dana’s hair, allowing her head to flop back down, and then he moved around to stand behind her again. He reached between her legs and resumed manipulating her with as much skill as he had used previously, as though nothing had happened. “Say it again, girly, but try to sound like you really mean it.”

  She did her best to control her breathing and sound sincere. “Please, Master… I can’t wait… for you to… fuck me,” she said, still unable to keep herself from hesitating before speaking the penultimate word.

  “I know that’s not the best you can do,” Traynor said. “Take a minute or two, catch your breath, and then try again.” His fingers continued to work on her busily, caressing and twiddling and inducing ever-increasing arousal until Dana’s hips were rolling suggestively in reaction to his intimate fondling and, at last, she was ready to try again.

  “Please, Master Traynor,” she said a little later, her voice now lower and huskier. “Please fuck me. I would really like you to fuck me, sir.” This time there was not a hint of hesitation. Replacing it was the sound of lust. Her frustration from the fondling at the mealtimes, when Traynor had repeatedly brought her to the edge and left her there, had returned, redoubled in strength. She hardly knew what she was saying; she knew only that she needed to get relief of some kind soon, or she would explode.

  She groaned in disappointment when he pulled his hand away from her, but he was only gone long enough to lower the bar a few inches and relieve some of the tension. His hand immediately found its way back to her, and in a very short time Dana’s hips were snaking back and forth in a remarkable fashion under the influence of Traynor’s expert fingering.

  Without any urging from Traynor this time, she said, “I would like you to fuck me, Master. Will you, please? Can’t you just fuck me?” Her voice rose as she spoke until the final two words came out almost as a scream.

  Traynor flicked her sex a little more vigorously and asked, “Would you like to be fucked like a dog? Ask me to fuck you like the bitch you are, and maybe I’ll do it.”

  By now, Dana did not care what she had to say or do to satisfy her overwhelming desire. “Fuck!” she screamed. “Yes, fuck me like a bitch. I don’t care how you do it, but fuck me right now or I’ll die!”

  Traynor moved quickly around Dana, releasing the cuffs front and rear, and then directed her to crouch on all fours on the floor. He dropped his pants, knelt behind her, and pushed forward until his manhood was pressing into her.

  Dana moaned and arched her back, trying to take him more deeply into her. “Take it slowly, Watson,” he advised. “This is your first time, and it may hurt a little at first.”

  “I don’t think I can, Master,” she said, looking back at him with a wild gleam in her eyes. I…” She screamed, and suddenly drove her pelvis back, impaling herself on him. Dana felt a sharp pain deep within her, but it was hardly noticeable amid the tidal wave of pleasure that crashed over her as her body’s demands were finally satisfied. She was so pent up that she detonated in a wild orgasm from just his first stroke.

  “Or perhaps not,” Traynor remarked, as he watched her writhe through a spectacular orgasm. “Come to think of it, the last virgin I fucked was Shelly Littlefeather, and she came a lot like you, her first time.”

  As Traynor quickly found out, Dana had remarkable muscular c
ontrol. Traynor had had every intention of taking his time and he normally prided himself on his control. This time, however, he was unable to delay his own climax when she came again after only a few minutes.

  Afterwards, Traynor flopped down on her back, dripping with perspiration and panting for breath, and stared uncertainly at the young, brown sex-dynamo lying on the floor beneath him. She twisted her long neck around to look back at him with wide, innocent eyes, smiled and said, “That was fun, Master. Can we do it again?”

  Chapter Seven: Training

  After four days of the same routine consisting of waiting on Traynor at meals, hitting dozens of balls from the practice tees morning and afternoon, and catering to his perverted desires at night, something finally changed. Instead of going back to the big room containing the practice tees, the girls were taken to a new room in a different part of the facility.

  “My computer finally got enough data to create swing profiles for you two cunts,” he told them. “Now, the fun really begins.”