Camp Nekkink ch. 13

Corinne braced her forhead against the smooth tabletop beneath her. Resting at a tilt, she could feel the spittle oozing from her mouth, which was securely ball-gagged. Her neck was securing her to the table, held so that the river of drool had become a small lake, gathering in the Vee where her breasts pushed against the smooth polished wood. With her eyes blindfolded, she could not see Lake Spit, but she could feel it, and she was grossed out beyond words, not that she could speak them, even if she could find enough to describe her humilating condition.

“Well, well, well, my cunt, what did you do to piss off Master Michael?” It was the sweet, dark voice of her Master. She could hear, dammit, laughter in  his voice, and felt his hand glide along the heated curves of her ass.

“Your ass looks lovely with paddle marks on it, cunt. Long red marks, with polka dots!” he laughed out loud this time.  “My cunt with the polka dot ass!”

She stayed silent, but fumed inside. ‘Polka dot ass, indeed!” she thought, “just you wait, Master, just you wait.”

Although she knew he didn’t need to explain anything to her, she was very grateful when he told her that he’d gone out to the parking lot to his car. Since the lots were far away from the camping area, it had taken him a bit longer than he’d planned. Along the way he’d met up with his friend Michael. He had asked Michael to help prepare his cunt for her next adventure.

“Let me guess,”  he mused aloud,  “Michael prefers his cunts to be silent, so I’m guessing you either sassed him,” she shook her head vehemently from side to side, ” no? Good. Then you must have tried to speak when he commanded you to silence?”  he asked her. She nodded, slowly.

“And I can see you are ashamed by your mistake?” he paused, she made no move.  “Embarrassed?” Another nod, yes. This pleased him, for he would rather have this cunt of his be proud of her accomplishments, and embarrassed by her failures. Embarrassment was a powerful deterrent to future failures, he knew. Shame, well, that was a spirit breaker, and he did not want a doormat for a slave.  He wasn’t looking for equal partnership, but he wasn’t looking for a hangdog, life-has-no-meaning wimp, either. Frankly, he was pretty amazed that this newbie had so much fortitude for her first romp through BD/SM, and that she tried it at something as intense as a Kink Camp…spoke volumes as to her spirit. He had plans for a future for them. He wasn’t ready to speak to her of them, but he knew he was not going to let this slave go on her merry way once Camp was over.

She heard a strange crinkly sound…a shopping bag, she thought, with him fishing around in it. She heard a soft scraping sound, smelled sulpher. Then, vanilla? He’s lighting vanilla candles? ooooohhhh…..something she had read about often, and that always, always brought sticky heat to her crotch…wax play. She shifted a bit on the table, felt Lake Spit shift, and drain down straight from between her tits, cascading down her belly, and pooling  up against her belly button. She could feel the warm oozing as it escaped the pool there, and slithered down the soft curve of her waist, running now alongside her hip and the tabletop. She felt the blush begin then, suffusing her hidden face with crimson, felt the blush cascading down her neck to her tits, and even across her shoulders. She prayed he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed.

A laugh came from behind her. “You are one ick covered cunt, aren’t you,” he hooted, “or should I say, one rosy-red, ick covered cunt?”   His guffaws drew the curious from around the room, and she heard people moving over  to where she was imprisoned, heard him describing her current state in lewd, graphic detail.

Then there was silence. She felt and smelled him approach her. His hand drifted down her back, caressed her still glowing ass. He smoothed her hair away from her back, tucking it to her front, and she knew the ends would be drenched in spit when this was over. She sighed as quietly as she was able, but he heard her nonetheless.

“Buck up, cunt. You are more fun than….hmmm, than farting silently in church!” He laughed again, and several of the onlookers guffawed at his humor. Men. She sighed again. Cori was reassured by the silly byplay.  She sensed his laughter was a common thing, and this made her feel safer than any words could have.

Then she felt it. Burning tendrils flowing down her shoulders, then stiffening. Over and over he poured the liquid wax down her shoulders, her back, her ass. Because of the inclined position she was in, the wax would run quickly down her flesh, then harden slowly as it reached it’s cooling point. She could feel her skin pulling as the wax hardened, the tautness felt so good after the burning wax. She felt herself releasing so many things, felt herself flying free, the pain a distant thing, the pleasure pulsing deeply between her thighs. Was it hours or days later that he released her? She was foggy, dazed by all she had experienced in the dungeon since lunch. Her body was curiously relaxed, but her cunt was thrumming with need.

Around her on the floor was  evidence of their play. Chunks and bits of wax peeled from her flesh lay like fall-tossed leaves, wet whorls of spit and cum created fantastical splat marks. She felt used up, dirty, and high as a kite.

She was certain he’d throw her in the shower now, as she was so ….ugh! …she could hardly stand herself. He pushed her against the wall, face first, told her to brace herself on her tired arms. He was behind her, fondling her ass, then her cunt, then her asshole was probed by his curious fingers. She grunted as he inserted two of them, fucked her with them, squeezing yet another moan from her.

She wanted him in her cunt. Like NOW! It was torture to need him so much. Pleasure began to blossom in her as he worked her ass steadily, then just as she was getting into it, he with drew his fingers. Not for long did she have an empty ass, for he quickly inserted his thick cock into her stretched rectum. First the large head went in, with a small inaudible  “pop” . It was a feeling, not a noise. The only sound she did hear was when He moaned as her sphincter released and allowed him entry, then squeezed him tightly. She moaned as her ass took him in, having never had anal sex before. She was surprised that she wasn’t screaming in agony, but truth to tell, there was no agony. The need that beat a steady pulse in her cunt had moved to her ass, and she felt herself thrusting her ass back gently, asking without words for more of his stiff rod.

He complied. He was pushing forward,  impaling  his shaft deeply into  her ass. They moaned together. Then, it was all she could do to hold her position, her arms locked and braced as he withdrew and slammed back into her. Gone was any yearning to give her tenderness. Instead, possession was the urge that drove him deeper, and deeper into his property. He owned this cunt now, this slave, and he was taking her for the ride of her life.

She could hardly wait to see where he took her next.