Emily & Ellen's Bet Ch. 14

This is a re-write of Emily & Ellen's Bet, originally posted in April of 2011. The effort is part of re-writing the entire continuous story arc of Ellen's Bet > Roberta's Bet > Dani's Bet > Emily's Bet > Ellen & David's Bet > Emily & Ellen's Bet. I re-wrote these stories for two reasons. First, I wanted to clean up some sloppiness in the writing. Second, I wanted to take the six stories, only two of which were planned to any degree at the beginning of Ellen's Bet with the others conceived and added later, and create better internal consistencies, and plot and character consistency, between them. At this point I think a reader could look at these stories as one tale comprising a six-part novel. Emily and Ellen: Emily & Ellen's Bet - Chapter Fourteen Emily I felt the strands of hair from the tail hanging off the butt plug thrown up onto my back. Marcy said, "Looks like someone's been working this ass of yours over. I think maybe Brooksy and me should warm it up for you some more later on." Then that enormous rubber cock was sliding up and down my labia, searching for my entrance. I was relieved to know the amount of lube on the object, but as the head of her life-like cock began to push into me I steeled myself. Marcy was not kind, gentle, or subtle. My vaginal opening found, she forcefully shoved half the cock into me. She paused for just a moment and then pushed the rest in to the hilt. The warmth of her abdomen and thighs was against my butt cheeks and thighs. I closed my eyes against the huge intrusion that stretched me dramatically. The insertion was not painful, but I felt my pussy split wider than I'd ever experienced before. Between the huge dildo in me and the butt plug I felt torn, and I don't mean emotionally. My personal parts were riven as they'd never been and I felt a dense fullness there that was new to me. I closed my eyes against the sensation. My face flushed in embarrassment as I heard the ringing of the bells hanging off my boobs. I felt shame at the sound. I thought that sound was somehow a humiliation: such an incongruous element to the setting and my situation. Then I found out what humiliation really was. Marcy stroked her cock in and out of me a couple of time drawing about halfway out before slamming home again to her hilt. That unique, never before experienced bursting fullness was just too much for me. As she pushed into me yet again I felt an orgasm build from nothing in just seconds. Involuntarily I found myself pushing back against her cock, trying to draw from it the pleasure I knew it was about to impart to me. I banged back against Marcy as I went over the top. My mind was white nothingness as a pleasure I'd never before experienced took hold of my body in muscular jaws. My pussy was pulsing in orgasm, my breath coming in great gusts, sweat breaking out on my forehead. The only sensory input I perceived, other than pleasure that made my knees buckle and my eyes tear, was that goddamned, fucking, incessant ringing of those cursed bells as they swung wildly below me. Again humiliation engulfed me, both from the unwanted orgasm Marcy had just given me and from the ringing of the bells she'd hooked onto my body. Then that humiliation gathered itself up into another orgasm, and I was bucking back against Marcy's cock again, impaled on it and enjoying it. Again my tits swung the bells wildly and they rang out, mocking me. Finally it was over. My orgasm settled down, and I felt the afterglow. That much pleasure could not depart without leaving something behind. I had no choice but to wallow in the pleasing sensations, even as I came to myself again and realized dozens of people must now be in the room watching this drama play out. All of them were either laughing at my involuntary performance or applauding. The tears that leaked from my eyes now were no longer those of pleasure but of shame and mortification. The pleasure was now all out of me. I couldn't stop the tears entirely, at least not immediately, but I concentrated on keeping my sobs or any other sign of my humiliation inside. I felt a hard slap on my ass, the pain containing a silver edge from the raw state of my skin back there. "Holy shit, Tootsie!" Marcy said with a laugh in her voice. "I'm glad that was so good for you. If I'd known gettin' a huge strap-on shoved in your twat got you that hot I woulda brought my real monster." She laughed uproariously and was joined by Brooklyn and most of those standing near. My face flushed a deep, hot red. "Well, time for me to take care o' yours truly," Marcy said. She grabbed my hips and began to stroke in and out of me with new vigor and force. My body swayed back and forth with the energy of Marcy's ministrations. I could feel my boobs swinging wantonly and painfully beneath me, and that damned ringing got louder with each thrust. I'd have given half my 401(k) to anyone who could shut those damned bells up. I planted my feet firmly, closed my eyes, and resigned myself to being used by Marcy. She kept up her pace, not especially hurried, for a long time. Periodically she paused to add more lube to her dildo. After what seemed like forever her rhythm quickened and I knew her arousal was building. Soon she was tight up against me making small motions with her pelvis. She was slamming the dildo into me at a rapid tempo, just pulling it out an inch or two each time. Unwanted, I imagined the enormous pleasure she must be receiving: between the two dildos in her pussy and ass and her clit rubbing against the front of the device that cupped her vulva, every hard push into me must have been communicating spectacular bliss to Marcy's mind. Then the in and out movement ceased and Marcy was just grinding her hips, the dildo in me as far as it could reach. She began a high-pitched squealing sound and I knew she was at long last coming. The loud sound stopped suddenly and she was just groaning with abandon, milking from me every ounce of pleasure she could take. Finally, Marcy collapsed onto my back and I felt her hot, detested breath on my skin. A few moments later she pushed herself up and I felt the dildo rapidly withdraw from my pussy, leaving just the stuffed feeling in my ass to which I was by now well accustomed. Another loud and hard slap landed on my ass. "Hey, you're a great fuckin' lay, Tootsie!" Marcy enthused. A 'fuck you' almost escaped me, but I managed to hold it on the right side of my lips. I looked to the side and saw Ellen sitting over on a couch twenty or so feet away. Her color was high. I felt a flash of anger, but then decided that were I watching her getting hammered in this pillory I would likely have found the experience an instinctive turn-on. I would have hated myself for that reaction, but I was sure that would not have deterred it at all. I supposed Ellen was feeling similarly conflicted and guilty. Anyway, Ellen flashed all her fingers at me four times. Forty minutes to go. I did the math. Shit! Marcy had been hammering me for something like half an hour! Would this never end? Yes, of course, it would. In forty minutes. I just dreaded what more those twenty-four hundred seconds could hold. Without warning the top of the pillory lifted and I immediately came upright. My back complained loudly. It had been in agony until Marcy had started fucking me. Then I'd lost track of my back as I peeked through my two orgasms and endured the rest of Marcy's fucking. Now it complained stridently to me as muscles reassumed a position they'd been deprived of for over an hour. The grumbling quickly diminished as my back realized it was now the way it really wanted to be. I stretched and rocked my hips back and forth. I twisted my head on my shoulders seeking to unlimber the kinks and cramps my bondage had created. The bells hung against my chest pulled my boobs straight downward. "Hey, Tootsie, get down here," said Marcy. Obediently I stepped down from the platform. I'd wanted to do this for a long time, but now I was reluctant, not knowing what new tasks or humiliations lay before me. As soon as the soles of my feet hit the floor Marcy grabbed the bell hanging from my left nipple and began to pull me by it. Brooklyn, seeing what fun Marcy was having, quickly took the other in her fingers and pulled me along as well. I trotted to keep up and prevent any more pain from my breasts. I felt the hairs from the butt plug's tail tickling and teasing the backs of my thighs, and I flushed again in embarrassment at how ridiculous that addition must make me look. The women drew me forward and deeper into the club. They stopped in the middle of another large room. The chamber we'd just been in, with the pillory, was the largest in the club. This was the second largest, and it featured a large St. Andrews cross against one wall and atop another low platform. Gleaming rings adorned the length of its four arms. 'OK,' I thought, 'I think I can handle that.' Marcy had me up against the cross seconds later and she and Brooklyn were soon attaching cuffs to my wrists and ankles and then the cuffs to gleaming rings at the ends of the cross' arms. I waited, stretched wide in four directions. Suddenly a line of fire seared my ass. Then another, coming from the other direction, was on me. I didn't want to look but I knew Marcy and Brooklyn were both working me over from either side, taking turns, using thin instruments: canes or crops. The stripes were agonizingly painful. They quickly moved their attentions lower and I felt lines down the backs of my thighs. The assault continued, a stroke falling every few seconds. I would make some loud expression of pain, and Marcy and Brooklyn would share loud laughter, and then another agonizing stroke would fall. After a while their attentions were on my ass again. My legs down to my knees were hot, but the torment from my ass was unbearable, it already having been worked over hard with paddles when I was in the pillory. I began to weep bitterly between excruciating strokes from Marcy and Brooklyn and my screams of pain that accompanied them. I lost all track of time. Then I was aware of the man in the maroon vest approaching. I could hear him speak low words to Marcy and Brooklyn and moments later they were detaching me from the cross. Apparently my ass and legs had been worked over to the limit. They pulled me by the bells hanging on my breasts to the center of the room. Marcy pulled down on the bells and I sank to my knees. Marcy motioned to Brooklyn and they moved over to two overstuffed lounging chairs and fell into them. Marcy leaned the back of her chair halfway and the footrest popped out elevating her feet. Brooklyn watched and a moment later mimicked Marcy. Most of the crowd from the other room had followed us and had fanned out along the walls to view my debasement. Now they looked on avidly at this new entertainment. "Hey, Tootsie, get your horsey tail and well-fucked cunt over here," Marcy ordered. "I know what I've been missin'." I walked over to them on my knees and she began to wiggle her toes. I swiped at the wetness from the tears that covered my face. Marcy's feet were in strappy, open-toed heels, perhaps the same pair she'd been wearing during our encounter in the elevator. Marcy saw my glance drawn to her toes. "Yeah, that's right, Cunt. Get down there and start lickin'," she said. "I really enjoyed that the last time. You know what to do." I did. I didn't want to do it, but I also had no choice. They couldn't do any more to the backs of my legs or my ass, but there was always my back, my stomach, my tits. I sank to my knees and brought my mouth down to her propped up feet. One ankle was crossed over the other making her left foot easily accessible. I didn't want to have to be chastised or told what to do so I simply resumed the skill I'd learned that night in the elevator while Martina had watched. I stuck my tongue out and planted it wide and flat on Marcy's toes. I began to sweep it back and forth slowly, letting my tongue settle into the space between each toe. "Ok, enough, you stupid bitch," Marcy said. I lifted my face, surprised. I'd only been licking her for maybe ten seconds. Marcy re-crossed her ankles, presenting her right foot to me. Without being told I bent to this foot and began the same ministration as to the first. Again, I'd only been at it for seconds when she flicked her ankle to push my face away. She'd not really been all that interested in receiving the licking, she just wanted to humiliate me and put me in a subservient position. "Very obedient little cunt, Tootsie," Marcy said. The immense phallus she'd fucked me with still jutted obscenely from her crotch. "Listen, I gotta go get outta my gear. So you get to work on Brooksy here, Tootsie. You start with her toes, and then you make her real happy. If she ain't happy when I get back I'm gonna hang you up on that cross and start workin' on your front." With that she was up and on her way. I moved over to Brooklyn and made the mistake of looking up at her. We made eye contact and she used the opportunity to smile at me in a smarmy, superior, degrading way. I broke the contact as she kicked off her shoes. Being taller than Marcy, and no doubt not wanting to accentuate the height difference, Brooklyn was wearing closed flats. She kicked these off and crossed her ankles as Marcy had done. Did this woman ever have a single original thought in her head? From the closed shoes her toes were sweaty and a little rank and I gagged as I began to swish my tongue across them. I was at this for just a short time when she spread her toes and said, "Get that tongue down between 'em, Cunt." I did as she ordered and began to dig my tongue between her nasty toes. When she lifted them up I swept my tongue across the undersides. Without warning she switched feet and I began the same attentions to her other foot. In the back of my mind I was trying to calculate how much time I had left, but it was impossible. I'd lost all track of time on the cross. Brooklyn suddenly lifted her foot. She put the entire sole across my face top to bottom and slowly pushed me away. "I am so fuckin' ready," Brooklyn said. "You like to lick pussy, Bitch?" She leaned forward and her lounger came upright. She scooted her ass up and pulled up her skirt until it was bunched around her waist. She quickly slipped her panties down and off. Then she slouched way down and draped her legs over the arms of the lounger on either side. Her pussy was right at the edge of the seat and it was thick with matted pubic hair. I guess the girl didn't get out too much. Brooklyn's sex was fairly gleaming with moisture. No doubt about it, the woman was in an extremity of arousal. She reached down with one hand and separated her labia with her fingers. Liquid clung to the folds as they parted. "Now get that tongue in there, and don't you let me down or I'll tell Marcy to thrash your tits good," she said darkly. I scooted in on my knees and brought my face down to her sopping sex. I didn't have to worry about how she might like it done. As soon as my face was a couple of inches away her hand grabbed my hair at the top of my head. She did it roughly, twisting the hair around until I could feel the roots pull painfully at my scalp. I didn't have time to complain or react though. Immediately she was rubbing my face into her vulva. I had no control over my motions. I just put my tongue out and she used it to pleasure herself. She held my face tight against her so my tongue was on her clit. Then she shoved my head down lower and I was at her vagina. Since it seemed to be what she was demanding I let my tongue slip into her channel and extended it as far as I could. She fucked herself on my tongue briefly before yanking my mouth again up to her clit. She kept this up in short cycles, and with each progression her hips began to move more freely, she pushed her sex into my face and tongue more forcefully, and her breathing became more ragged. After some minutes of this she stiffened and I knew my ordeal as an oral fuck toy was almost at an end. She pushed my head in circles as she jammed her clit against my tongue and let out a loud wail of pleasure. I could feel her sex spasm over and over again, and began to wonder just how long this docile, stupid cow could come. At long last her tremors quieted and she released my hair, pushing my face away at the same time. I could feel my face covered with her juices. I was immediately aware that Marcy had been standing over us watching for I knew not how long. "How was she?" Marcy asked Brooklyn. "Holy shit! Can that bitch ever suck pussy!" Brooklyn enthused, the fact that I'd had little to do except allow my face to be used seemed lost on her. "Hey, great, Brooksy," Marcy said. "You did good, Tootsie," she said to me. "But, hey, you know I told you if you got Brooksy off real good I wouldn't put you up on that cross? Well, sorry, I lied." Again the hair at the top of my head was in a painful grip as Marcy hauled me to my feet. "I think I'm gonna give those tits of yours a good workout with a cat." "No, you're not," declared a voice I'd not heard in too long. Ellen's voice sounded like gold to me. "Who the fuck are you?" Marcy asked. "I'm her top," Ellen said. "She's doing this because she lost a bet and now her time is up and the bet is paid, so get your fucking hands off her." Marcy's grip slowly and reluctantly left my hair and I felt tension drain from my body. "Go," Ellen said to me. I took a step away from them all, then I stopped and took the hated clamps from my breasts and threw them to the floor. I walked out of the room, my nipples throbbing painfully as blood rushed into them, and a smattering of applause from the crowd filled my ears. I guess it had been quite a performance. I walked back to the pillory room, reclaimed my clothes, and walked on to the locker room. I made a detour into the Ladies. There I went into a stall and closed and latched the door. I took a few deep breaths and then bent over, one hand firmly planted on the wall above the toilet. I reached back with the other and gingerly assessed the butt plug still up my ass. I began to work at it. The contours were rounded and smooth, but there was a recessed ring around which a person's sphincter was supposed to settle and hold the plug in. My ring had been holding this particular plug for about two hours now. The plug resisted my efforts, but by moving the plug back and forth and in small circles I was able to get it moving and feeling freer. After a moment or two of this I began to work it back out. The things are designed to come and go with at least relative ease. I heard myself begin to groan aloud as I pulled at the plug and my sphincter began to spread. My ass protested and shot an aching sting to my brain as it spread wider and wider. The damn thing had gone in a lot more easily than this. Then suddenly the rim of my asshole was riding atop the wide part of the plug and I gasped in pain as my ass opened to the fullest extent it needed to allow the plug its exit. Now I could just pull it straight out. As the last of it emerged I let out a little sigh and giggle of relief, and I felt my ass slowly close to begin resuming its normal tight configuration. I sat on the toilet and peed, my breathing slowing down. When I was done I used some paper to clean myself back and front and then unlatched the door and tossed the plug into a sink. I didn't really care if it and its owner ever had a happy reunion. I was anxious to get going, but then stopped and bent over one of the sinks. I ran the water and soaped my hands. I began to scrub Brooklyn's stink from my face. I washed twice and rinsed several time. Finally satisfied, I exited the Ladies holding my bundled clothes, and walked down the hall to the locker room. Ellen was already there. I sat in a chair as lightly as I could, my flaming ass complaining to me. I didn't really feel at all like crying. I just felt empty and exhausted and glad that it was all over. Ellen quietly walked over and squatted down. She put her arms around me and we hugged tightly. "That was rougher than I expected it would be," she said. "Yeah, me too," I answered. "Is it OK I didn't step in?" Ellen asked. "The dungeon master kept things within the limits." "No, it's OK," I said. "You're right. It was a cruise I signed up for. I just wish I hadn't sailed into Hurricane Marcy." "Yeah," Ellen said. "I guess that's the Marcy from the elevator you told me about?" I nodded my head. "Why don't you take a little while to get yourself together, then we can get out of here," Ellen suggested. I thought for a moment, and in that moment anger welled up in me. For the second time Marcy had found me vulnerable, had used that circumstance to humiliate and use me. God, I hated the fucking bitch. I'd never hated anyone in my life, but I hated her. "No, I'm ready to get the fuck outta here," I said. I rose and began to pull my clothes on. In just a minute I was ready to go. Ellen reclaimed her blazer, draped it over her arm, and we exited the locker room and began to move toward the exit. We were still ten feet short of the egress when I was suddenly moving in the opposite direction, back into the club, walking briskly and stomping. I couldn't even remember any conscious command from my brain to turn around. I had no idea how I could now be moving in this direction. It was a short moment later when I heard Ellen's footsteps behind me. "Emily!" she said. "Emily, this is a bad idea! Emily, stop right now!" I heard her, but didn't hear her. I was ahead of her all the way, darting my head from side to side, searching. I found her still in the room with the St. Andrews cross. Her back was to me and she was laughing with Brooklyn, another couple of women, and the dungeon master. The four of them saw me as I approached, looked past Marcy over her shoulder. I was to her an instant later and poked her shoulder from behind. "Hey, Cunt!" I said. She turned slowly, relaxed. She looked me up and down. I saw Ellen take up a position off to the side between us, a few feet away. "Who are you again?" Marcy asked. "Oh, wait, I've met you somewhere, haven't I? Geez, I didn't recognize you with your clothes on." She laughed hard at her joke, Brooklyn obediently laughing along with her. "We've got some business to settle," I said. "Oh, do we?" Marcy asked, feigned surprise on her face. "What? You want another fuckin'? Just bend right over." "You're a Cubs fan, aren't you?" I asked, pressing ahead. "What the fuck do you care?" Marcy said. "But yeah, I've been a Cubbies fan my whole life. Now fuck off." "Well, I just went through that because I lost a bet to her," I said, jerking my thumb in Ellen's direction. "I'm a big time Sox fan." At this I saw out of the corner of my eye Ellen's eyes go wide and her jaw drop. "Cubs and Sox play again next weekend. You got the lady balls to put your ass on the Cubs?" My challenge seemed to take her back a step. She stood and thought for a moment or two. "Yeah, I do," Marcy said, "but not with you I don't." "Oh, that's just great, you fuckin' pussy," I said. "Hey, no offense or nothin'," Marcy said, "but why would I wanna bet with you? I just fucked you silly, whipped you until you screamed, and put your face in Brooksy's pussy. Sure, I wouldn't mind doin' it all again. But why? Been there, done that. Twice, really. Now fuck off." She had a superior smile on her face and her tone was entirely dismissive. I should have just turned and walked away. Isn't that what they tell kids in school these days: 'Just walk away'? Ellen made a motion to assist me in doing the wise choice. Marcy was turning away from me, dismissing me from her consciousness. I was just some stupid bitch she'd fucked and humiliated: some stupid shit for brains bitch who'd gotten herself into a position in which Marcy could torment and humiliate and fuck her silly. Before I could even form the thought my trump card slipped from my mouth. "OK, have it your way, Whore," I said. Marcy's smile faded immediately and she turned back to me. "What did you just call me?" she asked. "I called you a whore," I said. "Whore. That's what you are, isn't it?" Marcy's demeanor changed. Her absolute confidence and superiority were leaking away. Anger, annoyance, embarrassment all slid across her face in turn. "Fuck off," Marcy said again, this time with little force behind it. She was losing it a bit. "Hey, fuck you. I only do it part-time. It's just a....." She caught herself, cut herself off. Likely she realized how absurd it was to plead that hooking only part-time and on the side somehow made it all OK, somehow made her only half a whore. "What's the matter, Whore?" I asked. "You'll open your mouth and your legs for paying customers. Is it gettin' all loose down there from so many cocks in and out of it all day long? Hell, this is a big step above that. Just me against you. No money. Not the five hundred you get for takin' it from both ends at once and then takin' another one up your ass on a pull out bed." All her bravado was suddenly gone. She looked shocked, stunned that I could know and reveal such specific knowledge about her activities. "Just me or you right here in two weeks. Whadda ya say? Huh, Whore?" "OK," Marcy said after a long moment of silence. "OK. You know what? You're fuckin' on. I'm gonna fuck you silly and whip that ass of yours until he tells me I can't anymore." At this she jerked her thumb at the dungeon master. "What's the bet?" "OK, whoever's team loses next weekend spends three hours here two weeks from tonight: slave of the winner. Six hours if her team gets swept," I said. "Say ten to one or ten to four? OK? Whore?" Marcy gave me a hard look. "OK, you think you're so fuckin' smart. Think your Sox are so great? OK, I'll take that bet. But. Loser wears a green collar," she finished. This gave me pause. A green collar would mean the loser was not only the winner's slave, but for that three or six hours would be available to anyone in the club for absolutely any discipline, absolutely any sex. "Whoa, now who's missin' a pair a lady balls?" Marcy asked, a tone of triumph and mocking in her voice. "C'mon, you stupid bitch. I'm gonna let people come in every one of your holes. I'm gonna make sure they cover you with cum. C'mon, Cunt, take the bet." Shit. How could I do this to Ian? How could I possibly even explain this to him? What if the Sox lost and I had to pay off? Just explaining to him how I could take this risk would be hard enough. "Bet!" I said. "You're on." My thoughts and misgivings were meaningless. They had no weight or force at all. Compared to the burning thought at the center of my consciousness - giving this fucking bitch her comeuppance -- they were as insubstantial as fairy dust. "OK, Bitch," Marcy said. She raised her voice. "You all heard her," Marcy said to all those standing around, several dozen at least, as our dispute had drawn a crowd. It was going to be a full house two weeks from tonight either way. "You heard her. Right here two weeks from tonight. Her or me," Marcy finished. "No!" I heard Ellen say. Damn it! I couldn't believe she was going to try to talk me out of this or try to derail the bet at this point. Then Ellen continued. "No! She doesn't stand alone. It's her and me against Marcy and Brooklyn." Ellen actually gave Brooklyn a poke in the shoulder. "Bet?" Marcy's head went up and down. "Oh, you better believe it's a fuckin' bet," she said. Brooklyn looked very uncertain. She was looking down, studying the floor. Marcy turned to her and gave her a hard push that made her stagger a step to the side. Only then did Brooklyn hesitantly nod her head. "OK, yeah, I'm in," she said in a low voice. Then Ellen was gone, heading for her car. I had to spend a couple of minutes with Marcy and the dungeon master making sure he was clear on what the bet was and what was required of the losers. Then I turned tail and ran for the parking lot to catch Ellen. By the time I reached the lot all I saw was the tail lights of her car a half a block away. She didn't answer her cell for the rest of the weekend. At least not for me. 2530 2.05/512345