Blake Garfield - Barmaid in bondage

She banged her head against the floor of the cage. She jerked her ass two feet off the metal cage. Muscles all along her tall, sleek body jumped and flexed uncontrollably. She bit her tongue until it bled, she grabbed her tits and tore at them with her fingernalls until she left bright red streaks in her creamy skin. Her brain short-circuited.

She was cumming.

Buck let off the juice and Lynda grabbed the tiny waistband of the golden G-string. She tore it off and grabbed her swollen cunt-lips with one hand, thrusting three fingers from the other deep inside her cunt. She knifed her fingers deep inside while she pulled at her cunt-lips as though they were rubberbands.

Slippery pussy-cream poured out over her hands, drenching her clenched asscheeks. The men hooted and hollered at the sight of the gorgeous woman bringing herself to orgasm.

"This'll cool the slut down!" Pete shouted, bringing a pitcher of frozen margueritas to the tube. He poured the whole pitcher into the rubber hose. "Get up and dance, bitch! We didn't hire you to lay on your big ass and beat yourself off!"

The freezing liquor hit Lynda's mouth like a cool refreshing wave. She gulped it eagerly for a moment before the pain started. Then the rush of frozen liquid was like so much hot ice, flash freezing her tongue, her teeth and the roof of her mouth. The pain made Lynda's head pound. It felt like there was a nest of bees in her mouth, stinging her to death.

Lynda turned over onto her stomach, grabbed the bars and hauled herself slowly, painfully to her feet. The muscles in her slender arms stood out like steel cords as she pulled herself up. She looked like a cripple, her rubbery legs unable to support her weight. But she looked like a sexy cripple, her fine, lean body soaked with sweat, trembling with pain and lust and exhaustion.

"Now dance, you whore!" one of the men shouted.

"Shake that big sweet ass!" another man exclaimed.

Lynda hung onto the bars of the cage, staring at the crowd of men. Her cunt was squirming with lust. She needed to cum so bad that she hardly knew what was happening. Buck pushed a button and a spiked shaft rose up out of the floor. With a moan of hopeless, helpless lust Lynda spread her legs and squatted on top of it.

"Fuck that bar, whore!" Pete screamed, opening a can of motor oil and pouring it into the tube. "Shove your scuzzy cunt on that big metal cock until it comes out your cocksucking mouth!"

Lynda gagged on the oil, not knowing what she was drinking but realizing dimiy that it was something wrong, something horrible. A man pissed into the tube and Lynda drank his stinking waste eagerly to cleanse her mouth of the taste of the oil. Everywhere men were grabbing horrible things to pour into the tube. Lynda had no choice but to drink everything they fed her.

They poured a bucket of soapy, dirty mop water down the tube. Lynda threw up twice while she was drinking it, but she only had to swallow it back down. They made her drink vinegar. They made her drink window cleaner. They made her drink paint. Booze of every variety went into the tube, and so did filthy toilet water. A man shit into one of the blenders, and after they had spun it into a soupy brown liquid they poured it down the tube too. Lynda had to swallow it all.

She plunged down onto the metal spike, not caring what it was doing to her aiready-tattered cunt. The sharp tip of the spike felt so good as it plunged inside her that Lynda didn't care if it stabbed her to death. She took a foot of the bar inside her, then a foot and a half. Finally she banged her ass all the way down to the floor of the cage, and the sharp tip of the metal spike pushed through her cervix and pierced her womb. Lynda wailed with pain and pleasure, her cunt clutching the bar as though it was the cock of her dearest lover.

Buck punched every button on his box.

A killing jolt of electricity poured through Lynda's squirming, humping body. She screamed so loudly that even through the mask her cries of passion and anguish filled the tiny bar. She tore the mask off her face and screamed again, her big blue eyes rolling back in her head and spit flying from her lips.

"What are you bastards doing to me?" she shrieked, pounding her body down savagely on the spike of metal.

"Fuck you! Fuck you all! I want your cocks! Go ahead, fuck me to death! I know that's what you want! Fuck me to death, then fuck my fucking corpse!"

"Not a bad idea," Grady said with a little smile. "But I think you'll be a little more fun to fuck alive for awhile."

"Yeah," Buck said. "Like for a few years."

"Years!" Lynda howled, throwing her head back as the electricity burned through her lush, lithe body. "Years! Marry me, Buck! Marry me and fuck me to death! I'll dance for you every fucking night! When you fuck me out you can have every fucking thing I own!"

"Now there's an idea," Buck said. "But I want to see what kind of a housekeeper you are first. After all, you have to earn your keep, Lynda. You can't just have fun all of the tinie."

Dozens of metal rods hit Lynda's sleek, squirming body, some of them piercing her creamy tanned skin, others just slamming into her. They pinned her in place atop the big spike that shot up from the floor. Lynda screamed out in passion, climaxing over and over until her orgasms blurred into one mind shattering, everlasting cum.

Finally she passed out, feeling as though she had sold her soul to the devil. She knew that she had been broken, that her old self had been destroyed. She had been reduced to a pain loving sex toy, an obedient, slavish fuck-puppet.

Lynda woke up screaming. The men were dragging her across the bar, toward the bathroom. They were dragging her by two thick ropes that were tied tight around the bases of her full, round tits. The pain was so bitter that Lynda couldn't stop screaming.

The men were laughing and joking about how they were going to make her tits even bigger, about how they had tied the ropes to the biggest things on Lynda's body.

Lynda gagged at her first smell of the men's bathroom. She cried out in despair at her first glimpse of the dark, dingy room. The men dragged her helplessly forward, deep into the foul chamber.

Once, inside they slipped the ropes off her tits and kicked her over onto her stomach. Lynda's pretty face and full, round tits were pressed against the cold bathroom tile. She stared vacantly at the row of filthy urinals, her eyes wide.

"Hands and knees, Lynda," Buck said, driving his foot into one creamy flank. "Move it, cow-tits! You've got some fucking cleaning to do!"

"Get your big ass movig!" Grady shouted, kicking her high on one lush hip. "You're going to have to earn your keep here, Miss Cartier! Fucking, cleaning and dancing, you sexy whore! And we'll let you live right here in the bathroom! Fuck, we might even feed you sometimes!"

"Don't make the big-titted cunt any promises," Pete said, kicking Lynda's ass so hard that it felt as though he'd broken her tailbone. "She could stand to lose a few fucking pounds. Of course, we'll give you all the shit you can eat."

"And all the piss you can drink," Buck said, kicking Lynda in the ribsso hard that she curled up on the filthy floor like a sexy little worm. "And booze. And cum. But right now you'd better get on your hands and knees. Move it, Lynda-slut, or I swear we're going to kick you to fucking death!"

With a tiny, lost moan Lynda pushed herself off the floor. She knelt at the men's feet like a sexy horse, her long, lean body bowed, her head still hanging against the floor. Her big, soft tits dangled under her like sexy cones and her full, sweet ass jutted out behind her as if begging for further abuse.

"Who owns you?" Buck asked, rubbing the filthy toe of his boot all over Lynda's scummy, beautiful face.