Mistress Carla - The slaves of Carla

Suddenly, she realized that there was another difference between now and other times when she'd woken up: she was naked. In the past, no matter how drunk she'd been when she'd come in, she had always gotten into pajamas before going to bed.

She started to sit up. "What the hell?" she muttered as she found that she couldn't. She gave a hard yank on one arm and felt metal bite into her wrist. "Hey!" she exclaimed to the darkened room. "Is this some sort of joke? What's going on here? Let me up. I don't think this is funny at all."

"Let me assure you, Miss Hiller, that it is not meant to be funny," came an unfamiliar voice. Then she was almost blinded as three high-powered lamps were turned on, their beams directed at her face, preventing her from seeing beyond them to where the voice seemed to have originated.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded with greater bravado than she felt. Even as the words left her mouth, she was thinking; they know who I am so this can't be a case of mistaken identity. If they've kidnapped me thinking I was somebody else, they could have gotten rid of me before I even regained consciousness and I would never have known what happened.

"You had ample identification in you purse," came the apply.

"My folks don't have any money," Wendy informed the unseen person. "If you're expecting a ransom for me, you won't get much. My grandmother was in the hospital for a long time before she died and all of my dad's savings went to cover her bills."

"We have not kidnapped you for ransom, Miss Hiller," the voice replied.

"Then why have I been kidnapped?" she demanded.

"You will be told in good time," she was assured. "First, you will answer some questions. Are you a virgin?"

"No," Wendy admitted. Then a disturbing memory rose in her mind. "You ought to know," she added, "one of you fucked me while I was asleep."

"Really?" the voice inquired. "What gives you that idea, if you were asleep?"

"I can tell," Wendy insisted. "A woman just knows when she's been had. My pussy feels different. And my thighs feel sticky."

"She was having sexy dreams," a voice said from the darkness. For some reason it sounded familiar to Wendy but she couldn't put her finger on whose it was.

"I might have been having sexy dreams," the voluptuous redhead insisted. "But I was had, too."

"Look at her belly, above the navel," suggested another voice. My Lord, how many people are back there staring at me? the distraught girl wondered. She tried to bring her legs together to shield her cunt from their eyes but gave up when she discovered that her feet were attached to something that prevented her from exercising her desire for modesty. "Don't those look like cum spots?"

"Her panties were on inside out," another voice revealed, "when we undressed her."

"See, I told you," Wendy proclaimed. "Do I look like the type that'd wear her panties inside out?"

"You look like the type that wouldn't wear panties much at all," a fifth voice retorted. Two men and three women, Wendy told herself. Somehow she felt proud that she'd guessed that much just from the sounds of the voices.

"Look, you," she responded to the last speaker, "I don't care what you think I look like, I'm not a whore or a tramp. Before this afternoon, there'd only been one guy that'd gotten in me and I'd only done it with him ten or twelve times."

"Really?" the first voice inquired. "Doesn't that seem rather preposterous? A girl as amply endowed as you remaining a virgin until so recently?"

"I've only been this amply endowed for the past year," she retorted. "Until then I was as skinny as a board. And I lived out in the country. A guy really had to like me to drive out to where I lived to take me out. Not many guys liked me that much. Then, when I grew tits, all the guys that I might have liked enough to let ball me were going with somebody else. I said I wasn't a tramp: I wasn't going to go out on nothing but late dates after a guy took his girlfriend home. And I wasn't going to steal some girl's boyfriend just because my boobs were bigger than hers and he started noticing me."

"I don't care if you believe me or not, but I was a virgin when I came to college. And I told you the truth about how many times the guy I'm dating there and I've made it."

"We shall assume you're telling the truth," the first voice said. It was the voice she'd heard the most. "You said the guys you might have liked enough to ball you were going with other girls: does that mean that you didn't date at all until college?"

"Oh, no," she admitted, "I went out in high school."

"But all you did was neck with those guys?"

She shook her head. "No, I let them feel me up and I played with them. We used our hands to make each other get off."

"Oh?" the chief voice asked. "All you'd done before you let you current boyfriend ball you was use your hand?"

Wendy blushed a little. "No," she confessed, "I… I sucked him off a couple of times."

"Did he cum in your mouth?" she was asked. She admitted that he had. "Did he eat you?" came the next question.

"Yes," she admitted. "And I liked it," she added. By then she had started to get the idea that she was the prisoner of some sort of sex club. Why else would they be asking her all the questions about who she'd done what to? The only thing was, she couldn't make up her mind whether she ought to be scared or not.

"Has anyone else ever eaten you?" came the next question.

Wendy blushed furiously at that. "Aha, someone else has," the chief voice remarked. "Now who could that be, I wonder? Was it another woman, by any chance?"

Again Wendy's body betrayed her as her blush deepened. "Was this woman your roommate, by any chance?"

"Yes," she answered, almost whispering.

"Mmmmmmmm," the inquisitive voice mused. "Why don't you tell us about that?"

"I… I'd rather not," Wendy answered.

"That's too bad," she was told. "We want to hear the story. You can either tell us now, or we can force you to tell us."

"Force me?" Wendy asked. "How could you do that? You can't make me tell you something I don't want to."

"Don't be absurd," she was told in reply. "Of course we can. You may not think so at this time, but, be assured that we can do just that. If we hurt you enough, you'll tell us anything we ask you to. Perhaps you doubt that? If you do, think about the pain that could be produced if your nipples were aroused and a clothespin were placed against them. Or if a clothespin were clipped to your stiffened clitoris. Mmmmmmm?"

The helpless redhead didn't have to think long. "I… I'll tell you," she whimpered. "Just don't hurt me, don't torture me."

"We won't guarantee that we won't," she heard the unseen speaker say. "But we will guarantee that we will if you don't cooperate."

With a gulp, Wendy started: "I got up late one morning and it had turned chilly over night. I hadn't completely unpacked and my sweaters and stuff were still in my trunk and I didn't have time to go digging around for one, so I grabbed a sweater that my roommate had left over the back of a chair and I ran to class. I would have asked her if it was okay to borrow the sweater, but she wasn't around where I could find her."

"Anyway, after class, I went to the library for an hour or so, then to lunch and to my afternoon class. When I got back to the room, Patty, my roommate, was there and she was really pissed. She told me that she had meant to wear that sweater herself and she said I had to be punished for taking it without asking her. Well, I knew that if she bitched to the housemother that I'd be restricted for a week and I didn't want that, because I was supposed to go to a concert that weekend with my boyfriend. So I asked her to please not report me."

"She said that she wouldn't, if I'd let her punish me. I… I didn't know what she had in mind, but whatever it was, I figured it would be better than missing the concert by being restricted, so I… well, I agreed to let her punish me."